Dollhouse (2 page)

“That’s about 1000 miles for you Yankee folk.” Ethan’s voice boomed directly behind me.

I elbowed him without looking around, then turned to give him a fake smile.

“Ouch!” Ethan rubbed his ribcage. His face creased into a smile, showing slightly snaggy teeth that made my blood caramelize.

Aisha motioned us over to the viewing platform, where she and Lacey were headed. “When you two are ready?” she said pointedly.

The forests below the lookout stretched in almost unimaginable distances, undulating and falling away into deep gorges and wild rivers. Wafts of mist hung above the higher tree lines.

Ethan cupped Aisha’s face and kissed her mouth and forehead. Aisha gazed back at him in a moment of complete calm. But then she wriggled out of his arms and began setting up her tripod and camera. She was soon lost in her own sphere—so wrapped up in herself she didn’t even notice the lost expression on his face.

We moved to the picnic tables to have a late lunch. I devoured my squashed sandwiches and waterlogged grapes, and wished I'd brought more food. Lacey nibbled a meager portion of crackers. Aisha remained uncharacteristically quiet.

Reaching for my backpack, I pulled out a map of Barrington Tops. With an orange marker, I circled the forests we’d walked through, and made quick notes of the flora and fauna we’d found in each.

Ethan leaned over and jabbed a finger at an area named Captain Thunderbolt’s Lookout.

“That’s named after a relative of mine.”

“Yeah Ethan,” I mocked. “I believe you there was actually a person named Captain Thunderbolt. Did he carry bolts of lightning in his holsters?”

“Nah. He just basically stole stuff.”

“He did what?”

“He was a bushranger—back in the 1800s. He used to hide out in caves—and steal from the rich.” Ethan shrugged.

“What a rebel,” I remarked.

“Not as much of a rebel as his woman.”

“Was she Mrs. Thunderbolt?” Lacey piped in.

“Her name was Mary Ann.” Ethan stretched his fingers. “Granddad told me she used to wear men’s clothes and go on raids with the Captain. She was part-Aboriginal and so beautiful she got away with just about anything she did. Plus her dad was rich.”

“So, she must have spat out a kid or two in between raids—that's if you’re related to her as well as Thunderbolt?” I asked.

“Yeah—she had a few—and stashed them at relatives’ houses while she went raiding with the Captain.”

I laughed, shaking my head. Ethan always had a story or two up his sleeve. Half the time you didn’t know if he was making it all up, although this time he’d seemed genuine.

He took my marker and drew a lightning bolt on a couple of spots that he said the Captain had hidden out at. Still laughing, I closed my hand around his, trying to grab the marker back.

Aisha began packing her camera into her backpack with more force than necessary. I realized I'd had my eyes—and hand—on Ethan a fraction too long. I snatched my hand away.

A busload of tourists pulled into the parking lot.

Ethan was first to rise from the table. "Well kiddies, I reckon we’ve just about got it in the bag. We can take it easy down the mountains.”

Aisha eyed the dark forest. “I didn’t capture enough shots of the wildlife.”

“They’re not expecting David Attenborough. What we’ve got is good enough.” Ethan flicked crumbs from the side of his face.

“Eeth, I wanted to do a bit better than good enough,” Aisha pleaded. She stared up at him with wide green eyes.

Ethan exhaled slowly. “Yeah, okay, no problem. We can head off the track and see what we can find down near the river.”

“How far?” I didn’t see the point of trekking cross-country in the hope we might grab a few extra photos of animals.

“Depends on Aisha and Lacey and what they need to finish the project.” It was Ethan in unusually serious mood.

Lacey raised her eyebrows at the mention of her name, but stayed silent.

“Can’t we just grab some snaps of animals from Google Images?” I shrugged for emphasis.

“No, we can’t. Photos on there belong to people?” Aisha made a habit out of making questions out of statements. “Anyway, this project is meant to be a team effort. Don't I get a say in anything?”

Aisha could just go on and on when she wanted to—her tone becoming increasingly strident.

“Yeah, fine,” I said. “Let’s do it.” I tried to keep the annoyance out of my voice.

Aisha turned on her heel, strapping her backpack on.

We headed back up the track, following Ethan. Ethan stopped still, and then wandered up and down for a few minutes, seemingly to determine the best way in.

“Okay, here,” he said finally. “I think this will be a shortcut to the nearest river.”

The entry point he choose didn’t seem to look any different to any other point along the track, but we all piled into the woods after him anyway. Luckily there wasn’t as much understory growth compared to lower parts of the forests, and you could wind your way around the trees and branches. But it was still a difficult walk. I missed the track already. I missed the easy walk that Ethan said we could have if we’d headed out of the forests instead. My mind drifted, settling on an image of Ethan and me walking alone out here.

 “A dollar for your thoughts, Cassie.” Aisha stepped alongside me.

I was thinking about your boyfriend, Aisha.

“Save your dollar,” I replied. “I wasn’t thinking enough to pay a cent for.” A thread of guilt wound through me. Aisha never stayed in a funk for long—not even when I'd been practically flirting with her boyfriend it seemed.

She smiled. “I guess this must seem a world away from your home.”

I picked out a strand of hair away that had somehow stuck inside my eyelid. “We had some forest stuff there too—well, really it was, like,  swampy, jungle-y kind of stuff. With alligators, raccoons and wild pigs. The Everglades.”

“I’d love to see it. I want to travel everywhere.” She flashed pretty, white teeth.

Aisha had the kind of face that looked just so… clean. Like the inside of a shell. I was sure I’d even seen the exact shade of pinkish olive her skin was—on a cone shell in a seashell emporium back in Florida. Even her eyes matched the beach look—the aqua of a shallow ocean, the kind of ocean they put on those trite tourist postcards.

If her looks were what Ethan wanted, how could I compete? I'd inherited my mother's Mexican dark looks and thick chocolate hair, and my father's child-like high, round brow. I looked younger than fifteen, closer to thirteen. Boys passed me over for other girls—perhaps because I looked less than womanly or perhaps because I wasn't exactly approachable.  But I'd liked it that way. And I'd always been comfortable in my skin. Until now.

Aisha rattled on about places in the world she’d like to visit, places she’d like to photograph—telling me how her dream career was to become a photo-journalist sent on assignments around the globe.

A grinding call cut through the thick green ahead. We stopped, listening.

Lacey held up her phone, recording. “Wait, that sounds too human. Or maybe like a…”

“Cat,” Ethan finished.

“Exactly,” said Lacey.

Ethan shrugged. “And true to its name, it’s the Green Catbird.”

The call came again, low and drawn out.

“Sounds like someone’s strangling it by its tiny throat.” Aisha peered through binoculars upwards. “I can’t see anything.”

“Yeah, that might be because it’s green, and you know, trees are kind of green,” said Ethan in a mock-exasperated tone.

Laughing, I high-fived Ethan.

Aisha crossed her arms across her retro Beatles t-shirt, screwing up her face at Ethan. “Too funny.”

“Well that bird just creeps me out.” Lacey gazed about as though the forest itself had just lost her trust. “Enough weird stuff happens out here without birds who sound like
that
.”

“What weird stuff?” Leaning my head back, I let cold water from the flask trickle down my throat.

“Didn’t you know?” Lacey admonished me. “Girls have gone missing in these forests over the past few years, the last one only last August.”

I thought back. I’d arrived here in December—I guessed all the fuss about the last girl must have died away by then.

Aisha held her palms out dismissively. “It’s sad, but stuff happens. The one in August was only three—she just wandered off from a family picnic. A kid that age can wander further than you’d think. And the other one, well she was a thirteen year old runaway. She made a bad decision when she headed into the ‘Tops. You can’t blame the forests for that.”

I hated to think how they must have died—alone and terrified in the woods. “But why did you say they were missing? Didn’t they find the bodies?”

Ethan shrugged a lazy shoulder. “Nope. Forest animals probably took pieces of them in all different directions. Or maybe the little one drowned and floated into an underground river.”

Lacey shivered noticeably, her elbows jutting out as she hugged herself.

“Let’s keep going,” Aisha pleaded. “I don’t want us to talk about this stuff anymore. My parents didn’t even want me to come on this trip. Every time they see something happen to a girl in the news—anywhere in the world—they say,
See? See, Aisha? This is what I mean!
She imitated her father’s thick Middle Eastern accent and hand gestures.

Ethan stepped up behind Aisha and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “But I talked your parents into it, didn’t I? They were okay once they knew I was coming along.”

We kept walking. No one seemed to want to linger underneath the bird that gave that strangled cry.

After fifteen or so minutes, the gurgle of rushing water resonated through the woods. We followed the sound to a clear-water river.

Lacey gasped. “Lizard!”

A large lizard sunned itself on a broad rock, its spiky head and body erect on dark front legs.

“Eastern Water Dragon,” corrected Ethan, copying the same gushy tone Lacey had used.

We stilled ourselves while Lacey quietly produced her camera and steadied it against her eye. The lizard crashed into the water when Lacey stepped forward to catch a better picture, its long striped tail cutting through the water’s surface.

Balancing along the rocky edges of the river, we kept walking.

We stepped through the river for another quarter-hour, heading off into the bush when Lacey spotted a fleeting animal. She rushed in, but we just missed seeing the animal.

It was another world in here. Up in the canopy of green, birds flittered through the tree tops like decorations. Bird and animal noises followed us, echoing and bouncing through the branches overhead. Earthy, spice-laden scents rose like secrets from the ethereal green light of a small clearing.

It was serene, ancient, primal. This must have been the world the Aborigines experienced back in the days they hunted and made baskets from the alpine grasses—I’d learned that from the internet last night.

My mood shifted and relaxed. Lacey wriggled her back into the smooth bark of a sub-alpine tree, her bright hair spilling out of its ponytail. Aisha let her eyes drift shut, breathing in the forest.

A leaf fell—one perfect spiraling leaf, dancing its way to the mossy floor. The air smelled pure, layered with a heady dampness and the cool breath of the trees.

Ethan threw down his backpack and lounged on a smooth rock. Aisha pulled her sketching pad from her backpack. Resting her head against a tree, she drew Ethan, Lacey and me relaxing in the clearing.

Brownish shapes bounded into view. A family of small, pudgy wallabies. They sat rigidly at the sight of us, looking and listening intently with their huge eyes and ears.

Aisha quietly flipped onto a fresh page, her hand moving quickly across the page as she brought the creatures to life in finely-detailed strokes. Lacey went crazy with her camera, snapping picture after picture. Aisha closed her pad and reached for her camera too. She dashed after the wallabies when they hopped away towards the river.

“C’mon, don’t you have enough now?” Ethan spoke in a testy voice to himself.

Lacey shrugged at me. Together with Ethan, Lacey and I jogged through the woods after Aisha. I caught sight of Aisha’s Beatles t-shirt as she tripped and fell in the river—water splashing high around her. She refused Ethan’s help as he ran to her. Picking herself up, she just kept moving.

The river turned and twisted. Ethan seemed helpless to stop the machine that was Aisha. Another river crossed the first, and Aisha followed the second river.

After ten minutes or so, the land beside the water flattened.

Ethan knitted his eyebrows together. “This land’s been cleared.”

Aisha stopped dead still, staring upwards. I followed her gaze—a bulky, dark form loomed to the right.

“A house? Here?” Lacey stepped back. “Let’s go. It’s private property.”

Ethan shrugged off his backpack, letting it fall to the ground. “No, I want to see what this is.”

Aisha and I dumped our backpacks next to Ethan’s and stepped after him.  Lacey plunked herself heavily down on a rock at the water’s edge, fixing her ponytail.

The features of an ornate house filtered through the trees. Built of stone and wood, the mansion looked large enough to accommodate fifty people. Peeling metal grills barred the narrow sash windows. A massive chimney dominated one wing, mock triangular turrets like teeth along its rooflines.

“It’s beautiful. I love old houses.” Aisha raised her camera to one eye and started snapping photographs. “This would look amazing in a framed image. But I need a clear view. I’m going around to the front.”

I stifled a groan. The house was startling, but it was aged—and not in a quaint way. Patches of black moss ate into the house like disease. And we weren't supposed to be wasting time taking photos of crappy old buildings.

“Why’d they even build this thing out here in the sticks?” I asked Ethan.

Ethan thumbed his chin absentmindedly. “Don't know. Granddad did tell me a lot of this land was cleared back when it was first settled. Mostly for logging. There might have been a clear road up here once.”

“But there’s just one house,” I said. “One big mother of a house. Why just build this? Doesn’t look like something you’d build for logging either. Unless you’re a very rich logger.”