Dead Tree Forest (9 page)

Ginnumarra was taken to a log. Her hair was grabbed and with force, her head was turned to the thing on the log.

It took Ginnumarra a few moments to comprehend what she was seeing. To her, it looked like a tiger or a rabbit that had been gutted.

But then she saw an ear, some jet-black hair, and finally, once her vision completed the scene, the tiny naked body sitting against the log.

Tears blurred Ginnumarra’s eyes; she shook her head. A scream swirled in her belly, rose up through her chest and then exploded out of her mouth.

“NNOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!” she screamed, and the scream stripped her throat raw.

“Take a good look at your little brother,” one of the ghosts said over her cry. “It’s the last time you’ll ever see him.”

Ginnumarra closed her eyes, but she could still see Moodoo’s head, covered in blood, with bits of brains and jagged shards of skull exposed; his hands, tiny, clenched, resting on the ground; and his stubby legs jutting out.

She tried not to think about what had happened, but her mind played the scene over and over. In her mind, Ginnumarra saw them take Moodoo out of the lake, him screaming, crying for Mum and Dad. They probably told him everything was going to be okay as they carried him over and sat him against the log. They didn’t bother tying him with ropes: he was so small, so weak, he wouldn’t have posed any problem for these men. They probably said lay your head back and look up at the blue sky. Ginnumarra saw her little brother, tears streaming down his pudgy black face, lay his head back, and then she saw one of the ghosts raise his rifle and…

Ginnumarra was mercifully shocked out of her thoughts when she was pulled away from her brother. She was dragged back over to the lake. Her clothes were ripped away, and then the first ghost mounted her and ripped her open.

After the first had finished, the next hopped on top and grinning, smelling like a dead beast that had spent too long out in the sun, he pumped.

The last was the roughest of all, and Ginnumarra, eyes tightly closed, felt like her whole body was being torn open.

Throughout it all, she tried to block out the laughing, the grunting, the pain; but instead she saw her little brother’s ruined head; Dad hanging forward against the ropes; Mum, body bloody and bruised; and Grandma, lying dead on the ground.

Finally the pain went away, the weight lifted off her body.

Lying dazed, the sun pressing down on her, she heard strange sounds; lots of huffing and puffing, shouts of joy, ecstasy...or maybe it was pain—they all sounded the same to her.

Then a single ear-piercing scream jolted her eyes open and she sat up.

It had been Mum screaming, and sweeping her eyes towards the crowd, Ginnumarra saw the reason for Mum’s earth-shattering scream. Two of the ghosts had a hold of her; the third was standing back, arms folded, a proud expression on his red and white face.

Sitting in Mum’s lap was a head.

Ginnumarra blinked, thought for a moment it was Moodoo’s head; but then she remembered his head had been bashed in. This head, while painted in blood, was intact.

Still half dazed, Ginnumarra turned towards Dad.

She vomited at the sight of her headless father. A red axe lay by his feet.

“Pretty as a picture,” one of the ghosts said.

Mum thrashed about; the head rolled off her lap and onto the ground.

“Okay men, about time we got going. We’ve had our fun. Let’s take the older girl and head on back.”

Though she was dazed, Ginnumarra thought:
leave, yes, leave. Go away and never come back
.

At least she still had Mum. Yes, Mum was still alive. It would be hard: would they ever get over this? They would just have to try.

Ginnumarra was thinking these thoughts when a single gunshot shattered her world.

Flicking her head, she saw Mum on the ground, lying still.

And then, as two of the ghosts strolled towards their horses, the third strolled towards Ginnumarra.

He raised his rifle.

Ginnumarra sucked in breath, squeezed her eyes shut, and waited.

Hoped the amulet that old Mandu the medicine man had given her years ago would protect her.

The gun went off with a crack and it felt like fire shooting into her chest.

All air was sucked out of her body as she tumbled backwards.

Water enveloped her.

As she fell through the lake, feeling water enter her lungs, she thought:

I can’t die like this.

Mum, Dad, Grandma, Moodoo—they will be found and given a proper burial; but what about me? I’ll be stuck in this lake. My soul will be trapped…

Those men, they need to be punished…all ghosts need to be punished...

And as she felt her life draining away, she saw a light, then darkness, then red…

* * *

The closer Ray got to the lake, the more the blurry mess of colour grew clearer, until finally the lake and its surrounds snapped into focus.

The lake was brimming with life. Scores of green bushy trees and striking plants blooming orange, red and yellow sprouted out of the muddy water.

Seeing such life in the midst of death was beautiful, invigorating.

It almost didn’t seem real; it was like an oasis in the middle of a desert.

Ray knelt by the edge of the lake. The water had a foul odour, like rotten meat.

He touched the rust-coloured water; definitely real. It was also surprisingly warm.

How is this possible? Ray wondered.

The girl?

It had to be.

Ginnumarra was somewhere at the bottom of the lake, so it made sense that all the life she had drained from the forest had been dumped into her watery home.

All he had to do now was find the body; hopefully the amulet would be with it. If not, then it was going to be especially difficult finding a necklace that had been under water for over a hundred and fifty years.

Ray slipped on the goggles, but left the mouthpiece hanging; where he was going he wouldn’t need it.

He stepped forward and waded into the murky lake. When the water was lapping at his chest, he dived forward.

He paddled around trees and plants and when he was roughly in the middle of the lake, he sucked in fetid air and then dove under.

He feebly kicked his legs and with his frail arms scooped at the water. With a great deal of effort, he plunged deeper, his hands knocking into submerged tree trunks on his way down. When he touched something slimy, he panicked, drew in a mouthful of water and scrambled through the murkiness back towards the top.

When he broke the surface, he gasped in air and moments later, vomited up the water he had swallowed.

Once he had gotten his breath back, he dived back under, the thick reddish-brown water enveloping him. He slapped his hands against the tree trunks again and this time when he touched the slimy object, he told himself it was just an underwater plant.

The water was less cloudy the deeper he went and soon he was able to see the bottom of the lake.

It was worse than he had imagined.

The bottom was a maze of tree trunks and thick roots snaking along the sand; locating the amulet—or even the body—was going to be difficult.

Topping off the strange underwater scene was an unusual similarity with the trunks—they all had a large split at their base, most large enough to fit a person inside.

Ray swam over to the closest trunk. Gripped the edges of the large opening and tentatively ducked his head inside the tree.

The rancid stench of the lake was multiplied ten-fold. Looking up, he could see a round disc of afternoon light.

Completely hollow
.

Were all the trees in the lake like this one?

With the light spilling down the shaft, Ray noticed that the interior walls of the tree trunk were coated with a thick, slimy red and yellow paste. The glistening goo was smeared everywhere.

The goo was like nothing he had ever seen: it certainly wasn’t sap, nor was it a rich golden colour. Instead it was like a dirty mixture of tomato sauce and mustard.

Ray noticed something poking out of the wall of slime, something thin and white.

Curious, he pulled it out.

Icy-cold shivers swam through his body as he realised what it was.

It was a sliver of bone.

He let go of the bit of skeleton.

Something foul and acidic burned in his throat.

He now knew what the goo around him was, why the trees in the lake were so full of life; they had a special kind of nutrient keeping them blooming. Blood and bone of the human variety.

His lungs starting to burn, Ray swam back up and made it to the surface before his chest exploded.

He took another few moments to catch his breath before going back down.

He repeated the cycle again and again. Soon each dive blurred into one another. As he feared, having to swim up and down continuously, dodging the rotted tree trunks took its toll on his body. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could continue.

It was late in the day, he had searched half the lake, when, kicking through the water, his foot was caught, jerking him to a stop. Ray thought he had caught his foot in the crack of a tree or got it tangled up in one of the plants.

He ducked his head under the water and looked down. Through the murk he saw a plump, greyish hand clasping his ankle. He screamed a wet, bubbly scream, and then lifted his head out of the water, gasping for air.

Ray had only managed to suck in a few gulps of air when he was pulled under the water with frightening ease. He clawed at the water, trying desperately to break free from the thing that had a hold of him. But it was no use; either he was too weak or the hand’s grasp was too strong. Peering down, he saw the owner of the hand.

The body was bloated, its skin grey and slimy; it looked like a chicken that had been left boiling in a pot for about thirty years. Yet even with all the years of decay Ray could tell it was a girl.

Her long black hair floated around her head like a halo of seaweed. Her face was puffy, her eyes bulged in its sockets. She seemed to be grinning at him, revealing teeth like black pebbles.

Ginnumarra?

It had to be—but how could she still be alive? And why was she intent on killing him?

He had no answers for either question.

Ray struggled feebly, his lungs crying out for air.

In the struggle his snorkel was knocked off his face.

He knew he was going to die. He was surely going to drown.

And that’s when he saw it. Like a lighthouse beacon flashing on a cold black night, he saw something glint around Ginnumarra’s neck.

He stopped struggling. Gazed down at the slimy, distorted face of a girl dead over one hundred and eighty years. He saw the necklace looped around her fat neck, but his eyes were drawn to the dark stone at its centre, and the glowing light contained within.

The hand released its grip on his ankle.

He realised then that Ginnumarra wasn’t smiling at him out of spite, but welcoming him to come and get what he had come for.

Even though Ray’s lungs felt like two balloons blown up to the bursting point, even though all his energy was close to being used up, he still managed to find the strength to swim down towards Ginnumarra. Soon he was face-to-face with the long-dead Aboriginal girl; it was as horrid a sight as he had ever seen.

He reached out and gripped the necklace. With time running short, he simply yanked on the cord and the necklace snapped in half like a dry twig. With the amulet clasped in his right hand, he swam back up towards the surface.

He broke through the water, gasping and spluttering, his lungs as desperate for air as he had been for the amulet.

I have it. I actually have the amulet
.

Lethargically treading water, he turned his eyes to what he held in his hand. Tied to the soggy and broken cord was a metal plate, into which was imbedded a brown stone. The stone was jagged and quite unremarkable, but the small sparkling rock housed within was breathtaking. It was bright, yet the glow didn’t hurt his eyes. It was colourful, like a rainbow as seen through a diamond.

He closed his eyes and pictured giving the amulet to Gemma.

With his eyes closed, he felt like sleeping, but he knew he couldn’t. He had too much to do. Now he had found Ginnumarra, he needed to bury her. If he was to have any chance of making it out of this forest and give the amulet to his daughter, he had to give Ginnumarra the proper burial and, hopefully, lift the curse.

He remembered what Chris had said about the Aboriginal tradition of burying their dead in hollow logs or trees, and then standing the log upright so the soul could ascend to heaven.

Ray thought about the submerged trees. If he placed Ginnumarra in one of the hollowed-out trunks, would that be enough to assure her soul would finally be at peace?

Only one way to find out
.

The trouble was, he was so tired. The thought of swimming back down and dragging the corpse into one of the hollow trees filled him with dread.

But if it meant putting an end to this curse, then he had no choice but to do it.

He pocketed the broken necklace, and with an effort born from pure will, and with his body beyond the point of exhaustion, Ray dove back under the water. It didn’t take him long to locate Ginnumarra’s body. She was resting on the lake bed. She was no longer smiling; her face held a passive, almost relaxed expression.

I must be out of my mind. Two-hundred year-old corpses can’t change expressions.

Ray reached out and grabbed a hold of Ginnumarra’s arm. It felt like a balloon covered with seaweed. He fought the urge to take his hand away.