Fire Eye (11 page)

Jed skips the first turn off to Cookara Creek and takes another further south, intending to shake Decker off their trail. Alex has come back from wherever she has been, as a long column of dust rises up into the sky behind them.

“Not far to Cookara Creek now. We could stay there but I have a better idea,” Jed says, trying to refocus her thoughts away from wherever she has been toward the never ending vista of rocky hills painted with hues of red, pink and purple and sprinkled with stunted, green vegetation. “Will you trust me?”

“Only with reluctance, mind you! It’s been a long day and a rest will be good,” she replies with a tired smile.

The mobile still has reception so he dials a number on the move with Bluetooth. To get to the coast they have to go through a property called Narraburra, an Aboriginal word for broken, rocky country. The phone is answered with a, “Hello,” from a strong, deep, outback voice, invoking images of cattle, horses, leather and red dust.

“Hi Stuart, it’s Jed. We’re approaching Cookara Creek and I wondered whether we could push on and camp for the night on the property?”

“Sure that’s fine! Got a couple of guest rooms you’re welcome to use. We had an easy day today and thought you might drop in. Just pull into the homestead and I’ll have a beer ready! The wife is away so I’m rattling around an empty house.”

“Sounds great. Look forward to it. We should be there late afternoon. Cheers mate!”

A few minutes later they pull up outside the hotel. “It’ll be polite to take some beers,” he suggests as Alex gets out and casts her eyes around. They are greeted by a scene of putrid dogs with weeping sores scavenging among upturned garbage cans, scattering the contents across the ground to poke through with their noses. Local inhabitants sprawl around, some too drunk to move out of their vomit. Foul-mouthed obscenities form a background to the surreal scene.

“This is the other side to the Territory, the one most people don’t get to experience,” says Jed with a hint of shame.

“I’m only too aware of it and I think it’s a shocking reflection on our nation. Let’s go!”

They enter the hotel to buy some wine and beer and sample the local scene over a cold drink.

“This spot was a traditional meeting place for the local Aboriginal people for trade and ceremonies. By the end of the 1800s, farmers, missionaries, miners and pastoralists had arrived. I think about three hundred Aboriginals live in the community just up the road.”

“You know, travelling with you is a bit like being on a school excursion,” Alex comments. Seeing the look on his face she adds, “But don’t worry, I actually enjoy it, so don’t stress.”

He is somewhat consoled by her comment but is horrified to think he comes across like that. He’s chucked the principal cloak, now it should just be him.
Maybe the principal thing is starting to become ingrained
, he reflects sadly, then shakes off the thought. They finish their drinks and load up the car before driving across to the supermarket, set high on its stilts.

“Anyone would think they get the odd flood around here,” Alex comments as she looks up at the yellow-clad, box-shaped supermarket on its steel poles.

“Maybe it’s more for the heat. Let’s grab a few things,” he replies, climbing the stairs.

They go through the shelves, taking a selection of what might be useful. They pay at the counter and go back out to the Landcruiser, then head off down the road leaving the town behind.

“That was an eye opener!” Alex offers. “I can’t help saying I’m appalled how thousands of years of culture has been allowed to become so degraded.” Her words ring with barely hidden contempt.

“Can’t say I disagree! Over time many good people have done their best to make it better without success.”

“It’s not the people themselves,” Alex says with vehemence. “It’s the systems and bureaucracy put in place that stop people from doing what they know is right and taking personal responsibility. Barrier after barrier is erected by well-meaning people with no real understanding and huge amounts of money wasted.”

Jed is intrigued by the emotion in her tone. She obviously feels strongly about what she has seen and the injustice. “Have you been in the back blocks before?” he asks with interest.

“Not really, but I know what’s going on. It frustrates and appals me! There are indigenous people with sensible ideas that would make a difference but they get swamped by an unresponsive bureaucracy focussed on its own agenda and empire building.”

“Our Aboriginals have many different cultural groups but are all a proud people. They deserve and need respect, just like any other indigenous culture. Unfortunately, if I was brave enough to say that white pride is just as valid as black pride or red pride, I would be called racist. With politically correct attitudes like that, the issues will never be addressed,” he finishes with barely concealed disappointment.

“They deserve better and should be included to help work on the solution, not have a solution imposed,” she adds.

“You aren’t the only one who feels like that,” he agrees. It is a topic that could keep them occupied for a long time. There’s obviously a lot of common ground to explore. They turn off the road and head northwest along a dusty track, each immersed in their thoughts as the kilometres thump and slide their way underneath them.

“With any luck we will have lost Decker,” Jed suggests hopefully. “He’ll find it hard tracking us out here unnoticed.”

“Hope so,” Alex replies, thinking for a while before continuing. “He’s a sociopath!”

Jed looks sideways at her but doesn’t respond, realising she is only taking a break.

“If you want to know a real sociopath, you just have to listen to them,” she continues. “Ask some probing questions. They’re quick to become angry at the tiniest sign of disrespect, whether real or not. They don’t give without reason. They always have an agenda.”

Jed waits in silence for her to continue.

“Social attack is what they can and will do, especially to a woman. They’ll call you night and day to tell you what crap you are. They’ll demand apologies. They’ll post your name on the Internet, call your boss or try to hack your computer or social website. They’ll go after your relationships, your name and livelihood. They want you to feel as low as they feel about themselves and worse. They will try to hurt you psychologically, emotionally and spiritually. They like revenge and are proud of the revenge they have enacted on others. It’s their pathway to power and self-esteem.”

Jed can identify with that but doesn’t give his feelings away. “You paint an awesome picture Alex,” Jed concedes. “From what I remember from my uni days, sociopaths are charming at first and may seem normal to everyone around them. They have an almost scary need for control. They will isolate you from friends and family and you will be tangled in their web before you know it. They will charm their way into your life and heart, then take complete advantage of you—your emotions, your finances, your intellect. They will make you think you are the crazy one. Your friends will start to see it first. You’ll be isolated from friends and family. They have no feelings or empathy for others and are never responsible. Everything is always someone else’s fault.”

“You did psych?” Alex asks. When Jed nods, giving no hint of the personal experience that coloured his comments, she adds, “So did I. We have something else in common.” She wonders whether he has experienced it personally, but senses not to ask.

“Indeed Alex, a knowledge of sociopaths, both in theory and practice,” he replies.

She guesses he is referring to something personal.

“Let’s hope we really have left the bastard behind us for good. I’m enjoying being away on our little adventure.”

Alex looks at him reflectively before turning away to gaze out the window. “Let’s hope so!”

Decker is worried when his prey heads past the first turn off to Cookara Creek but reassured when they eventually take another turn further south, heading back to the northwest. He doesn’t need another fright like the other day when they pissed off in the plane. He hassles Jesse to ease off and stays an easy twenty or so kilometres back, only checking occasionally to make sure they aren’t doing anything unexpected.

“Fucking bastard had me going again there for a while!” Decker announces to no one in particular.

Jesse doesn’t respond as he is too busy enjoying the drive and taking in the sights. He is the son of a sociopath, but with a different upbringing there is a good chance he could have made something of himself as he actually has his fair share of brains. He may not verbalise it but actually enjoys seeing the country they are passing through. Seeing it for what it is, not just looking. He wants to put these thoughts into words but doesn’t have the words or past experience to allow it. Instead he lets past memories come to the surface. “That bitch is going to pay! She clipped me just ‘cause I was having some fun with the dogs. But you got her back, you punched her up good. She didn’t try that again!”

“Fucking bitch had it com’n. Nobody puts their hands on my kid just for stirring up the dogs a bit. I gave it to the fuck’n bitch and you’ll get your turn, don’t worry!”

They pull into Cookara Creek after their prey have left and stop at the pub. Both agree they need a beer and that some slabs are a necessity out here. They have an Engel fridge in the back of the Patrol, perfect for keeping some cold ones on hand when needed. They are leaning on the bar enjoying their second beer as Decker is working through an idea taking shape inside his head. Technology is wonderful. He enjoys setting it up and playing with it. But what if something goes wrong? He needs a back up just in case.

Without bothering to talk it through with Jesse, he lets the words come out of his mouth, “We’re here to do some pig hunting and fishing,” he says to the barmaid, a Swedish backpacker doing her stint to experience the real Australia.
Another fucking looker,
he notes, admiring her tits and open smile! Would he love to do her! He could develop a foreign taste! Maybe on the way back?
First things first,
he tells himself.
This could turn out to be the holiday of a life time!
“We don’t have a lot of time. Any chance of hiring someone to guide us around a bit? Someone good at tracking?”

She looks back at him with a bewildered expression. She is confused by the word ‘tracking’ and can’t place its meaning. “I ask the boss,” she replies and disappears out the back.

A tough, rugged, no-nonsense woman wiping her hands on a towel follows her out. She puts her elbows on the bar and leans toward Decker. “You want to do some pig hunting and fishing? Need someone to show you around?”

Decker is all charm. “That’s it,” he replies with one of his best smiles. “I brought my son up to show him the country but we’re a bit short on time. I should have allowed longer. A good tracker and guide who knows the country out toward the coast would help a lot. I’m happy to pay for their time,” he adds.

“Up here you wouldn’t have to pay some,” she spits, “just supply the alcohol!” She sees Decker raise his eyebrows in pretend surprise, so backpedals a bit. “The Jones brothers, Joe and Brad, are pretty reliable and know what they’re doing. Most of the time they’re away working cattle or odd jobbing, but today’s your lucky day! You can find them in the beer garden out back.”

Perfect—itinerants!
Decker thanks her with his best manners and buys a six pack. He and Jesse go out back to the beer garden, a concrete area covered by a shade cloth and with a few pot plants scattered around against the walls. Timber uprights, tables and benches are bolted to the concrete to make sure they stay put even as the alcohol consumption goes up. There is no difficulty recognising the brothers as they are the only two there. Decker sidles up to their table with Jesse behind and puts the six pack in front of them. “Like a beer?” he asks.

The brothers already have a few under the belt and look up with surprise. They’ve been wondering how they can scrounge another beer and a six pack has just dropped in front of them.

“Hi there bro! Come sit wi’v us! ‘Ave a drink!” the eldest responds.

Decker and Jesse take up the invitation and sit down on either side of the table. They still have their own beers and leave the six pack on the table, minus two. They introduce themselves and Decker sizes them up. Joe is the oldest, black woolly hair with small patches of grey over a face wrinkled by sun and wind, but with eyes that still have the sparkle of black fella humour. He has what could have been an attempt at a beard or else he simply hasn’t shaved for a few days. Brad is his younger brother, quiet and shy with a perpetual grin on his dark face that time and weather hasn’t had time to leave their mark on. Both wear white shirts stained by recent work over faded denim jeans and brown high-heeled boots scarred by outback life.

Once again Decker is a perfect image of the rugged, down-to-earth Australian male. He talks with them about travel, the Territory, fishing and hunting before broaching his subject of interest. “Jess and me want to do some fishing and a bit of hunting. We haven’t got too much time, so I wondered if we could hire someone who knew the country, like a tracker, to help us out.”

With a few beers under their belt already the brothers can see a bit of easy money coming their way. They love being out in the scrub anyway, so the proposal has instant attraction. However, they also see the opportunity to pick up some good beer money. “How much you bin thinking of paying us bro?” Joe asks.

Decker sees the opening. “Time with me son is important. How about two hundred dollars a day?”

Joe considers the offer.
That’s a hundred a day each just for finding a good fishing spot and a few pigs for the white fellas. Easy money!

“That’s two hundred a day each, by the way,” Decker adds. He sees the lights go on in their eyes. He has no intention of paying it, but they don’t know that.

Joe doesn’t need to think long to come up with an answer. “Done bro!” he says, thrusting out his hand to shake on the deal. “You ain’t seen fishing and hunting like me and Brad’ll show you!”
Bloody white fellas,
Joe thinks.
More money than sense. Can’t even find their own bloody pigs and fish!

Decker looks at Joe’s hand and conceals the revulsion that rears inside him. Physical contact is a small price to pay for insurance. They shake on the deal and sink some more beer while the fishing and hunting stories get bigger and better. Unseen beneath the table, Decker wipes his hand against his trousers until it feels clean again. He is careful to sit on his beer and Jesse copies his father, following carefully in the footsteps of a master of deceit. Finally they agree on a time to meet up the next day at an easy to find turn off down the road.

As they head back to the Patrol, Jesse can’t contain his curiosity any longer. “What’d you do that for? We don’t need them black fellas!”

“Take it fucking easy boy, I’m just covering our bases in case something goes wrong. It’s a big country out here and them black bastards are good trackers. Just in case. If we don’t need ‘em we can piss ‘em off!”

“Yeah, good thinking I guess. Do you reckon they’ll find it? The plane I mean,” he adds.

“I reckon so boy. It’s the only reason they’re out here, for sure. There’re not on a honeymoon, not with that bitch. Soon we’re going to have some fun and might even get lucky!” He didn’t elaborate about his hopes for Fire Eye.

They fire up the Patrol and head down the road satisfied they have a good plan in place.