Flight to Coorah Creek (2 page)

‘It's beautiful,' she said, almost to herself.

‘It sure is,' Jack agreed with her.

Most of the flight passed in a companionable silence. Just as her instruments told her they were nearing the end of the journey, Jack touched her arm.

‘There it is.'

She followed his pointing finger, but saw nothing to indicate a town. She started her descent. A few moments later she saw it. A long ridge ended in a sheer red cliff. At its base, a line of trees mapped out a narrow watercourse. That would be Coorah Creek. She'd looked the Aboriginal word up on the internet. It meant woman. At the time she'd thought that might be a good omen. Of the town that bore the same name, she could see little. The Goongalla Mine, however, was another matter. The open pit was far larger than she had expected. As the plane dropped lower she could see machines moving slowly on the sides and base of the cut, carrying their load of uranium ore to the surface. It took a few seconds for her to realise how huge the machines must be to be visible from such a height.

She banked the plane and dropped even lower. Now she had a better view of the town which had grown up on the banks of the creek, in the shadow of the escarpment. It sat where two roads met in a giant Y shape to form a single track heading south-west towards the desert. A railway line ran parallel to the east-bound road and turned south to its terminus in the mine compound. A short spur led into the town itself. The houses were set in large blocks of land. In a place where rain was more common, there would be gardens around those homes. Instead, Coorah Creek had just a very few small green patches of carefully tended lawn. The rough red of the outback soil predominated. Near the middle of the town, Jess blinked at the incongruous sight of a square of brilliant blue.

‘You've got a swimming pool?'

‘The school does. Courtesy of the mine.'

‘Like this aircraft.'

‘You got it,' Jack replied. ‘Without the mine …'

‘There'd be no town.' Jess finished for him.

‘Pretty much. Before the mine came, this place was just a pit stop on the Birdsville Road. A petrol station and pub and half a dozen houses. Now look at it.'

A population of almost three thousand, Jess recalled from her reading. With a police station, shops and a town council. There was a church and a hospital too, small but very well equipped. The mine looked after its own. Jessica circled the town as she reduced her height, trying to get a feel for this place which was going to be her new home. The mine was south of the town and the airstrip was right next to it, which made sense if the mining company was paying the bills. They'd no doubt use it for flying company executives in and out. The strip itself had an all-weather surface, not that rain would be much of a problem out here. There was a single large building made of corrugated iron, with a flat roof and a large round metal water tank at the side. Jess guessed that was the hangar for the plane she was now flying.

Jess brought the Beechcraft in for a gentle touchdown. Following Jack's directions, she taxied the plane towards the large corrugated iron shed that served as the air ambulance hangar. She was still some yards from her destination when a car shot at high speed around the corner of the building and began sliding towards them as the driver stood too heavily on his brakes.

‘What the …' Jess jammed her brakes on and brought the plane to a halt, its spinning propellers just a few yards from the car.

She was about to shut down the engines, when a man leaped out of the car, waving his hands.

‘Get back,' she yelled, knowing as she did that he couldn't hear her. The lunatic was running forward, in very real danger from the spinning propellers.

Jack said something as he ducked between the seats into the back of the plane, but Jess didn't hear him. She watched horrified as the madman on the tarmac dived under her wingtip. A few seconds later, she saw a woman in some sort of strange headscarf follow the madman. That's when Jack flung open the aircraft door.

Jess's heart started to pound as she heard booted feet race up the aircraft stairs. It was as if she had stepped back into her nightmare … Flashing lights and sirens … Angry men with guns, shouting and threatening. Knives tearing into the seats of her beloved jet, to reveal the packets of white power hidden there …

Jess shook her head and turned towards the interior of the plane. The tall man who looked into her startled face wasn't wearing a uniform. His hands were holding a small rucksack.

‘What the hell?' Jess shouted at him. ‘You idiot. You could have been killed.'

The madman waved her words away with an impatient hand. ‘We've got to get in the air. Right now.'

‘What?'

‘There's an injured man. About two hundred kilometres west. You've got to get me to him.'

‘What's going on?' She looked to Jack North for help. He grinned at her and nodded to the madman.

‘Jess Pearson – pilot, meet Adam Gilmore – doctor.'

‘Oh.' Jess did a classic double take. This lunatic with a death wish was the doctor? He didn't look much like any doctor she'd ever met. He was wearing jeans and an open-necked shirt with long sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He appeared about thirty, and he needed a shave. His dark hair and brown eyes were quite unremarkable – for a madman.

‘We don't have time.' The doctor was obviously not one for pleasantries, or even manners.

Jess felt her hackles rise. She was the pilot. She was responsible. This plane was going nowhere unless she wanted it to. She wasn't going to let another man use her and her aircraft.

‘He'll die if I don't get there fast.' Adam's eyes blazed with an almost fanatical intensity.

A tense silence settled in the crowded confines of the small aircraft – for about three seconds.

‘Where?' Jess reached for her map case and spread a map out on the nearest stretcher.

‘Here.' He pointed to a place on the map. ‘Warrina Downs. They've got an airstrip.'

‘How long is it?' Jess asked, as she looked down at the map.

‘How the hell should I know?' Adam snapped.

‘Well, I need to know if I'm going to land this plane on it,' Jess retorted.

‘It's long enough,' Jack offered calmly, as he passed a couple of medical bags into the cabin. ‘We've been there before. And you'll be fine for fuel. They've got plenty out there.'

As Jack was the only person she'd known for more than ninety seconds, Jess guessed she would have to trust him.

She glanced out of the window. ‘There's not a lot of daylight left. If we run out of light …'

‘You won't if you get this damn plane in the air right now.' Adam was too tall to stand up straight in the cabin, but Jess could feel him looking down at her in anger. ‘That man is dying.'

A woman's face, streaked with tears. My son is dead. It's your fault.

Jess closed her eyes and fought down the emotions surging through her. ‘All right,' she said through gritted teeth. ‘Stow those bags. Get yourself strapped in and I'll get this damn plane in the air.'

She opened her eyes and looked straight into the lined face of a small elderly nun standing at the top of the aircraft stairs.

‘Oh,' she gasped. ‘Sorry. Sister … I …'

‘That's quite all right, my dear,' the nun's gentle voice sparkled with humour. ‘I'll just strap myself in too so you can get this damn plane in the air.'

Adam looked at his watch again. Somewhere below them a badly injured man needed his help. They were taking too long to get to him. Shaking his head, he turned to look out of the window. The sun was sinking very close to the horizon. From this height it was still light enough to see, but closer to the ground, the vast open plain was being eaten up by shadow. He felt a twinge of concern. If they weren't on the ground soon …

He looked towards the cockpit. From his seat he could only see the back of the pilot's head, but he could feel the intensity of her concentration. Occasionally, she would reach up to tug at her short dark hair, as if trying to lengthen it. She seemed to know what she was doing at the controls for someone who was quite young – no more than her mid-twenties. She was attractive too, he suddenly realised. She looked more like a model than a pilot. He wondered for a few seconds what on earth would bring a woman like her to a place like Coorah Creek. Then his eyes dropped back to his watch.

‘I'm starting the descent now.' The pilot – Jess – turned to look back at him. ‘We're about ten minutes out. I've got them on the radio. They want to talk to you.'

Adam unbuckled his seat belt and moved forward into the cockpit. He slipped carefully into the co-pilot's seat and reached for the radio handset.

‘This is Adam Gilmore.'

‘I'm glad you're almost here, Doc. He's in a bad way.' The voice from the radio was distorted, but the concern was still obvious. ‘His side's ripped open. We padded it like you said on the phone, but there's still a lot of blood.'

‘Where is he?'

‘At the homestead. Are you going to fly him out tonight? We can bring him to the strip.'

‘We're not going anywhere else tonight,' Jess said sharply. ‘No light.'

‘I know,' Adam said impatiently, very aware that the swiftly falling darkness might cost the injured man his life. He thumbed the microphone open. ‘Don't move him. Keep him as still as you can and keep pressure on the wound. Have a car meet us.'

‘Okay, Doc.'

Jess took the handset from him and thumbed it on. ‘This is the pilot again,' she said. ‘We're running out of light up here. I'm going to need your help to get down. I need landing lights.'

Landing lights? Adam frowned. Didn't she realise she was talking about a graded strip of red dirt in the back of nowhere?

‘Send out cars.' Jess gave instructions in a crisp clear voice. ‘At least two – more if you have them. I need one on the south-east corner, pointing up the eastern side of the strip. The other one at the north-west corner, pointing down the western side. Tell them to have their lights on high beam.'

‘Okay.' The voice at the other end of the radio sounded hesitant.

‘I'm starting my descent now and I can barely see the strip. I need those lights and I need them right now.'

Adam heard some muffled words shouted at the other end of the radio.

‘They're on the way.'

He looked out of the window. He could distinguish a cluster of buildings, illuminated by a series of small lights. Huge white letters across the roof of the shearing shed identified Warrina Downs. They were barely readable in the low light. The landing was going to be more than just difficult. It was going to be dangerous. He caught a glimpse of a pale line in the earth. The landing strip. Even as he watched, it faded from sight as the light failed. He could see the headlights of two vehicles moving at speed away from the homestead.

‘There they are,' he said.

‘I've got them. Strap in. This isn't going to be the best landing you've ever experienced.'

Adam did as instructed. Glancing sideways at Jess's profile, he saw her brow furrow. He wasn't afraid of flying. In his job he'd chalked up more than a few difficult landings in his urgency to get to someone who needed him. But this … He looked out of the window again. The cars had stopped moving. He saw the bright beams of their headlights – but he couldn't see a landing strip. He felt a twinge of something that might be fear.

He turned to look back at Sister Luke. The nun was securely strapped into her seat. Her face was calm, but he rarely saw her any other way. Her hands were closed around the wooden cross that hung down the front of her habit. Adam wasn't a religious man, but he always felt slightly comforted when Sister Luke was praying.

A small sound beside him drew his attention back to Jess. She was saying something, but not to him. She was speaking too softly for him to hear, almost as if she were talking to the plane. Adam could almost feel the intensity of her concentration as she lowered the nose of the aircraft. Unconsciously his hands clenched into fists.

The plane settled lower. To Adam it seemed they almost clipped the roof of the first car as they passed over it. He could see the ground now. The aircraft's wheels brushed the dirt, and the plane bounced a few feet into the air. Again the wheels touched, and this time they gripped. The headlights at the end of the runway seemed to be racing towards them, even though Adam knew the car was stationary. Jess's hands moved quickly and assuredly over the controls and the plane rapidly slowed. In the faint light of the cars' headlights, Adam could see the tin shed that served as hangar for the airstrip. Jess turned the plane and brought it to a complete stop with its nose pointing at the shed. The two cars converged on them, their lights providing an eerie illumination to the scene.

In the back of the plane, Sister Luke was out of her seat before the propellers had stopped turning. She released the catch and lowered the aircraft stairs. She was gone by the time Adam had their medical bags out of the lockers. He passed them out to willing hands.

As he stepped through the doorway, he turned to look back. Jess was out of her seat, watching him. She looked tired and relieved as she ran her fingers once more through her hair. He wondered for a moment if her hands were shaking.

‘Thank you.' Adam felt he should say something more, but he didn't have time. He turned and descended the aircraft stairs in two great bounds.

Sister Luke was already in the front cab of the utility. Adam leaped onto the flat tray where his bags were waiting. He banged his fist on the metal side of the ute to signal the driver and the vehicle surged forward. Adam stared back at the plane, as Jess slowly descended the steps, where the driver of the second car was waiting for her.

In the harsh glare of the headlights she looked a little lost and very alone.

It was amazing what the human body could stand. Adam sat by the bed, looking down at the face of the sleeping stockman. He was just a kid. Twenty. Maybe twenty-one. Despite the deep hollows that pain had carved under his eyes, the kid still looked soft. City soft. According to the property manager, he'd only been in the outback for a few weeks. He'd come seeking adventure and excitement as a jackaroo – a trainee stockman. This was much more than he'd bargained for.

It was hot in the room. His sleeping patient was covered only with a light sheet that had been folded back so Adam could see the dressing he'd placed over the wound. The kid had disturbed a feral pig. He should have known better than to go near the huge boar as it was gorging on the carcass of a young calf. He carried a rifle, but his aim wasn't good enough. The wounded beast had turned on him. One of the other stockmen heard the screams and killed the boar, but by then the kid had been badly mauled by the creature's razor sharp tusks. He'd probably walk with a limp for the rest of his life due to the damaged muscles in his leg. But the wound in his side could have killed him. If they'd been a bit longer getting here …

The outback was a tough place. Mother Nature could be very cruel. Almost as cruel as people.

Adam stretched to relieve the tension in his back, rubbing the left side of his neck and shoulder. He leaned forward to place a hand on his patient's forehead. No sign of a fever – yet. He'd stitched the wound and administered a huge dose of antibiotics, but the fight wasn't over. A saline drip hanging above the bed would help with the loss of blood, but this kid needed watching tonight. Hopefully he'd stabilise and in the morning they'd fly him to Mount Isa. He needed better care than Adam could give at his tiny facility in Coorah Creek.

‘Why don't you go and get something to eat?' a gentle voice behind him said.

‘He should sleep for a few hours,' Adam said, as he gave up his chair for Sister Luke. ‘He's had some painkillers, but if he wakes—'

‘I'll call you,' Sister Luke said. ‘I've done this before.'

‘Yes, you have.' Adam smiled, suddenly feeling very tired. No one knew better than him just how good Sister Luke was. He rubbed his shoulder again, stretching his neck against the stiffness there. His patients had always been in safe hands with Sister Luke. This boy would be too. With a final look at the unconscious figure on the bed, Adam left them and stepped out into the darkness.

Like most outback homesteads, this one had a deep veranda running along all four sides of the house, to offer sanctuary from the blistering sun. Almost every room had at least one door opening onto the veranda. Adam had no idea of the time, but he imagined it must be quite late. The last vestiges of the sunset had long since vanished from the western sky. He walked to the edge of the veranda, rested his hands on the wooden railing and stared out into the night.

When people from the city came to the outback, one of their first reactions at night was to notice the silence. Adam knew better. The outback is never silent. To those who listen, the night is filled with sound. He could hear the gentle ticking of the corrugated iron on the homestead roof, contracting as it cooled after the heat of the day. To his left, behind a high post and rail fence, he could hear some animals moving around. Probably the horses the stockmen had been riding that day. A faint breeze was blowing, carrying the metallic clank of the windmill as it continued its never-ending circles – pumping life-giving water from deep below the earth. Occasionally, the breeze brought faint sounds of human voices from the stockmen's quarters. His nostrils flared as he caught a whiff of smoke. In the distance the restless light of an open fire captured his attention, mesmerising in its slow dance.

Adam took a long slow breath trying to relieve the tension of the past few hours. The injured boy was safe. He'd made it here in time. Thanks to the new pilot. She'd done a great job. Now he had time to think, he was rather impressed by that difficult landing. And on her first day. He probably should find her and tell her. The other thing he should find was food. He suddenly felt very hungry. He set out in search of the kitchen. Turning the corner of the veranda, he saw a figure standing in the dim light, staring out into the night. Just as he had. Adam knew why he often stood alone staring into the darkness. He wondered why Jess did. Her tall slender body was tense, as if ready to dart away at the slightest threat. She was taking no comfort from the stillness of the night.

She turned as she heard him approach. ‘How is he?'

‘He'll be fine,' Adam said. ‘He's lucky. That was a great landing, by the way.'

‘Thanks. Just don't tell the authorities. I'd like to keep my licence.'

‘I guess they'd frown on a landing like that.'

‘It's not the worst thing I've ever done.' She seemed almost to be speaking to herself, and her voice was full of regret.

What other things, Adam wondered, could Jess possibly have done that were more illegal than a late landing on an unlit airstrip? He watched her face as she turned back to the night. She was tall for a woman, but still shorter than him. Her hair shone softly in the light that streamed out of a window. He had always liked long hair on a woman – but he realised he rather liked this short gamine cut. It framed a face that was quite beautiful. He was struck by a desire to see her smile. Their acquaintance so far had been short – and not exactly designed for smiling. He found himself wanting to change that.

‘You did well today.'

‘Is this where you tell me I saved his life,' Jess said, her voice a little brittle and defensive.

‘No. I saved his life. But you got me here so I could do it.'

She was silent. He sensed her surprise. Perhaps she found him a bit brusque. Well, he believed words existed to help people communicate – not to hinder them. He didn't mince his words.

‘You've had a rough first day,' he said.

She nodded. He could feel the tension in her. That was easy to understand. The more he thought about the past few hours, the more he realised just what a tough welcome Jess had received in her new home. Perhaps there was something he could do about that. He certainly wasn't about to leave her staring out into the night, brooding. He knew from long experience that no good would come from that.

‘Have you eaten anything?'

‘I … the family offered me dinner. But … well, I guess I didn't feel much like eating.'

‘I know what you mean. The smells coming from the kitchen weren't very appealing, were they?'

Jess turned quickly towards him. The corners of her mouth twitched as she almost smiled. That was better.

‘But you should eat. We both should. Come with me. I happen to know the best restaurant in town.'

She looked at him then, her eyebrows raised in question.

Adam led the way down the wooden steps into the baked red earth and together they strolled towards the distant campfire. As they got closer, the smell of smoke got stronger. Adam ignored the smoke and focused on the cooking smells. His stomach rumbled.

‘G'day,' Adam called, as he approached the fire. ‘Any chance of some tucker for a couple of hungry fliers?'

‘Sure, Doc,' said a voice in the darkness.

The men sprawled around the campfire were almost uniformly dressed in blue jeans and well-worn cotton shirts. The sun had long since vanished, but each still wore a battered Akubra hat, as if he had been born wearing it. To a man, their brown skin and dark curly hair declared their Aboriginal heritage. Some sat on the dry earth. Others on logs that had been set around the fire.