Lost In Kakadu (23 page)

Abi blinked away the tears that blurred her vision and nodded. She stepped into his arms, squeezing him tight, never wanting to let go.

The throbbing pain in Abi’s abdomen dragged her from sleep and she curled onto her side in an attempt to get more comfortable. Although it was still dark, the faint morning glow made it possible to see her surroundings. Mackenzie was still asleep in the bed beside hers. He lay on his stomach, his muscular arms curled up around his head, his face was away from her, his breathing deep and relaxed.

Rustling sounds from the surrounding bush caught her attention. She’d learnt to accept the noises and tried to picture what type of animal it could be. There were no definite footfall sounds and the rustling leaves told her it was foraging amongst the dense forest floor. She heard deep grunting noises and imagined a wild pig out there looking for food. The sound gradually dissolved as the birds awakened with the onset of dawn.

Out the hole in the cabin wall Abigail watched the morning sun jostle for a place through the damp leaves. She’d begun to notice a regular pattern to the birds’ morning chorus. One bird’s call sounded like a whistle. It released a long, drawn out sound that ended abruptly like the whistle had been yanked from its beak. Another bird’s call was a short hoot that the bird repeated, progressively growing faster and faster and when it reached fever pitch it too just stopped, like it had fallen off its branch. Then the kookaburras started their duelling laughter, loud and obnoxious.

Mackenzie’s chest still rose and fell in a slow, regular pattern. She was amazed that the birds never seemed to wake him. In her previous life, Abigail hadn’t taken the time to listen to nature and she was surprised by how much she enjoyed it. It was a glorious way to start the day, so peaceful and relaxing.

Mackenzie rolled toward her and opened his eyes.

“Morning, sleepy head,” she said.

“You been awake long?”

“A while. Bit of a pain in my stomach.”

He furrowed his brow. “You okay?”

“I’ll be fine. Just hungry, I think.” She loved that he genuinely cared for her.

“Well, how about you have a bit of a lie in and I’ll get some brekkie on the go?”

“That would be lovely.”

Mackenzie climbed out of bed and reached for his shirt. Her eyes fell on the silver ring nestled in his thick chest hair and she caught herself following the line of hairs down his muscular torso until they disappeared into his shorts. Dragging her eyes away, she was grateful but also disappointed when his shirt fell over his chest.

He was due for a shave and his beard was thick and dark, the scar on his chin completely hidden. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.” He flashed white teeth at her.

“Thanks.” She watched him leave before rolling onto her side. Her hand brushed over her breast and she was surprised to feel her erect nipple. A hot flush burnt up her neck as she brushed over her breast again, stirring a need within her that she hadn’t felt for a very long time. Staring at Mackenzie’s empty bed, she recalled the images of him on the rock; his body lying golden and glistening, the sun highlighting his pubic hair.
Stop it
. Chiding herself, she searched for something to do and reached for Charlie’s letters.

She unravelled the white ribbon and the bundle spilled onto her bed. Each time she opened one of the envelopes, she diligently returned it to its original position in the pile. Glancing at Charlie’s last letter, the one he wrote before he died, she fought the urge to read it, fearing what sad words she might find there.

In the previous letter, Charlie had written of his excitement at seeing his daughter’s engagement announcement in the newspaper and he’d begged Sue to be included in the wedding ceremony. Abi hoped his next letter offered a positive response but she didn’t hold much hope for Charlie.

Abi marked her place in the bundle with the fifty dollar note, realising she was almost half way through the pile. She selected the white envelope and instantly noticed it was different. This envelope was addressed to Charlie and the harsh straight letters written on the envelope had an angry presence about them. Before she even opened it, Abi knew it was from Charlie’s ex-wife, Sue.

The yellowed paper inside had dog-eared edges and ragged creases indicating it had been read many times over. Abi immediately knew this letter wasn’t going to be a pleasant read. She rolled onto her back and held the crumpled page above.

Charlie, you stupid fool,

What do I have to do to get my message through your thick skull?

We don’t want to hear from you. Not me and NOT Holly.

It’s been fourteen years and it’s time you moved on. We have. Holly has had a real father in her life for years and I have a husband who treats me like a wife.

Leave us alone and for God’s sake do NOT ruin Holly’s wedding day. She doesn’t want to see you.

If you love her
—
then disappear.

How dare she stop him from sharing his love with his own daughter?
Abi thought of her own father. He’d been an enigma in her life, either a dark shadow in the corner or a loud voice in the den, completely lacking any ability to show affection. She never felt his touch, not even so much as holding his hand or a kiss on her cheek. His voice was always a commanding bark and his eyes showed his contempt for her. In fact, she’d feared him. He died when she was nineteen and she’d shed no tears at his funeral.

Mackenzie poked his head into the cabin, startling her. “Breakfast’s ready.”

“Oh. Okay, I’ll be out in a minute.”

She tied the bundle of letters together, slipped out of bed and stepped barefoot onto the dirt. Mackenzie sat by the fire, balancing a metal plate on his lap and when she sat down beside him, he handed her breakfast over. A portion of evenly toasted pastry was centred in the middle of the plate with a couple of beans oozing from the side.

“Bean calzone today.” He seemed embarrassed.

“Mmm, my favourite.” She didn’t want to consider how many times they’d eaten this for breakfast since they crashed.

“Liar.”

They ate in silence gazing into the fire Mackenzie had loaded with fresh logs. He still insisted they had to keep the fire going, no matter what. They needed to travel a fair distance into the bush now for fire fuel. Scavenging for wood was a daily chore and a good workout. Their days were a steady stream of chores—washing clothes, searching for food, preparing meals, collecting water, making the fire. Abi never thought such mundane duties could be so satisfying. Back home, she hired people to do all the hard work for her. No wonder she had trouble losing weight.

She reached for Mackenzie’s empty plate. “So what contraption are you working on today?”

Mackenzie was constantly planning or making new things. She recognised that keeping busy was his way of dealing with their situation.

“Don’t laugh,” he said solemnly.

Her eyes narrowed as she studied him, trying to read his mind. “You can’t tell me not to laugh. I don’t know how I’ll react until you say what it is. So?”

He cocked his head to the side. “A bath.”

She couldn’t help it and started laughing. “A bath. That would be fabulous.” She paused trying to stop her giggling. “I don’t know why I’m laughing. I’m intrigued and excited. I can’t wait. Do you want me to help?”

* * *

Mackenzie loved Abi’s new enthusiasm and considered her offer, however he enjoyed surprising her—and himself for that matter—with his finished projects. “No, you can go do … whatever it is you do. Leave me to my masterpiece.”

A long forgotten memory suddenly flashed into his mind. A time when he was still Malcolm. He was in the kitchen with his Mum, she’d just baked a cake, her own recipe she’d said and announced herself as an artist. He could still smell it now.

“What are you thinking about?”

“What?”

“You had that look. The one you get when you remember something.”

Abi’s intuition had hit overdrive lately. It was scary. “I was just thinking about my mum.”

“You never talk about her. Tell me.”

Mackenzie didn’t want to talk about it. He touched the scar on his chin, but then quickly dropped his hand. He decided to gloss over all the rotten details. “It was one day after school. I’d just gotten home and Mum was in the kitchen. She’d made this beautiful cake, banana and walnut. It smelt divine.”

“I bet it tasted good too.”

He paused. “Yes.” He lied. He never did get a chance to eat it.

Abi’s eyes searched his face. “You didn’t eat it, did you?”

He glared at her. “Jesus, Abi, what are you … a friggin’ mind reader?” He strode away, furious that she could read him so well.

“Mack, what did I say? Sorry.”

Mackenzie was a man possessed and making the bath suddenly seemed like a test. An obsessive urgency to create a masterpiece overwhelmed him and he desperately needed to build something his mother would be proud of. Failure was unacceptable.

Setting off for the back half of the plane, his dedicated focus blocked out all sound and he felt the eyes of the devil watching him, waiting for him to fail.

As he approached the back half of the plane, he glanced over at Tom’s final resting place. The grave site was no longer visible. The dirt had settled back into place and several plants were now flourishing upon it. Any sign of Tom’s existence had completely disappeared. Suddenly making the bath seemed even more important. The way things were going, he and Abigail might never be found alive but when their campsite was discovered, people would know that, not only did they survive the crash, but they thrived amongst the ruins.

As he entered the plane he cast the thoughts aside. The idea of making a bath from the moulded toilet cubicle had been rolling around in his mind for a while. He examined the fibreglass walls and was pleased with its potential. The curved sides made it a perfect shape but the test would be how the roof and floor were secured. The seals would need to be water tight. Using the blunt axe he painstakingly carved the cubicle from the wreckage, careful not to damage the fibreglass.

He was panting with exhaustion and lathered in sweat when it eventually fell free. He manhandled it over the seats and out of the plane to examine it. The only obvious issue was a hole, about the size of a bread plate, where the toilet pipe once ran through. He mentally itemised every piece of equipment they’d scavenged from the crash, searching for a way to close the hole. It wasn’t until he’d dragged the shell back to within sight of the plane that he had a plan.

He pulled the toolbox out and rummaged through it to find the tube of quick set Araldite glue. When he’d first found it all those months ago, he’d thought it was a worrisome item for the pilot to have, and had wondered which parts of the plane were held together with it. Maybe Dave’s shoddy repairs were the reason the plane crashed.

Mackenzie sliced open one of the inner tubes from the plane’s wheels and cut a piece of rubber large enough to cover the hole with an additional two inches overlapping. Working fast, Mackenzie glued it into place.

He glanced at the graves, several metres away. “Hey Charlie, I think it’s going to work.” Charlie would know what it meant to have to prove himself. He’d spent his whole life trying to show his family. Mackenzie shook his head, saddened by the type of life Charlie had led. When they got home he’d make sure Charlie’s heroic efforts out here were recognised.

Mackenzie dug a shallow pit in the ground that was only just deep enough to hold the fibreglass steady but wouldn’t be any support for the sides. He hoped the sides were strong enough to hold their shape. He felt great satisfaction when the fibreglass shell fell into the hole like it was meant to be there.

By now the sun had passed overhead and the searing midday heat had begun to cool, but his body still throbbed with heat and exhaustion. He grabbed the toilet cistern and headed for the lagoon.

The stream had dwindled to a third of the volume it was when he first discovered it. Fortunately the water continued to flow, ensuring it remained fresh. Stagnant water would’ve created a whole gamut of problems he didn’t want to think about. The cool water beckoned and he placed the cistern aside and dived in. His skin tingled as if releasing tiny bubbles of heat and tension.

His mind flashed back to that moment with the cake and Mackenzie decided that today’s creation would be made in his mum’s honour. He lay back, floated on top and closed his eyes trying to push those sad memories from his mind.

He decided he’d better get moving. It was going to take many trips from the lagoon to fill the bath. He stepped onto the rock pontoon and pushed the cistern under the water; it filled readily, then, straining to lift it onto his shoulder, he adjusted it for comfort and powered up the steep slope.

With each addition to the bath, the water rose just two inches. A pink coloured sunlight filtered through the trees and he knew he had only a few hours before the blackness of night consumed them, so he picked up his pace. It wasn’t until late in the afternoon that he was satisfied with the water depth.

Earlier in the day he’d placed large rocks in the fire and now using the axe he rolled them from the coals to the bath. With a couple of sticks he juggled them into the water and with a harsh sizzle they dropped to the bottom. Twenty two rocks were needed to heat the water and satisfied the temperature was perfect, he removed the rocks and stripped off.

* * *

Abi deliberately avoided Mackenzie as much as possible during the day. He seemed distant and focused and it was important for each of them to be alone occasionally. His construction phases were his time. She’d also decided not to bring up the cake again. It obviously hurt him to talk about it, and it was Mackenzie’s choice whether he told her about it or not. She knew though, by the way he touched it, that the scar on his chin had something to do with it.

Her day had been filled with swimming, reading, and writing in her diary and she was plucking feathers from the carcass of a yellow bird when Mackenzie called her.