Lost In Kakadu (8 page)

“I know, it’s horrible. They don’t know where he is.”

Krystal heard her sobbing and it suddenly hit her what Tina was talking about. “Dad’ll be okay. I’m talking about me. They’re sending me to Grandma Mulholland.”

“Oh. Well, they have to follow—”

Krystal couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I can’t live with her. Tell them you’ll look after me.”

“I can’t … They won’t let me.”

“You bitch.” Krystal tossed the phone onto her bed. Moments later, someone banged on her bedroom door. “Go away.”

“Open the door or I will,” Thomas barked.

Krystal kept quiet as she watched the knob turn and smiled knowing it was locked. Footsteps retreated from the door and she turned her thoughts to who to ring next. But before she could think of anyone the door slammed open and Thomas stepped into the room.

“Get out,” she screamed, jabbing a shaky finger at him.

Thomas strode to her wardrobe and took her suitcase from the top shelf. “Do you want to pack it or shall I?”

At the first glimmer of sunrise, the birds began their morning ritual of calls and a kookaburra laughed so loud Mackenzie expected to see it right beside him. He knew the animals were out there, but so far he hadn’t seen any of them. Careful not to wake Abigail he quietly rummaged through his suitcase and changed his clothes.

The sun gilded the wet leaves as wisps of smoke pirouetted upward from the fire. As he watched it rise, he suddenly realised their mistake. Smoke was the only way rescuers could see them. He dashed into the bushes and stacked the fire with layers and layers of wood. Soon the smoke billowed and dispersed in the breeze. He prayed that just some of it escaped the dense bushes.

His stomach was angry at him, twisting into knots and demanding to be fed, but he couldn’t stand the thought of baked beans for yet another meal. A large sheet of metal dangling from the plane flashed in the sun and an idea formed in his mind. With renewed energy he walked to the wing, sneaking a glance at Abigail who looked peaceful in her sleep. The metal was the size of a coffee table yet it clung to the wreckage by a mere ten centimetres. The thick metal was more than a match for any gadgets on the multi tool and he realised this was going to require nothing but brute strength. He gripped the large sheet and clenched his jaw as he forced it to twist over and over. The battle against the metal was exhausting and he felt like he’d competed in a wrestling match when it finally released with a hollow rumble. He dragged the sheet to the fire.

The white paint burnt off with a crackle, sending black smoke out the sides. Once he scrubbed off the last of the paint, he smiled at the result.
Like a new teppanyaki hotplate.
He scooped a handful of flour into the middle with a sprinkle of sugar and worked in a small amount of water to form smooth dough that he flattened out with his palm.

The tin popped as the dough sizzled. He flipped it over with his fingers, wincing at the heat. When it was ready, the brown crust glided off the metal and he juggled the hot slice between his fingers. The crisp outer layer cracked as he bit into it and he closed his eyes, moaning with pleasure.

“What’re you eating?” Abigail looked liked she’d just woken up, with squinting eyes, matted hair and little creases on her cheek from sleeping on her side.

Mackenzie gulped down the mouthful. “I made bread.”

“You said we couldn’t eat without discussing it and now I find you sneaking food.”

“I wasn’t sneaking, I was experimenting. Would you like some?” He handed the slice toward her knowing the smell of fresh bread would be too enticing to resist. He grinned as she reached for it and took a bite.

“This is good.” She seemed surprised.

“I know.”

She broke off a piece and chewed. “I wondered what all that noise was about. You woke me.”

“Sorry about that. I tried to be quiet.”

“How’d you know what to do?”

“I’m a chef.”

“Oh.” She raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t tell me that.”

He shrugged. “You didn’t ask.” It was true. They’d been together for a couple of days and yet they didn’t know anything about each other.

She nodded at him. “This whole situation has me acting a little strange.”

Several comments came to mind but Mackenzie remained silent.

“I’m usually surrounded by lots of people and …”

“And?”

“And, my friends are different.”

“Nothing like me. Right?”

She didn’t respond.

“Come on, you can say it. You’re uncomfortable because I love a man.”

“No.” Her hand went to her chest. “It’s not that.”

“Yes, it is. You’ve been prancing around me like I have leprosy. Why don’t you just admit it?”

She averted her eyes.

“Look, we’re just like any couple. I looked forward to Rodney coming home each night, we shared everything and enjoyed each other’s company. No different to you and Spencer.”

She looked at him blankly as if confused by his comments.

“Forget it. You’ll never understand.” He collected a backpack and tossed in the last two water bottles along with all the empty bottles, the army knife and his underwear. “Let’s get going. We don’t know how long it’ll take to find the other half of the plane.” He swung the pack over his shoulder. “Are you coming?”

The plane’s path of destruction was easy to find but the dense vegetation made it difficult to follow. Mackenzie led the way, pushing back branches as he went. He paused at an enormous eucalyptus tree to tie a pair of his jockey shorts to a low hanging branch.

Abigail looked at him, wide eyed.

He shrugged. “In case we have trouble finding our way back.”

The stifling heat made him feel claustrophobic as they crept amongst the dense foliage. At least the shade offered some relief. The tree canopy was like intricate lace and the sun only penetrated through in narrow patches. Mackenzie tried to ignore Abigail’s constant groaning but it was impossible. Almost every step she made was accompanied with a complaint of some sort. A plant with a bunch of green fruits dangling below a gnarled branch caught his eye. Pinching one of the fruits he noted its peachy consistency, but resisted the urge to taste it. He didn’t fancy getting food poisoning out here. He stood and marked the tree with another pair of underpants.

When Abigail caught up to him, he pushed past the bush and continued on. A few steps later he stopped at a large square can partially embedded in the damp earth. He turned it over and noticed thick amber liquid dribbling from a crushed corner.

“Great, we have vegetable oil.” He secured it upright. “We’ll collect it on the way back.”

Up ahead he spied a white cylinder, tangled in amongst a bush with enormous leaves and he trudged through thick bushes to get to it. “Hey Abi, we’ve got powdered milk.”

“My name is Abigail.”

He turned to see her lips in a knotted scowl. “What’s wrong with you now?”

“You’re deliberately flinging those branches at me.”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not. They hurt.”

He held back a large branch and directed her ahead. “Well, you go first then.”

“I will.” She stormed past him.

Placing the tin on the ground, he marked the nearest tree and then followed behind her as she grunted with exaggerated movements through the bush. She pushed through a spindly branch and it whipped back giving Mackenzie only a split second to avoid the side swipe.

“See?” Abigail said.

“What?” He feigned ignorance.

A little while later he saw a bag stuck half way up a tree. “Look at that.” The case rested on a large branch about four metres off the ground.

“How do we get it?”

“It’s too high to worry about now.” He directed her in front of him again. “Let’s keep moving.”

“No, you can go first. I’m getting tired.” Sweat dampened her temples and her fringe clung to her forehead like rats’ tails.

He swung the backpack from his shoulder. “Want a drink?”

They each swallowed a trickle of water, just enough to moisten their mouths and then Mackenzie carried on.

Minutes later, he glimpsed a flash of white through the trees ahead. “There it is.” He sighed loudly. “Are you ready for this?”

“No.” Sweat beaded on her upper lip.

“Me neither. You can wait here if you like. I’ll have a look first.”

She chewed on the inside of her lip as if debating his question and then she looked up at him. “No. I’ll come with you.”

The back section of the plane rested upside down on its tail and the shredded edges of the cabin met the forest floor. Mackenzie clung to hope that someone had survived but with no obvious signs of life he dreaded what he was about to find.

“Hello?” he called out. He frowned at a mass of ants on the ground and then noticed dried vomit. “Someone made it out. I hope we’re not too late.” He ran to the wreck, stepped over the shredded edge and saw an elderly man slumped against the inside wall of the cabin, his legs stretched out in front of him, his chin rested on his chest.

“Hey, buddy.” Mackenzie knelt beside him.

The old man’s wispy, grey hair clung to his face. His skin was morbidly pale. Even his lips were colourless. He looked dead. Crushed, Mackenzie withdrew and as he did he saw the body dangling from the upturned chair.

“Jesus.” He took an involuntary step back. The hanging man’s hands were a deep aubergine colour and swollen almost beyond recognition.

Mackenzie jumped when the elderly man groaned. He stared at the body looking for signs of life. Finally, the man’s eyelids twitched.

“He’s alive.” Mackenzie stepped closer and touched the old man’s shoulder. “Hey man, are you hurt?”

The man mumbled something.

“Abi, get me the water.”

Abigail joined them in the crowded space and Mackenzie saw her gasp at the disfigured corpse. “Oh my God,” she whispered as she handed over the water without taking her eyes off the body.

Mackenzie placed his hand on the old man’s neck and guided his head back. He touched the bottle to his cracked lips and the man opened his mouth in response. A couple of drops touched his tongue and Mackenzie heard him swallow.

The injured man came more alive with each mouthful and when he opened his eyes, their redness failed to dampen the intensity in his pale blue irises.

“Are you hurt?” Mackenzie repeated his question.

The man nodded and lifted his hand to his chest.

“Your chest hurts?”

He nodded again.

Mackenzie turned to Abigail. “Do you know first aid?”

She shook her head and nudged backwards.

Mackenzie prayed the old man’s injury wasn’t serious. The last time he’d administered first aid, it hadn’t worked out so well.

The man’s shirt was stiff with dried blood that cracked as Mackenzie unbuttoned it. The pale eyes stared up at him, as if dreading Mackenzie’s reaction. Mackenzie trembled as he peeled back the shirt to reveal a gaunt, hairless chest. Dark, dried blood covered the right side of the man’s torso and a chunk of bone protruded from his chest like a stick of chalk.

Mackenzie swallowed down a wave of nausea as the man’s intense gaze bore into him. But he was determined to remain calm despite his mind exploding into a million terrifying thoughts. The silence between them bristled with unspoken questions. After a while the man tilted his head in a slow nod as if he had all the answers.

Mackenzie cleared his throat. “It’s just a broken rib.” His trembling voice gave away his forced calmness, but he winked. “You’ll be fine. We’re going to take you back to our campsite. Okay?”

The man nodded with his eyes.

“Mate, I’ve forgotten your name.” Mackenzie was disappointed he had to ask.

“I’m Charlie, the botanist,” he murmured.

“Right, I’m Mackenzie and this is Abigail.” Mackenzie buttoned up Charlie’s shirt and rested his hand on the old man’s shoulder.

“You’re going to be okay. We’ll get a few things organised and be back in a moment.”

Tears trickled down Charlie’s dirt smudged cheek and Mackenzie turned away, swallowing back the emotional lump in his throat. He crawled backwards, exited the plane and breathed deeply.

Abigail stepped up beside him. “What’re we going to do?”

Mackenzie considered his options and once again a complete feeling of inadequacy overwhelmed him. Charlie’s immense pain was obvious and moving him would be agony, but he couldn’t stay here. Abigail’s bloodshot eyes urged him to have a solution.

He made a decision. “Let’s look around the wreck first. See if there’s anything useful, like a first aid kit.” Placing his hands on her shoulders he guided her back to the wreck and for the first time she didn’t withdraw from him.

The outside of the plane was relatively unscathed considering the circumstances of its arrival. It appeared to have avoided impact with the trees as it fell from the sky. It was a bizarre sight, as if it had been placed here on purpose, like part of a movie set. A scan of the surrounding area revealed Tom’s shattered camera, a back pack and a water bottle. No other items seemed useful.

Abigail unzipped the pack to reveal clothes and a bottle of Bundaberg Rum. Her eyes lit up as she held the bottle like a trophy and then handed the amber liquor toward Mackenzie. “Want some?”

He thought she was joking but the look on her face said otherwise. “No, thanks.”

Without a second thought, she cracked the lid and took a swig. Tears twinkled in the corners of her eyes as she wiped her lips and then held the bottle out to him again.

The distinct smell of the bitter liquid brought back an overwhelming image of his father. His thick, tobacco stained hands splayed on the kitchen bench. His barrel shaped belly. The grey specks spotting his beard stubble like spittle. The foul body odour that poisoned every room his father entered. Mackenzie smacked the memory down. “I don’t drink rum.”

“Me neither.” Abigail swallowed another mouthful.

“Go steady. It might be the only medicine we have.”

She hesitated before screwing the lid back on and returning the bottle to the backpack.

“We should get Charlie settled before dark. I can come back for all this stuff tomorrow.”