Red Centre (6 page)

Frank juggled the large stack of papers. He
wasn’t sure what they were.

“
Go for a run, fat
bastard!” Chris shoved the gun toward Roy.

Roy hesitated, scratching his ass for a
moment, then did as ordered. Nursing his wound, he walked away up
the dirt trail.

The papers were photocopied newspaper
articles. Some lines were highlighted with a bright, yellow marker:
“LOCAL WOMAN MISSING,” “UFO SEEN MOMENTS BEFORE,” “POLICE FIND NO
TRACE OF TEENAGE TOURIST,” “STRANGE LIGHTS SIGHTED OVER
DESERT.”

Frank looked up at Chris, not sure what he
was supposed to make off all of this. “I’ve read the headlines many
times before.”

Chris held up the photo of Shawn. “My son.”
He cleared his dry, morning throat. “He’s been missing for a number
of days.”

Frank looked down at the stack of papers in
his hands again. He placed them on the hood. “What does this all
have to do with me and me wife?” The light, morning breeze lifted
some of the pages, blowing them across the desert ground.

Chris continued, “One of his friends was
suppose to go with him, but dropped out at the last minute. Shawn
decided to go anyway. A two-week backpacking adventure. See the
outback of Australia.” Chris looked to the ground. In hindsight, it
would have been better if he hadn’t let his son go alone. “He’s
barely eighteen.”

Five days earlier

The sun had just hidden itself behind the
horizon. Night was closing in. An array of colors exploded across
the sky. Picture perfect. A naive Shawn Marshall, a gangly
eighteen-year-old, walked on the side of the lonely highway. His
sneakers worn from a lot of walking. His face was burnt from
walking in the sun all day. The heavy load of his backpack pulled
on his shoulders like a bag of bricks. A long way to go; his head
hung low.

Headlights coming from behind caught his
attention. He turned, holding out his index finger, trying to hitch
a ride. A look of hope lit up his face. The car didn’t stop. It
didn’t even slow down. Shawn was soon left in darkness once more.
Only the high-pitched sound of crickets to keep him company.
Realization set in—he’d be sleeping on the roadside tonight. Maybe
he should have listened to his dad and not gone at this alone. He
was used to camping, having gone many times with his father, but
this was a different country. And he was on his own. Backpacking
wasn’t the safest way to get around, but it was the cheapest. He’d
have some spare money when he got back to Sydney.

He stopped to take a sip from his water
bottle and removed his cell phone to check the time. He knew it
would be earlier hours of the morning back home, but he also knew
there would be no phone coverage further out of town. He dialed his
father. Voice mail. Shawn left a message. “Hey, Dad, it’s me. I
thought I would just let you know that I’m heading back to Sydney.
Then I’m coming home. I’ll call you from the airport in a couple
of—”

***

Chris held out his phone for Frank to hear
the recorded message. Shawn stopped talking. Something had caught
his attention. Frank leaned in to see if he could hear anything.
Nothing. Complete silence. Eerie silence.

Shawn’s excited voice burst out once more
over the speaker-phone. “Dad! Damn! You won’t believe this!” He
laughed, as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Strange
... red ... light ...”

Chris’ small phone speaker crackled. The
remainder of the message was a mixture of distorted speaking, high
interference and then … nothing.

“
This was the last we
heard of him. He never made it to Sydney.” Chris pocketed his
phone, his voice shaky. “Police haven’t found any trace of him. Not
a shoe, his backpack. Nothing. Like he dropped off the face of the
earth.”

Frank folded his arms. “Are we done
here?”

“
What do you think it
means?” Chris said in a subdued voice.

Frank stepped forward, pulling his gun from
Chris’ loose grip. “You don’t need me to tell ya. You already know
what it means.” He rested his gun on his shoulder, ready to
leave.

“
Is your story true?”
Chris asked with a desperate plea. “Was Emma taken?”

“
You don’t get it, do ya?”
Frank grabbed the remaining papers off the hood and slammed them
into Chris’ hands. “Your son ain’t coming back.”

“
I can’t believe that. I
can’t accept that.”

“
Go home, Yankee.” Frank
turned to leave, his back facing Chris. “There’s nothin’ you can do
here.” He started to walk away, done with the
conversation.

Chris called after him. “Did you give up? On
Emma?”

Frank stopped, turned back to face Chris.
“They thought I killed me wife,” Frank said through clenched teeth.
He scratched his head. “Investigated me for months. I waited for
months for them to return her.” His voice cracked. “Where the hell
was I supposed to even look for her?” He looked to the bright-blue
morning sky. “Ya just gotta hang on to the memories. The good
times. There’s nothin’ else you can do. There’s no one that can
help ya.”

“
I’m going to find my son
and I don’t care what I have to do.”

Frank nodded and turned his back on Chris,
walking away again. “Let me know if you find a way to get him back
from up there.” He pointed to the sky.

“
I don’t believe it! I
don’t believe you!” Chris called.

Frank waved his arm, shrugging off his
comments. He didn’t care. “Ya said it yourself. The cops found
nothin’. Go home.”

Large information sheets littered the wooden
walls of the small, run-down ranger station. Information about
vegetation, colorful birds of all kinds—kingfishers, egrets,
herons, rainbow bee-eaters. Chris read carefully over the
information. He was intense, trying to learn as much as he could
about this new environment. Photos of large, venomous snakes,
spiders—large, black, hairy (the ones that will kill you)—provided
warnings to campers and visitors. Dingoes and crocodiles rounded
out the rest of the Australian information sheets.

Chris glanced back to Lisa, who watched from
her small desk. “Says here the park covers forty-six thousand
hectares. Pretty big?”

Lisa nodded. “It’s a big place. You gotta
know what you’re doing out here.”

Chris turned back to the information sheets.
His eyes were drawn to the snakes and spiders. “Do people get
bitten often?”

Lisa nodded her head slightly. She knew he
was hurting, but he was drawing unlikely conclusions. “It does
happen, but it’s rare.” She pushed back a lock of her red hair.
“Chris, I think you need to back off and let the police look after
the search. If he’d been bitten, the police would have found him by
now.”

Chris bowed his head, facing the wall. “He’s
still my responsibility.”

Lisa smiled sympathetically. “Come on. I’ve
got to check on some of the campsites. You can see some more of the
park.”

***

The big, four-by-four tires slid on the
sandy, dirt track, which twisted and turned through the trees, over
dirt mounds and through small gullies.

Lisa and her old, beat-up Toyota truck were
seasoned to these conditions, weaving through obstacles with
skilled precision. The engine roared as it climbed over large
rocks. Chris sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window in
silence.

The truck cab was messy. Papers, maps,
first-aid kit, flashlight and other knick-knacks cluttered the
space. Lisa had bulldozed it with both hands into the middle seat,
to make room. She wasn’t used to having anyone else in the truck
with her.

She looked over at this stranger. She felt
for him. She was naturally a kind person and wanted to help
wherever she could.

“
Impressive isn’t it?” She
referred to the landscape before them. An attempt to break the
awkward silence.

Chris nodded in agreement. “Sparse.”

“
These palms here are
called red cabbage.” She shouted over the roar of the engine,
pointing out past Chris. “We have about three thousand of
them.”

Chris nodded, not really paying attention,
having lost interest in the conversation. He didn’t want the guided
tour.

Lisa noticed his lack of interested but
pushed on. “They’re unique to this area.” Lisa glanced over at
Chris, trying to engage him.

His mind was elsewhere.

It was wandering,
pondering his family. They would need to have a big celebration
when he returned with Shawn.
A family
vacation. A happy place!
Are the kids too
old for Disneyland now?
No one’s too old
for Disneyland.

***

The sun was low in the sky. It would be dark
soon. The four-by-four drove along beside a small river, until it
finally reached Boggy Hole campsite. A picturesque area: blue
water, lush green banks. The truck crept along slowly. Lisa
surveyed the area. She noticed a campsite, a tent and the Baker’s
four-by-four a little way off, amongst a cluster of trees.

Lisa abruptly stopped the truck and reefed
on the e-brake. She banged the steering wheel with the palm of her
hand, annoyed. “Damn tourists! They never listen,” she said as she
unclipped the seat belt. “Is it that hard to set up bloody camp in
the designated area?”

Lisa marched briskly toward the tent.
Drawing closer she noticed that some of the camping gear had been
tossed around. The back door of the Baker’s four-by-four was open.
No one around. “Hello?” she called out. “Park ranger.”

In front of the tent a
small camping table lay on its side. A few plastic plates and cups
littered the ground. Lisa squatted next to the table, picking up
one of the cups. Her eyes scanned the site.
What a mess
. She looked around for
the Baker family.

She caught site of the truck’s big tires
parked on top of some young, red cabbage palms, crushing them. She
threw the cup to the ground and stood.

Chris walked up behind her.

“
Look at this!” She put
her hands on her hips. “This is one of the biggest problems we have
around here. No respect.” She let out a sigh. “We’ll have to wait
here until they get back so I can get them to move their
shit.”

Chris moved slightly
forward into the camp, eyes wandering around the site.
Who leaves their campsite like this?
His gut was telling him something wasn’t
right.

***

Twilight. The sun just below the horizon.
Reds and oranges exploded across the sky. Night was coming fast.
Chris slapped his neck, scraping the remains of a dead mosquito off
his hand. Thousands of crickets chirped amongst the trees. The
temperature was dropping with nightfall approaching. Chris sat on
the edge of the seat in Lisa’s truck—door open, looking out into
the dark bushes. Lisa stretched back on the partly reclined
driver’s seat, head resting against the headrest, her eyes closed.
It had been a long, hot day.

The high-pitched buzzing of another
blood-sucking mosquito tormented Chris’ ear. Swiping at it, he
quickly slammed the door closed for protection. He looked at his
watch. Time was ticking. How long did he have to be out here? Chris
pressed his face against the window, looking up into the night sky.
The red was receding and blackness was starting to fill the void.
Stars were beginning to twinkle.

A small breeze started to blow. The leaves
on the trees started to dance. Dust blew through the empty camp
site. Loose parts of the tent flapped about in the wind.

“
Hey!” Chris nudged Lisa.
She opened one eye to look at him. “How long you want to
wait?”

Lisa pressed the little light button on her
digital watch to see the time. “A few more minutes. I have to get
them to move their site.”

“
For the
love of all that is good, just write them a friggin’ note.” Chris
scratched the side of his neck. He wasn’t happy about this
arrangement. He should never have come over here with
her.
What a waste of
time
. With every day wasted, the chances
of finding Shawn alive lessened.

He settled in to wait a little longer.

***

Suddenly the truck rocked gently, as though
someone had pushed the truck or dropped something in the bed. Chris
sat up a little straighter, trying to see what caused the movement.
Lisa also sat up, rubbing her eyes, staring out at the dim
campsite.

The sudden movement of a person making their
way into the camp caught her attention.

She tried to focus her eyes. “Good. They’re
back.” She searched the seat next to her, looking for her small
flashlight.

Chris turned his attention to the site. Two
figures moved around the camp. He leant forward to see them better.
They were tall and slender. Silhouetted. A line formed on Chris’
forehead as he squinted to see them. He watched on for a
moment—their movement strange. Unnatural.

They seemed to be exploring. Investigating
their surroundings.

Lisa scooped her flashlight off the truck
floor. She looked at Chris leaning into the windshield. His nose
inches from the glass. Intense.

Lisa’s hand reached up to open her door.
Chris quickly reached across without looking, grabbing her arm. A
gentle grab, like a father cautioning their child.

Lisa looked down at his hand on her arm.
Chris released his grip, realizing it was a little awkward. “Look.”
He motioned with his head. Her eyes followed Chris’ movement,
staring out at the campsite. She leaned close, slightly pressing on
the steering wheel. She pressed harder to see, her chest bumping
the horn. A loud, short honk shattered the silence and echoed
throughout the site. Startled, the two figures quickly took cover
behind nearby trees. Lisa turned on her headlights to identify
them. The lights only cast more shadows onto the area, making it
harder to see who was there.