The Word of God (3 page)

A middle aged couple, a man in shorts and a woman in slacks, came plodding down the track.

Graham stepped off the track to let them pass. “Hello,” he said in a friendly tone. The pair replied with grunts and nods.

Peter carefully scrutinized the couple, then realized Stephen was right. They would know who the Devil Worshippers were. As the couple reached him they smiled and the man said: “Hot day. You've got a long walk ahead of you yet.”

“Yes, we know,” Peter replied. “Have you seen any other walkers ahead of us?”

“Army cadets are you?” asked the man, eyeing the blue and gold badge sewn onto the upper sleeve of Peter's camouflage uniform.

“Yes,” Peter replied. “On a hike.”

The man nodded. “I was a cadet meself once. That was thirty years back now though. No. We didn't see any cadets, only one chap on his own and a group of older men.”

“Thanks,” Peter replied.
This couple will own one of the cars back down at the bottom
, he surmised.

After the couple had passed the cadets resumed their climb, steadying down as the sheer scale of the mountain made itself felt. The track curved left along the side of a slope, then went up over a moss and grass tufted sheet of granite for a hundred metres, then wound back to the right up through long grass into trees again. At the next level stretch the group halted, all sweating freely and panting.

Megan voiced all their thoughts when she asked: “What will we do when we get to the top? How will we deal with these Devil Worshippers?”

Peter had been turning over various options in his mind and her question forced him to decide. He replied: “We will just pretend to be ignorant of who they are. I think the mere fact of our arrival and presence will stop them doing anything serious. I am sure they won't carry out any murders with us around.”

Graham gave a chuckle. “Unless they want to make it a real bloodbath and add us to the sacrificial total,” he said jokingly.

Joy went very pale. “Graham!”

“Sorry. But I agree with Pete. If we arrive they will have to change their plans,” Graham replied.

“But we can't just hang around,” Megan said.

“Yes we can,” Graham replied. “We just act dumb, then tell them we have orders to wait on top for the rest of our group to join us. That should shift them.”

“What if they tell us to leave?” Megan asked.

Peter waved his arms to indicate the whole mountain. “We tell them it is a free country and refuse,” he said. “With luck the police will have arrived by then anyway.”

Stephen nodded. “They will probably fly in by helicopter and beat us to the top anyway,” he suggested.

“Hope so. They can give us a lift down then,” Graham replied.

Peter did a calculation.
Dean and Charmaine should have reached the farm at least ten minutes ago. That means things should be starting to move. I hope the police do beat us to the top
.

They resumed slogging steadily upwards. Their bodies began to settle down to the sustained effort required. Peter kept constantly checking his pulse and the time. “Slow down. Keep your heart rate down. Remember what Capt Conkey said was the Bolivian Army's saying for climbing mountains: If you want to reach the top of a mountain feeling like a young man then walk up it like an old one.”

“We have to move fast or we might be too late,” Graham countered.

Peter shook his head. “That bloke said the sacrifice was to be at sunset, as the last rays of the setting sun touched the mountain top. There will be some religious reason for that. They won't change without good reason. It is only five to three. We've got nearly three hours. Sunset is at about 1800.”

Graham stopped and consulted his map. “Nine hundred metres or so from bottom to top. A person can climb about three hundred in an hour, as a rough average. I reckon we must be about a third of the way up.” He peered out through the bush at the surrounding country and at what he could see of the mountain looming above them through the trees.

Peter agreed with this estimate. After another minutes rest, when his breathing and pulse had slowed, he resumed the steady upwards plod. Soon after that a lone bushwalker passed them on his way down the mountain. He was in his thirties, bearded and fit and wore shorts, shirt and strong hiking boots. Gruff greetings were exchanged.

“Definitely a third of the way up now,” Graham commented as they paused on a small rocky knoll.

Joy puffed to a halt and looked around. “Wait here for a minute. I need to go to the toilet,” she said.

Stephen snorted. “We don't have time. The nearest toilet is at Gordonvale,” he quipped.

“Oh very funny!” Joy replied shortly. “Come with me Megan.”

“Don't get bitten on the bum by a snake,” Graham called as the two girls made their way into the bush.

At that moment the hand radio, which Peter had placed in his basic pouch, crackled into life. “Michael, this is Six Six. Do you hear me? Over.”

Graham met Peter's eyes. “Strewth! I didn't think of that,” he cried.

Peter fumbled the radio out, even as Six Six called again; his voice plainly annoyed. “Here Steve, you answer. You are best at imitations,” he said, holding the radio out.

Stephen nodded and took the radio, licked his lips, found the ‘press to talk' switch and replied. “Six Six, this is Michael, over.”

“Have those bushwalkers reached you yet, over?”

“Roger Six Six, middle-aged couple and one bearded bushwalker, over.” Stephen replied. He licked his lips and waited tensely for the answer.

Back crackled Six Six: “Don't wait to be asked in future! Keep us informed. And don't go to sleep. Six Six out.”

Stephen exhaled slowly and Graham gave his brow a mock wipe. “Phew! That was unexpected.”

“It shouldn't have been,” Peter replied. He was angry with himself for not having anticipated it. “Think about what you might have to say Steve. You keep the radio.”

As soon as the girls re-joined them the group continued on up, stopping every few hundred paces to allow thumping hearts to slow down. Peter found himself gasping for air and silently cursed his unfitness. Even Graham slowed down and began to mutter about how the mountain went on and on.

“Just one bloody false crest after another!”

“This whole mountain is one long false crest I seem to remember,” Peter replied.

Stephen stopped to lean on a tree. “Just as well Charmaine stayed at the bottom,” he put in. “We wouldn't have got to the top before tomorrow night then.”

“Don't be horrible Stephen!” Joy snapped. “She can't help what she looks like.”

Stephen grunted. “Yes she can. She's a fat slug who eats too much,” he replied.

“That's cruel. She isn't!” Joy replied heatedly.

Peter looked back. “Stop it you two! Save your fight for when we get to the top,” he ordered. He looked hard at Stephen, then at Joy. It was obvious she was annoyed by what she classified as a ‘Lookist' comment. From previous conversations Peter was aware that Joy was very sensitive about weight.
Probably because she is a bit tubby
, he conjectured. Then he modified this. She was not tubby, more short and solid in build.

To his own surprise Peter found that Joy was turning out to be quite a different person from what he had previously thought. He had known her for two years, having first met her when she was doing her Warrant Officers Promotion Course. Graham had been on the same course and Peter had been doing his Sergeants Course at the time. Then he had thought her a fairly colourless and dull person; chubby and plain.

When Gwen had mentioned that Joy would like to join them on their hike he had been mildly surprised but had no objection as she was a likeable person, although privately he wondered why she wanted to come, and whether she would be able to keep up. He doubted if she had much spirit. Now he wondered. She was still trying hard to keep up, her determination clear in her face.

They came to a point where the slope dramatically steepened. Large areas of exposed granite dictated they detour around to the side of the ridge. Several times they paused for breath before reaching the top of the slope.

Megan looked over her shoulder and gasped. “Oh, look at the view!” she cried, as they paused once again.

They all turned to look. For the first time they had a clear view, uninterrupted by trees.

“Gosh! You can see for ever,” Joy cried.

Below them the coastal corridor looked like a huge model. The town of Gordonvale lay spread along the far side of the line of dark green trees which marked the Mulgrave River. White smoke billowed from the chimney of the sugar mill. Tiny cars zipped along the highway.

“Train!” Graham said, pointing to where a long sugar train rattled along behind a diminutive yellow diesel locomotive.

“Just like our model,” Peter commented. The boys had been constructing a huge HO Scale model railway for years. This was located at their friend Roger's house.

“Roger would love to see this,” Graham said.

Peter nodded. “I wonder how he is doing on his ATA Course?” he replied. Roger was a Third Year cadet and a Sergeant. He was currently attending a
7 day Adventure Training Award Course being run by the army at the High Range Training Area near Townsville.

Stephen sniffed as he polished his glasses with a handkerchief. “He won't be able to get over those walls on the Confidence Course, the fat toad,” he commented.

Graham turned and snapped back. Roger was his life-long friend and also his platoon sergeant. “He will so! Roger's not fat anymore, not like he was in Year 8. He's just a bit chubby; and he's got the guts to give things a try, so stop picking on him Steve.”

Stephen sniffed again and shrugged. Peter mentally notched up another point in Graham's favour. If a friend was attacked he defended them. To change the subject he pointed out the huge mangrove swamps around the distant Trinity Inlet.

Megan looked. “It is very pretty,” she commented.

Graham pointed northwards. “You can see Cairns from here. Those buildings in the distance. That is the sea beyond them,” he explained.

As they stood there a huge jet airliner slid overhead, obviously on its descent to Cairns airport. Peter checked his watch.

“Let's keep going. It is half past three.”

“Are we half way up yet?” Gwen asked as they resumed climbing.

Graham shook his head. “No, not yet,” Graham replied.

Megan looked dismayed. “Oh we must be!” she cried.

“No. There is a marker at the half way point,” Graham replied.

Peter stepped up onto the next stone. “We had better move faster,” he said.

They tried to increase their pace but soon slowed to a panting, puffing halt. The mountain seemed to just go on and on. It was now so steep that they were going up at what seemed like a 45 degree angle, each step testing heart, lungs and leg muscles as they strained to lift them up. Sweat poured freely.

At the next stop Megan had a drink, shook her water bottle and announced she was out of water.

“Me too,” Joy added.

That was potentially very serious. Peter bit his lip and wondered if he should send them back down. Even though it was June the air was hot and still and heat exhaustion was a distinct possibility. He decided to take a risk and push on, mostly because he did not like the idea of leaving two girls alone in the bush, particularly in these circumstances.

After another ten minutes of sweaty upward slog they again emerged from trees onto another stretch of open granite and grass. They were granted another glorious view, this time with even better views of distant Cairns.

“This is half way,” Graham said, pointing to where this fact was painted on a rock in white paint.

Joy looked puzzled. “Why would they paint that here?” she asked.

Stephen shrugged. “To demoralize Boy Scouts, Girl Guides and other idiots who set out to climb the thing,” he offered.

“Oh poo to you!” Joy replied, turning up her nose.

In spite of the growing feeling of dread which was now gripping him Peter managed a weak laugh. “It is for the race they have up here every year,” he explained.

“Race?” Joy asked.

“From Gordonvale. They start at the park and run to the Pyramid, then up it. From memory the record is about an hour and a quarter.”

“An hour and a quarter! I don't believe you,” Megan cried.

Peter shrugged. He did not feel like arguing. “It is something like that,” he muttered.

Graham stopped and looked around. The hillside appeared to be a jumble of large rocks among trees. Numerous splintered trees and logs attested to the fury of a recent storm.

“I seem to have lost the track.”

“Doesn't matter. Just keep following this ridge and we have to end up on top,” Peter replied.

Joy pointed up to where a distinct crest showed. “Is that the top we can see?” she asked.

“I think so,” Peter replied, although in fact he suspected it was only another false crest. He checked his watch again. Nearly four. He bit his lip. At that rate it was going to be well after five before they reached the crest. He began planning how they might spend the night on top.

Be no fun if it gets really cold
, he surmised. Even though they were in the tropics he knew from hard experience that the June temperatures in the mountains frequently dropped to near zero.

Graham led them up around the side of a jumble of rocks, then across a large sheet of granite and grass. Peter drained the last of his water and knew he was thirsty. He bit his lip but said nothing. More worrying to him was the failing light. They were already in shadow on the side of the ridge and the sunlight was starting to get that rosy evening glow which presaged sunset. Anxiety at being too late; and fear of what they might find on top, both built up.

“Snake!” Graham cried. He sprang aside and pointed. Peter was just in time to see the movement as the reptile slid into a tuft of grass.