The Word of God (46 page)

Graham did not look happy but led the way down to the creek. Carefully they stepped across from stone to stone just upstream of the vehicle crossing point.

Peter studied the ground. “Been a vehicle across here not long ago,” he said, indicating muddy wheel tracks going up the slope.

“Going our way too,” Graham agreed. He shrugged, then strode on ahead.
Peter followed at a slower pace, dictated as much by Old Ned's wheezing as by patrolling tactics.

The vehicle track, just two wheel tracks in waist high grass, wound uphill through open forest. This had plenty of trees but no undergrowth to speak f so he could see for hundreds of metres. The track wound to the left around the side of a steep, grassy hill, undulating over several small dips. These were steep enough to get them puffing and to raise a sweat.

A wall of dark jungle rose ahead of them. The track turned abruptly right beside it and went uphill, running close beside the trees. An open hill on the right offered no cover and no escape. Peter felt quite uneasy.

Good spot for an ambush!
he thought.

At that moment Graham was just visible slogging up a steep grassy slope ahead of them. Suddenly he stopped and turned. His arm waved. Peter felt as though he had been doused in cold water. “Take cover,” he said, indicating the jungle beside them. He saw Graham vanish into some bushes at the top of the slope.T hey pushed into the edge of the jungle as quickly as they could. No sooner were they in among the trees than Peter heard a vehicle engine. He crouched behind a tree and peered through the leaves. At the top of the slope a white 4WD appeared. It roared down, going much too fast for safety. As it got closer Peter saw it had four armed men in it. Two wore Confederate caps.

That was close!
he thought as he watched the vehicle drive past back the way they had come.
I hope they don't see our tracks.

As soon as the vehicle was out of hearing Peter called on the others to move out. Old Ned was plainly worried and kept muttering to himself. They plodded up the grassy slope, which was both steeper and longer than it looked. By the time they reached the top Peter's heart was hammering hard and he had to stop to let it slow down. The others did likewise. There was a clump of jungle there which gave them some cover. Graham had moved on ahead again.

As soon as he thought they were ready Peter resumed walking. The track wound to the left side of the patch of jungle, then to the right and up an open, grassy slope. It was a long, uphill plod for Old Ned and they stopped twice to let him get his breath back.

Near the top Graham waited, crouched behind a tree. He signalled them to halt and came back to them.

“Enemy ahead. Four of them. On top of the next hill.”

Chapter 29

JUNGLE TREK

E
nemy!

Peter's heart pounded and he swallowed. He began to feel hunted and stressed. Crouching in the long grass he whispered to Graham. “What should we do?”

“Detour around them,” Graham replied.

So saying he stood up and waved to the others to follow. He went downhill to the left through the long grass, keeping just below the crest of the hill. Peter understood and waved the others to follow and set off. After a hundred paces they came out onto a flat spur, still among the grass and large trees. The hill occupied by the enemy was right beside them. Peter kept glancing at it, hoping Graham's sense of ‘Ground' was right.

For perhaps a dozen paces they were exposed to any observer on the opposite slope but after that they were on the lower slopes of the same hill as the enemy and hidden by the convexity of the ground. Graham led them on for another hundred metres then stopped.

“The vehicle track is just here. Lie down in the grass and wait,” he said.

“Why? What are you going to do?” Peter asked. He was feeling very worn and wiped sweat from his eyes.

“Just going to check if we are where I think we are,” Graham replied.

“Don't get seen,” Peter cautioned.

Graham gave him a reproachful look. “I won't. You just keep everyone under cover,” he replied. He rose and strode on across the track and vanished around the other side of the hill among a thicket of small bushes and trees. As the others arrived Peter waved them down. He explained briefly, then settled to having a drink and flicking off more leeches.

Joy sat beside him checking herself for leeches. She looked dirty and exhausted. “I hate this! I'll be glad when it is over.”

Peter nodded. “So will I. I wish I'd never heard of this bloody Scroll. It had better be good! What misery it has caused! One mob want it because they think it is the truth and reinforces their religion and the others want it to destroy it because it might prove their wrong! What a load of crap!”

“Pretty weak religions if they can't stand a bit of testing,” Joy commented.

“What religion are you?” Peter asked. It had been a question he had wanted to ask for some time but had not known how to go about it.

“Uniting Church, why?” Joy replied, her face dimpling into a mischievous grin. Peter did not answer, just went red.

He was too tongue tied to talk after that. Ten minutes went by and he began to worry that something had gone wrong. But it hadn't. Graham came silently back the way he had gone. He signalled them to move and led them on down the hill northwards beside the vehicle track. At a clump of trees and bushes he halted and they crowded in.

“It is their signal detachment,” Graham explained, ignoring Peter's accusatory glance. “Four blokes with a Land Cruiser, a radio mast and a satellite communication dish. They are right on top of the range and have a great view right out over the Tablelands. I reckon I know where we are so let's press on.”

Old Ned nodded. “I know the place,” he said. “A bit of a lookout it is.”

They went on down the ridge. Ahead of them jungle covered ridges loomed ever closer, giving Peter a sense of impending trial and dread. Graham increased his pace and soon vanished from sight again. The track was easy going, winding gently down through the long grass and bushes. It then levelled out and went gently uphill towards the jungle. Peter marvelled at how one type of vegetation could change to another within a few metres.

Just before reaching the jungle the track turned sharply right and went down around the edge of it on top of a steep slope. The track then went left into the jungle, curving along the side of the mountain. Now they had to walk on the track to avoid the jungle.

After ten minutes walking they caught up with Graham again. He had his fingers to his lips.

“More Confederates,” he whispered. “There is a small creek, then a road junction. They are there with a blue truck.”

“How many? What are they doing?” Peter asked. He had a terrible sense that whichever way they twisted they would run into the searching men.

“I saw three. They are cooking and telling jokes,” Graham replied. “I think they are probably some sort of roadblock to keep people out of the area.”

Old Ned nodded. “That will be the other road down the mountain. The one I told you about.”

“What do we do then?” Joy asked. She was still jotting down coded messages. These were almost non-stop but she had not had an opportunity to decode any.

Graham gestured to their left. “Just detour around through the jungle,” he replied, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

“What if they hear us and come looking?” Joy asked.

Graham grinned and tapped his M16. “They might regret that.”

He stood, took out secateurs, then led the group off the track on the left into really thick jungle. This was some of the worst Peter had ever met, a real tangle of vines, logs and ‘wait-a-while' tendrils. Several times the vicious curved barbs snagged him, tearing his shirt and drawing blood. Joy also got snagged several times, once on the neck, causing a line of tiny blood droplets to well up, then trickle. In the process of wiping these she discovered a huge fat leech, which added to the blood flow when pulled off.

It took them nearly half an hour to detour around the road block. Graham led them uphill beside a creek, which he insisted they use to refill their water bottles from. Scratches were washed and faces rinsed as well, before they cut their way up a very steep slope through a wall of wait-a-while.

The last part was so steep they all slipped several times. They emerged on an old road. Graham crawled up and peered along it both ways from on his belly among the lantana, then waved them up. Peter had to scrabble to make it and Joy slipped. Peter managed to grab her sleeve and hauled her up. They stood on the old road sweating and chests heaving. Peter was so aggravated by the dirt and leaves down the back of his shirt, by the sweat and scratches that he was ready to lose his temper. Instead he met Joy's eyes and felt a wave of calm come over him. For at least half a minute they just stood looking at each other and holding hands. Peter very gently removed a leaf which was stuck to her cheek, then used the back of his fingers to wipe some blood from a scratch on her neck.

The others crawled up to join them, Old Ned labouring hard. Peter smiled and returned to reality. He looked at the old road. It had clearly had very little use recently except for a single set of wheel tracks each way.

Graham, who had been under cover facing back down the road turned to Old Ned. “Is this your road over the mountain?” he asked.

Old Ned stared around, then nodded. “Yep, this is it.”

Peter made a face. “Doesn't look like it gets much use,” he commented.

Graham gestured impatiently. “Let's not stand here magging,” he said. “Those Confederates are just back around that bend.”

He turned left and led them northwards along the old road. It went along the side of a spur on a bench cut. Jungle covered ridges showed out to the left through gaps in the trees.

Herberton Range,
Peter told himself.

The old road plunged into rainforest. This overhung the road but was still easy to push through.

“Snake!” Graham warned. He pointed to a python about two metres long which slid out of a patch of sunlight and over the bank.

Sir Miles stared at it, his eyes wide. “Is it dangerous?” he asked anxiously.

Graham shook his head. “No, only to mice. It's only a python,” he replied. He pushed on through the foliage overhanging the track even before the snake had slid off the road. Peter watched it go, then followed Graham. Once again he allowed Graham to get ahead, glad that he was doing the scouting. It made him feel much safer; and that meant Joy was also safer. Thinking that he glanced back as he held a branch aside for her. Their eyes met and she smiled.

I am in love!
he decided. Somehow it made things seem easier, less effort, and the sun seemed to shine brighter, even in the gloom of the jungle.

The road went gently uphill, curved right, then around to the left. It then went along almost level for a few hundred metres. Several times Peter had to warn Joy and the others to avoid the wait-a-while tendrils hanging down across the road. The road curved downhill to the right and ended at a clearing beside a creek.

Graham was waiting there. He pointed to a tangle of weed and wait-a-while. “The road has been washed out. It is all overgrown. And watch that plant there Sir Miles.”

“Which plant? Ow!” Sir Miles let out a yelp and stepped quickly back.

“That plant,” Graham said dryly. “It is a stinging tree.”

Sir Miles wasn't amused. “So I see.” His eyes watered with the pain. “How bad does it get?”

Graham shrugged. “Depends. Some people are very allergic to it and get very sick. I've even read about people getting bad stings and dying. Other people are hardly bothered by it.”

“Is this a bad sting?” Sir Miles asked, trying to appear calm.

Graham glanced at it and shook his head. “Trivia. Shouldn't bother you, unless you are particularly sensitive. You will feel it for months though, every time you get it wet. The water makes the little poison prickles react.”

“Thanks very much! What an unpleasant place,” Sir Miles commented.

Peter wasn't amused either.
Graham is just showing off,
he thought.

“Well, what do we do now?” he asked.

“Cut our way through if we have to,” Graham replied. “It shouldn't be too bad. It will be quicker than going back.”

Peter felt uneasy about this but accepted Graham's judgement. Both of them had explored similar old timber roads before and he knew pretty much what to expect.

It turned out to be much like he thought it would. The first few hundred metres were the worst with a patch of wild raspberry blocking the old road where the sunlight had been able to get through. Most of the rest was fairly easy going. Between the lack of sunlight from the overhanging foliage and the hardness of the road surface from all the compaction over the years most of the old road was fairly clear. There was a thick matt of leaf litter and lots of deadfall but the weeds and shrubs were no obstacle. Most of the time they could just push through them. From time to time they had to snip a vine or tendril that they could not easily walk around.

For much of the time they could walk at almost normal pace, stopping frequently to allow Old Ned to get his breath back. “Don't want the old bugger to have a heart attack on us!” Graham whispered at one rest stop.

The novelty of the rainforest quickly palled. Sir Miles grumbled that he was an ardent supporter of the ‘Save the Rainforest' lobby groups, but now he wasn't so sure. “You can have too much of a good thing,” he muttered.

Peter and Graham both laughed. They had been exploring the rainforest for years on weekend expeditions and felt quite at home. In fact Peter was feeling more and more confident at every stop.

Soon be in country we know,
he thought.

The old road went up around the side of a mountain at a steady climb which kept them puffing and perspiring. At no stage did they get a glimpse out through the thick tangle of vegetation to get any sort of view. The mountain had a relatively flat top which prevented any spectacular views. 1400 hours had them near the crest and avoiding another python which had been sunning itself at an overgrown junction. 1500 hours found them descending the side of a feature that was marked as 1220 metres on the map.