Blacky Blasts Back (17 page)

‘No idea, true,' he grunted. ‘But normal. Never know what's going on.' His forehead cleared. ‘Had fun. Good enough for me.'

‘I still think I should tell the truth,' I said.

‘You can be so dumb sometimes, Marc,' said Dyl. ‘What good would that do? Let it go, mate. Let it go.'

And when I thought about it, I could see the logic. It wouldn't change anything. It might even make it more difficult in the future if Blacky had other missions for us.

I looked at Dyl and John. Dyl was my best mate and I knew he'd do anything for me. But John was a different story. We weren't friends. We were enemies.

I remembered what Dyl told me, back on that first day. The special boys unit was labelled as worthless. Everyone thought so, including the boys themselves. Yet, when you dug beneath the surface, there was a rich vein of goodness there. Kindness, compassion, mateship. I'd been too willing to judge John. I'd got it wrong.

Dyl was right. I was dumb sometimes. More than sometimes.

‘Thanks, guys,' I said. ‘I won't forget this.'

Dyl pulled out another can of cola.

‘Don't thank me, mate,' he said. ‘It was John who came up with the whole idea.' He took my arm and dragged me a few metres away. ‘Anyway,' he whispered, ‘if you want to be grateful, you can tell me what happened back there after we left.'

So I told him about the miracle.

Mum and Dad didn't let me travel with the boys in the bus. They'd hired a car in Tassie and I was forced to sit in the back with Rose as we made the journey to East Devonport. Under most circumstances, this would have been dangerous, but Rose had undergone a transformation.

Normally, this happens during full moons when she develops sharp, pointed canines, a Jimmy-like hair covering and a thirst for blood. My blood. This time, though, it was even scarier.

She was nice to me.

She was considerate.

She was loving.

Yuck.

‘You're my little brother, Marcus,' she'd gushed. ‘I was soooo worried about you!'

Yeah, right. Worried she'd have no one to torture. Worried there'd be no one whose life she could make miserable. I tried to spot the old, familiar glint of evil in her eye, but it wasn't there. It had been replaced with a mushy soup of tenderness. That was more terrifying than anything I'd been through on this trip.

Someone or something had stolen my sister.

I stood at the front of
The Spirit of Tasmania
and let the wind blow through my hair.

I needed a bit of alone time. I'd had no opportunity to think through what had happened out there in the bush. It had been a miracle and I guess a miracle was bound to leave questions rolling around in my head.

Actually, there was something rolling around in my stomach as well. I'd eaten a hearty breakfast of fried mushrooms and scrambled eggs. Now that Bass Strait was getting choppy I worried they were going to make a reappearance. I closed my eyes and felt the cool spray on my face.

‘Yorright, an' at?' came a familiar voice.

I turned.

‘Good, thanks, Jimmy,' I replied. ‘You?'

‘Fit as a butcher's dog, laddie. Nair better.'

‘What are you doing on board? I thought you lived in Tassie.'

‘Aye, I do that. A wee bizness trip tae Melbourne, lad. Day or two is all.'

We watched the rolling swell for a few moments. I got the impression Jimmy was leading up to something. I waited.

‘Oot there i' the boosh, son,' he said finally. ‘Do ye feel like talkin' aboot it?'

‘Not really, Jimmy,' I said. ‘I'm not ready.'

He nodded. ‘Aye. I ken whit yer sayin'. Must've bin real scary. Still, though . . .'

‘What?'

‘Kinda strange, d'ye no think?'

I waited.

‘You bein' a smart wee bairn an' all. Pickin' up them survival techniques real quick. Then, dumped i' the boosh by yer best mate, wanderin' lost fer over twenty-four hoours. And yet, all them bahmpots, the tiger hunters, were aroond. No' tae mention search parties, helicopters. Must've bin a thousand tae one they missed ye, what wid you yellin' for help an' that. As, of course, ye wud've done. Ah mean, laddie, if ye didnae know better, yud think yer didnae
want
to be found. Know what ah mean, eh?'

I said nothing. Jimmy sucked on the inside of his mouth and gazed out to sea.

‘Aye, it's a wee mystery, so it is. But, yer ken what I think, son? I think mebbe some mysteries are best kept to yersen. If yer conscience is clear, of course.'

I nodded.

‘Cooeee!'

The call came from behind us. We turned.

‘Fer cryin' oot loud, son. It's them mad rocket mental numpties. Ah'm ootay 'ere, so I am.' He clapped me on the back. ‘Look efter yersen, laddie, eh? Look efter yersen.'

‘Thanks, Jimmy. You too.'

And he scuttled through the nearest door. I smiled.
Never underestimate anyone
, I thought.
Especially a gibberish-talking orang-utan impersonator.

Gloria and George joined me at the front of the boat. They looked very different without camping gear. Smaller, for one thing. Gloria's smile was still a wonder to behold, though. It nearly joined up at the back of her head, exposing a miniature, but dazzling, Stonehenge. I wondered if she'd had to apply for planning permission for those teeth.

‘You're the boy who got lost, aren't you?' she said. ‘One of those boys on the camp.'

‘That's me,' I said. ‘And you're the tiger hunters. How did you get on?'

Gloria put a hand over her heart.

‘You won't believe it!' she gasped.

‘Almost certainly not,' I replied.

‘Do you want to see something that will take your breath away?'

I nodded.

George handed her a camera. She turned it on and showed me the image on the
LCD
panel.

The picture wasn't crystal clear, but I could make out enough details. They'd caught Blacky at the top of one of his leaps. The branch was clear. I spotted a leaf tickling his bum. I was really pleased with the stripes. It was a good job. But, for all that, he looked like what he was. A small, ugly dog. I smiled.

‘You know what this is, don't you?' Gloria said.

‘I think so,' I replied.

‘A Thy-la-cine.'

‘Isn't that modelling putty?'

She ignored me.

‘This photograph is worth a lot of money,' she continued.

They were so intent on examining every detail of the image that Gloria didn't notice me slip a packet of cheese and tomato sandwiches into her jacket pocket.

I'd bought them earlier, just in case.

‘You probably wouldn't be able to guess how much,' she sighed.

‘I think it's priceless,' I said.

I stayed on deck. The sea was becoming rougher by the minute and my best chance of avoiding illness was to keep airflow through my lungs. Melbourne was a smudge on the horizon when the sea reached its roughest point.

I was cold and wet and looking forward to my warm, cosy bed. But something was definitely still stirring within me. I recognised the signs and fought it.

There was a tap on my shoulder. So much for quiet time. It appeared the entire world wanted to have a word with me. I turned.

‘I just want to say that I am sooo glad to have you back, Marcus,' said Rose. ‘I've missed you.'

But I didn't miss her.

She copped the entire contents of my stomach.

As Rose wiped diced carrots from her eyes, I caught a glimpse of that familiar glint. The sharp edge of hatred. The gleam of violence. The thirst for revenge. Even as I ran for cover, I couldn't help but smile.

Someone had returned my sister and it was good to have her back.

That didn't mean I was going to let her catch me, though. The scars on my ankle were only just beginning to fade. I raced through the ship's corridors, Rose close on my heels. I could feel her breath on the back of my neck. Being coated in vomit certainly hadn't slowed her down. In fact, I was beginning to accept that she was certain to catch me when I spotted the door to the gents' toilets.

I made it through with only centimetres to spare. For a moment I thought she'd come in after me. But then I heard her fist against the door and a few hoarse promises of what she'd do to me when I came out.

Like I was going to come out! I could stay here until we docked. I went into one of the cubicles, locked the door and sat on the toilet seat. Safe! I took a deep breath.

And nearly threw up. Again!

‘B
LACKY!
' I yelled. ‘What have you rolled in now?'

‘Nothing, tosh,' came the voice in my head. ‘I have given up rolling in stuff. I considered what you said about it being inconsistent with my dignity and, though I never thought I'd say this, you might be right. So, hard though it is, I have already turned my back on a delectable pile of wallaby poop and a mound of vintage vixen vomit.'

He squirmed out from the back of the toilet bowl and sat in front of me. I fixed him with a glare.

‘So, the smell, Blacky?'

‘Straight from my bum, bucko. Aaaah. I'm back!'

I sighed.

‘Blacky? There's only one thing I don't understand.'

‘I find that impossible to believe, tosh. Based on my experience, it's
most
things you don't understand.'

I ignored him. It's easier that way.

‘I thought Tess was the last of the tigers. Where did those other two come from?'

‘No idea, mush. I thought she was the last remaining adult. Thankfully, we were wrong. And it's not often
I'm
wrong. In fact, I can't think of another instance . . .'

I paid no attention to his bragging. I was remembering that nightmare in the tent. The glimpse of a long snout, the shadowy movement against the night. It made more sense now.

‘The future might not be so bleak,' he continued. ‘Even if those two adults are the last of their kind, there is a chance. Those three pups, when they've grown to maturity, will bring new genes into the pool. Touch and go, tosh. But if they can avoid humans, they may yet survive as a species. You should be proud.'

I was. I couldn't tell anyone, of course. But it was enough for me and Dyl to know what we'd helped to achieve. It felt good. It felt really good.

‘I'm off as soon as we dock, mush,' said Blacky. ‘Things to see, people to do. The life of an eco-warrior is a busy one, and I am much in demand around the globe as an authority.'

I had visions of Blacky in a lecture room, giving a Power-Point presentation to the President of the United States. He'd need to fumigate the premises afterwards, mind. Talk about toxic waste.

‘Next time, eh, Blacky?' I said.

‘Count on it, tosh,' he said. ‘Count on it.'