Fire Eye (10 page)

The Landcruiser hums along the Stuart Highway, heading south under a late morning sun with Jed at the wheel. The speed restrictions coming out of Darwin are eventually left behind and they cruise at a fair clip, settling into a long-legged gait that covers ground smoothly and effortlessly.

The Stuart Highway runs south from Darwin, through Tennant Creek and Alice Springs to Port Augusta in South Australia over two thousand eight hundred kilometres. John McDougall Stuart was the first European to cross the continent from south to north and the highway carries his name, roughly following the same route. While it is now sealed all the way, for many years it was known simply as ‘The Track’. For quite some distance south of Darwin, various historical sites can still be found relating back to World War II.

They have already passed the old fighter strips of Sattler and Strauss on the side of the highway. The old Hughes strip passes to the left as they pass by, then Livingstone on the right.

“I didn’t realise there were so many old airstrips up here,” she comments. “It must have been a hive of activity during the war.”

“It was. I could easily go on a roll and talk history all the way to Alice Springs. That would only be one thousand five hundred kilometres of history,” he says, looking at her with a sideways glance. He sees her eyes roll at the thought and decides to play it a bit more. “Further south we pass Coomalie Creek and then Pell. Off to the right will be Batchelor and Gould and then further south again another string of airfields. Wouldn’t it be great to spend a few days checking them all out?” This time he doesn’t need to look to sense the steely-eyed glare of impending death aimed at him. “Only kidding!”

Alex settles into the seat with relief and watches the landscape roll by. “It’s alluring country. Rich colours.”

“Certainly is. Certainly are. Some amazing stories up here, as well as the Gulf, the Kimberley and Cape York. Stories that are the equal to or more exciting than the American West.”

“You will have to fill me in some time.”

Time rolls by as they both enjoy the red landscape, areas of undulating savannah and scrub-studded flats mixed with rocky, sparse ranges rearing up out of the land to challenge the sky.

“Adelaide River is coming up soon. It has a war cemetery, the main one for Northern Australia. We have time. Would you like to have a look?” he asks.

She looks across at him. “To be honest, no cemetery would be on my favourites list, but given the purpose of our trip a visit would be the honourable thing to do. Karl and the others gave their lives for us.”

He nods agreement at that, mildly surprised that a value such as honour would be brought into it. Something else he has learned about this perplexing woman.

Adelaide River is located one hundred and twenty kilometres south of Darwin, where the Stuart Highway and the North Australian Railway cross the stream. It is black soil country, good for vegetable and rice farms and cattle properties. They turn left up a tree-lined avenue and soon come to the cemetery. Parking under the shade of the huge trees and their overhanging canopy of green leaves, they walk together up to the entrance.

Before them is an imposing section of painted block wall with an open, door-sized entrance looking through to a small concrete memorial topped by a cross. Rows of bronze plaques set into the ground stretch to either side, alternating with small shrubs and green manicured lawn in between. He can see the effect the place has on her and lets her do her own thing. She wanders slowly down a row, stopping to read each plaque, lost in a world of her own. He heads off, doing the same in his own way, putting mental pictures against what he reads on the plaques.

Alex is lost in a private world. Seeing the B-25 and aircraft wreckage in the air museum has allowed her to step back in time and connect with long past events. Here she faces the reality of personal sacrifice. So many, so young, from all over Australia, America, Great Britain and even one lonely soldier from Canada.
What on earth was he doing here?
The minutes pass. She is lost in time, eventually seeing Jed standing in front of the monument waiting patiently for her. She stands quietly in front of him, a reflective mood wrapped around her like a protective blanket.

“Usually everything we see about the war is almost stylised, with the same pictures and films used over and over again in documentary titbits,” she states thoughtfully. “There’s nothing wrong with that, but the very familiarity of the images dulls the sharp edge of historic reality and makes them less emotionally moving.”

There’s an incisive perspective,
Jed thinks.

“Thank you for bringing me here. I enjoyed the air museum but this is even better, if that is the right word to use. This is people. Here are their stories. Now I understand what I really started. Karl must come home and it’s up to us to do it.”

Jed looks into her eyes and sees the depth of emotion there. “There are four hundred and thirty-four burials here Alex. They come from the Australian Army, Royal Australian Air Force, Australian Merchant Navy and reconnaissance groups who were killed in Timor and Northern Australia and at sea. Some have no known grave. I read that on a sign, by the way. There are still hundreds like Karl out there with descendants waiting for closure. Maybe we will bring some home.”

“Let’s get back on the road, we still have some good travel time,” she suggests to snap herself out of a mood that is becoming too reflective.

They fire up the Landcruiser and head back out to the Stuart Highway, turning left to keep heading south across the bridge.

Suddenly, Alex yells, “Turn around! There’s stuff I need back at the servo!”

Jed looks across at her, raises his eyes in silent acquiescence and hangs a U-turn at the first opportunity. Heading back across the bridge over the Adelaide River, he pulls into the service station. “You get what you need Alex. I may as well top up,” he says as she jumps out of the vehicle.

While he refuels, she goes into the shop and searches around. Finding the right shelf, she picks up a handful of Chupa Chups lollipops and a pack of hard lollies. She goes over to pay at the counter served by a sweet young blonde with lovely blue eyes. Her black name tag has Mandy engraved across it in gold letters.

“A girl’s got to have her little secrets,” she shares with Mandy as she pays for the sweets. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him!”

Mandy laughs. “I love the Jelly Babies! Can’t resist them! Have to hide mine from my boyfriend otherwise he sneaks the lot!” After a shared chuckle she drops the lolly supply into her travel pack and goes back outside to the Landcruiser.

Jed has already paid and starts the vehicle as Alex leans forward to tuck her bag on the floor near her feet. He looks to his left as a white Nissan Patrol pulls up next to a fuel bowser, partly hidden by a camper trailer. He sees the driver and passenger get out and move toward the pump. For a few seconds he looks at the driver, then engages the clutch and moves off, visions flashing before his eyes—Grape, intruder, air museum. He turns onto the highway and accelerates through the gears to keep heading south, his mind working over what he has just seen.

As he leaves the town limits and builds up to cruising speed, he turns to look at Alex. “We have to talk.”

The Landcruiser heads for the turnoff that will take them west toward the small outback town of Cookara Creek.

“What do you want to talk about?” Alex replies warily.

“Back in Darwin, I mentioned the guy I had seen on three separate occasions in Hobart and Darwin. You reassured me I was just jumpy and there was nothing to be concerned about,” he says carefully as he focuses on the road ahead. Is it anger, suspicion, frustration or disappointment pulsating in his veins? He has no idea but whatever it is he doesn’t like it. What should have been an uncomplicated adventure is developing a sinister tone. “I saw him again back at Adelaide River. He pulled in behind us at the service station.”

“What did he look like?”

“As I said before Alex, a bit shorter than me, solid build but somewhat flabby, crew cut, round face, hard expression, no facial hair.”

She looks out her window at the passing countryside, obviously thinking as the kilometres roll along beneath them. Jed is impatient but doesn’t push her.
Where am I getting this new found sensitivity from?
Jed wonders momentarily. Then he shoves the thought aside.
Stuff that crap! I
want some answers!

The long period of silence drags on while Alex surveys the country rolling past her window, lost in thought. Finally, she turns to face him. “Decker. Nigel Decker. I lived with him for four years. Four bloody wasted years.” She turns to look back out her window.

He lets things be, concentrating on the driving and the landscape, giving her time to work through whatever is going through her mind.

Eventually she leans back in her seat and starts talking. “When I was young ... Not that long ago, mind you,” she adds with a trace of resilient humour, “I had a boyfriend who turned out to be a bit of a nutcase. A real nutter actually! Nigel got rid of him and helped me settle into a new place. He said he would stick around for a while in case he came back. I discovered there were two Nigels—the slick, smooth talker and the nasty, shifty sociopath. Nigel never left and soon took control. When I wanted to move on I couldn’t get rid of him. Can you believe that? My place, but I couldn’t get rid of him! Some bad things happened.”

There’s a story here,
Jed recognises as he ponders her revelation. “How bad?”

“See this,” she says pointing to just above her right lip. “Punch to the face. See this,” she adds, pointing to the scar almost covered by make-up on the left side of her nose. “Broken nose! And here,” she continues, putting her fingers to the side of her head under her ears. “Broken jaw. There’s more. He was far worse than the first one!” She turns to face her window again and slips into silence.

Jed drives in stunned silence, not daring to say anything.
Let her take her time, don’t push.

The silence between them continues as they roll south. He dares not break the connection that has evolved between them, as tenuous as a spider web touched by the early morning dew.

What have I stumbled into?
What the hell is going on?
“Are you feeling okay?” he asks, but there is no response.

He lets the Landcruiser eat up the distance, listening to the constant hum of tyres rolling over the asphalt. She appears to be asleep, curled back into her seat, the woman and soldier silently transformed into a sleeping child crying silently and secretly for protection. He looks across at times and sees her head roll with each jolt of the car. He thinks he can see her eyes open, but her expression is totally unresponsive. She finally stirs, shakes her head and fluffs her hair back into shape before settling back into the seat.

“I tried getting help but it was no good,” she continues shortly. “At first he just hit me in ways that didn’t bruise and convinced people I was unstable. I know I’m different and you can probably guess most people find me difficult. It’s no fun being born smart in this world, especially when you’re female.”

Jed doesn’t reply, concentrating on the road but listening intently. “Do you want to tell me more?”

“I tried restraining orders but he didn’t give a damn. He broke in anytime he liked and took whatever he liked. He cleaned me out of furniture in the end. A lot of good stuff! He killed one of my dogs and threatened to kill my horses if I went to the police.” She slips back into a memory before continuing, “In the end I did report the abuse and rape. I guess the police tried, but they had to work within the system, which wasn’t much use. One bastard came to see me on his own and offered to help, but he came onto me for sex. The prick!” she spits with vehemence.

Ouch!
Jed’s stomach churns in disgust as he considers what that must have been like.
No wonder she’s so bloody difficult to fathom! She’s a tough lady and has rebuilt her life but survives with a concrete wall around her with barred windows and security-controlled gates.

He looks across at her and wonders what it would take to build a bridge to restore her faith in men. “Thanks for sharing that,” is all he says. They roll on in silence.

Alex’s eyes are open, but her mind is somewhere he cannot imagine.

Things are going smoothly so far and Nigel Decker is feeling good. The bitch and that dumb fuck headmaster are in front of them down the road. He’d needed a slash and some food and had sped up to make Adelaide River, catching sight of them just before they left.

Jesse starts to top up the fuel while Decker hits the power button on the laptop so it can boot up while he does what he has to do. When the hamburgers come he eyes the waitress behind the counter as he pays.
Nice tits and arse!
He’d love to give the bitch a roll. He pictures her squirming beneath him, maybe with a rope twisted around her neck for a bit of added fun.

“Smells absolutely fantastic!” he smiles charmingly with his most polite manners, indicating the hamburgers with a small wave of his hand. “We’re going to enjoy those!”

“Thanks!” she smiles back innocently, showing a perfect set of white teeth that flash in the light complementing her blue eyes and neatly tied blonde hair as she turns to the next customer. Decker eyes the curve of her neck and licks his lips. It isn’t the aroma of the hamburgers he is thinking about. He files the vision away for future reference if the opportunity arises. Back at the car, he passes Jesse his hamburger and activates the program in the laptop, checking the position indicator on the digital map. Just as he thought, they are down the road in blissful ignorance.
Enjoy it while you can my little fuckers,
he contemplates with expectation.
Play time is coming!

“Let’s hit the road Jess! You can drive for now,” Decker allows with fatherly authority as he settles into the passenger seat with the laptop.

Jesse climbs into the driver’s seat, adjusts it to suit his build, and heads out onto the Stuart Highway, holding the Patrol in third for a while as the 3.0 litre turbo diesel drags the Patrol up to cruising speed.

“It’s not a fucking sports car!” Decker throws at him around a mouthful of burger.

“Just let me fucking drive and you play with that fucking thing!” Jesse shoots back, enjoying the chance to take the wheel. The Patrol is a big vehicle but handles the road pretty well for what it is; a big, solid and tough four-wheel drive loaded with everything they need.

Decker reaches down into the door pocket and casts a quick look at the map he lifted from the headmaster’s place.
Fucking dickhead,
he remembers, waving that stupid mouse-pricker of a sword at him! He’d have loved to shove it up him nice and slowly but his time will come! He savours the thought with relish. He remembers all the headmasters he ever had and how they always picked on him.
Maybe I should just do him and get him out of the way so I can enjoy the bitch. Just do him, but give him just enough time to see it coming. So many decisions, so many options. It has been worth the wait!

“I reckon they’ll turn off to the right soon. Stop when you see a turn off to Cookara Creek and I’ll check again,” he orders.

“When do we do it pa? Tomorrow night or the next?” Jesse almost pants with expectation.

“Take it easy boy, take it easy. You’ll get your chance after I get mine! We might have to wait a little longer.”

The Patrol rolls south, driver and passenger wrapped in their visions of the long-awaited pleasures the coming days will bring.