Lost In Kakadu (7 page)

“You’re talking in riddles.”

“Well, if he was using tourists as a cover for a drug business—”

Mackenzie rolled his eyes. “I think we’ve already established that!”

“Yes, but what if his documented tourist route is different to his drug running route? There’s a chance we were heading to a completely different place to what was detailed on the flight plan.”

“I don’t think they can do that. There would’ve been checks.”

“Yes, but he might have found a way around it.” The more she thought about it the more she convinced herself this was why they hadn’t been discovered yet. The pilot told authorities he was going one way, when he was actually going another.

“What about tracking devices? How’d he get around that?”

Although this was another important point, she believed she already knew the answer. “I think that might’ve been what those men were arguing about under the plane.”

He frowned at her. “You think they removed the tracking device on purpose.”

Abigail shrugged. “Maybe.” She watched his eyes widen and fear ripple along his features.

“Bloody hell! We’re going to die out here!” He scrambled to his feet and stomped away.

Long after he left her side, his words haunted her.
Were they going to die out here?
All her life she’d played the safe option, avoided risks. She could recall only one other time when she thought she was going to die and at that point she’d wanted to. She’d only been a child then. The memory flashed into her mind. Her father had loomed over her, his eyes as dark and menacing as the double-barrel shotgun over his shoulder. But the grin on his face was more terrifying. Wisps of smoke drifted up from the gun that he’d just used to kill her horse. She remembered the excruciating pain in her legs, her back, her arms and her heart as her mother struggled to free her from the tangle of grape vines that the horse had thrown her into. At that point she’d silently willed her father to use the gun on her. In a way a little piece of her did die that day, the scathing words he’d used, that her mother begged him not to say, cut deeper than any wire trellis could.

But it was different now. She didn’t want to die, especially not here.

Mackenzie returned looking lost for words.

The sadness in his eyes made her feel terrible. “It’s just a theory.”

“Yes, but it might be right.”

Abigail decided to change the subject. “So what should we do tomorrow?”

He stared into the fire. “I’m going to look for the other half of the plane. See if anyone else is alive.”

“Oh God, those other people. I forgot about them.” She closed her eyes remembering Charlie’s scream as he fell out of the plane. “Do you think they survived?”

“Probably not.”

Abigail imagined falling from the sky and knew she didn’t want to go looking for Charlie. She shivered.

“Are you cold?”

“A little.”

“Do you want a jacket?” His eyes were the colour of raw honey in the firelight.

“No, thanks. I’m fine.” She was surprised by how considerate he was and scowled at herself for being so difficult.

Mackenzie stirred the embers with a long stick but the warmth from the fire was of little comfort to her. Not knowing what to do, she got up. Feeling Mackenzie’s gaze on her, she walked to her case, unzipped it and aimlessly rummaged through her clothing. Her red leather diary flipped open and she paused before she pulled it out. An entry caught her eye and she could just make out the date in the firelight,
January 5
^th
. She remembered that day well. It was the day before the Governor’s ball and the first time she had hard evidence of Spencer’s infidelities. She’d only overheard his side of the phone conversation, but she could tell he was talking to a woman that she knew. And although the Governor’s ball promised an evening full of decadence and chivalry she’d spent the whole night wondering just which one of her friends was sleeping with him. She snapped the diary shut, tossed it into her luggage and stalked back to the fire.

“I’m making coffee. Do you want one?” Mackenzie’s voice startled her. His silhouette against the firelight was like a crouching gargoyle.

“Yes, please. That would be lovely.”

She marvelled at how much heat the fire gave off in such an open space. And she almost laughed aloud as she recalled complaining on many occasions about the useless marble fireplace in her formal lounge room at home.

Water already bubbled in one bean can as Mackenzie shook grains of coffee into two clean cans. Protecting his hands with a rolled up shirt, he poured boiling water onto the coffee.

“Sugar?”

“No, thanks.”

“Sorry, we’re fresh out of milk.” He smiled as he presented her with the coffee. “Careful, it’ll be hot.”

“Can you put it on the grass? I’ll let it cool for a while.”

She watched him sip from his hot can and admired how relaxed he seemed to be. When it was cool enough to hold, she picked it up and paused with it raised to her lips. “Thank you.” The hot liquid stung the inside of her mouth and she forced it down. “That’s bloody awful!”

He glared at her. “Well, I’m sorry. The cappuccino machine is broken.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You’re so ungrateful.” Mackenzie took his coffee and went back to the plane, disappearing into the cabin.

She silently watched him go then tossed her coffee into the fire. It created a dramatic sizzle and cloud of steam. Replaying the conversation in her mind, she couldn’t work out why he was so angry at her. She gave up, convinced she’d done nothing wrong. The coffee’s bitter aftertaste lingered and she reached for the water, wiped the rim and drank the rest of the bottle.

She tossed the plastic into the fire and watched it shrivel up and turn black. The pungent smell invaded her nostrils and she stood up to move away from the thick smoke that curled toward the wreckage. With the dark forest backdrop the plane dominated the scenery, appearing luminous in the firelight, the gaping hole in its side a gangrenous wound.

Mackenzie shattered her reverie. “What the hell’s that smell?”

She stiffened. “What? The plastic?”

Mackenzie scrambled from the wreckage and she stepped away from the fire as he came toward her. His hands were rigid at his sides.

“You drank the water?” He jabbed a finger at her. “Your coffee was your ration of water.”

“I didn’t know we were rationing.”

“Of course you bloody well didn’t. You’re so caught up in your makeup that you still haven’t grasped our fucking situation.”

“Don’t swear at me.”

The tendons in his neck bulged. “Oh my God, will you listen to me?”

“You’re talking so loud that everyone for miles is listening to you.”

“There
is
no-one for miles! Just you and me. And now we only have two bottles of water until we’re rescued.”

“I didn’t know.”

“That’s right. You don’t know. From now on you don’t eat or drink anything without asking.”

“I will not ask for permission to eat or drink.”

“Okay.” He put his hands on his hips. “What do
you
think we should do?”

Abigail folded her arms across her chest searching for something intelligent to say, to prove her worth. On many occasions, Spencer had told her stories of running out of water or food in one or more of his jungle safaris. For the first time ever, she wished she’d taken more notice.
What would Spencer do?
But she had nothing.

“You’re right.” She sighed deeply, embarrassed that she couldn’t even think of one thing that would be useful. “Spencer knew what to do in these situations. Not me.”

Mackenzie’s tension visibly melted away. “I guess we didn’t really discuss it.”

When Abigail nodded at him a smile curled at the corner of his lips.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s have a look at what we have so we both understand.”

He transferred his suitcase contents into Rodney’s bag and then placed the sugar, coffee, flour and the last two water bottles into the empty case. “Hopefully we’ll find water tomorrow in the other half of the plane.”

“Hopefully.”

“I’ll put this box of beans by the fire, save you from sitting on your case.”

“Oh, thank you.”

Mackenzie carried the case with ease and Abigail watched his stride. His shoulders were a smooth rhythm as they rocked from side to side with each step. He looked strong and nimble, like a race-ready athlete. On his return, he ran his fingers through his thick, black hair and it tumbled back into the exact same position.

“Are you okay?” His intense gaze seemed to have a genuine interest in her response.

She nodded. Abigail couldn’t remember the last time Spencer had asked about her wellbeing.

“Would you mind taking the first watch?” Mackenzie said. “I’m going to try to sleep, get this night over with.”

“Sure.” She didn’t think she could sleep anyway.

They resumed their places by the fire and when Mackenzie finally drifted off to sleep, she took the opportunity to change from the clothes she’d worn for two days. She removed her high heels, massaged her throbbing toes and slipped on a pair of Taryn Rose loafers. The soft suede was instant relief and she felt stupid for not changing into them earlier. She’d always felt the need to wear high heels next to Spencer’s six-foot-seven frame and felt undressed without them.

Despite the pitch black surroundings she still patrolled the tree line before dashing into the bushes to relieve herself. She returned to the fire and tried to get comfortable on the box. Her life usually consisted of entertaining people or being entertained and she found the isolation confronting. She felt like the silence was screaming in her ears. Yet the slightest noise from either the fire or the broken body of the plane seemed louder than it really was, almost amplified somehow.

The surrounding bush was an eerie silence and she jumped when Mackenzie spoke. “So do you have any kids?”

“Oh God, I forgot about her.”

Mackenzie gasped. “How could you forget your daughter?”

She sighed. “Krystal and I don’t get on. In fact, she hates me. She’s going to be devastated by Spencer’s death.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t hate you.”

“She does. She only cares about her father, even though he’s rarely home.”

“How old is she?

“Fifteen.”

“Why didn’t she come with you?”

Abigail agonised over her answer.
Because I’m a manipulative bitch who was determined to stop Spencer’s secret rendezvous and I didn’t want my daughter intruding on my plans.

She lied instead. “Because Spencer wouldn’t let her come. Krystal and I fight so much I guess he wanted a break.”

They were silent for a long time and she thought Mackenzie had gone to sleep, but he surprised her. “I’m sure your daughter loves you.” His voice conveyed both sadness and conviction.

* * *

Krystal massaged sun tan lotion onto her legs, then lay back on her deck chair and adjusted her bikini top to make sure her tanning didn’t leave a strap line. But even with the music playing from the iPod buds in her ears, she still heard the whirr of the pool gate opening. She turned, surprised to see Thomas walking toward her. Her father’s business partner was already an enormous man but his obsession with body building made him seem even bigger. His thick arms barely fitted into his stiff suit and with eyes as black as bat’s wings that showed little emotion, she always felt like he’d make a good hired-killer in some crappy movie. But today he looked uncomfortable and as he approached, pulling up his trousers, straightening his tie and smoothing his hair, she had a creepy feeling about him.

“Hello, Krystal.” His voice was tortured. Her mum said it was from years of smoking and drinking overproof rum.

“What do you want?” She reached for her juice and flipped over a page of the magazine in her lap.

“I need to talk to you.”

“So talk.”

“I think we should discuss this inside.”

“If I wanted to go inside, I would.” Krystal tossed her magazine onto the glass tabletop and looked up at him. “I’m staying here so spit it out.”

Thomas seized a chair, positioned it at Krystal’s side and straddled it.

She inched as far away as she could without getting off the lounge. “Hurry up, I’ve got things to do.”

His hands gritted like sandpaper as he rubbed them together. “Your parent’s plane has disappeared.”

“What?”
Jesus, why doesn’t he just get to the point?

“They didn’t arrive at Jabiru and are currently listed as missing.”

“So what? You know what Dad’s like. He probably did it on purpose just to scare Mum.”

“There’s been no contact with the plane for two days.”

“This’s nothing! Dad went missing for over a week in the Amazon.”

“I hope you’re right.”

She cringed as his eyes lowered to her breasts. “You can go now.” Krystal shifted in her seat.

“Actually, I’m here to take you to your grandmother’s.”

She glared into his dark eyes. His pupils were tiny pinpricks against the glare of the shimmering pool. “No, you’re bloody well not.”

“Yes, I am. Your parents are missing and I have to take you to her.”

“There’s no way I’m going to live with that bitch.”

“You don’t have a choice. The company’s emergency plan has been activated and your father made specific instructions regarding you. It’s for your own safety.”

She’d heard enough. To show him she had no intention of moving she reached for her magazine.

Thomas snatched it off her and tossed it aside.

“Hey!”

“Get up. I’ve finished with your games.”

“Get stuffed.”

She squealed as his fingers bit into her upper arm.

“Get up!” He dragged her to her feet, sending his chair flying.

“Let go of me,” she screamed.

His fingers squeezed tighter.

“Let me go!”

He shoved her toward the gate. “Get to your room and pack a bag. Mrs Mulholland is waiting for you.”

Krystal rubbed her arm and knew it was going to bruise. “I’m not going,” she yelled over her shoulder as she sprinted along the path.

She ran upstairs to her bedroom, locked the door, dived onto her bed and punched Tina’s number into her phone. “Tina, it’s Krystal. Have you heard?”