Slave Of Destiny (2 page)

The week passed
quickly, but Michael didn’t see Sally again until Saturday afternoon, the day
before Jennifer and her family were due to come back to Townsville. He was down
the river, hiding near the duck pond, when he noticed her step brothers walking
across the dry river bed and into the small side creek. Michael had picked his
hiding spot really well, because he could see Sally looking around for him.
Michael knew that they could only talk for a short time if he confronted her,
but he wanted to see what her step-brothers were actually up to, so he sat
still. About twenty minutes later they returned, holding a large and bulging
Hessian bag.

“I wonder what type
of plant is in there”
he asked himself.

Michael waited
until the three of them were out of sight, then he allowed another ten minutes
for them to climb the river bank and walk away from the river. His curiosity
was urging him to walk straight over to where he saw the two brothers on the
other side, but he actually walked further up the dry river bed before he
crossed and doubled back along the other side. As Michael crept closer he saw
the rows and rows of serrated leafy plants on the gentle slope of the side
creek and he noticed that there was a pungent smell in the air. Michael
inspected one of the plants and he saw that it had a slender, seven-fingered
jagged leaf that was dark-green in colour. The plants were about six feet tall
and the stems were thick and stout. Some of the plants had been cut down
recently, so he assumed that these were Sally’s step-brothers, special plants.

“I shouldn’t be
here”
he
thought to himself as he became increasingly nervous
. “There is something
suspicious about all of this and I don’t want to be here if they come back.”

Michael became so
scared that he ran as fast as he could, back along the river bank, only
stopping when he thought he was well enough away from the weird crop. He hid in
the shadows for a few minutes, contemplating his next move. A teenager like him
couldn’t do anything and he didn’t want to do anything but, by the same token,
he didn’t want Sally’s step-brothers to beat him up if they saw him. He decided
that the plants must be marijuana or something like that, so he walked slowly
and he went straight home. Next Monday he and his family were heading up to the
beach hut for three weeks. His last thought involved the wet season and if the
heavy rains arrived early, the weird plants might wash away or they will be
harder to get to. He finally decided to stay from the main river bed and the
crop of marijuana.

The Smith Family
arrived for lunch, but Michael couldn’t spend some quality time alone with
his
very pretty cousin
Jennifer, because her younger sister, Jessica, was
with them. They talked for short while, before they left to go home. Michael
decided to try and catch up with Sally, because he had to tell her what his
family’s holiday’s plans were, so he set off for the river. He waited around
for nearly an hour before Sally finally made her appearance.

“I glad you’ve come
back down here” he said, before he noticed her bruised cheek and eye. “What
happened, Sally?”

“My step-brothers
experiment with drugs out of curiosity, to have a good time and because their
friends are doing it. But they are beginning to have many problems, such
stress, anxiety and depression. When they have smoked marijuana in the past
they used to be alright, but now they are becoming quick-tempered. Their drug
use is causing problems in my life and I think that they have an addiction
problem. Marcus slapped me when I didn’t get his beer quick enough” she said
with her tears freely flowing now. “I hate them!”

“I’m so sorry for
you Sally. What did your mother say about all this?” he asked as he held her.

“She didn’t do
anything, because she’s too frightened. I had to leave because they’re drinking
and smoking again” she whispered. “I’m worried that they might try and have sex
with me.”

She bawled her eyes
out, but Michael couldn’t respond with any advice, so he just held her in a
brotherly way.

“Mum whispered to
me, just before I left, that we might have to leave during the night and go to
her sister’s place, in Cairns” she admitted, crying again.

“Won’t they follow
you?” Michael asked.

“They probably
won’t even know that we’re missing for a few days. My step father is always
drunk and he sometimes punches my mother if she doesn’t do as he asks” she
mentioned, beginning to calm down. “This might be the last day we see each other,
Michael.”

“I have read in a
magazine that addiction is a complex disorder characterized by compulsive drug
use. While each drug produces different physical effects, all abused substances
share one thing in common; repeated use can alter the way the brain looks and
functions. Changes in their brain interfere with their ability to think
clearly, exercise good judgment, control their behaviour, and feel normal
without drugs” Michael said, remembering the story in the magazine his
grandfather always read.

Time Magazine had
some stories he liked, but mostly it’s full of politics, which he didn’t like.
Occasionally a story or article caught his eye, but mostly he didn’t read it
right through. Michael hoped the large words he used would make him sound older
and it would ease her despair.

“I think that you
and your mother should leave as soon as possible” he suggested.

“Well I better go
back” she whispered.

“I walk back with
you” he said.

“That would be
nice, Michael. Thank you that” she said.

They wandered back
along Loam Island until they reached the, now quiet, sand mining road. It was
an extremely hot and dry afternoon and the columns of heat waves rose steadily,
but they continued on. Five minutes later Sally and Michael reached the main
road and they were walking along the side track to Sally’s house, when a group
of motorcycles pulled up alongside them. The noise from the twenty-one motorcycles
was overwhelming, but the gang all shut their Harleys down so that their leader
could talk.

“Where are your
brothers, bitch” the leader of the Renegades asked when he stopped his Harley
Davidson motorcycle.

“They’re…They’re at
home” she stuttered.

“Well they’re not
there now. They have our merchandise and we want it. Do you know where they
could have gone, Sally?” he asked, less aggressively now as he approached us.

“They were talking
about going to the pub and they normally drink at the Vale Hotel. They could be
there” she admitted nervously.

“We need some
insurance, so you both are coming with us. Frank, can you grab the girl and
Jake, you grab the boy” he ordered as he reached out to hold her arm.

“Run Sally” Michael
shouted as he ran back down the river.

“Go after him,
Jake” ordered Wayne.

Michael ran for his
life down the track until he reached the dirt road leading to the river. He
could hear the roar of a motorcycle getting closer, but Michael kept running as
hard as he could. The biker was closing in as he jumped into the long grass and
rolled down a washout. He knew the river intimately, so he jumped up quickly
and pushed further into the grass. The washout would stop the rider from
following him on his bike, but he would continue to hunt Michael on foot. He
knew of several of several areas where the water had scoured away the soil from
river bank, leaving behind deep underscores or caves under the tree roots.

“Stop kid or you
will cop it when I catch you” he shouted.

“Fuck you” Michael
retaliated.

The biker’s heavy
boots didn’t allow him to run quickly, so Michael slowly gained some distance
between them. Michael knew they couldn’t see each other, due to the long guinea
grass, but he could hear his panting and cursing getting softer.

“You little shit!
You better stop now” he cursed again.

Michael plunged
into his hide-hole, aware that the biker may have heard him.

“I’m going to find
you, you little piece of shit” he shouted in-between gulps of air, somewhere
above Michael’s head. Slowly he heard the biker move away and then it was very
quiet. He knew that the biker was waiting for Michael to come out, but he stayed
where he was.

* * *

Ten minutes later
Michael heard a motorcycle start up and the biker move away from him and up the
hill, but he stayed really quiet, paralysed with fear.

“I couldn’t find
the little shit” Jake mentioned to his leader, Wayne.

“Where does he
live, Bitch?” he asked, twisting Sally’s nipples.

“Ow” she cried. “I don’t
fucking know, because I’ve only just met him.”

“Tell me, bitch” he
shouted twisting them again.

“Ow. Stop that” she
sobbed; tears flowing down her face. “I don’t know where he lives, because I
have only just met him. I don’t even know his name.”

“We can find him
another time. We still have you for insurance. You’re coming with us, so hop on
the back of Frank’s bike and hold on. We’re going to the Vale to find your
brothers” he said. “Let’s go.”

“Step-brothers” she
shouted back at him.

“What did you say,
bitch?” he sneered.

“I said they’re my
step- brothers” she mentioned, less confidently now.

“Whatever!” Wayne
sneered.

Wayne quickly
started the bike and completed a U turn, so the whole group of twenty gang
members followed him, with Sally holding on tightly behind Frank.

“Good luck, Sally”
Michael thought, when he heard the roar of the bikes. “You’re going to need
it.”

There were very few
people, his age, around here, but there wasn’t anything he could do to help
her. His friend Robert and his sister Robyn, who lived further up the road near
the shop, were away on holidays, so they couldn’t help him. Michael suddenly realized
that he hadn’t mentioned his holiday at the beach hut, but if Sally was leaving
town it probably wouldn’t matter then. It was getting late, because the sun had
gone down and darkness was setting in. Michael gritted his teeth, crawled out
of his hiding spot and ran as fast as he could. A tree root tripped him up and
he crashed to the ground. He got up, half-sobbing, and scrambled up the steep
river bank then across the road and into the safety of his house.

“What were you
doing to be so late, Michael? I was becoming worried about you” mum said
angrily.

“I walked a long
way down the river, but when I realized that it was so late I ran all the way
back” he lied.

If his mother knew
that there were bikers around, she would never let him go back down there.

“Well you better
have a bath, because dinner will be ready soon” she suggested.

Later that night
Michael vowed not to go back down the river for a while and he just hoped Sally
was alright.

* * *

Mum, Rebecca and
Michael finally arrived at the beach hut, late in the morning on Monday. After
opening all the windows, cleaning everything, unpacking the station wagon and
eating lunch, mum finally helped Michael with the dinghy, by taking it down to
Rollingstone Creek, and he tied it up to the mangroves. It was low tide, but it
would begin to float in a few hours’ time, when the tide turned. The two of
them returned to the hut, just as his sister, Rebecca, was walking out in her
bikini and heading to the beach to suntan. The weather was hot and humid, but
the sky was clear above their heads. An occasional rumble of thunder could be
heard in the distance, which would mean that there would be a storm that night.
Michael set off down the creek with his fishing lines, tackle box, a bucket
with a bottle of water and a cast net in it. This was all he wanted to do
today; catch some bait and go fishing in some of his favourite fishing spots.

Just as
he cast out his three hand lines, with live baits on the hooks, a storm broke
and it began to rain. He loved the rain, because the fresh water run off
stirred up the fish and it helped to cool him down. The rain became a downpour,
but, as swiftly as it started, it stopped. The fish Michael caught over the next
few days were only small, so he threw them back. Michael thought he had plenty
of time to catch some decent sized fish during the time his family would be
staying at the hut.

In the
hot, steamy atmosphere of the ocean near the Solomon Islands and about the
middle of December, a larger than usual area of cloud began to develop. The
winds below this cloud began to strengthen and meteorologists saw definite
indications of a developing cyclone. Every twenty-four hours, the U.S.
meteorological satellite transmitted a photograph to Australian receiving
stations and by 21
^st
December the meteorological offices issued a
“tropical advisory warning”. A tropical low, 250 miles southwest of Honiara,
began to develop into a cyclone.

The
photo, taken as the satellite flashed by on the following the third morning,
left no room for doubt that the cyclone was a developing force. The cyclone,
named Althea, continued to move in the direction of the Queensland coast and
during that day the pressure at the centre fell gradually and the winds
intensified.

“You
need to get home now, because there’s a cyclone coming” said dad to mum on the
phone in the beach house.

“The
reports said that it wasn’t going to come near us” argued mum, remembering that
she hadn’t heard an updated report in the last twenty-four hours.

The
Macquarie News broadcast, emanating from 4BH Brisbane and relayed during the
night to all commercial stations on the Queensland coast were issuing outdated
warnings. It was understood that the news broad-casts after midnight are from
pre-recorded tapes and may have contained outdated warnings.

“Well
it is coming straight for us, so pack everything up and come back to
Townsville” he said, becoming worried about them.

“Rebecca
can start packing everything up, while I help Michael get the dinghy out of the
creek. We should be home in about four hours” she said.

“Just
get home as soon as you can” he suggested as he ended the call.

“Rebecca,
can you start cleaning out the fridge and packing the food into the cooler box?
After that can you pack our clothes and anything else we need to take home,
like the Christmas presents?” she asked. “Just leave us a set of clothes each
and a few towels, because we’re going to get soaked.”

“Ok
mum” she replied.

“Let’s
go down and get that dinghy out of the creek” she said to Michael.

The
wind was howling around them and the rain was bucketing down as mum drove down
to the creek with the trailer. The creek had risen steadily over the past hour,
but they managed to retrieve the boat and return to the hut. Loose objects were
either put away or tied down and finally the three of them were ready to head
for home. The main road was already covered with some surface water from the
heavy rain and there were trees and debris everywhere from the gale-force
winds, but they managed to get home safely.

*
* *

About
noon on 23
^rd
December it was again photographed by the satellite
and, as the day went by, reports from the automatic station on Flinders Reef
indicated that the centre was passing just south of that location. From these
sources of information it was clear that “Althea” was still building up its
energy and that its landfall would occur before noon the next day. Gusts
reaching 125 mph picked up debris tore building components loose and drove them
with such force that it tore the iron off roofs and smashed holes in fibre-cement
walls. The unrelenting pressure of the wind drove the tide to a height never
seen before, causing a rise in the sea-level of 9 foot in the estuary of the
Ross River and flooding the main streets of the city. The tidal surge and
powerful wave action totally destroyed the rock wall along the strand and the
bitumen road to Pallarenda. Luckily the cyclone arrived on a low tide, because
if the storm surge had arrived 5 hours later, the damage would have been far
greater.

At 10am
on 24
^th
December, the relatively calm area of the “eye” crossed the
coast some 30 miles north of Townsville so that Palm Island, Magnetic Island
and Townsville bore the brunt of the very destructive winds. Within eight hours
of crossing the coast and moving inland in a south-westerly direction, the
winds had dropped below gale force but rainfall was exceptionally heavy on 25
^th
,
26
^th
and 27
^th
December causing major flooding in all the
central and southern interior river systems of Queensland. “Althea” crossed the
coast again towards midnight on 27 December between Double Island Point and
Maryborough. The cyclone showed evidence of some regeneration and winds once
more rose to gale force, but its path in a south-westerly direction took it
into colder waters and its identity was lost in the Tasman Sea by the end of December.

The few
days of its contact with the Australian mainland were extremely costly: three
people died, the material damage in the Townsville region alone was
conservatively estimated at 25 millions of dollars and the terror, anxiety and
sheer inconvenience it produced was beyond assessment.

A few
days later Michael’s family returned to the beach hut to access the damage
caused by the intense winds. The damage was minimal, so they decided to
continue their holiday whilst the repairs were carried out.

* * *

The honest truth
was, Michael had a vivid imagination and, when he was younger, didn’t like going
outside at night. He used to read books on UFO’s and outer space and he
imagined the shadows cloaking wriggling creatures and monsters. With every
creak in the house at night Michael imagined there was a thief or a monster
walking around, just waiting to grab him. As Michael became older he lost most
of his fears but retained his vivid imagination and it was evident when he
found something unusual on the beach that day. Michael found the object under a
massive Indian almond tree, way down near the old fish traps in the middle of
the bay.

“I wonder what it
is” he whispered with glee. “It must have been washed up with the storm surge.”

Tina, his dog,
woofed a quick reply as they both ran over to investigate. It was buried in the
sand and covered with leaves.

“It’s been in the
water for a long time, because it’s covered with barnacles and oysters. I think
its pirate’s treasure” Michael whispered, letting his imagination take over.
“I’ll bet it’s full of jewels and gold. I’m going to be able to buy my sports
car!”

Michael didn’t
really know what it was, because he could only see a corner and it looked like
it was made out of wood. As he dug away the soft sand, he began to think about
all the things he could buy with the riches he’d find.

Twenty minutes
later Michael had revealed part of it and his imagination began to soar.

“It is a pirate’s
chest!” he shouted as he studied the intricately decorated timber.

Michael had revealed
one end and in the middle he could see two metal swords and a metal skull with
a metal ring through its nose. All the edges were strengthened with metal and
the lid was curved, but the feet looked like dragons. Urgently now he kept
digging, trying to uncover more of his prize.

The time pushed on
towards 12pm and mum would become worried about him soon, but he didn’t want to
leave his future wealth for everyone to find so he kept digging. Michael didn’t
have any drinking water with him, but Tina could drink from the small creek
which had filled with the recent rains.

By 3pm Michael had
revealed the entire chest and he felt dizzy from a combination of dehydration
and exhaustion, but he continued to examine the wonderfully decorated item. The
front of the chest was decorated with a large skull and cross bones, as he
called it. The two swords pierced the eye sockets of the skull and there was a
large lock to seal the lid from prying eyes. The armada of carved ships added
to the mystery surrounding it.

“I have to open it,
girl” he slurred to no one in particular. “It’s too heavy for me to carry.”

Michael stumbled
around looking for a large rock to use as a hammer and he found one where the
water in the creek became shallow. As he tried to lift the rock, his arms felt
like they were lead weights and he collapsed, hitting his head on the rock.

* * *

Michael woke up
several hours later. He was lying on the bank of the creek and it was dark.
Tina his dog wasn’t around and he wondered why his parents hadn’t come looking
for him.

“Where are you
kid?” a voice boomed from the top of the nearby hill.

“
Who in the hell
is that?
” Michael thought to himself.

“I’m over here!” he
shouted, thinking that someone was looking for him to take him home.

Michael could see the
dark figure of a lone horseman silhouetted by the full moon; something in his
hand flashed occasionally in the moonlight.

“I’m going to kill
you for stealing from me” the person shouted again, before disappearing down
the slopes and into the shadows.

Michael could hear
him closing in through the trees and then it was quiet again.

“
What in the
hell is going on and why does he have a sword?
” he thought to himself. “
This
can’t be happening to me
.”

The killer was
somewhere near, but it was impossible to tell because the moon had disappeared
behind a dark cloud. A strong wind began as lightning traced a jagged path
across the dark sky: the telltale sign that a storm was brewing. Michael
decided to move while it was dark and try and get home, away from this weirdness,
the thunder and lightning. As he crawled towards the beach, he suddenly
realized that there wasn’t any beach.

“
Where in the
hell am I?
” he thought to himself again as the rain began.

The bone-chilling
wind was making him shiver as he crawled away from the danger, but with each
lull in the storm Michael could hear the dull thudding of hooves, the creak of
saddle leather and a horse’s strained snorting breath. Michael was so confused,
but he gritted his teeth, rose to full height and ran as hard as he could. When
he stumbled he glanced back and saw that the horseman was further away now,
again briefly silhouetted by the shimmering sky. Michael kept running until
suddenly, the ground dropped away and he rolled and tumbled down a slope. He
rose quickly and ran, bruised and battered, when he reached the bottom, only to
fall flat on the deck of a boat. Michael crawled over to what looked like an upturned
rowboat and hid underneath it, silent and confused as he tried to piece
together what had happened. With the combination of warmth, exhaustion and an
awareness of the relative safety of his hiding spot he closed his eyes. He fell
asleep due to the steady rocking of the vessel, unaware of his surroundings.

* * *

Michael woke up the
next morning and peered out from his hiding spot. The sun had just risen on the
horizon and all he could see was water. The boat was out to sea!

“I’m so glad you’ve
decided to join us again, m’lad.”

It was the same
voice Michael heard last night and he thought his killer had found him.

“Don’t forget that
a cabin boy still needs to earn his keep” the owner of the voice suggested.

“Leave him alone,
Thomas. Can’t you see you have frightened him to near death? Come over here
Michael and I’ll get you something to eat” said the woman softly.

“You’re spoiling
the kid, Martha” laughed Thomas, walking away.

It didn’t seem like
Michael had any choice, so he crawled out and walked over to the, slightly
plump, woman.

“Come to the galley
and I’ll get you some food” she suggested, leading the way.

“
This is totally
crazy
” he thought. “
Where am I?
”

Bewildered Michael
sat down at a long table with several other noisy bearded men.

“Captain Thomas
isn’t happy that you ran away, lad” mentioned a man to his right. “He spent
several hours looking for you last night, so you better do as he asks from now
on.”

“Leave him alone,
Joseph. Can’t you see he’s frightened” scolded Martha before she walked away.
“Sally, give him some more water.”

A young girl with
light brown skin rushed over to fill his mug with water.

“Just make sure you
do your chores today” she suggested; giving him a wink.

The girl appeared
familiar to him, but Michael just couldn’t just quite place her, but he had no
time to dwell on his thoughts.

“I’ll make sure
he’ll do ‘em, missy” said another voice behind him.

“You take it easy
on him, Jack Colburn, otherwise Martha might take offense” suggested Sally.

“And you need to
keep your trap shut, or it might get you in trouble one day, missy” he
chastised, but taking heed of her words. “The lad needs some forceful guidance,
so come with me and I’ll show you where to start.”