Authors: Kendall Talbot
Her chest tightened with each heavy footfall she took back to the plane.
Mackenzie felt like a robot. He moved without thinking, blocking out the horror of what he had to do. The last three hours had been the most harrowing of his adult life and the images of carrying the bodies to the pit would forever scar his memory. As he tumbled dirt onto Rodney’s denim jacket the noise seemed amplified, as if each crumb of soil beat its own drum.
The sun disappeared below the horizon with dramatic swiftness and beyond the clearing it was as black as the bowels of hell. An eerie glow from the fire illuminated the plane but it cast shifting shadows over Abigail as she sat motionless with her knees to her chest. She looked ghostly white, like an apparition, and cast a tragic figure, a mere wisp of the woman she’d been just days ago. He wanted to sit beside her, to put his arms around her, to cry on her shoulder. And he desperately wanted to be comforted himself, but rejection, a stark reminder that he was all alone, was likely to tip him into insanity.
His stomach screamed at him, demanding to be fed, but the thought of eating, after what he’d just done, seemed just a little too normal. With Rodney gone, nothing would ever be normal again. He scooped the last of the loose dirt onto the grave and smoothed the top. Then he pitched the tin into the darkness and heard it crash in the near distance.
Mackenzie lay back on the warm grass staring at the night sky. At first it looked completely black, but as if by magic, hundreds of stars appeared, like candles being lit in a distant galaxy. He noticed a bright star through the tree canopy. It winked at him and, as he studied it, he noticed it flashing red and blue. A satellite. The distant sparkle mocked him.
“Are you okay?” Abigail interrupted his thoughts.
Was he okay?
“No.” His throat was rough and dry.
“We did the right thing, didn’t we?” She wrung her hands together as if twisting out her revulsion.
He mulled over her question. It was
wrong
. All wrong. The crash was wrong. Rodney’s death was wrong, everyone’s death was wrong. And burying them in that shallow grave, all on top of each other like that was wrong too. But whether it was right or wrong didn’t matter. They had no choice. They couldn’t leave the bodies exposed like they were any longer. When they were rescued though, he had no doubt the bodies would be brought home. And then Rodney would have a proper burial. He’d make sure of it.
Brutal questions invaded his thoughts.
What if he was the last man standing? Who would bury him?
Was he destined to be animal food?
He shoved the thoughts aside and sat up. “Yes. We did the right thing. When we’re rescued we’ll take them home with us.”
His hands were black and bloodied and a raw blister bulged across the top of his palm, threatening to burst. He fetched a water bottle and handed it to Abigail.
She drank a mouthful and held the bottle toward him.
“Use it to wash your hands and face. I’ll get another bottle for me.”
“I thought we were on rations.”
“Yes. But I have to get this smell off my hands and I’m sure you feel the same.” The smell of death embedded in his flesh provoked a memory he’d blocked out many years ago. He shook his head, trying to cast the recollection free.
With a dampened T-shirt, he scrubbed his hands until the blister burst and blood flowed freely. After locating a block of soap, he welcomed the sting from the lather as the putrid odour evaporated. He poured the last of the water onto his face and dried it off with a clean shirt.
With four days of death and destruction behind him, he decided it was time to move into survival mode. Rodney would’ve wanted him to live. He imagined flying in a colourful hot air balloon and rising further into the sky with each giant lump of sorrow he threw out. They were going to survive. Hell, he’d survived living in Kings Cross all alone as an eleven-year-old. This should be easy compared to that.
He flipped open his case and scooped out a handful of ingredients to make damper. With each manipulation of the dough he felt more alive. A new beginning with him doing what he loved—cooking. When the bread sizzled on the hot tin sheet he inhaled deeply, drinking in the fresh aroma.
Mackenzie heard Charlie’s faint voice in the distance and assumed the cooking smell had woken him. “Tell him the damper’ll be ready in a minute.” He watched Abigail walk toward the plane and kneel beside the old man.
With a T-shirt protecting his hands, he carried the hot tray to Charlie and placed it on the cloth bedding. “How’re you feeling?”
“Better. You must’ve done a good job. I don’t feel much pain in my ribs anymore. My head hurts worse.”
“Good. It’s time to eat. If I know anything, it’s that food gives you energy and without it you won’t survive.” Plumes of steam erupted from the vanilla coloured dough when he pulled the damper apart. His mouth watered as he handed out equal portions.
Mackenzie noticed the book on the makeshift bedding and remembered what Charlie had said about the antioxidant plant. As an experienced chef, he knew of many plants that could cure ailments. Several popular examples came to mind. Aloe vera was well known to heal skin wounds and lemon grass reduced cholesterol.
“Hey Charlie, tell me about your antioxidant.” Mackenzie took a bite of the hot damper.
Charlie’s eyes glowed. “Well, for thousands of years humans have used plants as remedies and some researchers specialising in both western and traditional Chinese medicine believe in yin-yang or balance. It relates to the balance between pro-oxidant and antioxidant.”
Mackenzie knew they had no balance at the moment and wouldn’t survive for long on their current diet of just flour and beans. “A healthy diet relies on balance.”
“Exactly,” said Charlie. “Have you been following the antioxidant phenomenon?”
“I know the Chinese wolfberry is rapidly growing a reputation as a super food.”
“That’s right. Another example is the Açaí berry from Brazil. It’s also been proven to have unusually high antioxidant properties.”
Mackenzie thought this over. “So do you know what plants are useful around here?”
“Well, for example, I saw a Kakadu plum right next to the other half of the plane.”
“Can we eat it?”
“Yes. As a matter of fact, the fruit is considered to have the highest known concentration of Vitamin C.”
“Excellent. What does it look like? I’ll get some tomorrow.”
“Actually we’re a bit lucky with our timing. The fruit should be ready to eat right now. You’ll easily see the shrub. It has several bunches of plums, they look like miniature avocados.”
Mackenzie recalled a bunch of green berries on a shrub he saw near the back half of the plane and made a mental note to bring them back to show Charlie. “What else?”
“Another plant we should see is the native cranberry. I don’t know its nutritional value off the top of my head but I know wild pigs love them.”
“Great. We’ll be eating pig food,” Abigail groaned.
Mackenzie raised his eyebrows at her. “Abigail, you’ve seen what I can do with a can of beans and a scoop of flour. Wait till you see what I can do with a pig.”
I wonder how hard it is to catch one.
Charlie patted his journal like it was a silky kitten. “I have all the details here in my journal. Anything you want to know about edible and, of course, noxious plants in Kakadu is right here.”
Mackenzie realised their good fortune. Charlie’s journal would be their bible of survival.
Abigail yawned, creating a chain reaction of yawning from Charlie and Mackenzie. Mackenzie rolled his head. The muscles in his back and neck felt like tightly banded wire. Although he’d been trying to loosen them, he knew he was going to be sore tomorrow.
“I’m going to try to sleep,” Abigail said. “But would you mind staying here while I go to the toilet first?”
“Sure.”
Abigail left them and several minutes later Mackenzie heard her returning from the bush. Her steps were calm, no longer the frantic scramble from the bush she’d done the first couple of days. She crawled into the space beside Charlie. “Good night.” She rolled onto her side with her back to them.
Mackenzie rested on his elbow beside Charlie. “Do you really think we can survive once our supply of beans and flour runs out?” he whispered.
“Of course. Aboriginal people have lived here for over forty thousand years. Kakadu is known for its rich plant and animal life. Did you know there are over two hundred and eighty known species of birds and over fifty-five fish varieties in Kakadu?”
Mackenzie let out a heavy sigh. He couldn’t fathom how to catch a bird and he’d never been fishing in his life.
Charlie’s white eyebrows gathered. “What’s wrong?”
“There could be a million types of birds here, but that doesn’t mean we can catch them. And my idea of catching a good fish is being at the fish market when the doors fly open first thing in the morning.”
Charlie huffed. “You need to have faith in yourself. A man who’s determined to survive will resort to creative and, if necessary, desperate measures. Stepping outside your comfort zone is the key to survival. I think you’ll be surprised by your ingenuity.”
Mackenzie nodded. He knew full well of his own ability to adapt in order to survive. Although the first two times his life was on the line were before he’d even turned seventeen. Now that he was approaching thirty, he wasn’t so sure of his resilience.
“Do you know what man needs to live?” Charlie asked.
“Well, obviously we need food and water and sleep.” Mackenzie counted them out with his fingers.
“Yes, all of them. But it’s been proven, time and time again, that the most important key to survival is a positive attitude. People who give up cannot possibly adapt to their environment.”
Mackenzie’s mind flashed to Grace, the first girl he’d ever kissed. They’d both run away from tragic home lives, but her abuse didn’t stop when she got to Kings Cross. By the time Mackenzie got to know her, she was already on a downward spiral of depression and drugs. She was only sixteen when she gave up. And nothing he did helped her.
Charlie tried to stifle a yawn pulling Mackenzie back from his thoughts.
“You’re right, Charlie. We need to look to the future and not worry about the past.”
“Precisely. I still have one mission before I die and I’m determined to do it.”
Mackenzie waited for Charlie to tell him about it, but he didn’t, so he didn’t pry. “Right then.” Mackenzie pulled himself up. His legs trembled and he braced against the eucalyptus tree, fighting the urge to crumble into an exhausted heap. “Thanks for the pep talk. I’ll sleep by the fire. Are you okay here?”
“Why don’t you pull up beside me too? I’ll try not to snore.”
It was impossible to resist sleeping in the partially sheltered space. “Thank you.”
Mackenzie crawled atop the pile of clothes, rolled onto his back and adjusted a T-shirt into a pillow. He stretched out, feeling his muscles tighten in every limb. “Now this is luxury.”
“Sure is,” Charlie said.
Mackenzie heard the subtle crackle of the fire and rolled to face it. The fire was another necessity he’d be lost without. He closed his eyes and welcomed sleep.
After what seemed like just twenty minutes, he opened his eyes to the chorus of birds and the sun piercing through the trees. Blinking, he realised it was already morning. He still lay on his side, facing the now extinguished fire. He was certain he hadn’t moved all night, as every muscle ached when he rolled onto his back.
Where the hell are you now, Tony?
His masseuse Tony had worked many intense knots from Mackenzie’s back, the downside of endless hours standing in a kitchen. A noise in the bushes jolted him back to the present and moments later, he watched Abigail stroll into the clearing idly rubbing her neck.
Mackenzie had a positive feeling about the day ahead and the birds, blissfully chirping in the morning sun, bolstered his mood. He decided that today he’d do a few things to make their campsite more comfortable and as he scrutinised their surroundings several ideas formed. Charlie was still fast asleep and was lightly snoring when Mackenzie rolled out of bed and stretched.
Blood coursed through his body but his movements were stiff and disjointed and he recalled a similar feeling when he ran the Bridge to Brisbane marathon several years ago. His reluctance at participating in the race was outweighed by his determination to prove the worth of their gym membership to Rodney.
Mackenzie remembered the sense of achievement when he completed the race and gloated about it into the early morning hours with several bottles of Sauvignon Blanc. However, the following two days were complete agony. His body deteriorated to the point where he needed help just to get out of bed. But it was a good memory, a time when Rodney was there for him, helping him through his pain—a nurturing smile, a gentle touch, simple gestures that showed he cared. Anger over Rodney’s death bubbled to the surface, but he forced it down, determined not to let it ruin the positive feelings he’d had just moments ago.
“How did you sleep?” Abigail asked when he was within earshot.
“Good and you?”
“Terribly.”
“Oh. Sorry to hear that.”
“What the hell are we going to do? We’ve been here so long. I think they’ve given up.”
“No, they haven’t. Even you said they’ll never give up looking for you. It’s early days yet. They’ll find us.” Mackenzie crouched down next to her. “I feel good about today. I don’t know what it is, but I think today’s going to be a good day.”
She glanced sidelong at him. “A good day would be me walking out of the beauty salon looking ten years younger.”
“See, you’re cracking jokes already.”
She looked at him deadpan. “I was serious.”
“Right. Well, I have a couple of ideas that’ll make us more comfortable. So why don’t you just chill out and relax. Get some sleep, or sun, or read or whatever. Okay?”
She frowned. Her expression pegged him as a mad man. “Don’t you want me to help?”
Mackenzie hadn’t expected this response. Up until now she’d been reluctant to help with anything. So he considered her offer, but nothing came to mind. “How about I call you when I need your help?”