Forest Secrets (8 page)

Snook and I both stared at the metre-long snake, and then, hardly daring to breathe, I whispered again, ‘Do you know what kind it is? Is it poisonous?' I had to ask that because coming from the Northern Territory, I wasn't yet familiar with the Tasmanian varieties.

‘All snakes are poisonous over 'ere,' he said in a matter-of-fact voice, ‘but that one's not too bad.'

I asked him what he meant.

‘We've got the tiger snake, the copperhead and the whip snake. The first two are real dangerous; the other one isn't so bad.' He looked over at Blowhard. ‘But I reckon we'd better wake 'im up, get 'im ready to slither off the rock while we try and distract the snake. Whaddya say?'

‘Okay,' I said, ‘let's do it.'

We were too late.

Rubbing his eyes and frowning, Blowhard propped himself up on one elbow to a half-sitting position. Seeing us standing there gaping at him, he asked in a sleepy voice, ‘Wha-what?

What's the matter? Why are you two staring at me? Where are your manners?'

As urgently as I could and trying not to panic him, I said, ‘Don't move, Mr Blowhard but there's a poisonous snake near you. Stay still and we'll try to remove it.'

It wasn't to be.

Quicker than any striking snake, Blowhard bolted upright. He then lowered his head very carefully till he could squint over his belly. He saw the sleeping snake that was enjoying the warm, comfortable spot that it had come across – between Blowhard's outstretched legs.

‘Yeggghhh! Unnh! Unnh! Unnh!' Blowhard shrieked as though he was a hungry baby. Then, like an Olympic gymnast, he leaped into the air, arms spinning like a windmill until, half sliding, half scrambling, he fell off the boulder. Shadow scampered out of the way, not from the snake but from Blowhard's tumbling figure.

‘Gee, Mr Blowhard,' Snook said, looking down at him as he lay on the ground. ‘The snake
was
poisonous, but not that poisonous. It was only a little ol' whip snake. If it had bitten you, you'd have just got a little bit sick … most likely. But look, there it goes. It's probably off to find a quieter spot now, one where it won't be disturbed.'

Blowhard looked up just in time to see the snake disappear into a clump of grass at the side of the cliff. ‘Humph,' he said getting to his feet and brushing himself down. ‘I knew all the time that the snake wasn't very poisonous. You shouldn't have scared it away like that; it wasn't doing any harm. You gave me quite a start too, waking me up like you did. You need to be more thoughtful in future.'

I thought Snook was going to choke. Funny noises like a volcano erupting were suddenly coming from his throat and he was glaring at Blowhard.

‘Were you saying something, young man?' Blowhard asked. ‘I hope you weren't making fun of me again, like you did at lunch time. If you were, then …'

I could see Snook was fuming, that he was about to lose it. Blowhard was going just that little bit too far. I grabbed Snook by the arm. ‘Cool it,' I whispered. ‘He's not worth it.' I turned to Blowhard, saying, as I tried not to choke on my words, ‘We'll be more careful in the future, Mr Blowhard. Sorry for waking you.' I winked across at Snook, and with both hands firmly planted on my hips, I added, ‘From now on we'll let
you
handle any snakes you come across.' Winking again, I said, ‘That's only fair, eh, Snook?'

Snook didn't reply. He just grinned.

Then, as if a blanket had been thrown over us, daylight suddenly turned into night, and Reginald Blowhard started to blubber like a baby – once again.

R
eginald Blowhard looked like a frightened rabbit. Walking back and forth, head twisting to the left and the right, he called out, ‘What's happening? Where's the sun gone?' Shadow, who also looked confused, was sitting next to me watching Blowhard's strange behaviour.

It wasn't completely dark; it was more like twilight. You could still make out the cliff-face as well as the fallen rocks and rubble. You could still see the river too, as it swirled and rumbled past, but there was something else; a breeze had suddenly popped up. I held out my hand. ‘I wonder where that came from,' I said.

‘Yeah, I wonder,' Snook said. ‘It just appeared when the dark came.'

‘I'm not sure. It's probably got something to do with air pres-sure. We'll have to ask Stormy next Tuesday when we go back to school.'

Snook grunted as though Stormy was the last thing on his mind. ‘Sure. I can see me doin' that. I'll ask him how I should have dealt with a loony bigmouth, who's gone into a flap, while I'm at it.'

I was only half listening to Snook. A long, drawn out
ooooooing
had caught my attention.

‘What's that?' Blowhard yelled between his backwards and forwards steps, his voice quivering.

‘It's the wind singing to us,' I told him, as another wail reached our ears. ‘It's like the call of the yowi my mother used to tell me about. The yowi used to wander through the outback, making howling noises.'

‘Yeah, but its outta tune,' Snook said. ‘I reckon it's our spook. You know, Malu.'

I peered through the gloom towards Blowhard. He had both hands up to his ears and he was shaking his head from side to side. The wailing and moaning was getting to him. In the meantime, the breeze continued to strengthen, bouncing from one cliff face to the other, as though seeking out every crack and fissure. That, I felt sure, was the source of the noise.

I looked over towards Blowhard. He still didn't look too good. He'd raised his arms up to his eyes trying not to see the spooky things, like the jagged rocks sticking out from the cliffs looking like spectres, or the saplings sprouting from the cliffs, waving their branches like ghoulish arms.

Blowhard had nearly lost it. I could see that. Everything – the darkness, the howling, the grisly shapes, had proved to be too much for him. I was about to say something to Snook – to tell him we'd better take it easy on Blowhard when, for some reason, the man in question began slapping and grabbing at the back of his neck – repeatedly. ‘Argh!' he cried, leaping into the air. ‘It's Mamu! He's here. His fingers are like ice and they're trying to choke me!'

‘It's okay,' I said running over to him, trying to calm him down. ‘You're imagining things.'

But he wasn't listening. Still slapping the back of his neck and still screaming, he ran as fast as his legs would carry him, back along the gorge in the direction of his camp … in the dark.

‘Geez,' Snook said. ‘He scares easy. What was he talkin' about anyway? Icy fingers?'

‘It's really all a bit silly,' I said. ‘The wind was starting to blow the spray from the river our way and he copped a bit on the back of the neck. That's all it was.'

Snook scratched his head. ‘I've had enough of this place. Blowhard's destroyed any hope of us gettin' any photos. Plus he'd have frightened any animals that were around here away by now.'

I looked around. It was getting lighter and the wind had nearly died down. ‘Okay, Snook,' I said, ‘you're probably right. Let's head back and check on Mr Blowhard.'

‘C'mon Shadow,' I called. ‘Let's see if the silly man made it back without too many scratches. Then we can go get some photos – somewhere else.'

‘Yeah, and don't forget about the river; we still have to warn 'im that it can flood.'

I
t was mid-afternoon when Gloria's father arrived home from visiting a Mr and Mrs Cooper at the Sunny Rest Nursing Home. After calling out that he was home to his wife, who was in their lounge room, he walked through to the kitchen and put the kettle on. He wanted a coffee – badly. The visit to the home had left him feeling unsettled and he didn't quite know why. The visit had been normal enough – on the surface, anyway. Seeing the Coopers had been routine. He'd attended to their usual symptoms – depression and a general feeling of unwellness. He'd talked to them and tried to lift their spirits. There was nothing unusual about that but ever since he'd left the nursing home, something in the back of his mind refused to go away. Have I forgotten something, he asked himself … missed a symptom? What? Forgetting about coffee, he called out to his wife again, ‘I'm going out to the gorge camp. I want to talk to Snook and Jars. I'll see you later.'

It was nearly four o'clock by the time Snook and I arrived back at our camp. Gloria and Quenton were there too, probably back from taking photos somewhere. I glanced over towards Blowhard's van. Everything looked quiet and peaceful. Our fire was going, too. Either Gloria or Quenton, probably Gloria, had lit it. Both of them were now standing around it, keeping warm. I didn't blame them; it had grown quite cool, reminding us that it was autumn. Snook and I joined them. We had barely said hi, when we saw the dust of a car coming towards us.

When it drew closer, Snook said to Gloria, ‘It's your dad's blue Volvo. Did he say he was goin' to pick you up?'

‘No. I've got my bicycle here, remember.'

Gloria's father drove into the camp and climbed out and then, looking somewhat out of place in his suit and tie, walked purposely over to us. ‘Hello everyone, I'm pleased I found you all together.' He looked at Snook and me. ‘But it's you two that I want to see.'

‘Oh?' was all I could think of to say, wondering what could be so important that he had to come all the way out here to see us? I looked across at Snook. He pulled a squinty face and shrugged; he didn't know why either.

‘Perhaps we could go for a short walk?' Gloria's father suggested. ‘There's something I want to ask you.'

Leaving Quenton and Gloria behind with puzzled looks on their faces, Snook and I plus Shadow, followed the doctor. ‘I'm assuming that you haven't told Quenton about your black-outs,' he said when we were out of the others' hearing range. I frowned and my stomach did a flip as thoughts bunched and writhed like snakes in my head. He wants to talk to us about the visions we had last night. There was no way I wanted to try to explain them. Snook wouldn't want to either. We just didn't have any answers … or explanations for them. Not yet, anyway.

I was wrong. He wanted to talk about the nursing home where he made regular visits to see the residents and, in particular, an old couple called Mr and Mrs Cooper.

‘Whilst attending to the Coopers this afternoon,' he was saying, ‘they talked about their son, Aaron, who went missing about 60 years ago. He was only twelve years old at the time. It was in all the papers and a huge search for him was carried out. He was never found and his whereabouts remain a mystery to this day. They've told me about him many times before, but this time it was different. I realised that, following my visit with them this afternoon.'

What he was saying was very interesting, but why tell us? It seemed an odd thing to bring up – out of the blue like that. I was about to ask him when, looking directly at me, he said, ‘I was making coffee at the time when it came to me. Last night, when you were half conscious, you mentioned that you'd seen a boy about twelve years old who, for some reason or other, appeared to come to you and Snook sometime during the night.'

‘Now,' he went on, ‘even although I don't believe in ghosts and suchlike, can you tell me one thing – you did tell me before, but I've forgotten – what was he wearing?'

Snook shoved himself forward and in a loud voice, declared, ‘Khaki trousers, braces and a peaked cap.'

The doctor nodded and then asked us, ‘Is there anything else that you can remember, anything at all?'

‘Nope, I can't,' Snook answered. ‘All I know is what 'e was wearin'. He didn't talk to us either, not a word.'

‘That's right,' I said, backing Snook up. ‘He didn't say anything. He just looked at us and then disappeared … back into the night.'

‘Okay, thanks. You've been a big help.'

I wasn't going to let it rest there. The doctor had brought up the subject of the kid and I was wondering why. Then I had a thought. ‘Do you think there's some sort of connection between the missing Cooper boy and the boy we saw?' I asked. ‘Is that why you want to know all about our … experience?'

‘Er, well, perhaps. Something like that. I'll, um, let you know. Thank you again.'

We watched as the doctor, after a quick goodbye to us and to Gloria, marched to his car, slid into the driver's seat and then, without so much as a wave, drove off.

‘He left in a hurry,' Snook said.

‘Yes, and I wouldn't be surprised if he is going to his office to check his notes on the Coopers, which makes me a little worried.'

‘Why?'

‘Because I think we've started something and I'm not sure I like it.'

‘I wonder what that was all about,' Quenton Quigley said to Gloria as they watched her father leave.

‘Who knows,' Gloria said, ‘but it did look kind of secretive the way he dragged Snook and Jars aside just to talk to them. Then again, maybe he only wanted to check up on them after their funny turns last night, to make sure they were all right.'

‘Huh? Funny turns? You didn't tell me about them. How do you mean, funny turns?'

Realising there was no need for Quenton to know about last night and that she shouldn't have brought it up, she didn't say anything. She looked at her watch instead and said, ‘I wonder if Snook and Jars are going to head back to town. It's nearly four-thirty.' She cast her eyes over the camp and pointed to Snook's camera that was sitting on one of the makeshift seats next to the fire. ‘Or maybe they've decided to stay for a while longer. I don't think Snook's managed to take many photos yet.' As an after-thought, she added, ‘I wonder if Jars is taking pictures too. Probably not, I guess. I didn't notice her with a camera.'