Scorpio's Lot (24 page)

‘Bloody hell, I forgot about the
tranquiliser.’

‘Don’t forget we have this
shotgun,’ I said to give Brigit some reassurance. ‘Which reminds me, I’d better
load it, despite this weather.’ I completed this formality not knowing if and
when the weapon would be required.

The rain was relentless. So
intense was the downpour we appeared to have a shield of cascading barriers
before us forever requiring penetration. Progress was slow but steady and at
times we were almost blind. Lightning continued to bombard the forest with its
endless display of illumination. Despite wearing raincoats we were both now
soaked to the core.

‘Do you have a handkerchief?’ I
asked Brigit.

‘Yes, but why?’

‘Take it out and place it over
the torch beam. That’ll reduce the light considerably. We can get by with a
dull glow if all this lightning keeps up.’

The ever-present pine trees
remained thickly grouped, towering and swaying some thirty metres straight up
into the night sky. The torch suddenly caught the reflecting eyes of a passing
fox, which made us both jump from the unexpected sighting. We can do without
these little surprises, I thought, watching the animal retreat to the shelter
of a hollow log.

We descended into a small gully
and with the sudden presence of an immense spread of fern growth, our pace
slowed considerably. To make matters worse an expansive area of moss on the
forest floor was proving to be both a slippery and dangerous handicap, but the
covered torch still put out sufficient light for us to see our way through the
maze of vegetation. I heard the sound of running water above the drenching
storm directly in front of us. A creek, I thought. Probably a good place to
find some shelter to hide.

Looking back, I saw two
approaching light beams flickering amongst the pine trees. We had to hurry and
find a suitable site to lay low. The torches continued to shine from horizontal
ground, but I knew that once they reached the point of descent our light had to
be extinguished. It was a race against time. We arrived at the creek bed and
walked beside the fast-flowing water in search of a suitable refuge. I quickly
gathered and placed some loose stones in my pocket in case we needed them to
create a diversion.

Then Brigit tugged on my raincoat
sleeve and pointed toward a suitable retreat. She had stumbled across an
exceptionally thick clump of ferns that would provide us with a place to hide.
It was important to have this type of camouflage - with our pursuers’ night
lens they would quickly find us in any dark corner that had no screen.

The sound of running water and
sheer noise generated by the storm had counteracted the deadly silence of the
night. In our attempt to remain quiet and undetected, these natural
disturbances would indeed become our ally. We crouched beneath the drenched hanging
foliage, and with our torch now switched off we lay in wait.

The two approaching beams of
light continued to grow brighter and with this intensity came the sound of two
men muttering together as they converged on our hiding place.

‘Sounds like water ahead,’ I
heard one of the men say.

‘Yeah, some friggin’ creek or
river at the bottom of the hill. These damn ferns, I should’ve brought a bloody
machete,’ replied the other.

‘Over here! This is where I saw
the light about five minutes ago.’

‘If you’re right, Mick, then they’ve
gotta be around here. Don’t think they’d cross the creek, the water’s too
fuckin’ cold. We’ll spread out and meet back here in ten,’ ordered the man who
seemed to be in charge.

We were only ten metres away from
them and I could just make out the man heading our way. The one in charge held
a night lens to his eye and was retreating in a different direction. Footsteps
continued to approach as his torch shone amongst the dense foliage along the
creek bed.

Brigit whispered to me that she
had recognised Charlie’s voice. She could hardly contain herself through fear
of his reputation. I checked the shotgun. It was loaded and ready should the
man called Mick disclose our whereabouts.

Mick stopped momentarily, shining
his torch directly upon the ferns above us. Had he chosen to part our cover he
would have discovered us, but instead he continued looking further downstream.
It was a close call and not one to be repeated, I hoped. He walked a further
thirty metres, with the light bouncing off the heavy undergrowth, and then
regrouped with Charlie.

In the opposite direction Charlie
was starting to sound agitated. Even with the aid of the night lens we had
continued to elude him. Seeing Mick arrive empty-handed, he took out his
frustration with a loud verbal threat.

‘We know you bastards are here!
We’re gonna get you and when we find you you’re fuckin’ history!’ he raged.

‘I’ll check further out,’
volunteered Mick.

‘I’m fuckin’ pissed off with this
rain!’ Charlie fumed. ‘When the hell’s it gonna stop?’

We watched through the ferns as
Charlie retraced Mick’s path with the aid of the night lens. Brigit started
shaking in fear of being found, sensing Charlie would be more thorough than
Mick with his inspection. We continued to lie under these fans of plants, both
motionless and silent. I hoped that neither of us would sneeze or develop a
tickle in the throat. It had become increasingly traumatic with Charlie now
lurking nearby. His presence was difficult to detect for he relied upon the night
lens and only used his torch periodically. We could hear the sound of ferns
being brushed aside above the running water and pounding storm. He was going to
leave no stone unturned in his pursuit.

In my attempt to dislodge a stone
that was pushing up hard against my chest, I accidentally snapped some
undergrowth lying beneath me. The noise was instantly conveyed to Charlie, who
stopped and looked in our direction. He was only ten steps away and closing in.
Brigit looked terrified. With his torch now switched on permanently, he
commenced the repetitive task of looking under every fern in his path. Drawing
nearer until he was only a body’s length away from our refuge, we heard the
sound of his heavy breathing as he searched vigorously amongst the dense foliage.
By a stroke of good luck and impeccable timing, a rabbit suddenly leapt from
the ferns and ran past his feet.

‘What the ...’ he bellowed out,
becoming unbalanced in surprise.

Mick heard the yell and rushed
back. ‘Have you found them?’

‘No, it was a bloody rabbit,
scared the shit out of me! Thought it was them but it was that fuckin’ animal!
Did you find anything?’

‘Nothing, Charlie.’

‘Keep lookin’, they’ve gotta be
around here somewhere.’

The two men were soaked to the
core and their boots were caked in mud from the creek edge. Again they
exchanged routes, with Charlie retreating some thirty to forty metres upstream.
Mick surveyed our immediate area yet again, shining his torch and brushing
aside the same ferns he had already checked. Why would this idiot repeat his
actions and not search in new territory? It defied logic. Carefully I rose to a
kneeling position with shotgun ready in anticipation of being sprung. Once
again he was almost upon us and this time I could see he was being more thorough
in his pursuit. Three more steps and he now stood directly over us with his
torch pointed toward our camouflage.

As he parted the ferns I leapt
from behind the foliage. I fired a shot and missed everything. Due to my
inability to handle the shotgun, the powerful discharge caused the gun barrel
to elevate and hit Mick in the chest. The impact caused the weapon to explode a
second time, the resultant shot discharging its speedy passage into the night
sky.

As Mick fell to the ground I
quickly grabbed Brigit’s functional arm and we made our escape further
downstream.

Mick screamed, ‘They’re over
here!’

‘Coming!’ roared Charlie, having
heard the discharge.

We had gained a valuable thirty
metres or so as a result of Mick waiting for Charlie to arrive. Our escape
would have been quicker if not for the mud and slosh we carried on our shoes.
Rain continued in relentless fashion. Forever rushing to increase our
advantage, I began to hear the sound of a waterfall on the opposite bank. I was
surprised to see how steep the terrain had become, which explained the noise
level from these ever-present cascading waterways discharging their contents
into the creek below.

I noticed that further downstream
the creek was not as wide in one particular spot. Knowing this to be our one
possible chance for escape, I continued to support Brigit as we trod nearly
waist deep through the water across to the other bank. The current was fast as
we ploughed our way through this murky creek, and I was mindful of keeping
Brigit’s arm above water level. The storm had swelled the creek and transformed
this normally tranquil stretch of water into a torrid and dangerous crossing.

The current was one thing to
contend with, but we also had to deal with the sheer amount of debris and snags
that were floating downstream. Soil erosion on the banks would have been swift
as the rapids transported all before it on a path of destruction. Increasing in
height, the creek now resembled the size of a small river as the free-flowing
water continued its punishing route downstream. Despite the freezing water and
our saturated clothing, I was adamant this was the only avenue left for a
possible escape. Although it was awkward to keep the gun above water level, it
was particularly tough going for Brigit, who was forced to continually elevate
her plastered arm. She gripped my waist with her other arm, not once loosening
her grip in fear of being swept away by the unrelenting torrent.

A tree branch floated perilously
close. I called out to Brigit to avoid a second snag, but in my attempt to pull
her away I was suddenly on a collision course with this forked menace. The
second branch hit me, causing me to lose my balance and tumble into the water.
Fortunately I had the good sense to release Brigit’s grip and she was able to
remain upright. The shotgun had become submerged and was now lost, swept away
by the undercurrent.

I re-emerged, much to the relief
of Brigit. I was slightly winded from the impact and could feel blood seeping
from my shoulder. More important than my wound was our need to find refuge and
quickly. Still no sign of our assailants and the rain was beginning to ease.
Again Brigit clung to my waist, determined the two of us would stay above
water.

Upon reaching the other side we
immediately took shelter behind some dense foliage growing beside one of the
many waterfalls and waited. Now without our shotgun we hoped and prayed the two
men wouldn’t cross the creek.

A short time later two torches
appeared. The beams of light crisscrossed the thick undergrowth. I cursed as
the two men approached from the opposite bank. We lay shivering in our wet
clothes and I couldn’t help but think we were becoming prime candidates for
hypothermia if we didn’t dry off and find some warmth very soon.

~ * ~

‘Where
are these bastards!’ yelled Charlie.

‘Gotta be amongst these ferns,’
claimed Mick. ‘There’s not enough cover behind them pine trees.’

Charlie was now in an
uncontrollable state. In frustration he lashed out at the undergrowth in a
frenzied attack and even Mick was a little nervous. Charlie continued to scream
his obscenities and detailed threats as if possessed by the devil himself. He
was letting his emotions overrule a carefully thought-out search. His torch
beam swept across the creek and the cascading waters along the high bank,
passing Tom and Brigit’s refuge on numerous occasions, not once stopping for
further inspection.

Finally Charlie spoke some sense
to his accomplice.

‘I’m not going in that water, I’d
fucking drown!’ he shouted. ‘I reckon they crossed the creek and could be
anywhere now. Anyway, we need to get back to the car before those friggin’
Dobermans wake up. We’ve been gone about forty minutes so we’d better head back
now.’

They retreated from the immediate
vicinity. Although still angry at their futile search, Charlie muttered
something about it only being a temporary setback. Victory would be theirs in
the end, he told Mick. Charlie’s concerns were now focused upon the Piedpiper,
for he had let his boss down a second time and quickly had to think of a way to
rectify an otherwise disastrous situation. He could not afford to return
empty-handed.