Beginner's Luck, page 7
Of course, it sounded dumb when you were in your own nice warm bed with your parents within shouting distance, or lying on the lounge channel-hopping on a lazy Sunday, but out here in a dank, sombre place with the afternoon sun descending slowly towards the horizon, and nobody at all for company except a small, wiry paint pony, it seemed a very real possibility.
15 Rock Face
'It's a dumb idea because bunyips can't use tinopeners,' Shelby told Blue, as she walked around the edge of the clearing, looking for a path, even a narrow one. So far she hadn't seen anything but thick scrub and the occasional burrow. Her voice sounded very loud in The Pocket's silence.
She'd stashed the tomahawk next to one of the brick supports of the shed. She didn't want to carry it, but she didn't want the (bunyip) person to find it where he or she had left it either. It must be a he, she decided.
'And bunyips wouldn't wear flannos. I don't think they wear any clothes.' Shelby thought back to the illustration in the picture book. 'Sometimes they wear pants.'
She drew the reins through her fingers as she looked into the bush. It was thick with lantana at the bottom. She could see sprays of their pretty pink and yellow flowers. Above the lantana was a canopy of vines. She heard another crash, and Blue jumped, making her jolt too. 'It's just a bird.'
She nodded her head in reassurance, and wondered whom she was trying to convince.
The trouble was that it wasn't a completely dumb idea. She'd seen a show one day that said there were myths and tales about half-human beasts in most cultures – sasquatch, giganto, yeti. There were others, but she couldn't remember what they were called. If it was just a silly story then why would every culture in the world, without knowing about the other stories, have made up a creature that was so similar? Why wouldn't one be a giant centipede, and another a talking iguana? Besides, adults said that the Matchstick Town didn't exist either, and here it was all the time, right under their noses.
Shelby could remember quite vividly the movie she had seen at Erin's place six months ago, where the Bigfoot ate some plane crash survivors one by one, leaving a trail of limbs and guts behind it. She had flashbacks of the particularly grizzly scenes. She shut her eyes tightly.
'I'm only . . .' She started to speak, but her voice sounded really loud – loud enough that (something) someone would be able to hear her – and so she whispered the rest. '. . . scaring myself.'
She decided not to think about it anymore. Instead she imagined finding a path that led straight back to Gully Way. She would cross the road, and go back to the paddock. There would be delicious sausage sandwiches and cold cans of soft drink. She would find the lady with the clipboard and explain about the camera and how she'd found the Matchstick Town. They could come back together. They might even be able to persuade the old guy who bought the helmet to come along. He looked like he could handle a bunyip, or a swagman.
'Then we'll collect the prize money and we'll both be safe,' she whispered to Blue.
She was almost at the end of the loop now, and a few metres away she thought she saw an opening. It was overgrown, but the ground underneath was definitely furrowed into a path. Shelby smiled. 'There, see?' She pushed the branches aside and led Blue along it.
'It's probably a poet,' she assured him. 'Poets definitely wear flannelette and spend time by themselves.'
The branches arched over the top of them, making it dark, like a leafy cave. The path was slightly uphill. After a while Shelby's calves started to complain.
'Not long now,' she promised Blue.
The track twisted left and right. Shelby had to lift her knees up high to make her way over the roots that protruded from the soil, and at the same time she held her arms up to move the branches away.
She tried to hold the branches back for Blue too, but sometimes they flicked in his face. 'Sorry,' she said after a particularly prickly stem flipped back and hit him in the forehead. Blue put his ears back and pursed his lips.
A few metres ahead the trail turned again and she found herself face-to-face with a steep rock wall. It was whittled into layers like stairs and there were mosses and ferns sprouting out of its damp surface. Thick vines hung over the side like knotted rope.
Shelby tilted her head back. It wasn't so steep or high that she couldn't climb it with hands and feet, like a monkey. She let go of Blue's reins and scrabbled up the rock face till she could see over the edge. At the top the path continued on through the scrub. It was a way out, but only for her. She would have to leave Blue behind. She wasn't willing to do that, because (the bunyip might eat him) he was her best friend and she couldn't just abandon him here.
Shelby sighed. The trail was too tight for him to turn around, and so she urged him backwards until there was enough space for him to face the other way.
They made their way back to the clearing. Blue kept his head low, looking as dejected as Shelby felt.
She had an idea. It was something she used to do in the early days when she was lost in the Gully. She would let Blue choose his own path and, given half a chance, he would head for home.
Shelby turned Blue loose. 'Go home, boy,' she said.
Blue looked at her, blinked, then bent his head and began to graze.
'You don't know where we are either.'
She sat down on the grass and wrapped her elbows around her knees. Somewhere in the grass nearby a cricket started to chirrup. She looked up at the sky. The sun was settling behind the treetops. It would be dark soon, more quickly in The Pocket than outside because it was surrounded on all sides by rock walls.
Her parents had made a rule that she had to be home by dark. She should be heading home now, quick smart if she wanted to make the curfew.
'You want to know something, Blue? I think we're in pretty big trouble.'
16 The Billabong
The longer Shelby sat there on the grass, the more she thought that it was possible that she'd been wrong about the tunnel. She'd thought it was impassable an hour ago, but that was before (the bunyip) she hadn't been able to find another way out. Attempting it seemed a more attractive option than staying in The Pocket waiting for the darkness.
She stood up, brushing her hands together. 'I'm going to have another look. Wait here.' She patted Blue's rump on her way past, and headed across to the other side of the clearing.
The mossy ground sank under her boots and she could see the mud squishing around the sides of her soles. It was slippery, and when she put her hand against a boulder to steady herself, she could feel the brittle lichen sticking to her fingers. She pushed her way through the tough palm fronds. Nearby a frog started to croak, and was presently joined by another.
Soon she was out the other side at the edge of the billabong. Up above her, the streetlights along Gully Way flickered for a moment and then stayed on. She could see their reflection in the still water. Cars rushed past on the roadway. Their headlights lit the foliage on the tops of the trees as they passed by. The sound of the traffic was loud and comforting.
People, she thought. They were so close. She wondered if any of them ever looked over the edge and noticed The Pocket down here.
Shelby could see the lip of the storm water tunnel at the top of the slope. The mouth was dark and uninviting, but civilisation was not far away on the other side.
I'll go for help, she decided. She would climb up to the mouth, head through the tunnel and run back to the stables. Lindsey's mum would know how to get Blue out.
Sitting there at Lindsey's kitchen table, all her thoughts of bunyips would seem ridiculous. She'd ring her mum and tell her about it as a joke. Her dad would think it was really funny. Shelby smiled as she thought about him laughing. He would poke fun at her for ages, and that would be great. It was so much better for him to laugh and joke than be cross or worried.
She wondered what they would do when she didn't come home. Would they think to ring Lindsey's mum? Would Lindsey tell them about the race?
As she climbed up the steep slope the brambles tugged at her clothes, but she pushed through, not caring if they snagged. She moved the prickly branches away with her hands. She could feel the thorns digging into her skin, but that wasn't important now. She was in a hurry.
The soles of her riding boots slithered over the soil. With each step she had to grip with her toes, and dig in with her hands. Her calves had been sore before, but now they ached.
When she had climbed halfway, she clambered across sideways, like a crab. Nearly there. It was hard work because on this part of the slope her feet sank into the earth, just as Blue's hooves had, and each time she tried to move her foot, the clay sucked at her soles. She had to splay her toes when she lifted her feet to keep them from coming out of the boots.
The concrete lip was just above her head. Pushing with her feet, she stretched up and grabbed it with her left hand. The ball of her right foot slid in the clay, sending a clod down the steep slope and into the billabong. It made a 'ca-loomp' sound as it hit the water. Shelby dug in her foot further up and then looked over her shoulder at the ripples in widening circles on the surface of the water.
The cement was rough under her hand, which was already tender from all the thorns she had brushed past. She held on with the tips of her fingers, and felt the muscles of her shoulder complain as they bore most of her weight. Shelby pushed again with her foot, trying to find a better grip. Her foot slipped again. She scrabbled against the clay surface, but her boots were too slippery. She tried to grab something, anything, with her other hand, and found a thick clump of fibrous grass. She was losing her balance.
I'm going to fall.
Shelby's fingers slid off the edge of the tunnel. She could feel her nails scratching against the concrete. She slid down half a metre. Her tee-shirt rode up and the rough ground rubbed against the skin of her stomach. Her fingers dug desperately into the clay, but they wouldn't hold, instead making narrow rake marks in the soil. Then she was falling – her arms wheeling in the air, as though she was trying to backstroke.
Again? she thought. Her eyes widened in surprise.
Her back hit the water first, driving all the air out of her lungs. She looked up and saw the streetlights clear and white at first, then suddenly pale green and wavering through the liquid. The water was cold and she breathed it in. She choked on it, coughing under the water. She tried to hold her breath, but she could feel the gritty water in her mouth. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish as she swallowed water – still she was plunging down.
Something solid and slimy rubbed against her hand and then moved away with a flick – something alive. She closed her palm and gulped more water, still diving downwards. Shelby could feel bubbles coming out of her nostrils. Her eyes stung and she closed them.
I'm drowning.
She thought about Blue stuck in The Pocket. He would last a little while, but eventually he would starve, with his saddle – that she had been too busy and scared to take off – rubbing sores on his thin, bony body.
Her boot hit something. She struggled, trying to get herself upright. Both feet were now touching whatever it was. It wasn't flat. It could have been a submerged tree trunk. She pressed against it and felt it give beneath her weight. She started upwards. Too slow. She had to work harder. Shelby pushed with her arms in wide arcs. Her boots felt heavy, as though they were dragging her downwards. She opened her eyes and could see the lighter surface above her. The water was murky. Bacteria, she thought. She shut her eyes again, squeezing the lids together tightly. She swam harder.
Shelby bobbed to the surface. She tried to breathe in but her mouth was full of water. She choked and coughed. Warm water rushed out of her nose and mouth. She took a ragged breath again, but no air seemed to be going inside. She coughed again. Have to get to the edge. She paddled with her arms and kicked hard. Her throat was sore and the back of her nose stung. She spluttered, making a panicked gargling sound.
Finally she reached a spot where her feet touched the ground. She stood up with her head and shoulders out of the water. Her ears were ringing. She rubbed her face, coughing and spluttering, and then, before she could stop it, she vomited. Hot water flooded out of her mouth.
Shelby took a deep breath. The air rushing into her lungs had never tasted so sweet. She stood still for a moment, taking a few more breaths. She waded towards the edge of the billabong, swinging her arms as the water streamed off her.
She heard something from the scrub. It sounded like the bleat of a sheep – a short 'maa', and then nothing. She stood still for a moment, listening, and looking into the shadowy bush at the edge of the billabong, but she couldn't see anything except trees and the choking lantana. She knew that kangaroos grunted, but she wasn't sure what sounds their joeys made.
Then she felt something curl around her leg and flash away. Eels, she thought. She had a vision of the ugly snapping things she had seen at the aquarium and it made her shiver. She waded again, faster this time.
At the edge she flopped on her stomach and lay still, trying to get her breath back and coughing up mouthfuls of water. Shelby could feel the dirt and grass from the ground beneath her sticking to her cheek, and the cold breeze blowing across her wet skin. She blinked. Her eyes were stinging and watering. She could feel the hot tears running down her cheek.
A million maybes rushed through her mind. Maybe she should have climbed to the top, and used the fence to move across, and then dropped into the tunnel from above, inside of trying to haul herself up from the bottom? Maybe she should have climbed to the top, stood at the fence and tried to wave down a passing car? She could have explained the situation to them, and they could have gone for help.
She should have asked Lindsey to come with her. Shelby could have climbed down into The Pocket while Lindsey waited with the horses at the other end of the tunnel. If she'd done that she would be home by now, sitting on the lounge watching television and eating ice-cream. She'd have five hundred dollars towards Blue's agistment.
Instead she was lying here on the edge of a billabong, covered in cuts and bruises, hungry, tired, dirty, soaked and half-drowned – possibly in the vicinity of a crazy lunatic.
And it was getting dark.
Shelby started to cry.
17 Torch
I can't lie here forever, Shelby thought. She sat up and wiped her hand across her face, trying to rub off the dirt. Her skin felt coarse from the billabong's murky water. Struggling to her feet, she could feel the strain in all the muscles across her shoulders and a sharp twinge in her wrist. Two falls in one day couldn't have been good for her. A dull ache pounded in the back of her head.
'I need a bath,' she groaned.
As she walked back through the glade her wet clothes clung to her skin, chafing her underarms and thighs. Her saturated boots squelched and squeaked. All around her frogs and crickets creaked and chirped. She shivered. She had to get out of here.
Shelby thought about the rock wall at the other end of the clearing. The vines had trailed over the side like a rope, and there had been path on the other side. It was worth exploring, but first she would take off Blue's tack.
At the edge of the clearing she stopped and hunkered down. She had thought she was being quiet, but Blue raised his head and walked towards her with his ears pricked. She held her hand out and he sniffed it for a long time – his nostrils dilating. 'I fell in the water,' she told him.
She felt his warm breath on her skin and wondered what he could detect. He licked her hand. 'Mm, eelicious,' she whispered to him. Then it occurred to her that he might be thirsty. She looked around the clearing once more and then cocked her head to the side and listened. Nothing.
'Come on. I'll get you some water.'
Shelby led him around to the back of the doll's house where she had seen the water tank earlier. The bucket that had been underneath it lay on its side about a metre away. Blue had probably inspected it while she was gone.
She set the bucket underneath the tap. When it was half full she placed it under his nose and he slurped the whole lot eagerly. She filled the empty bucket again. Blue wasn't so interested this time, so she washed her face and hands and then set it back under the tap again.
Shelby slipped off Blue's saddle and bridle and placed them on the ground at the side of the water tank. She hugged Blue tightly. 'I'm going exploring again. I'll try not to throw myself off any cliff faces this time,' she promised.
She smelt his mane. 'You don't have to worry. Whoever was here before – I don't think he's here anymore.'
But what about the wet clothes? a little voice in her head asked. 'It was probably just dew,' she answered aloud. In the middle of the day?
'I'll see if the trail leads somewhere.' She stroked his neck. 'You never know – it might lead straight into someone's back yard. Then I can ring home and everything will be fine.'
She was starving now – tummy grumbling, even hurting a little bit, as though there were a set of teeth in there. Shelby wondered what her mother had cooked for dinner. She hoped it was lasagne. She would even eat the salad that her mother always served with it.
Shelby gave him one last squeeze and then headed back to the opening of the trail they had found in the afternoon. The gloom made it harder to see now and she tripped over several roots and broken branches, making her expedition much louder than she wanted it to be. She really didn't think the person was here anymore. She'd been in The Pocket for ages now. Surely she would have seen some sign of him.
Unless he was hiding, waiting for the dark.
'I'm not going to think about that,' Shelby muttered crossly. But Shelby was thinking about it anyway, somewhere in the back of her mind.
