Sloaney headed toward the trailer and Andy fell in behind him. “So do we have to put everything up ourselves?”
“Nah, mate. Already done.”
Andy spun on his heel. “Where’s the campsite?”
Sloaney jerked his head not toward the distance but down. Beyond, a tall, knobbly skyscraper of packed dirt reached majestically into the sky.
Sloaney moved past Andy lugging hefty bags. “Fire ants.” Half-a-dozen steps beyond the tower he disappeared—first his legs, then torso, then head. Andy gave the ant construction a wide berth and stood at the lip of a crater. The ground dipped into a circular hollow, fifty yards wide—a giant’s thumbprint depression in the earth, dotted with spinifex grass whose sandy-colored, spindly fingers waved against the crater’s floor. In the center was a clearing. Seven long, thin tents had been erected around a circle of stones, with dead wood piled high.
A low whistle came from over Andy’s shoulder as Lincoln pushed past him and over the crater’s lip. “Now this is cool.”
Eddie slung a bag from the depths of the trailer. “While we get set up, why don’t you choose your swag?”
Andy trod carefully as he entered the crater. “Swag?”
Eddie gestured to the tents as he descended. “Think of it as an outback tent. It won’t set any records for glamping, but when the blanket of stars rolls out above you and you can sleep under them all tucked up nice and safe, you’ll thank us. No better outback experience than that.”
Andy’s bulky frame lost consecutive battles with gravity and momentum and with his final steps into the sandy sides of the thumbprint, he ran windmilling into the campsite.
Lincoln peered out from beneath the thin, black mesh of his canvas cocoon. “Good to see you’re keen.”
Bree whipped out her phone, and obligatory selfies with Eliza were taken in front of their sleeping quarters. “They look like coffins.”
Andy ran his hand over the thick, green canvas, taut under the strain of pegs driven into the earth. He peeled back the rough fabric to reveal a thin, black mesh cocooning a mattress, folded blankets, and a rolled-up sleeping bag. The fading blue sky stretched wide above him, soon to be filled with the promise of stars.
Andy circled the floor of the crater, checking for critters. Nothing but dirt and spinifex. He slogged his way through soft sand as he climbed to the crater’s lip, his thighs screaming with the unfamiliar exertion. He pulled himself over the lip and doubled over to regain his breath in the blustery wind. Their vehicle was the only sign of civilization anywhere in this landscape. In the distance graying clouds lit distant hills in burgundy and purple, and a roiling storm brewed on the horizon.
Eddie brushed past him. “Are you hungry, mate? Let’s grab some tucker, hey?”
Andy furrowed his brow. “Tucker?”
Eddie’s voice echoed from deep within the trailer. “Tucker. Food. We might have some spiders or bugs you can eat.”
Andy froze. He was starving, but there was no way he would be forced into that. He reached for the softened shape of the remaining Mars bar in his pocket. He hoped he wouldn’t have to make it last.
Eddie emerged from the trailer, his pearly white grin beamed through the fading afternoon light. “I thought so. I’m only winding you up because your mate said you’d be up for anything.”
Lincoln. Andy grunted in frustration. “Are we going to do anything dangerous?”
Eddie’s mouth twisted into a smirk. “We’ve got some surprises up our sleeves but don’t worry, we’ll look after ya.”
Another flash of lightning, this time closer. “Are we about to get some rain? I didn’t think it rained in the outback.”
Eddie shrugged. “We still get rain, just not as often and not as much, but if it does we’ll sure know about it.”
“Is there any phone coverage out here?”
Eddie shook his head. “Nah, mate. Only our satellite phone. That’s what I said to Eliza over there. If you wanted to disappear for a while, this is where you’d go.” He shouldered a hefty bag of supplies and disappeared over the crater’s edge.
Andy cast a nervous eye toward the bright flashes peppering the hills. He breathed deep as he checked over both shoulders. Alone. He reached into his pocket and held his cell phone aloft, his eyes jammed shut against the messages he was sure he would get. He switched it on, but his phone stayed silent. His eyes drifted to the top corner of the screen. His heart leaped at the two words he desperately wanted to see: No Service.
Fourteen messages had flooded his phone when he switched it on at the airport. He thumbed them open and deleted them all, a growing sense of power flushing back through him, a sense of control over his destiny. It had been far too long.
He stared at the landscape and the flashes that were edging closer. They could come as close as they wanted. Those who were after him couldn’t.
Nine
The clouds slowly unveiled flecks of silver paint from an artist’s wide brush swept across the heavens. A chill moved in as the darkness chased the daylight from the landscape that surrendered by hues—orange to pink, pink to gray, and gray sliding to black. The dried gum tree crackled as the dancing campfire flames consumed it. Shadows shimmered between the swags and the spinifex, and Lincoln was washed in a warm orange glow.
Dirt and ash puffed up from the ground, just beyond the end of the long, thin wooden tube Eddie held to his lips. Guttural sounds pulsed around the crater, a deep drone peppered with staccato birdlike calls. The sound seemed to flow through Eddie from deep within the land, passing through him and giving life to those creatures who lived on it.
Lincoln sat mesmerized as the dying throes of the music landed softly on their campsite, almost like snow, as the silence again engulfed them. “That was amazing. Can I have a try?”
Eddie frowned. “I’ve got permission to play this yidaki, and I do pay my respects to the Yolngu people of the Top End when I play it.”
Eliza leaned into the circle of light. “What a wonderful instrument that symbolizes your people. Do all Aboriginal people learn to play the didgeridoo when they’re young?”
Eddie chuckled as he rolled the instrument in his hands. Its pattern of fine white dots and brushstrokes fired in the firelight. “Another piece of culture for you to learn, Eliza. Like I said, this is a yidaki and not everyone plays one, but I do like playing it out here.”
Lincoln smiled as Eliza backed away from another cultural gaffe. She was still the headstrong go-getter whose feet could alternate between her mouth and backpedaling from offense.
“Still, it is a wonderful example of an ancient culture. You really do evoke a rich history developed over thousands of years.”
A metallic, shrill chirping knifed through the silence. Eddie reached for his pocket and looked at the screen of his satellite phone with a wince. “Sorry, it’s my auntie. Always checks up on me.” He stood and walked into the darkness. “Auntie Deanne. No, we’re okay . . .”
Lincoln scooped the last mouthful from his plate and lay back on his swag, his taste buds slathered with pepper and rich smoke. The kangaroo and bush tomatoes had sounded intriguing but tasted better.
He leaned across to Andy. “You should’ve ordered the kangaroo.”