All at once, I remembered something. Greg had talked, the night before, about a ‘sinkhole’ entrance to the Elder Cave. You had to abseil down there, he’d said.
I wondered if this was the sinkhole. It certainly looked like a sinkhole. I was wondering what it would feel like to abseil down into the darkness, when I heard a rustling noise.
It wasn’t the kind of rustle that’s normally caused by the wind. It was a short, sharp, scrabbling rustle. Besides, there wasn’t any wind.
I looked around, hoping to see a snake or a lizard. But nothing moved. Even Ray was motionless; he was staring at the arch, as if hypnotised. Disappointed, I turned back to the sinkhole.
There were butterflies flitting around down there. They made it look harmless. In fact I could see why people wanted to go exploring caves – there was something very tempting about that yawning rim of shadow. I felt a bit of an urge to wriggle in there and see what was concealed by the lip of rock, behind the ragged curtain of vines and dangling roots. But I couldn’t, of course. There was a fence, and a locked gate. Not that they would necessarily have stopped anyone who really wanted to get in, but you could see that the sinkhole was off limits. Dangerous, probably. Unstable, perhaps. Not such a great place for hide-and-seek after all.
I wondered if any bushrangers had ever hidden in the Jenolan Caves. Then I wondered if anyone was hiding in them right at that very moment – an escaped prisoner, perhaps. Then I stared into the gaping blackness in front of me, and was overcome by a horrible feeling that someone was in there, beyond the reach of the sunlight, waiting and watching. It was the weirdest sensation. Particularly when my awareness shifted, and I became convinced that someone was behind me, practically breathing down my neck.
I turned with a gasp, just in time to see a low, dark shape scuttling into some thick bushes near Ray.
I gave a yelp.
‘What?’ said Ray, turning. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘A wombat!’
‘What?’
‘I think I saw a wombat!’
‘Where?’
‘Over there!’
I showed him. The bushes weren’t moving any more. I couldn’t hear any suspicious noises, either. But when I reached the place where I’d last seen the scuttling shape, and poked around . . .
‘Phew!’ said Ray.
‘Yuk.’
‘Something must be dead.’
‘But it was moving . . .’
The smell got worse the more I scrabbled around in the undergrowth. At first, it was like a very bad fart. Then it made me think of driving past a field recently fertilised with blood-and-bone. Finally, Ray began to cough.
‘Aaugh,’ he spluttered. ‘This is – this is awful. Come away . . .’
‘You can see where something’s bent back the branches.’
‘Come away, Allie!’
By this time I was holding my nose. It helped, but not much. I seemed to be actually tasting the smell, which was now as strong as a leaking gas tap. What’s more, when we moved, we didn’t leave it behind. I could have sworn that we were dragging it with us.
Ray, who’s a bit asthmatic, was coughing like someone with pneumonia.
‘Down there,’ he gasped. ‘You first.’
And he pushed me towards the closest stairs, which coiled their way around Carlotta’s Arch before zigzagging down a steep slope towards the Devil’s Coach-house. A rugged wall of grey rock rose up on our right, pierced with dark, mysterious holes. Pale tree-trunks writhed against a dense backdrop of grey-green scrub. Everything was engulfed in shadow.
The stench was now so bad that I found myself taking quick, shallow little breaths. Perhaps that’s why I was getting dizzy. Behind me, Ray was coughing his guts out. And then three things happened, almost simultaneously.
First of all, I slipped. What with the dizziness, and the stairs, and the way we were hurrying along, I lost my balance, sliding down several concrete steps. At the same time, Ray cried out, ‘What the hell –?’ And before he could even finish his sentence, the sound of other voices reached our ears.
There were people climbing the path towards us. We couldn’t see them, but we could hear them talking.
They were talking about someone called Phil, whose son was a drug addict.
‘Ow,’ I said. I had grazed my shin.
‘Are you all right?’ Ray panted.
‘Yeah . . .’
‘Did you hurt yourself?’
‘A bit.’ I was already on my feet again. What’s more, I was breathing normally. I could breathe normally. With a suspicious sniff, I realised that the bad smell was pretty much gone.
Suddenly, for some reason, it had disappeared.
‘. . . so I told him, you can’t live like that,’ a woman’s voice was saying. ‘You’ve got to talk to someone, find out what your options are . . .’ She stopped, abruptly, as we caught each other’s eye. She had appeared at the bottom of our flight of stairs, emerging from behind a screen of bushes. I was standing at the top, on one leg.
Two other women in sensible boots soon joined her.
They smiled and nodded. Ray smiled and nodded. He and I edged to one side, so that they could pass us easily. As they did so, he said, ‘Er . . . we struck a rather nasty smell, back there.’
The women stopped in their tracks. Three red and sweaty faces turned towards us.
‘Pardon?’ one of them said.
‘There was an odd smell, up there. I don’t know what it was . . .’ Ray was speaking normally again, though he sounded a little embarrassed. ‘Just thought I’d better warn you . . .’
‘What kind of smell?’ the oldest woman wanted to know.
Ray and I exchanged glances. What kind of a smell? It was hard to say.
‘A strong one,’ Ray finally replied.
The three ladies nodded, thoughtfully. They, too, exchanged glances. At last the leader said, ‘I see. Well – thank you.’
‘Thank you,’ the other two chorused.
‘We’ll keep that in mind.’
And they marched on. I couldn’t help wondering if we should have warned them not to go. But we waited for a couple of minutes, and heard nothing to worry us. Just the fading murmur of ordinary conversation.
‘Are you all right?’ Ray repeated.
I glanced up at him.
‘That was weird,’ I said, nervously.
‘Yes.’
‘What happened?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘It was such a terrible smell . . .’
Ray grunted. He took my hand, and we began walking again. Stretches of concrete path alternated with flights of concrete stairs. We didn’t stop to look at the yawning mouth of the Devil’s Coach-house, but continued down to a dry and overgrown creek bed. Beneath a tunnel of arching branches, the path became a dirt track, lined with steel lamp posts.
‘You don’t think it was something dead, do you?’ I remarked, trudging along. Ray was still holding my hand.
‘Maybe,’ he said.
‘Do you think it followed us?’
‘I don’t know, Allie.’
‘That’s what it felt like.’ I thought for a bit. ‘Could it have had something to do with that animal I saw?’
Ray didn’t reply. The path had swung around, and we were now heading straight into the Devil’s Coach-house. Its barbed archway towered above us, black and forbidding. I wondered if there was any other route back to the hotel.
Probably not.
‘Maybe we ought to tell someone,’ I suggested.
‘We will,’ said Ray.
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
‘Because it might be important.’ I was struck by a sudden idea. ‘Maybe there’s gas coming out of the sinkhole! Remember what Greg said about that sinkhole? It leads to the Elysium Cave! And that’s where all those guides smelled a funny smell!’
‘We’ll inform the appropriate people,’ said Ray.
‘As long as it wasn’t Paul,’ I muttere
d. ‘It’s the sort of thing he would do, if he could, but – I mean, he isn’t smart enough. Do you think?’
No comment from Ray.
‘Unless he brought a stink bomb with him,’ I added, and glanced over my shoulder.
Behind us, the shady path was now dappled with sunlight. A soft breeze rustled the tightly packed branches. In the distance, a kookaburra cackled to itself, then fell silent.
I couldn’t see anybody, or anything. But huge boulders lay in dense pools of shadow. Spiky thickets closed in on all sides. Beyond them, the rearing cliffs were full of holes and fissures.
How could I know, for a fact, that we weren’t being followed?
CHAPTER # six
When Ray and I reached Caves House, we found our room empty. Mum and Bethan had already gone off to breakfast.
So we joined them downstairs.
There was a buffet laid out in the dining room. The way it worked was that you paid a fixed amount of money, and ate all you wanted. You had a choice of cereal (three kinds), stewed fruit (two kinds), fresh fruit, bacon, toast (three kinds) eggs, pancakes, coffee, tea and juice. My brother was in heaven.
‘You can eat all you want!’ he crowed, when I reached the chair that Mum had reserved for me. ‘You can have anything you like!’
I have to admit, it was pretty exciting. I’d never eaten a buffet breakfast before. Usually, when we stay at motels, my family brings its own wholegrain bread and organic milk and homemade muesli.
This time, however, breakfast had been included in the price of the room.
Just in case you’re wondering, I had Corn Flakes, stewed apricots, toast with Vegemite, two pancakes, a rasher of bacon and a spoonful of scrambled eggs. Bethan had four pancakes, a bowl of Nutri-grain, and lots of honey on his toast. Mum ate mostly fruit, and Ray mostly bacon.
Dad arrived – with Matoaka in tow – while I was still making my choice. He had brought some kind of wheat-germ/millet mixture in a plastic box. Having dumped some of this stuff into a cereal bowl, he doused it in hot water, and threw on a few pieces of fresh fruit. That was his breakfast.
To my surprise, Matoaka ate a lot of eggs. Obviously, she isn’t one of those really strict vegetarians, like Mum’s friend Trish. While she ate, she talked and talked, about auras and rebirthing and spirit guides. She talked so much that no one else got a word in edgewise, until Richard turned up.
He came straight over to our table, interrupting Matoaka’s lecture on the medicinal qualities of honey. Rosemary was with him.
‘Just thought I’d mention that there’s another ghost tour today,’ he announced. ‘I got talking to one of the bartenders last night, and he was very interested in PRISM. He wants to join, in fact. And he’s been collecting information about Caves House, so he promised to give us a quick guided tour at eleven, before he starts work. We’ll be meeting in the foyer.’
Dad clicked his tongue, eyes downcast. Bethan continued to stuff his mouth; I doubt he’d even heard. Mum said, ‘I’m not sure what we’ll be doing, yet, but we’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, Richard.’
‘His name’s Jason,’ Richard continued cheerfully. ‘The bar-tender, I mean. He tells me that there was a mysterious incident last night in the guest lounge.’
‘Really?’ I pricked up my ears.
‘Someone tried to use the computer this morning, and couldn’t. The only thing that’s coming up on the screen is “Hahahahahaha”.’
Ray grunted.
‘And there was a key left under the keyboard,’ Richard added. ‘One of those old-fashioned keys. Spooky, eh?’ He put his arm around Rosemary. ‘Though it was probably a prank.’
‘It was probably Paul,’ I corrected. Ray glanced at me sharply. Richard narrowed his eyes.
‘What do you mean?’ he asked.
‘Oh, Paul tried to scare me last night. When I went to the toilet. He was pretending to be a ghost.’
There was a brief silence. Even Bethan looked up, keen to know more.
‘What did he do?’ my brother demanded eagerly.
‘He was stupid. That’s all.’
‘How?’
‘He jumped out at me, all right?’ I said crossly, and Mum frowned.
‘You know, that’s just not on,’ she complained. ‘Someone ought to tell Sylvia.’
‘What Paul needs is a proper cleansing.’ Matoaka spoke through a mouthful of egg. ‘I could do it myself, except that I didn’t bring the right oils.’
‘It’s not a cleansing he needs,’ said Richard, pushing his glasses up his nose. ‘It’s a good kick in the butt.’
‘Paul’s got issues, Richard,’ Mum pointed out. ‘We’ve got to remember that. All the same –’
‘All the same, it’s not acceptable.’ Ray cleared his throat and – perhaps to change the subject – added, ‘By the way, Richard, did your bartender say anything about bad smells?’
Everyone turned to stare at Ray, except me. I fixed my gaze on my plate.
‘Bad smells?’ Richard echoed.
‘You know. The sort of thing that Greg was talking about last night.’ Ray looked around at all the puzzled faces. ‘It’s just that Allie and I smelt something really fierce, this morning. We went for a walk up on the Carlotta Arch trail, and there was this shocking smell –’
‘Right after I saw the animal,’ was my contribution. ‘I don’t know what it was. A wombat, or something.’
‘It put me in mind of what Greg told us. About the Elder Cave and its nasty smell. I wondered if your bartender bloke said anything else about that.’
Everyone looked at Richard, who took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and shook his head.
‘No,’ he replied, before putting his glasses back on. ‘Not a word.’
‘Ah.’
‘Was it a gassy smell?’ asked Mum.
‘Not really.’ Ray glanced at me. ‘I don’t know. Do you think so, Allie?’
I shrugged. ‘It was the worst thing I’ve ever smelled.’
‘Where did you smell it?’ Dad inquired, and I explained about the sinkhole. Richard scratched his chin.
‘The sinkhole. That’s where our adventure tour is starting this afternoon. At one fifteen.’ Noticing several confused expressions, he hurried to explain. ‘Rosemary and I have decided to go on that abseiling tour of Elder Cave. The one Greg mentioned. It starts at one fifteen, if anyone else wants to join us.’
Ray did. I couldn’t believe it, but he did. Bethan did too, but Richard explained gently that the minimum age for the tour was ten years old. This, of course, meant that I was allowed to go. But I didn’t want to. I’m not an abseiling sort of person.
Besides, Mum wasn’t keen. She didn’t want to go herself, and she certainly didn’t want me taking part. In fact she wasn’t very happy about Ray’s involvement, either. Especially in light of what we’d been told about Elysium.
‘Are you sure it’s safe?’ She addressed him in a low voice, but I could still hear her. ‘I mean, we were just discussing that smell. Suppose it’s gas, leaking out of the sinkhole? Do you think you should risk it?’
‘Not without informing the appropriate people,’ Ray assured her. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll have a word with one of the guides. Right after breakfast.’
‘Really? The smell was that bad?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Gordon and Joyce aren’t going on the adventure tour,’ Richard suddenly declared. ‘They say they’re too old. But Joyce has offered to lead a bushwalk with the people who don’t go. She used to belong to the Wildlife Rescue Service, so she knows a bit about flora and fauna.’
At that moment, Sylvia Klineberg appeared at his side. She was neatly dressed in a crisp yellow T-shirt and cotton pants, but she looked pale and tired. Paul wasn’t with her, I noticed.
When Richard asked her about the adventure tour, she blinked, and wrinkled her brow.
‘Oh, I – I don’t know,’ she replied, sounding harassed. ‘I have to make sure I get Paul back in time. He’s a late riser –
he’s asleep at the moment . . .’ (Ray and I exchanged glances.) ‘. . . so I think I’d better leave this afternoon clear, just in case.’
‘Did you know that he was up late last night?’ said Mum, before Ray could stop her. ‘Allie went to the toilet, and he scared her to death, poor thing.’
Sylvia seemed confused. ‘You mean – Paul was in the Ladies?’ she murmured.
‘No, no. He was creeping about, for some reason. I don’t know why.’
‘Oh, dear.’ Sylvia rubbed her forehead. ‘He doesn’t sleep very well. We’ve been to the doctor about it. She thinks it’s stress-related, but he won’t do yoga, and sleeping pills are quite problematic, at his age . . .’
She looked so worried that Mum seemed to lose heart. Nothing more was said on the subject of Paul’s crazy behaviour, though Matoaka recommended some kind of relaxing herbal tonic. Meanwhile, there was a flurry of movement. Richard suddenly decided that he was hungry, and headed for the buffet. Dad announced that it was time for his morning meditation. Michelle and her family entered the dining room, choosing a table that wasn’t far from ours; Michelle waved at me, and I waved back at her.
Rosemary went to join Richard, who was hovering over the stewed fruits. But she hesitated as she passed my chair.
‘Allie,’ she said, ‘how big was that animal you saw? The one near the sinkhole?’
I gazed up at her, and swallowed a slice of pancake before replying.
‘I don’t know. Big. Ish.’
‘As big as a kangaroo?’
‘Maybe. I didn’t get much of a look. Why?’
‘Oh – nothing.’
She smiled, and was about to go when something occurred to me.
‘Did you have that dream last night?’ I asked. ‘The one about your grandmother?’
‘No,’ she said, looking a bit embarrassed. ‘Why?’
‘Just wondered.’ I shrugged. ‘She might not be able to follow you around. Where do you live, anyway?’
Rosemary hesitated. She had a funny look on her face, as if she couldn’t believe that she was even discussing the subject.
‘At the moment, I live with my mum,’ she replied at last.
‘In your old house? Where you grew up?’
‘Well – yes.’