CHAPTER 5
CLOSE ENCOUNTER
'Dad....'
'What is it, son?'
'Don’t go so fast... please.' Blair begged of his father, as they trudged through the scrub and the sand.
'You saw the strange lights in the sky as well as I did, son and you begged to come with me to see what it is - UFO.... or whatever,' said his father stopping to let him catch up and also catch his own breath. 'So don't start whinging now!'
'But, Dad...'
'No buts - right? Those lights didn't disappear towards the west as might be expected. So I reckon there's a chance, a real chance... something - a UFO or whatever, has come down on Bribie Island and not too far away from where we are now, either.'
'Dad...'
'Shhhh... shut it! Come on. Try not to make so much noise – or... I'll send you back to the boat.'
Bert Whistler had fished along the shores of Bribie Island, Caboolture, Queensland, for many years now. In the school holidays his son liked to fish with him. For most of the week the fishing had been pretty good. In addition they had enjoyed the added bonus of watching the regular appearance of a strange swirling ring of lights which on several occasions had swept in from the east, crossed the island and then disappeared - causing an outbreak of UFO fever amongst the local fishermen and visitors alike! But tonight when the lights disappeared almost as soon as they passed over the shoreline, Bert and young Blair had come ashore - determined to investigate what could just possibly be a genuine UFO landing.
'Dad. Isn't this dangerous?'
'Dangerous? Life is dangerous. Life is full of risks – and don’t you ever forget it! The trick is... keeping those risks to a minimum, son. It's a question of balance, he said; as they slipped and struggled to make progress in the loose sandy soil.
'But, Dad... why? Why aren't we taking the easy path... straight along the beach?' Blair protested.
'Why? Because we've got to be careful and we need cover, that’s why! So we've got to do things very carefully and properly... risk minimisation, that’s what it’s called,’ he puffed. ‘I know, I know it's hard... pushing through this damn scrub. But we need the excellent cover it provides. We don't know what we could be walking into... now do we? If it is a UFO that’s landed... what might come out of it?'
'Come out? You don't think anything... anything horrible, will come out of it – do you, Dad?'
'Shhhh... be quiet!’ He paused – finger raised in cautioning manner. ‘Now listen!’ he whispered. ‘Over there...'
Blair’s father motioned for him to move up closer and then Blair followed him at a very slow, creeping, pace as they moved on - on towards the sound of... what?
The sand was very soft and it was difficult to climb as they moved up the steep, sloping, rise of the next
pure-white sand hill. But eventually they reached the crest and after pausing for a breather they looked down into a hollow – and were surprised and somewhat disappointed to see two men unloading what was clearly nothing more than a conventional helicopter. They were removing lots of plastic bags and carrying them into what appeared to be an old World War II concrete bunker, half buried in the sand.
'Dad,' whispered Blair. 'Look at the coloured lights fitted on that big ring... all round the chopper.'
'Yes, son. Oh... that ring of lights in the night sky sure fooled us and many others too. I guess it was meant to an' all. Very clever... very clever indeed!'
'Dad. It's getting late...'
'Have you any idea what's in those bags down there, son?
Blair shook his head.
‘Drugs... I reckon. Almost certainly drugs. Illegal drugs. The real nasty stuff. They sure wouldn't go to all this trouble to unload baking soda!'
'But Dad… it’s late.'
'Now look. There's serious criminal business going on here son, and being law-abiding citizens we have... well, certain responsibilities. Think about it. We can't just walk away, you know... as if we’ve seen nothing – ‘Right?’
'But... what can we do, Dad? They've got guns, Dad'
'I can see that, son. But you don't want to tell the kids at school you came this far - saw what you've just seen - then you ran away? Now do you - eh?'
'Suppose not.'
'Right then. What we'll do is... we'll creep down there and see if we can hear what they’re saying; take a look at what they’re doing and creep away again. Simple as that!'
'Then what, Dad?'
'Tell the Police all about it in the morning. You’re brave enough for that - right? Course you are.’
‘Suppose so.’
‘Come on then - but be careful... and be very, very, quiet.'
As they slid down the sand hill on the far side, behind the bunker and therefore well out of sight, they could hear the two men talking a bit more clearly. 'Is that the lot then?' one of them asked.
'Just a few more,' the other man replied. 'But how about a smoko first?'
And the first speaker replied: 'Yeah... why not. There's time... and I reckon we've earned it. Then we best find out why those darn lights aren't switching on-and-off properly. Now, where's that flask of coffee...?'
Meanwhile, Bert and Blair, having arrived at the bottom of the hollow, moved quietly from the back to the side of the concrete bunker and peeped around the corner just in time to see the two men go inside, closing the heavy steel door with a bang.
'Can we go now, Dad?' whispered Blair.
'In a minute, son. I just want to take a quick peek in that chopper. You go back up the sand hill. You can keep watch from there. Go on. I won't be more than a few minutes.' Blair, needing no further encouragement, did as he was bid and quickly scrambled back to the ridge of the sand hill where he could see everything happening below. Meanwhile his father moved quickly over to the helicopter and climbed into the cockpit through the open door. But before he could make a full examination of the interior, he was alarmed to hear the metallic bang of the steel door being thrown open and he looked up to see the two men emerge from the bunker and stand in the doorway talking quietly together. 'Right. I'd best get those last couple of bags then, Charlie,' said the short fat man to his mate as he ambled over to the helicopter. Without looking, he reached in for the bags - and grabbed Bert's leg instead! 'Hey!' he cried - as Bert threw one of the bags in to his face causing him to stumble and fall backwards in the sand.
Bert scrambled out of the helicopter, hoping to run make a run for it - only to find the lean-and-mean looking man blocking his path - with a pistol pointed directly at his head! His cry of: 'Hold it! Don't move,' helped Bert to quickly change his mind and abandon all thought of flight. He had no choice but to raise his hands in submission.
'You alright, Eddie?' the man with the gun asked his fallen comrade.
'Yeah. Sorry, Charlie. Where the heck did he come from?'
'I don't know. But that's alright, mate. Don't you worry about it. Just go and get something to tie him up with. Quickly mind!'
Within a couple of minutes Bert had his hands tied behind his back and with a gun prodding him, he was ushered into the bunker, where he was surprised to see hundreds of bags of the white substance piled against the walls. The two men roughly pushed him down and tied his feet and without speaking, went out again. As soon as they were gone, Bert, finding himself in near darkness, was surprised to hear a man's muffled voice. The man, obviously very weak, asked: 'You... alright, mate?'
With his eyes straining against the low visibility, Bert looked around. What he had at first thought to be a bundle of old rags now began to change form, as a man struggled to sit upright. It was a man in uniform - the torn, bloodstained uniform of a Queensland Policeman.
'Me? I'm fine,' Bert answered, moving to help him up. 'But you... you don't look so good, pal'
'I’m Steve Wright... Senior Constable. They got the better of me last night. Knocked me about a bit, until they were satisfied I was alone. I passed out. When I cam
e to, I was shackled with my own handcuffs, to this... this here metal ring in the floor.'
'You followed the lights too...eh?'
'Yeah. Yeah, I was a fool. A damn fool and an absolute idiot! I should have called in, on the radio, first and said what I was doing. I guess I was too proud to admit I was following something as stupid... as a UFO.'
'There never was a UFO - you do know that now, don't you? You've seen the chopper?'
'Briefly. Tell me about it?'
'It's simple, really. They've rigged a small helicopter with a big ring of lights that glow on and off - to cover their comings and goings, by misleading people into thinking the noise and the lights were those of a UFO. I'm only guessing, but I think they usually fly right over the island towards the mainland, then switch off all their lights and double back to land here. Even if people watching from a distance thought it was a helicopter, they would likely think they had flown on until they passed out of sight, you see.’
Tonight, I am assuming, for one reason or another they’ve experienced a problem with the switch controlling the lights - they wouldn't switch off and that's why we were able to see them come down. Not a good thing, a malfunction like that in a helicopter used to ferry drugs. They are drugs - aren't they?'
'Oh, yes! They're drugs alright. High grade stuff too... by the look of it. Worth millions on the street, but what's more important - to you and me right now is… is all this, worth killing for?'
'Killing? Oh yeah, I see what you mean.'
'They've shown no interest in my survival so far, I can tell you. They've offered me no food... or water... or medical treatment. You?'
'Me? No.'
'It doesn't look too good then.'
'I don't know. I think things are about to improve.'
'You do? You must be a supreme optimist - or you're joking!'
'No, not really. I'm just a father with faith in his son! Listen? Hear that? Someone's coming... quietly, like. I think, with a bit of luck, that's my son at the door right now.'
'What! You mean there really are two of you?’
'Yeah mate. That you Blair?'
'Yes, Dad.'
'In here, son... smart’ish now.'
'You alright, Dad? Who's this?' he said - surprised at seeing the Constable.
'A Policeman, son. No time to talk. Got your pocket knife?'
'Yes, Dad.'
'Good. Then cut me loose... quick!' With that done using Blair's Swiss Army knife, Bert asked the Constable where his keys were, took them from his pocket, undid his handcuffs and helped him struggle to his feet.
'What's happening out there?’ the Constable asked the boy.
'I heard them talking,' said Blair. The fat man said: ''What time are they coming, Charlie?" and he said: "In about an hour. Go get the coffee and the tucker out." Then the fat man asked: "What about them... in there?" And the thin man said: "Forget it, Eddie. A waste of time and good food. We'll probably be dropping them in the ocean before the day is out”. They wouldn’t do that – would they, Dad?’
'No ... they wouldn’t have the guts! Besides, they won’t get a chance - ‘cause we’re out of here!' said his father.
'Yes. Yes, you go quickly. But I’ve got to stay. It's my duty, somehow, to try and stop them,' said the injured Constable.
'Not in your condition, mate - you're not up to it. All you're likely to stop is a bullet! No. The only thing we can do for the moment is get the heck out of here... fast – and get some help. Come on... lean on me. It'll be hard getting you up that sandbank, but we'll make it. Blair, you go first. Check the door. Make sure it's clear.'
'Yes, Dad.' Blair took a peek outside. 'It's alright. They're trying to fix something on the chopper - the light switch, I think. One's inside, bending down, under the dash and one's underneath, his head towards the other side.'
'Good. Thanks, son. Now look, you've been very brave coming to get us. But I need you to do one more thing – one more very brave thing. I need you to go out first, ahead of us. Then climb up the bank, move around to the other side - and ... let them see you! Yes, and I want you to wave and shout, and give ‘em a bit of cheek too, if you like. Anything, because as long as they are looking at you they won't be looking this way - while I'm helping our friend here, who can hardly walk, up the sand hill. They'll likely think you’re just some local kid who's out early and has just stumbled on the helicopter and has got nothing to do with us. They'll probably just shout... and tell you to clear off. When you see we have reached the top - that's just what you must do. Clear off, quick smart! Drop down the back of the sand hill... and make your way around to join us back at the track we came in on. Now – do you think you can do all that, son?'
'Yes. Yes of course, Dad.'
'Right. Good on ya! Now off you go then and hey? Be careful. They’re dangerous men out there!'
'Ok Dad.'
Blair left and Bert waited a few minutes before helping the Constable to the door. He looked out carefully and saw the two men, their backs turned towards him. They were clearly watching Blair at the top of the sandbank on the other side of the hollow. Cautiously, Bert moved outside with the Constable leaning on him heavily and led him around to the rear of the bunker. Although it seemed to take an age, he eventually managed to get the weak, tired and injured man to the bottom of the steep sandbank. As they started to climb, their feet sinking into the soft sand, he was shocked to hear the sound of gunfire!
Blair had called out, 'Hey, Fatso! Can I come down and look at your old chopper?' and was even more shocked than his father when the fat man took out his gun and fired at him! Blair fell flat to the sand, hardly daring to move and shaking with fright. Then lifting his head slightly he was able to see his father struggling about half way up the bank on the other side. Bravely he lifted his head a bit more and called out, 'Missed me. Missed me! You're a rotten shot - Fatso!' The fat man, made even angrier now by the taunts, fired again... and again; the shots sending up spurts of sand as they hit the bank.
The noise of further shots urged Bert on to making a final superhuman effort to push the Constable over the ridge and without pause, drag him sliding down the other side. At the bottom he lifted the Constable up on his shoulders, fireman fashion and set out along the track the way they had come. After about twenty minutes he was forced to stop for a rest, sitting down with the injured man cradled in his arms, just as Blair came running up behind them.
'You... alright, son?' he asked, looking the boy over and very pleased to see no sign of injury.
'Yeah... yeah, I'm alright, Dad. Did you hear the shots? Do you think they'll follow us?'
'I saw it all, son. You were brave... very brave and no, I shouldn't think so. They can't afford to chase after us, they simply haven't got the time. Their prime need now is to get rid of the stuff and then get away by air as soon as they can. It'll soon be light... and they need to be gone from here, without being seen on the ground.’
‘You sure you're alright, son?'
'Yes, I'm alright, Dad.'
'What's happening?' asked the Constable, weakly. 'The boy...'
'Everything's alright. He's here... see?
'What about all them drugs, Dad?'
'Well, I guess they are expecting somebody to arrive by boat, or maybe by four-wheel drive. No one would take any notice of either around here, would they?'
'You've got to help me stop them,' begged the Constable. 'I can't.., I mustn't… let them get away.'
'No worries on that score,' Bert reassured him. 'I didn't have much time before they nabbed me, but I did manage to find the chopper's main fuse box when I was in the cockpit - and look,' he said, holding out a handful of fuses. 'I don't reckon it will fly too well without these little beauties, what do you reckon?'
'I don't reckon it will fly either, Dad. I put a couple of handfuls of sand in the fuel tank!'
'You're a right couple you are,' the C
onstable exclaimed. 'You should be in the Police Force, the pair of you – you’d make a better Policeman than me!'
'Oh, no. Neighbourhood Watch is about our limit,' Bert said, getting to his feet and helping the Constable up too. 'You didn't happen to come here in a big white car with fancy coloured lights on top, did you? ‘Cause if you did, I can see it down the track... a long way off, but it's there, plain enough... see it?'
'Great! That's mine alright. Let's hurry, I must call in on the radio. Get us some help.'
'At this rate it'll take us some time to get to your car. Best tell the boy what to do and he can race ahead and see if he can get a message through. It'll save a lot of time. It could make all the difference.'
The Constable agreed and Blair was quickly on his way, racing ahead.
'We've got to seize those drugs, before they move them. To protect the public,' said the Constable.
'Ah... well, yes. I think I’m going to need a bit of Police protection myself later, when I eventually get the boy home’ said Bert, tiring under the strain of half carrying, half dragging, the Constable along the soft sand.
'We've been out all night, you see and we haven't caught a thing! It's going to be difficult, if not impossible… to explain to my wife that it was all down to a close encounter, with a bloody make-believe UFO.'