Since I woke up this morning, I’ve found out that dad’s dying of some mysterious and incurable disease; I’m probably not going to last any longer than he will; and my forefathers roamed this land over forty thousand years ago. And, dad now tells me, there’s more.
I feel like it’s one of those stupid TV commercials – but wait, there’s more. If you phone up within the next thirty minutes you also get to find out your mother is a blood-sucking alien and your sisters are homicidal androids programmed to laser-fry your brains the moment you drop your guard.
I pick up a few flat stones and stand on the river’s edge. I spin one into the water and count as it skips across the surface…one, two, three, four… Then another…. three, four, five. I wait to hear what dad has to say that can make my life even more complicated. After a few moments of silence I turn around to see him leaning forward with his head between his knees. At the same time a spider runs along the log away from dad’s left leg.
I think he's been bitten. He throws up on the ground between his feet.
When dad has finished heaving he stands up. "What was I saying to you?” he asked groggily, as if nothing had just happened.
“Just lie down and keep still. I think you’ve been bitten. I'll go back and get the first aid kit.”
We had covered this in our first aid course at school. We also did CPR but I hope it doesn't get to that. I run back to camp. It takes me a couple of minutes rummaging around the back of the ute to find the kit. I take out a small bottle of disinfectant and a compression bandage.
Keep the patient still and calm. I haven't even done the first bit, I think to myself. I've just run off and left him. I hope he listened.
I head back to where l left dad near the river only to find him walking towards me. But he's looking right through me as though I’m invisible.
I grab him by the arm which makes him stop.
“Dad, you have to be still. If you move around like that the venom will spread.”
“The cave,” he said. “You said you’d show me the cave.” He's slurring his words and sounds like he's talking in his sleep.
"Forget the cave!" I have a close look at his leg expecting to see it swollen and red. But if there is any sign of a bite or sting I can’t see it.
“You have to show me the cave,” he insists.
His leg looks normal. Maybe he wasn't bitten at all. But he's acting weird. He pushes past me and continues to walk towards the ravine.
I soon realise we were wrong about the storm being over as the sky again lights up with a series of flashes. Suddenly the wind picks up and the trees are shedding leaves like green snow.
"The cave! Take me to the cave!”
With this he bends over and I think he's about to vomit again. But he has nothing left. The sound of his dry retching is barely audible over the storm.
I stuff the bandage and disinfectant into my pockets.
“C'mon, let's get back to camp,” I scream so dad can hear me over the storm of wind, thunder and thrashing trees.
I head back towards camp pulling dad along with me. He's like a child and just follows my lead without any hint of resistance. But all the while he's protesting that he wants to see the cave. I realise what a pain I must have been as a kid when I didn't get my way.
The huge tree is strong but I still don't feel safe beneath it. We are almost clear of the canopy when a huge branch crashes to the ground in front of us, its torn and jagged end cutting deep into my arm. I don't feel the pain immediately so quickly forget it.
I turn around thinking that the safest place might be as close to the thick trunk of the tree as possible. Surely we would be safe from the lightning and the branches there would be too thick and sturdy to break...even in this storm.
But something makes me stop. I realise that it's happening again - the lightning strikes and we change direction. It is steering us, setting our course. And even the wind seems to be trying to force us towards the precipice. More crazy talk...I don't know what's going on in my head.
I turn again and continue to pulling dad towards camp, as we go we dodge falling branches and the continuous sting of leaves whipping into our faces.
We reach camp just as an entire tree crashes down across our tent. It’s not very large, but had we been inside at least one of us would have been seriously hurt, or worse.
We need to get into the ute again. I pull dad over to the car, open the back door and push him in. He sits there obediently as I run around the other side and climb in beside him.
I look at dad. He is shivering and trembling. I feel his face. It's burning up. Maybe it was a spider bite after all. I check him again, this time more thoroughly. I'm sort of glad he's spaced-out; otherwise we would both be very embarrassed.
Still no sign of anything, no marks, scratches, bites, stings. Nothing. But still he seems to be burning with fever.
“The cave,” he murmurs again. “We have to get to the cave!”
I can't handle this by myself. I need help.
Dad's phone! I climb over into the front being careful not to touch any metallic parts of our vehicle. As I reach to open the glove compartment I see my arm smeared thick with blood. The branch had gouged a deep gash just above my right elbow. It is still bleeding heavily.
I hate the sight of blood. I hate the smell of it. I even hate the thought of it. And I'm covered in it. Warm and fresh. I gag. It's all I can do not to spew all over the front seat. Now that I know I'm bleeding so much I start to feel faint and nauseous.
I reach into my pocket and take out the bandage and antiseptic. In class we practised on other kids. It’s a lot more difficult performing first aid on yourself.
I look around to check on dad. Staring straight ahead he’s back to the bone thing. “Bury the bones. Bury the bones!”
I wince with pain as I flood the wound with antiseptic. The blood is still flowing freely. I wrap the bandage as tightly as I need to stop the bleeding but not so tight that it cuts off my circulation. I think I've got it right.
Now the phone! I reach into the glove compartment and find dad's mobile phone. He did say it was only for emergencies and promised not to make any business calls. I 'm pretty sure this qualifies as an emergency. I thumb through the contacts and find a number under the name Mike Mitchell.
The line crackles. But it rings twice before cutting out. I look at the screen and see that there is no reception. I have to find a better spot. I get out of the car and run around watching the screen to see if the reception bars increase.
About forty metres from the car, up the slope where I had ridden my bike I get a better signal.
Two bars. That should be enough. I try to call again.
Yes!
“This is Mike Mitchell,” says the voice at the other end.
“Mitch, it’s Robbie. “Dads been injured we need....”
Mitch’s voice continues, “If I owe you money you've got the wrong number. Otherwise just leave a message after the beep and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”
No, Mitch!
Mum. She'll know what to do!
I key in her number. The line crackles loudly as another shaft of lightning hits the ground only metres from the ute.
It rings a few times.
"This is Ebony speaking. How may I help you?”
“Ebs! It’s Robbie. Get mum. I need to speak with mum!”
“Robbie,” says Ebony. “We went for a swim today. I saw a fish. Have you caught any fish yet, Robbie?”
“Ebs, get mum! Quick. Tell mum it's an emergency!”
“OK, I'll tell her. Bye Robbie!”
And she hangs up.
Ebony!
I try again but the signal has gone.
A loud smash draws my eyes down to the car. A small tree has crashed into the windscreen.
I have to get dad out of there.
But where to?
Of course, where else? The cave. Nowhere could be safer. He’s b
een saying it all along.
I race back towards the car. My foot finds a tree root and I crash to the ground landing on my bad arm. A pain unlike anything I've felt before shoots through my whole body. I want to give up.
I'm stuck on a mountain; my father is delirious and dying; my arm feels like it’s been ripped from my body.
And there's no help. And even if someone did know there was something wrong, no one knows where we are. Mitch and Wazza gave us directions to a camping ground kilometres away, further down and around the other side of the mountain. We'll die here, dad and I. The story about the males in the family all dying young? True. Every word of it. And here we are... living, or should I say dying proof.
I lie on the ground holding my arm and sobbing.
I hear a voice in my head. What’s it saying? Shame is not in dying, but in not fighting to live. I don’t know where these words come from. Someone must have said them to me once, or maybe I read it somewhere. But whoever said it is right. I'm still alive. And if I’m going to die it won't be without a fight.
I struggle to my feet and continue running, more carefully this time, back down the hill.
“Dad!” I scream as a reach the ute. “We have to get to the cave!”
The back door is open. Dad is nowhere to be seen.
“Dad!” It’s useless. Nothing can be heard over Yilkgawu-mirrin's horrendous howl.
I run over to the tent and pull the tree off just enough so that I can be sure dad didn't crawl in. His bed has buckled under the impact of the tree but he is not there.
I run a short way towards the great river gum. He was rambling about going to the cave. Maybe he's headed that way. I start to run towards the ravine then realise that dad doesn’t even know where the cave is.
Then I see a white shape. The sky is full of moving things, bits of trees, branches, sticks and bark. But the white shape stands out in stark contrast.
It's the white bird. Back along the bank of the river towards where we had been fishing. I take a risk and run back to get dad’s bike. I pedal as fast as I can to catch up to the bird that has now disappeared around the bend. I catch a glimpse of white as it lands on the branch of a paper bark overhanging the water about thirty metres ahead.
I reach the tree and look around. Nothing on the track ahead. I run a little way off the track into the scrub.
“Dad!” I try to stand still and quiet but quickly realise this is useless. With this wind and lightning everything is moving and creating such a commotion that I begin to think this is an impossible search. Stupid bird! Why am I even following you? In frustration I pick up a small rock and throw it at the bird. I miss and the rock flies past and lands in the water right near… a shape... Dad!
I run to the edge of the water for a closer look. Yes, there he is. He’s not moving. He’s floating….face down!