Page 19

Chapter Nineteen

M ackenzie was grateful when a eucalyptus tree provided an opportunity to change the subject. “I saw a sugar glider sucking the nectar from these flowers.” He cut several red blooms and smelled the sweet aroma.

“What are you going to do with them?” Abigail raised an eyebrow.

He shrugged. “Eat them.”

They arrived back at the clearing and Mackenzie unloaded the backpack, placing the water bottles into the suitcase. The fire had burned down to wisps of smoke and Charlie was still resting in the same position he’d been in when they left hours earlier.

While Mackenzie stoked the fire, he surveyed the half-dug grave. They weren’t anywhere near completion. The hole measured only about one and a half metres long and just thirty centimetres deep. It would need to be at least three times that size. The fresh cut earth had lightened to grey as it dried out and when he kicked at the dirt pile beside the grave it crumbled under his foot.

He took the mushrooms and eucalyptus flowers out of the backpack and sat cross-legged on the grass by the fire, trying to get comfortable.

The mushroom flesh was chalk white and the brown skirt underneath had dozens of folded layers of flesh. It smelled good—woody and rich. He was fully aware of the dangers of eating poisonous mushrooms, but without any alternative the only way to confirm if it was edible was to eat it. Unable to resist any longer he nibbled off a small portion and noted its earthy freshness. He tossed the mushrooms into the pan with a little oil and a handful of eucalyptus flower pipes and stirred them with a debarked twig.

Abigail arrived at his side. “What are you making?”

“Mushrooms a la Kakadu.”

“Very funny.” She frowned. “You’re not eating those, are you?”

“Of course. Can’t let good food go to waste.”

“But how do you know they’re safe?”

“Only one way to tell. I guess we’ll know in a couple of hours.”

“Mackenzie! Don’t be stupid. They could kill you.”

Oddly he was at ease with the situation. “I’ll only eat a couple. At the very worst, I’ll get sick, maybe have some nasty toilet trips, but I don’t think I’ll die.”

Abigail regarded him for a moment. “Don’t leave me alone out here.”

He looked at her until their eyes met. “I’m not going anywhere.” He removed the pan from the heat, stabbed one of the mushrooms with his stick and blew on it.

“Here goes.” He slipped the meaty fungus into his mouth. The warm mushroom had softened with cooking. It tasted similar to an ordinary field mushroom and the sauce from the flower was sweet.

Rodney would love this.

His heart constricted at the thought. Mushrooms were one of Rodney’s favourite vegetables and the realisation that Rodney was gone hit him with brutal clarity. His throat closed in, breathing grew difficult.

Why did Rodney die? He was a good man.

Rodney never hurt anyone. In fact, he’d dedicated his life to helping people. Mackenzie swallowed hard, determined not to cry right now. The time for crying would be after Rodney was buried.

“How is it?” Abigail’s voice snapped him back.

“It’s fine.” He swallowed another mushroom along with a great lump of guilt, knowing Rodney would’ve wanted him to live. Spearing another one from the pan, he ate it like a shish-kebab. Deciding to risk just one more he stabbed the largest, which was about the size of his palm. “So now we just wait and see.” Rubbing his thighs, he leaned forward to stretch his lower back. “We need to keep digging the graves. Are you ready?”

“No.”

“Me neither. But we have no choice.” He got to his feet, tossed the remainder of the mushrooms into the bushes and before he could procrastinate any longer, he picked up their makeshift shovel and stepped into the hole.

For hours he laboured in the dirt and the hole gradually increased in size and depth. He took off his shirt when rivers of dirt-laden sweat trickled down his arms and legs. But he had no intention of stopping until the grave was finished. Every part of him begged to stop but he couldn’t bear the thought of waking up to the hideous task tomorrow.

A rumble in his stomach concerned him, but he couldn’t decide if it was hunger pains or something worse. He carried on regardless, blocking it out as he pounded the earth, digging to a morbid rhythm, riding a wave of emotions—fury over their situation, fear of dying, grief over Rodney’s death, hunger, tiredness and most of all, his intense desire to survive. His body trembled from sheer exhaustion, and he crumbled into a shattered heap on the edge of the grave.

To his surprise, Abigail picked up the tool, stepped into the hole and dug into the compacted earth. She didn’t complain as her movements stiffened with each shovelful. Her clenched jaw failed to mask the pain on her face, and he fetched a water bottle. When she paused to accept it, she wiped her forehead leaving a dirty brown streak in its path. Her hands were shaking.

Mackenzie reached for her, and her eyes were numb from emotion, as if everything she’d felt before she stepped into the hole had been sucked into the pit.

He helped her from the ground, and with his arm around her waist guided her to a spot by the fire. She sat down, drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around them with her chin on her knees.

Mackenzie knelt beside her. “Are you okay?”

Her chin quivered as she shook her head slowly.

He placed his hand on her cheek and when one of her tears trickled from her eyelashes, he wiped it away.

The dam burst and Abigail sobbed.

Mackenzie wrapped his arms around her, and she hugged him and as they embraced, each with their chins on the others shoulder, he inhaled the sweet scent of her hair as her damp tears fell upon his back.

They cried together for what seemed like an eternity.

Mackenzie couldn’t cry anymore, but he still held onto Abigail until her breathing returned to normal. When she finally pulled back, he looked at the wet eyelashes that lined her red eyes and for the first time he noticed a spattering of freckles across her nose.

He liked them. It gave her a sense of naturalness.

“Are you okay now?” He rubbed her upper arm.

She sucked in a shaky breath and nodded.

“You stay here. I’m going to finish it. Okay?”

“Okay.”

He stood and although he was exhausted, he was also determined.

He returned to the grave and stepped into the hole.

Eventually the pit grew to a one metre by two metre rectangle that was barely one metre deep. The ground was simply too hard to dig the hole any deeper. They had no alternative but to lay the bodies on top of each other.

His mind was thick with anxiety as he mulled over who would lay where in the grave.

He climbed from the hole and stretched flat out on the warm grass. His chest heaved as he gasped for breath and black stars darted across his eyes. Sparks spun on his eyelids in dizzying circles.

“Are you okay?” Abigail asked. “You don’t feel sick, do you?”

“I’m fine. Just exhausted. I think it’s finished.”

Abigail groaned. “Oh God.”

“What?”

“Now we have to move them.”

As he thought about what he had to do next, bile rose from his stomach and caught in his throat. A fine layer of glass surrounded his sanity. It was fragile, and one wrong move would shatter it to a million pieces. For the third time in his life, he was burying someone he loved.

He rolled away from Abigail and wondered if he would make it out of the dark reaches of hell safely this time. He felt so alone.

A kookaburra sang overhead. Its joyous laughter mocked his heartbreak. The sound reminded him of Rodney. His laughter was always louder than it needed to be, as if it was important for him to show how carefree he was, despite his serious job as a lawyer. Mackenzie began to giggle. He rolled onto his back roaring with laughter and although Abigail stared at him open-mouthed, he couldn’t contain himself.

“What on earth could be so funny?”

“That kookaburra sounded just like Rodney, and I imagined him laughing at this ridiculous situation.” He wiped away laughter tears. “Sorry. I couldn’t help it.”

“What kookaburra?”

He pointed in the direction of the bird. “It was right there.”

But the kookaburra was nowhere to be seen. He frowned as he studied the canopy. A slight breeze tickled the sweat-dampened hairs on the back of his neck. He shivered.

“I still don’t see it.” She stared in the direction he’d pointed. “Um, maybe you’re hallucinating from those damn mushrooms.”

“It was right there.” Mackenzie scanned the tree line, but the bird didn’t materialise.

A smile curved the corners of his mouth, and he bowed his head in Rodney’s honour.