Читать книгу Lyza's Story: Book One of The Lane Trilogy - Vicki Inc. Andree - Страница 8

Chuck O’Malley signed up for the geological hiking group, fulfilling a vow not to spend every Saturday in his IBM cubicle in Brisbane, Australia. I am not Dilbert. Now sweating with a small group of college students in the outback, he remembered collecting rocks as a kid. I had a good time then. Collecting rocks kept me active and enjoying nature. I still love being outdoors and getting my hands dirty. I haven’t done it for a long time. The group stood around the trailhead at dawn, waiting for the man getting out of the dark green pickup.

Walking up to the group, the lanky Aussie with unruly sun-bleached hair used his forefinger to push up the brim of his straw hat. “G’day, how ya goin’? Let me introduce myself. I’m your group leader.” He put his hands on his hips and stood with his feet planted about shoulder width apart. “You can call me George, because that’s my name.”

The group chuckled while George continued, “And because I’m your leader, we’re going to have a lot of fun today learning about various rock formations and minerals that abound here in the Australian bush. Here’s my sidekick, Sam.”

George smiled and nodded toward a black lab jumping from the back of the pickup. “Be nice to him. He’s a good dog, and he likes bushwalkin’ just as much as the rest of us.”

Sam slowly walked to George’s side, stopped wagging his powerful tail, and meekly sat.

George studied the list of participants on his clipboard. Most of the group were from the United States; no locals attended. The group, mostly college-aged young men, with the exception of Chuck O’Malley, gathered around to ask questions.

A short young man with a crew cut spoke up. “What’s bushwalkin’?”

George pulled off his hat and wiped his already sweating forehead. “That would be hiking to you foreigners.”

Yet another of the young students piped up. “Will we find any precious stones out here?”

“You might. Anything’s possible. Opals are mined, but we aren’t going below ground today. The major mines are at Coober Pedy, Lightning Ridge, and White Cliffs. We’re nowhere near any of those.”

Still another student gestured with one hand at the vista of grassland, hummocks, and mountains in their view. “The outback is huge.”

George looked in the direction of the student’s gesture. “Now that depends on your terminology, son. People often use the term ‘outback’ in reference to any lands outside urban areas. With that in mind, we could say that we are in the outback, though we are only a couple hours outside the city.”

Chuck surveyed his surroundings. A thin canopy of eucalyptus shaded the wooded area with a few woody shrubs and bushes. He turned back to George. “Would you say we’re in the ‘bush’ now?”

“Yes, that’s the term I would use for where we are. The ‘bush’ is not usually as remote as what we call the ‘outback.’”

The crew-cut young man commented. “George, you know quite a bit more than any of my instructors. Most of them ignore my questions or say they’ll get back to me and never do.”

George’s modesty was matched only by his tact. “As important as it is, son, academia can never match experience.”

The first young student pressed for more information about the outback. “How do we get to the real outback?”

George pointed away from the city. “If you really want to experience the outback, you need to fly to the center of the country, then rent a four-by-four. Then after all that trouble, all you’re gonna find is desert. We’re not doing that today.”

They started bushwalking. Chuck found the two-hour trek through the national park invigorating. George took great care to identify rocks, land formations, and even plants throughout the hike. The more Chuck learned, the more he wanted to know.

Chuck continued asking question after question long after the others left. George patiently answered every one of them in detail. The hike rejuvenated Chuck, and he wanted to know more. The two men wound up eating dinner in the local pub.

Just after midnight, George pushed his beer glass away from him and stood. “Listen, Chuck, I’m ready to call it a night. I’m going bushwalking in a couple of weeks, and you’re welcome to join me.”

Chuck nodded as he laid out a few bills for a tip. “I look forward to it. Today was amazing. You’re an encyclopedia.”

His companion laughed. “Sometimes I feel that old.”

Chuck stood, grimacing at his stiffness. “Like my sore muscles after today’s hike.”

“Every year it gets more difficult. No matter. I couldn’t give it up for the world. I’m pushing fifty and still going strong. Anyway, they say fifty is the new forty.” George looked young for his age.

“That’s what they say, but I never trusted them.” Chuck added, “I’m forty-four and I’m sure I’ll feel like a hundred in the morning.”

They agreed to meet two weeks later for another hike.

George recommended several books and websites for Chuck to use to prepare for it.

Thirteen days later, on a Friday, Chuck’s office phone buzzed. “Chuck, this is George, your geologist bushwalking coach.”

Chuck perked up. “Oh, yeah, is the hike planned?”

“I was thinking about making the next outing an overnighter.”

Chuck’s heart beat faster. “You mean like camping?”

George surprised Chuck with the change in plans. “Just overnight. I think it would be fun to take you deep into the Aussie outback, the Never-Never. It’s incredible the things you can find out there. It’ll be the experience of a lifetime. You’re gonna love it.”

Chuck’s mind filled with thoughts of adventure and excitement camping in the Ausse outback. “Can’t wait. What do I need to bring?”

“You’ll need the usual—sun screen, bug repellent, matches, snacks, and toothbrush. Oh, and you’ll need a sleeping bag.”

“What else?”

“It’s not going to be the Holiday Inn. We’ll be sleeping under the stars. I have everything we need for the campsite packed. We sleep in our clothes. Bring an extra canteen, and like I said, some snacks and your sleeping bag.”

Early Saturday morning, Chuck boarded George’s small rickety Cessna at a tiny airstrip on the outskirts of Brisbane.

George placed their bags in the small space behind the back seats in the tail. Then he walked around the plane, making a cursory inspection of the fuselage, wings, and tail.

George got in next to Chuck and began checking the instrument panel. “I believe all is in order. Prepare for takeoff.”

Chuck shouted over the noise of the engine as they broke the bonds of gravity and barely sailed over a nearby copse of trees. “You are full of surprises. Where are we going?”

George checked the instrument panel. “A few weeks ago I saw a landing strip up around Peera Peera Poolanna Lake between two deserts. It looked pretty desolate, but I think it will be a good place to put down. From there we can explore the wonders of the Australian outback deserts. Buckle up, mate. We have a couple of hours before we get there. You’re going to see a lot on the way.”

Chuck watched the airstrip below slowly shrink as the plane gained altitude.

“You’re about to see more of Oz than most folks ever do. So relax, hang on, and enjoy the ride.”

Chuck swallowed hard. His mouth felt dry. “You sure you know how to fly this thing?”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve been at this a few years. It’s really the only way to get around in Oz. Everything’s so spread out. You could drive, but it would take us at least all of daylight and add a couple of days to the trip. This is much better. Don’t worry. She’s an old plane, but I keep her up.”

“I didn’t want to ask, but since you mentioned it, how old is this plane?”

“Hang on, there; she’s older than I am and still runs like a clock. She’s a Cessna 170 four-seater. They don’t make them like they used to. She’s a classic.”

Oh, great. Chuck sat back in his seat and tried to relax. A sense of dread pervaded his thoughts as he listened to the loud buzz of the engine, and he tried to keep his overactive imagination at bay. What have I gotten myself into? I hope George knows what he’s doing. I might find an early grave in the Aussie outback. Heaven forbid. The plane shuddered, as if responding to Chuck’s mental battle. For the next two hours, the ride intermittently went from smooth to bumpy. Chuck never relaxed.

Almost two hours into the trip, the plane began to pitch and the engine coughed. George fumbled with dials and levers cursing under his breath. He barked at Chuck, “Secure your seat belt and brace yourself!”

Terrified, Chuck pulled his seatbelt tighter and looked out his side window. The silence created by the stalled engine filled his ears as the ground rushed to greet them.

George suddenly became eerily calm, his tone professional. “Look for any smooth place. Any smooth place without shrubs, boulders, or craters where we can land.”

Chuck looked to his right. In the distance, he noticed a clear piece of terrain that looked like a dirt road set on a strip of elevated ground, above a dry landscape with a scattering of brush and stones here and there. A landing strip? I don’t believe it! He punched George on the shoulder and pointed. “Do you mean something like that?”

When George saw the landing strip, the tense lines in his face disappeared. His mouth curved into a smile. “That’s exactly what I mean, mate.”

The plane banked right, lining up with the newfound airstrip. The smooth landing surprised Chuck. Even so, he gratefully anticipated the feeling of his feet touching ground safely. The Cessna 170 rolled down the airstrip kicking up dust behind it, finally coming to a stop.

George sighed deeply and leaned back in his seat. “That engine timing mechanism goes out sometimes. Really, mate, it’s not a serious problem. I can fix it in a jiffy. Let me get back there behind the back seats. I have a bag of tools.”

Chuck opened his door to step down upon the dusty land. His weakened knees gained strength once his feet touched the ground. He seriously considered getting down on his shakey knees and kissing terra firma, dirt and all. Meanwhile, George began whistling as he rummaged through the tool bag and inspected the engine.

A few moments later, George came around where Chuck leaned on the shady side of the aircraft. “It’s all good. Just as I thought—it’s the timing belt, and I readjusted it. We’ll be fine. It happened a couple of weeks ago, so I was pretty sure that was the problem.

“Let’s look around. I should let the owners know why we landed and give them my information.” George nodded toward the other end of the landing strip. “This place looks desolate. Let’s go see who we can find.”

The thin trail of red dust following their footsteps reminded Chuck of his childhood in Oklahoma. They reached the dilapidated building perched at the other end of the airstrip. There they ventured through the empty hangar and out the other side, passing over a small rise. Below them spread a huge house that, in its prime, would have impressed a Texan. A wooden door flanked by eight columns dominated a large porch that reminded Chuck of the movie Giant. On the second floor, sagging gables stared at them. The large windows near the door were dark and caked with years of dirt. The place had been magnificent decades ago.

About a football field south of the big house stood a large building that had probably once housed ranchhands. Fifty yards across the way stood another smaller building that might have served as a guest house. Remnants of a road wound for half a mile to outbuildings and corrals. The chicken coop and pump house barely stood, their roofs sagging. A hay barn leaned to one side, and faded wooden fences with broken boards cried out for restoration.

No apparent signs of occupation confirmed George’s first observation. It certainly looked barren. Furthermore, it was creepy, out in the middle of nowhere with no one around. Now only the wind blew through this ghost ranch.

George pointed to the barn and corral behind the house. “Looks like a cattle station—cattle ranch, to you Americans. From all the housing and barns, this place looks like it rocked with activity at one time. People moved out here with lofty dreams. Sadly, it only takes one or two years of dry weather to clean them out. I’ll bet that’s what happened here.”

Chuck looked around for a source of water. “It’s huge. I wonder how much the total acreage is. With all this homestead, there had to be one heck of a lot of livestock grazing.”

George put his hands on his hips. “Well, there’s no one here now. I’m guessing that we’re around a hundred miles from the edge of the Sturt Stony Desert. There had to be more vegetation when this was a working ranch.”

Chuck looked at the landscape of red dirt, with a smattering of brush here and there. Large and small rocks jutted from the ground. “There’s not enough food here for cattle, that’s for sure.”

“Look over there.” George pointed to some tall rock formations far in the distance. “This is new territory for me. It’s not what I planned, but as long as we’re here, let’s do some exploring. Let’s hike over to those rocks and see what we can find.”

They strode back to the aircraft and retrieved their gear. George strapped a canister of water on his back in addition to his pack. He pulled another one out of the back seat. “Each of us should have five liters of water per day to hike in the outback. Here, let me strap it on.”

Chuck felt the weight on his back increase. “How much is this? I guess I can’t complain. It looks like your pack is twice the size I’m carrying.”

“You’ve got about ten liters there. Can ya handle it, mate?”

Chuck swallowed. “I’m good.”

Turning toward the rock formations in the distance, they stepped off the airstrip into the outback desert. Carefully picking their way, they made slow progress, drinking often.

After an hour, George stopped and dug through his backpack, then offered Chuck a piece of beef jerky. The midday sun bore down on them. “We need to eat something on the go if we’re going to get over there before dark.”

They hiked and chewed on beef jerky, taking drinks often while making slow progress. Because of uneven ground and rocks, they watched each step, lest one of them twist an ankle or worse. In addition to the different rock formations, the sparse plants, and sandy stretches, the land itself proved interesting.

Chuck struggled to keep up with George, but he wasn’t about to ask him to slow down. The rock formation loomed far ahead for what seemed forever. He sorely misjudged the distance from the airstrip, but he guessed that George knew exactly how far they needed to hike. Finally, they stopped under the shade of a bluff near the formations.

The sun was beginning to set. A small herd of camels sauntered past.

Chuck leaned with his back against the rock face. “When I first came to Australia, I was shocked when people told me there were camels. I can’t believe I’m finally seeing them.”

George loosened his pack. “Oh, yeah, the government started importing them to use for pack animals back in the eighteen forties. They had a big part in the development of the railroads. I think they stopped bringing the animals in somewhere around the turn of the century.”

Chuck took a deep drink from his water pack. “Camels are beautiful animals with ugly knees and stubborn personalities. I always say I love to see them outside spitting distance.”

George let his pack fall to the ground. “Once they were all domesticated, but now they’re wild. There’s probably a million of them here now, and their population can double every nine years.”

“That’s scary.”

George shrugged. “Yeah, the government brought them in from India. Now they’ve gone wild to fend for themselves.”

Chuck gulped another swig of water and sopped his forehead with his handkerchief. He found a stool-like rock to sit on. “This adventure is beyond what I could have imagined.”

Out of the corner of his eye, George spotted a dingo in the brush. “Don’t move.”

Chuck froze, and then slowly turned to face the direction George looked. He whispered. “What is it?”

George relaxed and turned around to face Chuck. “No worries. It’s a dingo.”

The animal turned away from them and continued his way, sniffing at the ground.

Still a little rattled, Chuck asked, “Are they dangerous?”

“On their own, they’re harmless. A pack of them is dangerous. This one’s alone, but I wasn’t sure when I first spotted him.”

A strange-looking little lizard ran across in front of them. George pointed down at the little critter. “This little guy looks like he’s from the horned toad family. They look like lizards, but they’re really toads.”

The lizard, about the size of a gecko, suddenly stopped between the two men and raised his head. He stood perfectly still, sensing he was in danger. George made a quick swipe at him to catch him. At the last second, the little guy took off, leaving a puff of dust.

Chuck thought he recognized the little critter. “We have something like them in the southwestern US. Those little toads shoot blood from their eyes when startled.”

George shook his head. “No way.”

“I used to keep them as pets in a cardboard box when I was a kid. When I discovered blood on the sides of the box, I did some research.”

George attempted to grab another of the little reptiles, but missed again. “They’re quick little buggers. Blood from their eyes, eh? I’ll have to remember that one.”

The sun sunk to the horizon, and George finally made the announcement Chuck was waiting for. “We should probably make camp here. It’s going to get dark fast.”

Relieved, Chuck surveyed his digs for the night. His legs ached. “This has been a most eventful day.”

George began picking up sticks to start a fire. “Oh, brother, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

Chuck wondered what else could happen that day and assumed George spoke of the coming day.

They built a roaring campfire, and the two of them enjoyed the heat and beauty of the flames.

After a chuckwagon-type dinner, George pulled two bottles of slightly warm beer from the soft cooler he had carried all day. The two of them told camping and hunting stories until the huge fire burned down to glowing embers in the fire pit.

“Over here, Chuck. Here’s a good place for your sleeping bag. You’ll need to clear out a few stones. I’m sleeping on the other side of the fire. That way we’ll both get the benefit of those dying embers.”

Chuck kicked a couple of rocks off his dirt mattress. “Sure, thanks.”

Soon he lay in his sleeping bag, looking up at a magnificent star-studded sky.

George softly spoke. “This is what I was talking about. Anyone who doesn’t believe in God needs to experience an outback night sky.”

That night, Chuck decided he could never leave Australia. “Amen.”

***

Gary Wagner sat in the plush downtown office of Axum Oil, holding the invitation. He shook his head as he reread the expensive, but tastefully printed summons. He picked up his phone and speed-dialed his friend.

“Hey, Tim. Gary here.”

“What’s up?”

Gary cut to the chase. “Did you get your invitation to the Lane benefit?”

“No. If I got it, it hasn’t made it to my office. I certainly expect one. Nothing’s changed, has it?”

Gary sighed drily. “Oh, no, nothing’s changed. It’s party as usual and we’ll be expected to escort the twins.”

Tim laughed. “It’s not bad. I know a hundred guys who would be ecstatic to escort either one of those two. Are you bailing out on us this year?”

“Of course not, we always have a good time. It seems so… pointless.”

“Last year was such a hoot. Whose big idea was it to sneak out? Oh, yeah, it was yours. That was nothing less than brilliant.”

“Actually, I was checking to see whether you were still in the game.”

Tim’s voice increased at least a decibel. “I’m in the game for sure. It’s become a tradition. You and Lyza, me and Leesa, at the Save the Orchids benefit so the world can see we are all one big happy family up here in corporate America.”

Gary’s voice went flat. “Yeah, then something happened; I fell for Lyza, and she’s all business. I haven’t seen her—you know, been out with her—since last year. That’s ridiculous.”

“Listen, we are there for show. Neither one of those girls has time for anything but business. Take the friendship, and enjoy the time you spend with her.”

“And if someone else swoops in and steals her?”

“Yoo-hoo, Earth to Gary. Every gossip columnist and reporter in LA is waiting to catch one of these gals with a guy. Trust me. Tell her how you feel or move on.”

“That advice rolls off your tongue when you know very well this isn’t your everyday ordinary situation. If I told her I was nuts about her, she would tell me she didn’t want to see me again.”

“Listen to yourself. Why are you pining over someone who doesn’t give a flea’s eyelash how you feel?”

“It’s a bit difficult when we always go double. I don’t get a minute alone with her.”

“There’s a reason for that. She doesn’t want to take a chance on you doing something stupid.”

“Fine.” Gary heard his voice take on a wicked twinge as he pictured Lyza partying in Paris that week with some good-looking Frenchman. “You can order the limo. Make it white this year. In the meantime, I’ll be thinking of something stupid to do.”