Well of Bones

Chapter One

The bodies of two young women lay entwined – one was dead, the other hovered on the cusp of consciousness. The ebony skin of the aboriginal girl no longer glowed with health and vitality. Its smooth texture resembled dried matted paint, cracked and peeling from neglect. A layer of fine dust had settled like a lacy web across her distinctive square cheekbones. Fast-moving black and green bush flies ran gleefully along her lifeless limbs, breaking the stillness.

The strawberry-blonde haired woman cradled the girl’s lifeless body against her chest, unaware of her fate. A sliver of light cut the gloom in which they lay entombed and revealed pale, bluish-tinged lips, a small straight nose smeared in blood and honey coloured eyelashes. The closed eyelids fluttered for a moment but remained closed. A quiet breath stirred the dust which had settled on the delicate fine hairs just below her nose. The mid-morning light progressed along its path, unaffected by the reaction its presence had caused.

Time passed and the next day, the sliver of light returned. As the beam pierced the black pool of darkness it touched the woman’s pale face. Her eyes opened to reveal startling dark green irises framed by almond-shaped lids. The eyes were the only colour in an otherwise gloomy world. She blinked and her pupils, black and intense, widened to focus on the retreating beam. As the light touched the chocolate brown of the dead girl’s eye, it revealed a dull-white film that diminished the colour. The woman held her breath and waited for the girl to react to the light, but her pupils remained fixed, staring at a distant point. The green eyes swam in a pool of tears. She let out a small sob and closed her eyes. A lone tear escaped the corner of her eye and cut a wet trail through the dust and dried blood on her narrow cheek. The tear dripped from her jaw and fell to the ground beside her. Irritated she twitched and rubbed her cheek against the body she was cradling, wiping away its salty wetness.

Opening gritty, sore eyes she studied the world around her. Rising on each side of her were four sandstone walls, rugged and unevenly bricked. They’d been stacked to form a vertical shaft that ended in a square of apricot-tinged blue light, high above. As she stared a small white cloud drifted past her field of vision.

Where the hell am I?

She moved her head to study the floor. The movement stirred up the layer of dust on her cheek. Her nose began to tickle and itch, she sneezed. The sound didn’t echo as expected, it just deadened and died. She waited, but there was no response to the noise. She focused her hearing and listened intently but not even a breeze disturbed the quiet. The silence was oppressive and pressed down like a smothering wet blanket. She sucked in a deep breath through her nose and gagged. The smell and taste of death burnt a foul trail down her throat.

The woman eased the girl’s body away from her embrace. The movements disturbed a swarm of flies and they took flight. A loud humming filled the air as they formed into a swirling dark cloud, circling in a spiral to ascend halfway up the shaft before descending and resuming their greedy investigations of the body.

The quiet returned.

She sat up and her world began to spin. Bubbles of colour flashed and exploded behind her eyes and a stabbing pain made its presence known at the back of her skull by drumming a ferocious tattoo against its confines. She stuck her smallest finger in her left ear and gave it a wiggle, trying to reduce the loud thump as the blood pulsed past her eardrums making her head pound. The world around her spun, nausea swirled in her stomach and she gave an acidic heave. Reaching out a hand she steadied herself against the stone wall and waited for everything to right itself. When the world came back into focus, she lifted a cautious hand and touched the painful spot at the back of her head. Her fingers jerked when the pain intensified and her eyes blurred once again.

Crap! That hurts.

Her probing fingers touched her hair. It was stiff and matted and hung down in a dried clump like a bamboo curtain. With the back of her hand she lifted the mess and ran a gentle finger along what felt like a jagged gash. She looked at her fingers, no fresh blood tinged them. With infinite care she lifted her hair again and gently pushed at the bone beneath the cut. It didn’t crunch or move.

It doesn’t feel like my skull’s fractured.

She glanced down to where her head had been and saw a piece of brick coated in a dark stain. It was sticky.

I guess that’s what’s given me the headache.

Pulling her knees towards her chest, she rested her forehead on them and waited for the thumping pain in her head to abate. She dozed off and was rudely awakened when her body toppled sideways. Jerking up straight caused a sharp pain in her neck.

‘Crap,’ she croaked. A sore, dry throat made swallowing difficult.

Great! Is there any part of me that doesn’t hurt?

Being careful not to injure her battered body further, the woman lowered her head and began to take stock of her woes. Her long, thin legs protruded like matchsticks from plain, black cotton shorts and were covered in small cuts and scratches. Her very pale skin was smeared in red dust. On her feet were yellow ankle socks, the soles of which were also stained a rusty red.

No shoes? How’d that happen?

An inquisitive fly began buzzing around her eyes and nose. Annoyed, she waved her long slender fingers and chased the slow-moving fat insect away. A flash of colour on her arm caught her gaze. She examined her left arm. A trail of livid jagged scars ran along it. They glowed like silver in the gloom. She studied the marks, tracing her finger along the old injuries, trying to recall their history.

Nothing – her mind was engulfed in a silent grey static.

She glanced at her companion and her heart twisted in pain. The girl looked to be around twenty years of age and had the most beautiful face. Leaning forward she brushed the writhing gluttonous yellow maggots away from the staring eyes and placed two fingers to the side of the girl’s throat to check for a pulse. The action only confirmed what she already knew from the smell. Death has a distinctive sickening odour. Her movements stirred up a wave of rancid air. The smell grabbed her in the back of the throat and she gagged. To reduce her reaction to the smell she took small shallow breaths through her mouth, pinched her nose and ran gentle fingers over the girl’s eyelids to close them. She sighed as a wave of sadness washed through her like a river of water sliding down a pane of glass.

I can’t leave her exposed like this. I need to cover her.

She cast her glance around but it was too dark to see anything clearly, so she ran her fingers over the surrounding hard-packed dirt floor, searching for some sort of clothing to cover the girl’s nakedness. Her hand found a bulging smooth surface. She paused and with investigative palms traced a globe-shape with something like wool attached to its surface. It was loose, so she picked it up to take a closer look.

‘Shit…,’ the words exploded from her mouth. She fumbled the globe. It fell from her fingertips and hit the floor with a clink and rolled away to settle next to her right knee. Sucking in her breath, she closed her eyes and waited for her pounding heart to steady before looking again at the grinning skull with its small tuft of knotted black hair coiled on the back of the scalp.

Oh, God.

Scrabbling backward she stopped when her back slammed hard against the stone wall. Her breath rushed in and out of her lungs in a panicked pant. The nausea returned and swirled in her gut as she fought hard to control the scream that threatened to erupt from her open mouth. She closed her eyes and began a slow steady count, matching her breathing to the numbers.

In – one, two, three.

Hold.

Out – one, two and three.

It became a mantra. Breathe in, hold, and breathe out.

It worked, her heart rate slowed and her fear slowly ebbed away. She reopened her eyes, rubbed at them with the heel of her hand before lowering her face close to the floor. She studied the ground and slowly began to make out images. The area was littered with skeletal remains. All of which had been picked clean of flesh. Some of the bones were animal. She could tell that by their shape and the fact they had four legs, but some looked human. She looked but found nothing that would identify the poor unfortunates – no clothing, shoes or indeed possessions of any kind. She was the only one who wasn’t naked.

Why am I different?

The grey static in her mind remained thick and dense and offered no answer to how or why she was here. In fact, there were no memories at all – not even a name. She leaned back on the wall and stared up the stone shaft towards the sky. What to do? Do I wait for help? Her gaze returned to the bones and realisation dawned – there would be no help.

A heavy burden settled on her shoulders like a heavy mantle and a small fire flickered to life in her belly, she stoked the flames until her determination to escape roared.

It’s up to me. I must tell someone of this well of bones - give these people and their families’ peace.

Chapter 2

‘Dad, I’m going riding on Rainbow today. I’ve missed him. Do you have anything in particular you want done on the eastern track?’

‘You could check Dry Gulch water trough and give the pump a service. It’ll save me a trip,’ answered Charlie, watching in amusement as his fourteen-year-old son devoured his breakfast.

Eli wrapped his mouth around an entire Weet-Bix bar while eyeing off the stack of hot toast that Charlie set on the table.

A dimple appeared in his cheek as Charlie Morgan’s lips twitched in a crooked smile. His heart glowed with warmth and love. It was so good to have his son home again. Eli had been away at boarding school in Perth. It had been six months since Charlie had last seen him. The day before the start of the September school holidays the airport workers had gone on a two-week strike and all air travel had been at a standstill. Eli couldn’t come home to their Kimberley property and Charlie couldn’t leave the station for the week-long drive to Perth. Lucky for both of them his sister and nephew lived in Perth and Eli had spent his holiday at their home. In his time away, Eli had grown from a short, wiry, pre-pubescent child to a rangy, loose-limbed teenager. Dark hair, the beginnings of a fluffy beard dusted his cheeks and gave testament to the rapid approach of manhood. Eli so closely resembled Charlie in looks and mannerisms that if it hadn’t been for the age gap they would have been considered twins.

Charlie recalled his own time living away at boarding school and the thrill of his homecomings. His mum would cook up a storm before his return, stocking up the freezer with delicious homemade cakes and biscuits in a valiant attempt to keep up with her son’s capacity to inhale food. Eli was following in his father’s footsteps in more ways than one.

‘Will you be okay riding that far on your first day home? Remember you haven’t thrown a leg over a horse for a couple of months now, you’ll be out of shape.’

‘Nah dad, all’s good. I did heaps of sport this year and ran track with Bren every day after school, helping him train, and on weekends I competed with the rowing team. I’m fit enough.’

‘What sort of track is Bren doing?’

‘Long-distance. Mr Muscles, he’s our phys ed teacher, reckons I should join the athletics team as I’m the only one who can keep up with Bren but I’m not interested. I only did it to keep cuz company.’

Eli spread a generous smear of vegemite over his buttery toast with one hand, while grabbing the jar of homemade plum jam with the other.

‘How is Bren?’

‘Moody. Aunt GG is always in his face, fussing. He can’t go outside without her permission, and then she hovers at the door until he’s back inside. She’s smothering him and he hates it.’

‘Hmm.’

‘It's no fun spending weekends there anymore. The September hols were the pits. Bren sulked in his room most of the time and Aunt GG sat staring at the front door. When they did see each other they argued about stupid things. I had to tiptoe around them both hoping not to set them off. It was such a relief to get back to school. I’m so glad I only stay over one weekend a month during term.’

‘Bren didn’t tell me things were that bad.’

‘That’s ‘cause Aunt GG stands over cuz, even while he’s on the phone. She didn’t used to be like that. Dad, what’s wrong with her?’

‘Uncle Josh.’

‘Ahh – I don’t suppose you can convince her to let Bren come here for the Christmas hols? He’s busting a gut to get back to Rivers Run and a normal life.’

Charlie tousled the long black corkscrews that had sprouted wildly on his son’s head.

‘Time for a haircut, mister.’ Eli grinned and pointed to Charlie’s similar locks.

‘You first,’ he said, before reverting to his former question. ‘Chrissy hols, dad, what do you reckon?’

‘I’ll work on it, Eli, but don’t be unkind about your Aunt GG. She’s having a tough time. Uncle Josh died walking to the local shop for a loaf of bread. The car that ploughed him down did it on the footpath right outside the house. It takes a lot for someone to get over something like that. At the moment your aunt’s worried the same thing could happen to Bren. Losing him as well would totally destroy her.’

‘Yeah I know, but Bren’s suffocating. At least you don’t fuss and smother me.’

Eli let out a deep sigh, picked up his milk glass and stared at the dregs in the bottom. He refilled the glass and took a large swig. While he did his eyebrows scrunched in thought. Charlie wondered what was running through his mind.

‘I'll give Aunt GG a call this morning and see if I can convince her to come home as well. She needs to get out of that damn city,’ said Charlie. To lighten the mood he began his finest John Wayne imitation. ‘In the meantime, young man…,’ spittle caught him in the back of the throat and he choked.

Eli cracked up laughing and almost upended his glass.

‘That’s shocking, Dad!’

Pretending to be offended, Charlie stuck his nose in the air and gave Eli a stinky eye. His son chortled as he shoved more toast in his mouth. Charlie’s gut churned at the thought that life could be fleeting and to lose something as precious as his son would tear him to pieces.

‘Eli my man, as you’re the only child I’m ever likely to have and I need you to be fit and healthy so you can take care of me in my dotage, I’m gonna fuss,’ he held out a finger and thumb in a gesture to show a small amount. ‘I want you to take extra care today. We’ve had a few problems.’

The smile left Eli's face, his eyes widened in curiosity.

‘What's up? Is everything okay on the station?’

Charlie was careful with his tone as he didn’t want to scare his son but he did want him to take what he was saying seriously. ‘Things are pretty good at the moment. The beef market’s finally on the rise. Our orchard is producing well and we’ve just had a good lambing season. Added to all that there’s rain on the horizon. There’s nothing major wrong, mate. It’s just that we’ve had a couple of yahoos taking pot shots at cattle in the district.’

‘Mongrels,’ the word exploded from Eli’s mouth.

‘Yeah I agree. We’ve been lucky so far and have only lost one steer. That was about a month ago. Zentra Flats Station lost four last week. But some of the cattle stations closer to Mount Ibour have really copped a hammering. The cops are really taking the shootings seriously. There’s now a detective stationed at the police station to look into it all.’ Charlie dropped two more slices of bread into the toaster and decided a quick reminder of the ground rules wouldn’t go astray. He settled into his seat across from his son and said, ‘Don’t forget to take a fully charged radio from my study with you today and remember to check into base every two hours. Be cautious, Eli. If you see anything unusual or run into trouble of any kind, don't be a hero,call me. Okay?’

Eli nodded. Charlie took a long and satisfying pull of strong black coffee and smacked his lips together as it hit the right spot. Eli sculled a full glass of milk, imitated his father before running his tongue over his milk moustache and giving a contented burp. The toaster popped.