Off the Track Read online

  ‘You’re gross,’ said Deepika, making a face, and he laughed.

  After that they set to work. Deepika arranged her sleeping bag and snacks. Harry unpacked the super-daggy spare jumpers, plus his own warm clothes and socks. They saved the seaweed crackers but ate the rest of the chips. Then they washed it all down with almost the last of their water.

  ‘Not all of it,’ Deepika said. ‘Just in case.’

  Harry nodded. Ana had warned them earlier. ‘Don’t drink any creek water, and we’ll need to treat the tank water too.’ Then she’d listed a bunch of exotic microbes that could rake your intestines clean, or turn your number twos into recurring fractions. It hadn’t sounded fun.

  In good news, he’d discovered a whole extra bottle of drinking water in his pack. Thanks Ana! The water was heavy, but loads better than concrete slippers. He and Deepika put it carefully with what remained of their snacks. Then they unpacked a clear plastic tub they’d discovered in a corner of the hut.

  ‘It’s the hut logbook,’ said Deepika, flicking through the pages of a battered green book. ‘Every hut has them. You write where you’re from, and where you’re going, stuff like that.’

  Deepika checked the rest of the box while Harry carefully scribed their names into the log:

  Name: Harry and Deepika, Charlene and Ana

  From: Car park

  To: Hut

  Nights: 1

  ‘What shall I put for the comments?’ he asked.

  Deepika had piled up half a dozen tealight candles, an ancient packet of matches, a couple of ballpoint pens, and some track brochures … ‘Let’s wait,’ she said. ‘Till they get here.’

  For a while they pored over the logbook entries, reading out the details and secrets of other people’s adventures. Some had hiked through rainstorms and mud. Others had sunburned to a crisp. Many had hiked with friends. Others had journeyed completely alone. Harry couldn’t imagine it.

  ‘Here’s one,’ said Deepika. ‘ “Loved the peace and quiet,” ’ she read, ‘ “and the nocturnal visitor”.’ She frowned and looked across. ‘What do you reckon that means?’

  Harry shrugged. Probably a park ranger. Probably not a kidnapper. ‘Maybe a Mr Whippy van,’ he joked. But that reminded him of the red car.

  ‘Well, hopefully it was a friendly visitor,’ said Deepika, pretending she was joking too.

  ‘Weird,’ said Harry suddenly. Because thinking of the red car had made him realise … According to the logbook, no one had visited their hut in three days, not even a Mr Whippy van. And that seemed a long time, especially if the red car was supposed to belong to a hiker.

  ‘Maybe red-car-guy is hiking the other way,’ Harry suggested. That was probably it. The track ran north–south, and they were hiking north. So red-car-guy would be hiking south. That could happen.

  Deepika stood up. ‘Let’s go find firewood. Mum’s bringing marshmallows. We could prepare the wood, so it’ll all be ready.’

  Great idea. Soon they had a pile of deadwood as big as themselves, stacked up next to the concrete fire pit. It was a great way to stay busy, plus daylight was fading and it would be tricky to find wood if the mums were much longer.

  The sounds of the bush continued to change. The temperature dropped. The sun fell dangerously close to the trees.

  And where were their parents anyway? They should be here. They should all be eating noodles and preparing marshmallow sticks.

  Harry sighed. They’d unpacked their stuff, read the logbook, gathered wood for the fire. Mum should be here by now.

  He reached for the walkie-talkie. It was only about the fiftieth time. ‘Hello? Are you there? Over.’

  It was always the same question. And always the same response. Silence.

  He put on his warm jumper. Deepika put on hers too. And suddenly it was dark, properly dark. Deepika had a torch, but that didn’t seem enough. They talked about lighting the fire, but that seemed too much. Even in a concrete fire pit, starting a fire just didn’t seem right. Not when they were so alone.

  In the end, they used the ancient matches from the hut box to light a couple of mini candles, one each. The flames flickered, casting a cheery light across the table, though Harry felt anything but cheery. They tried telling jokes, but nothing was funny.

  ‘Should we go back?’ Harry asked.

  Deepika’s eyes glowed in the candlelight. ‘It’s pretty dark,’ she said hesitantly.

  Agreed. They should stay in the same place. That’s what you were supposed to do when you were lost. Deepika knew this stuff. She knew what to do.

  Except they weren’t lost. They knew exactly where they were. It was Mum and Ana who were lost.

  ‘Should we go find them?’ Deepika asked.

  Harry looked beyond the candlelight to the haphazard shapes of rustling trees. ‘It is pretty dark.’

  He looked over their belongings. They had Deepika’s sleeping bag, the spare jumpers, two rain jackets and three pairs of warm socks. Plus some smarties and a bottle of water.

  He was super-grateful for the extra water, seriously. But if he was going to be fussy, it would’ve been fab to also have his sleeping bag. And another packet of crackers. And some sort of roast dinner. The kind with steaming potatoes and really amazing gravy, and crunchy green peas. He would even eat peas.

  ‘Smartie?’ offered Deepika.

  They spread out what was left of the smartie packet on the lid of the plastic tub, then divided them equally. There was an extra blue one left over. They decided to save it.

  A VISITOR

  ‘Hello Mum? Ana? Can anyone hear me?’

  Harry tried again, from inside the wrappings of their cosy nest. The nest had been Deepika’s idea. If you’re lost in the bush, it’s important to stay warm, she said. This was apparently part of Ana’s regular lecture. And it was an easy part to remember. It had been stinking hot in the day, but the night’s chill was setting in.

  Their nest wasn’t great, but it was the best they could manage. They’d built it at the back of the hut, in the corner. They’d unzipped Deepika’s sleeping bag, lined the wooden floor with the spare jumpers, and propped the whole thing together with their packs. Plus there’d been the spare socks, so they were wearing socks on their hands and even on their feet. That way, one hand remained free, per person. Perfect for the walkie-talkie.

  But there was no answer, again. Deepika sighed. ‘Maybe their batteries are dead?’

  ‘Maybe they accidentally turned it off?’ Harry said.

  Deepika sat up, grabbing for the walkie-talkie. ‘Maybe it’s the wrong frequency!’

  Of course! Walkie-talkies had to be tuned to each other, like you tuned to radio stations. ‘I thought we agreed on 7,’ said Harry.

  ‘We did,’ rushed Deepika. ‘Or I’m pretty sure we did. But maybe they changed the channel.’ She began clicking through channels. There seemed to be dozens.

  Maybe Mum and Ana were calling them right now, but on channel 6 or 8, or 27, or something. It was a comforting thought, and Harry held it tight.

  Deepika began clicking through each channel, waiting just a few seconds between clicks. There were eighty channels, could you believe it? Whoever needed eighty channels on a walkie-talkie. It wasn’t like it was a TV.

  They waited and listened to first one channel, then the next. But each of the eighty was silent.

  ‘Maybe we missed one,’ said Harry, so they went through them all again, saying ‘Hello?’ and ‘Can anyone hear me?’ and waiting longer between clicks each time.

  But still there was nothing. Not even a truckie, or some road workers, or like aliens or anything. They must be too far out of range.

  Because they were in the middle of the bush. Entirely, completely, totally alone. And because where was Mum? And because why wasn’t she here?

  And because what if —

  A twig snapped. Harry gulped.

  Outside their nest, from beyond the hut, a twig had snapped. From somewhere deep in the blackness of the
night. Harry grabbed Deepika’s arm and she grabbed him back. They forgot all about the walkie-talkie. The mini candles flickered on the picnic table, their wavering light stretching just beyond the missing fourth wall. Nothing stood between them and the twig-snapper. Harry strained his eyes into the darkness.

  Nothing. So maybe it really was nothing. Maybe it was a branch falling from a tree, or a gust of wind through the leaves. That could happen in the bush. Especially when no one was there.

  Then another twig snapped, louder and closer. Probably Mum. Or maybe Ana. But why weren’t they calling out? Harry refused to even think about the red car.

  Deepika’s grip on his arm tightened. He saw a dark shape move slowly, just beyond the yellow of the candlelight. Harry’s heart froze.

  For a long time, nothing happened. The shape didn’t move again, and Harry didn’t dare breathe. He remembered that he and Deepika were all alone, in a massive unending swathe of wilderness. The emptiness pressed in, the loneliness pressed in. Then the something moved, all at once, stepping right towards them.

  Except they weren’t really steps. They were more like … hops.

  ‘It’s a roo,’ Deepika whispered. Harry thought she was trying for another joke, but she was serious. It really was a kangaroo. Small, and sort of scruffy-looking.

  ‘The nocturnal visitor,’ he whispered back.

  Nothing moved, then the roo bounced closer, joining them in the candlelight. It stared right at them, black eyes shining, black nose twitching. Harry felt time stretching, from all the way in the past to all the way into the future, and still he didn’t breathe.

  The roo put its nose to the ground, and Harry relaxed, watching it snuffle around. Then it hopped closer and snuffled some more.

  ‘Must be hungry,’ Deepika whispered.

  The roo froze, staring right at them. It was so close he could probably reach out and touch it. It could hop right into the hut and join them for dinner, if it wanted. If there was any dinner.

  As he watched the roo, somewhere deep inside Harry’s heart, a warmth formed. It was amazing, sharing space with this wild creature. It made him feel that maybe the bush wasn’t a huge emptiness or terrifying loneliness. Maybe it was a place that furry creatures called home. A place where living things stretched and unfurled. Where life could go on. Because Harry was with a friend, he was warm, and he wasn’t that hungry. I mean, he wasn’t snuffling around in the dirt for fallen crumbs. At least, not yet, he wasn’t. And maybe their parents were perfectly safe, just dealing with some work stuff, and Mum would come racing out of the darkness, clutching her phone and making apologies, like always.

  ‘It’ll be all right, you know,’ he said to Deepika.

  ‘I know,’ she said, and she squeezed his arm with her sock.

  The roo watched them some more. They watched it back. It chose to ignore the nesting sock creatures and hopped patiently around the picnic table, as if it had all the time in the world. But it didn’t jump into the hut, and Harry was happy with that.

  When it hopped away, there was nothing left to watch. The two candles struggled against the night, flickering with the breeze, or maybe running out of wax. Maybe just tired. Harry’s loneliness returned, suddenly and desperately.

  Where was Mum? Why hadn’t she come? Could she really care that much about updating her status and replying to messages? Harry thought of all the times she’d come late to collect him, and his guts turned to stabbing ice. Because even when she was late, she always came.

  Except now was too late. She wasn’t coming and he knew it. Deepika’s mum wasn’t coming either. It was too dark. They’d waited too long. Something must’ve happened.

  ‘What do we do?’

  They had half a bottle of water left, and no way of filtering the tank water. They had one blue smartie for dinner, no first-aid kit, no spare sleeping bag, and, most importantly, no spare parents. ‘I guess we need to go find them, right?’

  Deepika nodded, though she didn’t exactly jump from their nest and start walking. ‘Now?’ she asked carefully. ‘Or in the morning?’

  In the morning, it’d be easy to see all the Waugals. And any arrows or signs. Plus any man-eating goanna-snakes or flesh-goring pigs. It’d be way less scary if they waited till morning. Harry looked hopefully at Deepika. She looked hopefully back.

  Because it wasn’t as if they would sleep.

  ‘Now,’ Harry decided. Even if he was offered a featherbed and a belly full of roast lamb and peas, he’d never be able to sleep. Not when their mums could be out there, in trouble and needing them. ‘We need to go now.’

  Deepika nodded. They still looked at each other, as if waiting for something to change, but nothing did. So Deepika held up a socked hand and they high-fived with thin grins. Then they stood, stretching their cramped limbs and glowing with the instant cold.

  Deepika stuffed her sleeping bag into its sack. Harry packed the jumpers they weren’t wearing and popped the logbook into its plastic crate. But first he grabbed the pen:

  Name: Harry and Deepika, Charlene and Ana

  From: Car park

  To: Hut

  Nights: 1 0.5

  Comment: Hope you enjoy the firewood. Back soon.

  He blew out the remaining candle and returned it carefully to the plastic crate. Deepika used her headtorch to search the hut one last time. Nothing.

  ‘Ready?’

  ‘Guess so,’ Deepika said. ‘But first I need to pee.’

  GULLY TRAP

  Harry’s guts stabbed with fear, but he gritted his teeth and kept moving. If his shoulders were aching, or his heel and toe were sore, he didn’t notice. He was filled to bursting with this night.

  Owls hooted and night creatures rustled, and he refused to be scared. The night air was cold but not enough to get through the spare jumpers. Mist bounced off his warm muscles. The crunch of every footstep echoed in the rhythm of his breath. It was going to be okay. Their mums were going to be okay.

  The bush felt smaller, now they were moving through it. Now they had a purpose, now they knew what they had to do. It was as if the night was guiding them onwards.

  Something flashed at them from ahead, something yellow and black, like an eye, vivid and leering and staring down at them in the night.

  ‘Waugal,’ hissed Deepika, her headtorch shining into the distance. The reflective trail marker shone back.

  Good. Still on track.

  Because of the headtorch, Deepika was totally hands-free. And because of not having a torch, Harry was totally torch-free. Luckily, they could see well enough with just one. Deepika led the way, shining her light out in front, and Harry stayed close behind. High above them, rivers of cloud moved across to blanket any stars. The moon glowed behind a ring of vapour.

  ‘Means it’s going to rain,’ said Deepika.

  Harry remembered the waterproof jacket Ana had insisted on packing and felt a dizzying rush of appreciation and fear. ‘Better get a move on.’

  Hours passed. And hours. There were no more chocolate frogs, no lolly snakes, no super-crunchy original chips. Harry and Deepika hiked mostly in silence. It didn’t seem the time for jokes. He tried not to worry about where Mum might be. He tried not to think about the red car and its missing driver. Sometimes, when he was feeling strong and positive, as if everything would be okay, the surrounding trees seemed to cloak them, to keep them safe. Other times the trees would change, and their bone-white limbs, twisted and dead, seemed to reach for them, straining to claw at their arms and grab at their legs. But so long as they kept to the track, so long as they stayed with the Waugal …

  ‘What was that?’ Deepika asked.

  ‘What?’

  They stood, listening to the night. The red car, the red car, the red car. Harry’s head wouldn’t stop.

  ‘Probably nothing,’ Deepika said. ‘Maybe an owl.’

  Harry nodded. Owls were a thing.

  And they kept moving, nerves all ajangle.

  The trickiest parts were th
e downhills. In the dark it was even harder to see which bits dropped away, and which bits were strewn with pea gravel. They were puffing and sweating and had just hiked free from the bottom of a gully, when they heard another sound.

  Something sharp and static, a tortured cross between a wail and a moan and a cry. And it didn’t come from the bush. It came from the walkie-talkie.

  ‘Hello?’ the sound said.

  Deepika grabbed for the button. ‘Mum, is that you?’

  The walkie-talkie was crackly but distinct. ‘Deepika?’ ‘Mum!’

  Deepika ran. Harry was running too, but Deepika surged ahead. ‘Mum?’ She ran wildly into the night. ‘Mum, where are you?’

  The walkie-talkie crackled and cried. ‘Deepika! Deepika, I’m here!’

  They kept running and running until finally they raced around a corner and there she was, lit up in Deepika’s torchlight, waving a torch of her own. She was sitting on the side of the track, leaning against her pack and wrapped in her sleeping bag, one leg propped awkwardly out in front.

  ‘Mum!’

  ‘Deepika!’ Ana held out her arms. ‘Careful,’ she said. ‘My leg.’

  Deepika stepped around the awkward leg and sank into her mum’s embrace. They held each other so tightly it made Harry’s chest hurt. ‘Deepika, I thought I’d lost you …’ Ana pulled away, looking at Deepika’s face, then pulled her close again. ‘I thought …’

  ‘It’s okay, Mum,’ she said. ‘We’re here, it’s going to be all right.’

  Ana didn’t let Deepika out of her arms. She smiled first at Deepika, then at Harry, then at Deepika, over and over. ‘Oh, thank heavens you’re okay. We thought … I couldn’t … I just …’ She fell silent, still holding Deepika’s hand.

  Harry almost couldn’t stand to look. His body began to tremble. Where was his mum? Why wasn’t she here? Why hadn’t she stayed? How could she have left her friend like that? How could she have left him?