A Dangerous Land, page 18
Mr McKenzie started up with his coughing again, this time a raspy wheezing sound escaping his lungs. The old man was not faring well, and this time there really wasn’t anything Daniel could do. He crawled over to where Mr McKenzie lay in the sand and patted his back. Mr McKenzie eventually passed out from exhaustion. Daniel closed his eyes, and the next thing he knew, he was woken in the dead of the night by terrible moaning. Mr McKenzie was lashing in his sleep, his head whipping back and forth as his body shook uncontrollably.
“Get down! Get down! The Japs!” Mr McKenzie yelled, but when Daniel looked around, all he could see was trees billowing in the pitch-black night. “Where is she? They’re coming. Shoot them before it’s too late!”
Daniel shook Mr McKenzie, but it did nothing to shake him out of his delusions. The fever had seized his mind, and without Silas and his witchdoctoring to help, Daniel wasn’t sure he’d make it through the night. He stared at the old man for a minute longer, thinking of his father and the similar way he went, dying of malaria’s unremitting fever.
Daniel had stayed by his father’s side for days, holding his hand as the doctors tried to bring him back to the land of the living, while his father’s blue eyes stared blankly into the distance, devoid of all feeling. Daniel wiped the sweat from his auburn brow with a cold cloth, running it down the length of his cheek as he looked at this man who’d given him everything, this man who was his only connection to the world he so desperately longed for. His chin trembled as he thought of his life without him, wondering how he would manage with no one to love him. His father blinked, a small smile forming as his gaze came into focus, and two dimples pressed into his cheeks.
“Daniel, son,” he said, voice raspy as he forced the words out. “You’ll be okay. George will look after you. I know it.”
Daniel swallowed. “But he’s not you, Dad.”
“No. But he’ll ensure you have a place in this world.” His father closed his eyes for the last time, and Daniel’s heart shattered.
Now, watching Mr McKenzie fade away in much the same way, he felt little emotion for the man who’d found him a place that was much different to what his father would’ve imagined. Daniel turned to his other side and forced himself back to sleep, wondering how long it would take before he would go too. Without food and water, was he destined to die out here? And would Amelia ever know how much he truly loved her?
* * *
Daniel woke to soft whimpering, the sound akin to the morning birdsong that reverberated through the trees. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up and glanced at Mr McKenzie. He was still alive.
Daniel snickered. Of course the bull won’t go so easily.
Mouth sticky, he crawled to the water’s edge, trying to ignore the pains in his stomach, the ache in his limbs and head, and slurped the brackish water. He knew he was bound to end up with dysentery for it but didn’t care. When he’d had enough, he pulled a leaf from a fallen branch and scooped water into it, which he poured into Mr McKenzie’s mouth. He groaned in acceptance. Sweat trickled down his brow, and a greyish tinge stained his cheeks. He opened his eyes, the whites tinged red as he stared blankly at Daniel.
“Can’t believe you’re going to be the last thing I see,” he managed to say with a chuckle. “At least it’s not that halfwit Silas, though I could really do with one of his potions right now.”
Daniel swallowed, unsure why he was feeling this way, when only last night he’d felt indifferent towards Mr McKenzie. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? For Amelia’s father to be out of the picture so he had a chance at being with her. But each time it was close to happening, something inside of Daniel stirred. Whether he liked it or not, he was attached to Mr McKenzie. Daniel couldn’t put his finger on it, but the feelings were there nonetheless. And yet again, he didn’t know how to communicate them. He opened his mouth, but the words were trapped, twenty years of emotions refusing to surface.
Mr McKenzie saved him the trouble. He mumbled, “Promise me you’ll look after her,” before closing his eyes again, chest easing into a slow rise and fall.
Daniel tilted his head to the side. Did he really say that? A last wish by a dying father? A blessing?
Whatever it was, Daniel didn’t have time to dwell on it, for a loud rumbling noise, like a plane, sounded overhead. Looking to the sky, he searched through the treetops for the Zeros and Bettys that had already wreaked so much havoc on their lives, but came up with nothing. The sound was too low to be a plane, too constant, more of a dull put-put-put like a boat would make.
A boat?
Daniel stood and looked down the river, that sliver of hope surfacing again. He tried to push it away, to force himself to accept the reality of their situation, that they were stranded on a sandbank in the middle of nowhere – but that was the thing with hope … it was always there, worming its way into his heart.
And then, there it was: a boat, cruising around the riverbend, a waitman at its helm. Daniel let out a laugh. The absurdity of it all. Being saved by the white man in the end. He was wearing a long black robe and tight white collar – a priest, accompanied by a group of locals, one of whom was Silas.
“Hallo!” Silas yelled as he waved from the bow.
Daniel smiled and waved back, knowing who the true saviour was.
* * *
“He hasn’t woken in three days,” Daniel said to Silas as they stood over Mr McKenzie’s lifeless body. His breath was shallow and rasping as it slowly escaped his lungs.
They were in the haus sik on Yule Island, a Catholic mission fifty miles from Port Moresby. The priest Silas had found was from Terapo Mission at the mouth of the Lakekamu. Silas had convinced him to send a boat in search of Daniel and Mr McKenzie. The priest and Silas had taken them down the river, where they were met by the miners, and then Silas and the boys had carried Mr McKenzie another forty miles up the beach to Yule Island. It was a haven for the group of battered men who were in desperate need of care. First founded by French missionaries of the Sacred Heart in 1885, it had been a stopping point for nuns and priests on their way out to Australia from the Notre Dame. The fact that it was still open even though war had been declared was something of a miracle, a true Godsend for Mr McKenzie and the other men.
But Mr McKenzie wasn’t getting any better.
“He needs to rest,” Silas kept saying. “You all do.”
“We don’t have time to rest,” Daniel replied impatiently. “I need to get to Port Moresby before it’s too late.”
Silas narrowed his eyes. “Ah … yes. This Papuan group you’re so desperate to join. And what will you do if they don’t take you? You are from New Guinea after all.”
“I’ll figure something out.” Daniel bit his lower lip, looking around at the beds of sick men, the other miners who’d made their way across the Bulldog. Apart from sore and blistered feet, he was thankfully feeling okay, ready to press on. The fact he’d been given another chance at life cemented his need to let Amelia know how much he loved her.
“There’s no reason why you have to stay,” Silas said as he pressed a cold sponge to Mr McKenzie’s forehead. He met Daniel’s eye and added, “Go. You’ve done all you can for him. He is thankful, even if he can’t say it.”
“What if he doesn’t make it? How can I ever look Amelia in the face again knowing I walked away when her father was dying?”
“Amelia knows the good that flows through your heart. That’s why she loves you. She will not blame you for her father’s death.”
Daniel nodded, fighting back the burning sensation that was creeping up his throat. “And you? Will I see you again?”
Silas smiled. “If my masta has his way, I’m sure you will.”
Daniel scratched his chin, but left it at that. He squeezed Silas’s shoulder while whispering, “Tenkyu tru.”
Silas offered a curt nod and refixed his attention on Mr McKenzie. Daniel whispered his own words of goodbye to the man, not daring to say anything out loud for fear of tears escaping. He turned on his heel, walked out the hospital doors and was met by bright blue skies that were the same shade as the adjoining ocean. He shielded his eyes from the harsh sun, wondering what now. How the hell was he going to get to Port Moresby and find Amelia all on his own?
27
Amelia
The sisters hobbled across the runway; the ground was dusty and the air sweltering, and the chafing between Amelia’s thighs stung with each step. Ahead of them, the sick men were being loaded onto the plane, Tom practically skipping towards the Hudson that was gearing up for take-off. How he’d managed to get out of duty in his perfectly fit state was beyond Amelia’s comprehension, but she imagined it had something to do with his privilege. She stuck her tongue out at him, wishing her eyes would burn a hole in the back of his neck.
“You’re something,” Evelyn said with a little laugh. The energy it took her to say that made her convulse into a coughing fit. Amelia stroked her back and waited while Evelyn caught her breath. When she had settled, Evelyn added, “But Tom’s a right jerk. He deserves every ill wish against him.”
“I’m glad we can agree on that … I wish we weren’t leaving without knowledge of Dad and Daniel.”
“Me too. I’m sick with worry about it. They really should’ve been here by now. Should we stay a few more days? See if they arrive?”
A flicker of excitement surged up Amelia’s spine at the thought, but was quickly diminished by the sight of the pallor of Evelyn’s face. They couldn’t stay any longer. “You know we can’t do that, Ev. You need to see a doctor, and God knows we’re both in desperate need of a change of clothes,” she added, trying to make light of the situation.
The Hudson roared to life, deafening Amelia’s muddled mind. She thought she’d have been more excited to be near an aeroplane again, but a sense of dread had seized her stomach. Even though she could barely hear her own thoughts, she swore she could hear her name being called and turned to look back at the hangars. She squinted into the bright sun, but could only see the verdant hills that rolled on for miles. There was a group of locals gathered on the other side of the fence that lined the aerodrome, at least twenty of them with their faces pressed to the metal. One of them waved as if he knew her. She raised her hand above her eyes to get a better look through the blinding sun, but it was too hard to see. Then, out of nowhere, came a loud buzzing noise, like a swarm of bees. She looked to the sky and stiffened. What looked like tiny birds were moving into a V formation, but birds wouldn’t make such a penetrating sound … only planes. Enemy planes. The Japanese had made their way to Port Moresby.
Amelia turned to Evelyn, who looked cadaverous with fear. And then a piercing scream – the “red alert” – sounded, and the drome ascended into overdrive. But there were no Allied planes to counter the attack. Only the lone Hudson they were trying to escape on. A crack of bullets came thudding down, a tune of noises that were loud enough to leave anyone rooted to the spot. Amelia ducked to the ground, pulling Evelyn down with her. She threw her arms over them as their bodies shook in tempo to the downpour of bullets falling around them. Her heart had taken off like a prize filly, but she could barely move. Through it all, she could still hear Evelyn whimpering, her once resilient sister reduced to a cowering lamb. In that moment, she knew it would be up to her to get them out.
“Come on!” she screamed through all the noise, pulling Evelyn towards the Hudson. A loud whoosh exploded near the building they’d been waiting in earlier that day. She pushed Evelyn inside the plane, jumped in after her, and secured the door as the wheels gained speed. Evelyn cowered in the corner, knees to her chest as she rocked back and forth. Tom was also inside, eyes alight. Amelia lunged towards the window to peer outside as they whooshed up the runway.
A high-pitched whistling sound was followed by the whomp! whomp! of exploding bombs. Pillows of smoke shot into the sky. The locals who’d been waiting at the fence had all fled into the bush, except for one, who was jumping and running as the plane went past. Amelia gaped, wondering who’d be crazy enough to stand around while bombs came pouring down, when another one exploded behind the man, and he was engulfed in a cloud of smoke.
Amelia looked away as that familiar feeling of her stomach dropping took hold, the nose of the plane lunging upwards as she silently said her final goodbyes to her beloved home.
28
Daniel
Determination proved to be as futile as hope. Journeying up the remaining Papuan coast and into Port Moresby wasn’t as simple as Daniel had hoped. Food wasn’t the main problem – he’d been able to fish along the way – but the locals were wary and reluctant to help. The villagers he came across were clearly unsure of what this light-skinned black man wanted from them. Daniel supposed they’d been accustomed to visits by the waitman and his entourage of locals through the patrols that’d taken place since Papua was first made a protectorate of Britain in 1885. But to have a lone man whose skin was the same shade of brown as theirs but who clearly wasn’t one of them made them suspicious.
When he finally got to Port Moresby three days after leaving Mr McKenzie, he was convinced his search for Amelia would turn up empty. It’d been nearly a month since he last saw her. That look of devastation was still seared into his brain. She had to have left for Australia by now; Daniel estimated a journey up the New Guinea coast would have taken no more than two weeks. But perhaps, like him, she’d been delayed along the way. At the very least, he could find out what’d happened to the group of injured men who were to be evacuated from Kokoda, and gain peace in knowing if she’d safely made it to Australia.
After searching out the appropriate office amongst the buildings scattered throughout Port Moresby, Daniel was told to head to the aerodrome at Seven Mile, where the RAAF were headquartered. No one would give him much more information than that, the whites being as unwilling to help a dark-skinned white man as much as the blacks had been.
“What is it you’re after?” a pudgy man at headquarters asked him. They’d refused to let Daniel inside the building, so the man had grudgingly met him at the front entrance.
“I’d like news of the party that escaped Salamaua,” Daniel replied.
The man sneered. “What’s it to you?”
“There’s family of mine in the group.”
“We haven’t any news of the men who escaped over the Black Cat. They were supposed to arrive in Moresby by now. In fact, I had someone else enquiring about them this morning.”
“I’m not referring to the party of men who made it to Wau. Though surely you should know of their whereabouts? You were the ones who refused to send a plane.”
The man looked at his watch, before glancing back at Daniel. “Was there anything else? You’ve taken up enough of my time already.”
Daniel swatted a mosquito away. “I want to know what happened to the group of sick men who were evacuated from Kokoda. They journeyed down the coast with two women … two nurses?”
“Oh … that lot. Yeah, we managed to get them out – the men and the nurses.”
Daniel’s shoulders relaxed, his body suddenly light.
Amelia’s okay.
“Only yesterday, in fact. They got delayed due to bad weather over Kokoda. Due to be evacuated to Australia today. In fact, their Hudson should be leaving any minute now, which is a relief, as one of the women in the group was in bad shape.” He nodded at the aerodrome, but Daniel was already on his way, feet moving faster than the fat man’s lips.
His legs pushed him over the rolling hills that lined the runway, cutting through the wafts of kunai that scratched at his calves. Over the rise, he saw a plane with the distinct angular tail of a Hudson Lockheed. He paused at the top of the hill, watching as men on stretchers were loaded onto the plane. One of them looked like Tom. And behind them, two women, hobbling across the tarmac, their looks so similar it was hard to tell who was who.
He yelled her name. It would have been hard to hear over the roar of the Hudson’s engine, so he ran down the hill to get closer and was shocked when he came to bottom to find a barbed-wired fence blocking his way. A group of locals were hovering at the fence, watching in awe at the “big fella binatangs” who were about to take off. Daniel screamed Amelia’s name again through the fence, but she kept walking. He cupped his hands to his mouth and tried again. This time she stopped and turned to look in his direction. Waving his arms frantically, he prayed she could see him through the blinding mid-morning sun that was pointing in her direction. He kept screaming her name, mustering every last bit of sound he could expel from his lungs, but it didn’t seem to cut through the noise of the engine.
And then came another sound, one he’d become all too familiar with over the past few weeks. He looked to the sky and spotted them immediately: the Japanese Zeros and Bettys with their distinct chattering noise and red emblems. The chatter was soon drowned out by the wail of sirens and the whoosh of bombs meeting earth. Daniel looked back at Amelia, who seemed frozen in place, staring at the sky as if she could change the course of the war, until out of nowhere she started moving, pushing Evelyn into the plane that was gearing for take-off.
He screamed her name one more time, gripping the fence, throat burning as tears poured down his cheeks, his desperation for her to know how much he loved her finally materialising into actions. And then the plane gained speed, coursing up the runway. Daniel ran along the length of the fence after it, another loud whooshing sound the last thing he heard before everything went black.
II
Part Two
May 1942
29
Amelia
