The Bunyip Collection

Chapter 8

Before he went to sleep, Tristram stared with tired anxiety into a yellow fragment of the opal. He wanted a happy thought to banish the nightmares of the last two days…

It was Friday night, and a little boy watched the television. He was two years old, with hair that was auburn, fine and shiny. There was a squeal of mirth and clapping as the toddler tried to sing along with the Muppets…

“Dut da der dut, ta-dut da… Dut da der dadut da…”

There was the delicious, savoury smell of salt, oil, and butcher paper. Friday night was fish ‘n’ chip night.

Suddenly Tristram chuckled and a deep love embraced him from the inside. The chuckle was husky and familiar. It was Toby’s. Tristram was looking at himself as a baby with his grandfather’s eyes. The realisation was strange, beautiful, and sad.

Two-year-old Tristram grinned at Kermit the frog, and then his eyes widened with wonder at a big shaggy monster Muppet with large, rolling yellow eyes. He turned and beamed at his grandfather.

“A monsder!”

“Yes,” Tristram answered with his grandfather’s light, pleasant voice. “A monster.”

monster“I wan’ do see a monsder one day!”

“Really? Most kids are scared of monsters.”

A frown from the child. “Why?”

Tristram grinned at the boy’s innocence. “Mmm. Children always ask such good questions.”

The toddler did not hear the response as Gonzo fought with Miss Piggy…

Tristram fell asleep as his eyes slipped away from the memory…

The opal was the most precious thing in the world, and as long as he had it with him, he would never feel alone or disconnected from the ones he loved.

The opal was the most precious thing in the world, and as long as he had it with him, he would never feel alone or disconnected from the ones he lovedOutside by the fire, Holly hugged herself and smoked. Fred had departed, and everyone else but Russell had just gone to bed.

“What’s on your mind, darl?” Russell asked quietly.

“Huh? Oh…just Fred’s stories.”

“They were rather vivid. I wish I had heard the one about the bloody bunyip before the children did. That’d spook any child.”

vivid“The stories were good, darl.” Holly murmured. “Fred came here deliberately to tell them. I think there really is a monster out there that wants to eat my children.”

“Holly.”

Holly“I’m serious.”

“OK.” Russell nodded respectfully. After a thoughtful pause, he added “You know, Hol…last night it was me who made those cries…”

“I know. You did the right thing.”

“Yeah…but you know what else? I had a feeling that I was being watched as I came back into the clearing.”

“Maybe it was your father.”

“No…I felt cold all over. I told myself it was just the night air. But after Fred’s story…well…I don’t know.”

“I think there is something out there. That’s why I am going to sit up and watch the camp.”

“I’ll stay up with you, if you like.”

“Thanks…”

“We’re going home tomorrow, anyway…we’ll have a good sleep tomorrow night.”

As Holly and Russell kept a vigil by the fire, the children slept deeply. The night wore on without alarm or incident. Finally, after hours of whispered conversation, dawn stretched over the hills. The magpies and currawongs announced the onset of day, and the parents felt it safe to go to bed.

As Russell and Holly snuggled into their sleeping bag, little Jase was wide awake and looking at his sleeping brother. He had seen Tristram look at the opal the night before and draw comfort from its universe of experience and sensation. Jase needed comfort himself. The camping trip was almost over, and Tristram and Pyran had spent most of the time together away from himself and Saffi. Jase loved Tristram and looked to him for guidance in this time of bewildered sadness. Maybe Tristram would let him look at the jewel again when he woke up…maybe he would see Granddad Toby in there.

Tristram was dreaming as morning approached.

Wide, white eyes stare up at him from under the water. There is the nasal singing of children. His wonder turns to alarm in an instant – wide, white eyes before the instant of death!

Wide, white eyes stare up at him from under the water. There is the nasal singing of children. His wonder turns to alarm in an instant – wide, white eyes before the instant of death!The water parts and the teeth have him. The spirits of the children scream and run through the trees, and Tristram’s spirit joins them as it flees panic-stricken from his twitching corpse. Children’s eyes wide in terror – their pleasant lullaby revealed for what it really is – a warning, a scream warped by an evil magic.

The water parts and the teeth have him. The spirits of the children scream and run through the trees, and Tristram’s spirit joins them as it flees panic-stricken from his twitching corpse. Children’s eyes wide in terror – their pleasant lullaby revealed for what it really is – a warning, a scream warped by an evil magic.The old witch doctor laughs, orange eyes ablaze with horrible triumph.

The old witch doctor laughs, orange eyes ablaze with horrible triumph.“Didn’t ya hear boy?” He says and he looks exactly like Fred. “MacDougall blood will see it through.”

“Didn’t ya hear boy?” He says and he looks exactly like Fred. “MacDougall blood will see it through.”Jase was shaking Tristram gently. Tristram started awake, his blood hurtling through him, his nerves on fire. He recognised his little brother.

“Jase.” He breathed, as he came to himself.

“Good morning, Tris.” Jase whispered. “Were you having a nightmare?”

“Yes.”

“What about?”

Tristram considered the dream, as its awful spell was shattered by the reassuring light of dawn, and the wide hazel eyes of his curly haired little brother.

“Just about the mirachy, Jase. Nothing serious.” He whispered and relaxed into the warmth of his sleeping bag.

“I was dreaming too.” Jase said, but Tristram was only half listening. Sleep beckoned to him again…

“It wasn’t a nightmare…” Jase whispered, looking at his brother who had now closed his eyes. “It was about ducks.”

ducksJase was disappointed at Tristram’s lack of interest.

“Tris?”

No response.

“Tris?”

“Mmm?”

“Tris?”

Tris“What?!” Tristram was awake again, with an impatient glare.

Jase blinked and bit his lip. He wished that Tristram would just listen to him, the way everyone else in the family did. He didn’t understand his brother’s aloofness, and the way Tristram and Pyran had avoided himself and Saffi. Why couldn’t he play and talk with him? Didn’t he love him? However, little Jase was too young to articulate these feelings. All he could do was shyly ask for what he wanted.

“Can I look at Granddad Toby’s opal again?”

“No.” Was the flat response.

“Please?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Not now, Jase. Go back to sleep.”

“Please, Tris?”

PleaseTristram was now awake and furious. “Jase,” He whispered harshly through gritted teeth, clutching his brother’s pyjamas and pulling Jase violently towards him. “I said ‘no! Now leave me alone and go back to sleep!”

JaseI said ‘no! Now leave me alone and go back to sleepTristram shoved the shocked little boy away from him and turned his back on his brother. He was immediately sorry, as he heard a gentle sobbing behind him, but he was determined to ignore it.

Within ten minutes, Tristram was back to sleep.

Outside the tent, little Jase sat in silent tears. Out of the three children, he was the quietest. He rarely complained or cried, and when he did, it was always in gentle sobs. He took everything his family said or did straight to heart, and any criticism or harsh word from Tristram was especially painful. Toby’s death was not real to him – but the tragic change in his family permeated every cell in his sensitive soul.

The sun was not yet above the trees, but its light was warm and green in the forest. Another bright day. Jase dried his tears on his sleeve and thought about the ducks.

Suddenly he thought he saw one at the edge of the forest. He squinted, but the shapes were indistinct as the light came into his eyes. Was that a duck or just a tussock of grass or bracken?

The shape moved again, and Jase was nearly certain that it was a duck. He heard a distant quack, but it was so faint that he might have imagined it. He decided to go over for a closer look.

As he wandered closer, he saw that it was indeed a most beautiful duck, just like the ones he had seen in the opal. If Jase knew the species, he would have told any who would listen that it was a mountain duck. It waddled comically across the grass and wagged its tail feathers, which made Jase grin.

It was closer to the edge of the forest than he had previously thought.

Jase wanted to get as close as possible to the friendly looking duck, but just as he got to within about five metres of it, it waddled slowly away…into the bush.

into the bushJase stood at the edge of the forest in uncertainty. The gum leaves glowed, the bracken shone with dew. How far would the duck go? He would follow it a little way.

Minutes later, Jase had wandered after the duck a good distance into the forest and totally forgotten himself. Always, he almost got close enough for a satisfactory look at the bird – then it would turn a corner. When he heard the babbling stream, Jase was suddenly alarmed by how far he had come. The duck stopped still and looked quizzically at him.

Jase turned back, but the bush looked shadowed and forboding. He turned to the amiable duck again, and saw an inviting, sunlit path. He was anxious and undecided.

Suddenly he heard his mother’s voice through the trees, perhaps just a few metres ahead of him on the track.

“Mummy?” He called in his soft voice.

He listened but heard only the stream.

“Mum?” Jase called again and walked further along the track.

Jase…said an indistinct voice that may have been Holly’s. It could have come from his imagination.

Jase“Mummy?” He called again, walking rapidly even further along the track until suddenly he was standing beside the stream.

In the distance, again he heard his mother. Where was she?

The duck had begun to waddle along the path beside the stream. Jase squinted up the stony river and blinked nervously. The duck was heading up to that scary pool…

The duck was heading up to that scary poolThe thought was interrupted as Jase saw a figure turning the corner, about a hundred and fifty metres ahead of him. He didn’t get a good look, but the transient phantom may have been Holly.

“Jase.” Called a more definite voice, and Jase was now certain that it was his mother ahead of him.

JaseHe shrugged, smiled and then wandered happily after the duck along the stream towards his doom.