Page 40 of Lost In Kakadu

His last thought, before he slipped from consciousness, was that his own ragged breathing sounded like that of a dying man.

ChapterSeventeen

With each gulp of rum, Charlie’s words slurred more until he was totally beyond comprehension. When Charlie began to giggle, Mackenzie was relieved that the old man was finally feeling some relief from the agony that would’ve consumed him.

Mackenzie looked up at Abigail. The pure terror on her face matched his feelings.

Can I do this?

As he willed his grubby fingers to stop trembling, he looked down at the frail old man. Charlie’s skin was deathly pale and if it wasn’t for his laboured breathing he could be mistaken for a dead man. Mackenzie shook the ill-timed thought from his mind, turned toward the fire and tried to arrange his thoughts to something useful.

“What are we going to do?” Abigail crouched down next to him.

“We have no choice. He needs us now.”

“Is he going to die?” She sucked on her bottom lip as if attempting to halt her trembling chin.

Tense silence stretched between them.

“No. He’s not dying here, not today.” The conviction in his voice belied the terror in his mind. He looked away from her. His mind drifted to Rodney. He would’ve known exactly what to do. He always had a plan, no matter what the situation. Mackenzie snapped out of it.Thinking like this was pointless and only prolonged what had to be done. Right now, he needed to focus.

“Let’s get this over with.” He let out a heavy breath.

The baked bean can he’d filled with water and nestled within the blazing coals was now bubbling over. Using a T-shirt, he removed it from the fire. It sizzled when he placed it on level ground. He squatted down and poured a small quantity of cold water onto his hands and then massaged a cake of soap into a thick lather.

“Here.” He held the soap toward Abigail.

She didn’t move. Mackenzie saw so much fear in her eyes he wondered if she was going to pass out.

“Abi, take the soap.”

Her hand went to her chest. “I can’t do this. What if he dies?”

Charlie’s life was in his hands. A chill settled in the base of his spine at the weight of that responsibility. He couldn’t do this without her. “I can’t do this on my own, Abi. I need you.”

She blinked at him, as if weighing up his words.

“Hewilldie if we don’t do anything.”

The fear in her eyes actually intensified as she reached for the soap. “I don’t know what to do.”

For a brief second, their hands touched, and he felt her trembling fingers. “Neither do I. But we have to try.”

Charlie’s snoring was of little reassurance when they returned to him with the boiled water, a bundle of clean shirts and the cake of soap.

Mackenzie knelt beside him. “Help me get his shirt off.” He began weaving Charlie’s thin arm through the shirt sleeve.

Abigail moved to the opposite side of Charlie and dropped to her knees. Their eyes met and Mackenzie saw both fear and resignation within.

He nodded at her. “We’re doing the right thing.”

“I hope so.”

Mackenzie had to lift Charlie so Abigail could take his shirt off. Fresh blood seeped up around the shattered grey bone and Mackenzie rode a wave of nausea, pushing through the churning in his stomach to continue working on Charlie. Realising he was holding his breath, he slowly let it out, trying to calm his nerves and steady his hands.

“Wet one of those shirts with the boiled water.”

Abigail chose a shirt from Spencer’s suitcase that, based on the quality of the fabric and insignia on the collar, would’ve cost hundreds of dollars. She handed the wet shirt over and Mackenzie gently wiped the crusted blood around Charlie’s wound.

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