Page 74 of Lost In Kakadu

The large battery seemed promising, but no practical use for it had presented itself yet.

The glass lens had somehow survived the impact. It flashed in the sun, winking at him, and he knelt down, unscrewed it and turned it over in his hand. It was about the size and weight of a coffee mug and when he peered through it the magnification triggered a rare, pleasant memory from his childhood.

He remembered playing with a school friend, whose name escaped him. They were crouching on a patch of grass, using the sun’s rays and a magnifying glass to melt little plastic army men. Afterwards they’d rolled around in the grass laughing at some of their hideous creations.

Mackenzie knelt beside the fire and held the lens at an angle that allowed the sun to penetrate the glass. He directed the focal point to a mound of dried grass and stared at the spot, waiting for something to happen. Moments later, a grey thread of smoke drifted from the pile.

He carefully blew on the kindling. “Yes!”

The flames grabbed the dry sticks and a few beats later the morning fire blazed.

“Hey Charlie, I did it. Mackenzie … fire maker.”Now for breakfast.He grabbed his pack and headed into the bush.

Soon the broken body of the plane was just a white shape in the distance. He flicked open the thin, two-inch blade on the knife and tested its sharpness by running his thumb across it. It was as blunt as a butter knife and completely useless.

He returned it to his pocket and removed the axe from the backpack; it too had dulled from repeated use; however, it was better than the knife. Pausing at a large eucalyptus tree, he chopped at the bark carving a notch at eye level. This was his third marking for the day in a series of markers along his travelled path.

The tough bark resisted the blade, and he grunted as he hacked at it. He paused to adjust his footing and his heart skipped a beat at movement out of the corner of his eye.

A scrub turkey raised its taloned foot and stepped in slow exaggerated movements toward him, apparently completely unaware he was even there. As it moved, the bird’s bald red head bobbed backward and forward as if it were nodding approval. The bright yellow wattle dangling below its beak swung from side to side in a slow rhythm and athick plume of dark purple feathers spiked up from its back. The bird took another step and pecked at the ground.

Mackenzie held his breath and with a practised aim, he pegged the axe. It sailed through the air, looking like it would hit its mark, but the weapon bounced off the bird’s back and slammed into the rotting forest floor.

“Shit!”

The turkey bolted, its three front claws digging into the red dirt as it powered through the underbrush.

Mackenzie raced after it, keeping his eyes on its tail as it darted left and right, trying to shake him. As they passed into a small clearing, he took a gamble and dived, and to his surprise—and the bird’s—came down with his hands around its neck. It was over in an instant.

He sat on the rust-coloured dirt with the carcass in his lap staring into the bird’s red-rimmed black eyes. The black hairs jutting from the bird’s wrinkled skin like a worn-out hairbrush were as coarse as wire.

“Sorry.” He smoothed its silken feathers with his palm. “I had to do it.”

Each time he killed an animal, Mackenzie marvelled at his accomplishment. Charlie had suggested that in order to survive he’d need to adapt, but he never thought he’d be capable of killing animals with his bare hands. It surprised him how much he thrived on the power of the chase and the thrill of capture. Having relied on Rodney for his entire adult life, he was empowered by his newfound self-sufficiency. It was ultimate freedom.

We’re having roast turkey tonight.

He’d utilize every part of the bird. The pieces they couldn’t eat would be perfect goanna bait, the feathers would plump up their pillows and the bones will make an excellent stock.

Cradling the heavy bird in his arms, he considered delicious meal options as he searched around for the axe. A collection of white rocks nestled high on a dirt mound attracted his attention.

A bird nest!

“Thank you.”

After placing the bird into his pack, he gathered the four eggs up in his shirt. He instantly began thinking of ways to cook them and grinned like a prize winner at the promise of a decent meal for a change.

When he reached the campsite, Abi was writing in her journal by the fire and the sun shone through the tree canopy like her own personal reading lamp.

“Close your eyes,” he called from behind the plane. “I have a surprise.”

She sat upright and placed her diary on the seat next to her. “What is it?”

“Put your hands over your eyes, you cheater.”

She obeyed. “Tell me.”

“Wait.” Mackenzie placed the eggs in the bowl on the ground and removed the turkey from his pack. He displayed the bird on the plane wing table and then raced over to Abi. He put one hand over her eyes and the other under her elbow to guide her.

---