The General Store

Chapter 31: The Walk Into Town

•February 22nd 1970•
Pat was in Hospital until Australia Day of 1970. He had seen hundreds of specialists and not one word was released about the fact he'd been in hospital for over a month on suicide watch. We missed our trip to Marree for the festive season, so before Pat played against the West Indies in a clash that he was very much looking forward to, we decided it was best to see our family.

'Here's the last one,' I handed Patrick the final bag that we were taking on our venture South.
'Can't believe we kept it to four, that's a record for us Murph.' Pat smiled.
I loved his smile, it reminded me of the first summers day for the year. Every time I see a smile emerge on his lips it was like a bright light after a long winter of vicious storms.

About 8 hours later we found ourselves riding in a Greyhound bus along a dirt track, rain began to sprinkle on the huge windshield. The bus was virtually empty, apart from the two of us and the driver, a soulful country tune sounded as I watched the scenery pass us by.
'Most beautiful place in the world.' Pat whispered, pressing his cheek against the cool window.
'It really is my love.' I intertwined my fingers with his, feeling the pulse in his wrist softly beat.
'You can stand on any oval or any monumental place, but home will always be the most perfect place in the world.' A smile I hadn't seen in a while appeared on his face.
'You've missed this place haven't you?' I leant against his shoulder.
'With my whole being.' He replied as the bus skidded to a hault.
'Sorry about this folks, we can not travel any further due to road closure.' The bus driver announced.
'Only 10 kays to Marree, we'll walk.' Pat rose to his feet and pulled the four bags down from the over head compartment.
'Excuse me?' I looked up at him in shock.
'Don't worry Murph, the rain won't get much heavier, in fact it'll probably ease off, it won't take long I promise, then I'll call into the pub and ring Johnno.' Pat explained, his face alive with excitement. I curled my lips in and pulled my elastic sided boots on.
'Righto, lets go.' I said, pulling my jeans over my socks. We stepped down the bus stairs and into the red mud.
'Barely any rain been through here, look at the blue sky over there.' Pat pointed to the horizon behind us. 'Welcome to the Australian outback.' He shrugged, before linking his arm in mine.
'Do you want me to carry two?' I offered.
'Nope, I'll carry them, no trouble.' Pat replied.
So, we walked. Trudging down the abandoned road, chatting about our childhoods and telling stories of our English experiences.
'During our school holidays Johnno and I used to play cricket for hours, Mum reckons we would bowl a thousand balls a day if not more.' Pat chuckled at the memory.
'My brothers and I used to spend days inside the rainforest, we'd load up old crates with food and maybe a toothbrush and we'd camp out.' I responded, I recalled how Jarrah would never let us out of his sight and how Dover would always sneak off to go swimming or tree climbing.
Patrick fell quiet as we made to it the five kilometre mark.
'You o-'
'Murph I'm ready to tell you now.' The words gurgled in his throat.
'Tell me what?' I asked.
'About what happened while I was lost.' He hung his head.

•Patrick's Perspective•
I could feel his hands throwing my shoulders back, the his arm winding around my neck as I screamed into his hand. Vietnamese words swirled in my head as something collided with my temple. I remember not even flinching as his stick continued to slam into my head, until I fell asleep.

I woke with my hands behind my back and my ankles tied. The Vietnamese guard hollered to his comrades and they swarmed into the clearing. An Australian solider was hanging between two trees, his arms above his head. His haunting eyes pleaded for me to do something and I tried to move. A man with a machete stood in front of me, a terrifying smile cutting his face. The Australian yelled out to me and I yelled out to him. Then the knife slashed across the torso of the Australian and his bottom half feel to the ground. Blood pooled out of his body as I squeezed my eyes shut. The man was still alive, he screamed and screamed, as did I. Then everything's stopped. Every voice, every single noise fell silent and I watched the young man's head droop down. 

That night I untied my ankles with my cramping fingers. I bolted into the unknown, the darkness frightening me and the screams of dying soldiers lingered in my mind. I couldn't wipe my mind of the Australian man at the camp.
I was hungry.
Thirsty.
Tired.
Broken.

•Brooklyn's Perspective•
'I spent my weeks roaming the jungle. Drinking water off leaves and eating things that I didn't even know were edible. I saw dead bodies and deranged men who were just as lost as me. I couldn't find anywhere and then one day I just sat down at the door of this massive tree, I couldn't help but imagine the day we met and in those few moments of bliss I fell asleep.' Patrick's mind was somewhere else but I could tell talking to me was consoling his soul. Tears were streaming down both our cheeks as we came into the town. I stopped and threw my arms around him, nuzzling into his chest and feeling his hands hold my head.
'I wish I was there.' I said.
'No, I'm glad you weren't, because if I didn't have you I'd be dead and I have so much more life ahead of me because of you.' Pat kissed me softly, as we stood in each other's embrace.