Her strategy was now realigned.
41 – The accident
LUCAS STARED OUT THE WINDOW. He already missed Bella. The police officer in the front passenger seat reminded him of her. Was his ego trying to comfort him by seeking familiarity?
Drizzle made tracks on the windscreen. The wipers came on.
The police officer turned around to talk to Lucas. Her hair and style was the same as Bella’s. The ego was still at it. Was he imagining this lady looked more like Bella than she really did? His mind was racing.
“You . . . “
Streaks of green lights flashed through the car. Lucas felt like dirt had been thrown in his eyes, a brief burning sensation. He was shoved violently as the car swerved. Lucas got a quick glimpse of something on the road. A log. Or something like that.
There were screams.
He undid his belt. He tumbled.
An explosion.
Darkness.
<°)))><
Perdu stood at top of the road. Far too steep for her to climb down. The car’s descent was halted by a large tree but had still travelled some eighty metres down the embankment.
One of the rear doors was open and buckled. The force of impact against that tree must have been significant. Among the steam and smoke, she could make out that the front of the car was mangled. The air bags had blown but by the angle of the bodies she doubted the occupants would have survived.
She scanned the scene with her binoculars. She could see little in the tangled mess. She got a glimpse of a head in the front seat, a woman with dark hair. Isabella? Would she have been sitting in the front? Country police could be a bit more relaxed with protocols. Isabella wasn’t a wanted criminal. Chances were high that it was her but Perdu wasn’t one hundred per cent sure. But the chance of survival was slim even in the rear seat.
She looked at the timber log. It had been dragged some distance before the car started its plunge. She would leave it, as it was all part of the accident. The laser beam she shone into the car would have temporarily blinded the driver and sent the car over the cliff anyway. The log just painted a different picture—her timing was immaculate.
Perdu smiled at her handiwork. And then came the explosion. Yes, they were all dead.
<°)))><
A loud noise woke Lucas. Layers of green, with blue filtering through—he was lying down. A warm flow of air brushed against his face. He touched his cheeks and then rubbed his forehead. There was a bump, he touched it gently. It was tender. He shook his head, hoping for clarity. On his knees, he turned and stared at the orange glow filtering through the surrounding bushes. It was a vehicle, and wasn’t far from him. A rear door was open. Had he come from there? Where was he? Who was he?
He smelled rubber. And then heard another bang; more like a loud pop. Tyres exploding?
Confused, he stood up and brushed dry grass and leaves from his trousers. There was a slight rip in the fabric covering his right shoulder. He placed his fingers in the tear and established he had only a surface cut. What had happened?
He looked up from the vehicle. The breeze was blowing smoke up towards what must be the road. Through patches of smoke, he was sure he could make out someone standing up there.
“Hey!” Lucas yelled—or tried to yell. His voice was hoarse. “Hey, you up there.”
He watched as the person turned and started to walk away before pausing and turning back. Did they hear him? As the smoke cleared, Lucas was able to make out that it was a woman. At least, he thought it was. Or a small-framed man. The hair was jet black with some kind of streak in it, short with a large flap to the side.
“Hey, down here.” He tried to shout but his throat was dry and it only came out as a rasp.
The person shrugged, turned, and walked off.
Disappointed, he staggered towards the vehicle, pushing shrubbery out of the way. It was a police vehicle. The heat was intense, and the smell unpleasant, and he couldn’t get close because of the thick smoke and fumes. The front of the vehicle was on fire, and there was no movement from inside the car. Judging by the front of the car, they may well have died in the collision, but if not the toxic fumes would have finished them off. He shook his head, confused. He backed off. There was little he could do for the occupants.
He walked away from the vehicle. A moss-covered log lay amongst the ferns. He sat down. No more creaks or groans from the vehicle. Silence. An eerie silence. No signs of civilisation, except the vehicle. He looked around and his thoughts drifted to those who came before. He sensed or wanted to sense the presence of the original land owners.
He stared towards a clump of trees. A mist rode in from somewhere. A figure stood between the trees. A tall, lean, dark man with long black curly hair—woolly or fuzzy would be a better description—smeared with red paint and draping both sides of his head. He was barely clothed and held something in his right hand: a long thin stick, obviously a spear.
Lucas stared. Not fearful because he sensed it wasn’t real. But then a darkness came up behind the figure, who turned and abruptly vanished. From the darkness came eyes like embers of coal, moving forward. Lucas was now afraid. He stood up and tried to locate a weapon but the ember eyes disappeared. The mist rolled out.
Lucas wasn’t sure how to take what he’d seen. He shook his head and put the vision down to the knock on the head he must have received. He felt dampness on his backside. Moisture had soaked into his pants from the log. Rainforest, an assessment which was confirmed by the leeches he found on his legs. Salt was the best way to get rid of these things, or maybe tea-tree oil. He had neither so he just pulled the suckers off.
He must have been a boy scout or something because he felt attuned to the environment he was in, but something lurked in the background clouding his memory. Did what he just saw come from his memory? He hoped not.
Lucas looked down at his hands and turned the palms over. Not labourer’s hands, nor dish washer. No rings. Who am I?
It looked like a steep climb to the road. He felt okay, and the bump on the head no longer ached. He started climbing, bracing his feet to the rocks and using the ever-present surface roots and vines to pull himself up.
Who was he? He wasn’t sure, but something lingered, a sense of a mission.
He reached the top and stood at the side of the road. Stars were appearing in the darkening sky as daylight receded. He looked to the horizon, but no city lights sending their glow into the night sky. Where was he? Must be out in the bush. Looking back down the steep drop to where the crumbled car rested, he’d been lucky to survive. No sounds. No birdsong. His hand moved to the bump on his forehead. Now he thought about it, it still hurt.
The sound of a car engine broke the silence. What? He thought car engines were silent, at least quiet, maybe humming. Not too many country folk had reverted to electric cars yet. He needed to hide, but there were no hiding places. Too late. The car saw him and pulled over.
The driver wound down his window.
“Lucas, what you doing here?”
The man knew him. And his name was Lucas.
