Ashes out of Hell Park 2

 The last Bobby has seen of his mother and aunt is when they leave him around 5 pm at the cave to go to a meeting with the tribal elders on the creek bank where the mob always meets.


                                                    Ashes out of Hell: Part 2

 An hour later as the cave became dark, the man of the house lay down on his pillow and tried to sleep; but the noises were louder, and not so comforting when he was all alone. The noises were louder; the dark was darker, and it took on shapes of its own. Even the cave walls seemed to be grotesque and whispering. Bobby's eyes were wide in the dark. But wide staring eyes grow weary, and eventually he slept.

   But then he woke; and while sleep still lingered he coughed, and lay still, trying to adjust his mind and his eyes. In the pitch black he wondered if his mother and aunt had returned. Then he heard it; a strange, loud, roaring in the distance, with something like crackling not far away. He couldn't stop himself from coughing. He lay there, until alarm suddenly gripped his chest when he recognised the smell; it was smoke.

   His vision instantly revealed the black wasn't so black...the black was a dulll reddish orange waving around on the cave walls, and there was an eeriness. The crackling continued but everything else had ceased; and only the low roar continued, like 100 trucks on a road somewhere below the mountain. He coughed more and struggled to breathe. Suddenly fully awake he leapt to his feet and ran to the mouth of the cave, where he was confronted by a world of searing red heat.

   He screamed out, "Mummy! Mummy! Aunty Maisie, Mummy!!" He screamed as loud as his lungs would allow.

   Fear filled his heart and he heard his aunt’s frequent loud admonitions, 'Bobby! if ya don't behave ya goin’ straight to the gates o’ hell!'


   Absently reaching out his hand to lean on the cave entrance, he felt it hot on his hand. "Shit!" The glowing red air was burning his legs and face and he ran back to his sleeping bag, collapsing in a heap and sobbing into his pillow, "Mummy, Mummy, where are you?"


   Waves of burning heat rolled around the cave. Fearfully he cried, "I'm at the gates of hell! Auntie said I'd go to hell! And now I'm there!”
 
   Tragically, he pleaded, "Mummy, comeback."

   Without warning, along with a heavy gust of heat something brushed his face as it rushed past. It felt like a bunch of grass with twigs tangled in it. He heard a gasping and a sort of groaning as it passed. Bobby yelled and flung his hands around, swiping at the intrusion. Jumping to his feet he ran the few feet to the cave entrance again, holding his pillow to his chest. Hopelessly, he cried and called for his mother.

   Finally becoming conscious of his face and shins burning, he sank down against the inside rocky cave wall, huddling behind the pillow instinctively to shade his skin.

   After a time, strangely, the heat seemed to lessen; Bobby edged the pillow from his face and watched in wonder as the great red fire wall slowly retreated back down the mountain. His breathing became easier and his coughing eased.

    Later he would learn that the wind had changed.  As he sat there a great surge of cooler air blew from the back of the mountain, sucking the smoke and heat with it out of the cave. Bobby took a deep breath and found he didn't cough. The burning hot air cooled off a little. He waited, and waited, for his mother and his aunt to come stumbling up the mountain, until fatigue claimed him once more, and the tired child, clutching his pillow, returned to his sleeping bag, where he curled up and fell into an exhausted sleep.

   As a pink dawn bathed the mountain Bobby awakened again, and in the pale early morning light, stared dismally across at the other stilll-empty sleeping bags, until, out of the depressing stillness, he felt he was being watched. His fingers gripped the edge of the pillow as his eyes strained. At last he saw them--round black eyes--eyes ringed with white, returning his stare. Unblinking, they watched each other.

   And then Bobby spoke softly, "G'day, bird, I heard you go past in the night; scared the shit outer me." Then he added, "You come through hell, did ya?"

     A large bedraggled bird had been forced into the back of the cave where it lay injured and frightened, staring fearfully at Bobby, who added, "Ya’ got black stuff all over ya’! An’ ya’ got a broken wing too. Ashes -- that's what it is, ashes and soot all over ya. You sure bin close ta hell!"

    The bird said nothing.

   All of a sudden, Bobby yelled and jumped to his feet when a loud shriek shattered the quiet. The bird shuffled back further and raised one wing.

   “Errk,” it growled, limping and unbalanced.

    “Orrh, you’re a white cockatoo!” exclaimed Bobby.

 The bird staggered uncertainly like a drunk, raising his buttery yellow crest and surveying his surroundings.

   When it screeched again Bobby yelled,  "Aaah!"  clapping his hands over his ears, "Cut that out, bloody noisy cockatoo!" The cockatoo growled and raised his pretty yellow crest twice more.

   "Sheesh! Man! You're noisy! And a bit of a mess...even got your wings burnt -- there's nothin’ much left of ‘em. Anyway, your crest’s still there, most of it, hey?"

   The cockatoo said nothing.

   Then Bobby added, "But don't make those damn screeches like that or you’ll deafen me!" He lay back down on the sleeping bag and his new companion settled itself on the cave floor.

   With the bird to give him company, Bobby dozed off again, and when he woke up the sun was shining brightly at the mouth of the cave. He sprang to his feet startling his new feathered friend.

   "Sorry fella," he said sinking back down to a sitting position. The cockatoo hardly moved.

   "I better get us some breakfast," Bobby informed the bird importantly. "Keep an eye on things, Ashes." But before he could take more than a few steps, the cockatoo, wobbling backwards, let out his ear piercing screech again.

   Bobby's hands flew to his ears and he agonised, "Aw, shut up Cocky-- a bloke’ll be deaf!"

   Hurrying out of the cave, he returned in half an hour with a cup full of water and three quandongs in his cap. He slapped two slices of white bread together with half a quandong between them for himself and then gave the bird two halves of one to nibble saying, "Now I’ve got one more for you, Ashes, but there’s no more ripe ones left, and these might be a bit burnt. I’ll go back at lunchtime for more water.” They sat quietly, disconsolately nibbling at their food.


 “Sheesh,” Bobby was the first one to utter a sound. “I can’t hear nothin.” No birds sang outside; no frogs croaked; and no dogs barked in the distance. No leaves rustled, and no branches were left on the eucalypts to groan in the breeze. It was just deathly quiet.

    Bobbie thought about his mother and his auntie. “I wish Mummy would come back, and Aunty Maisie too. She’d know what to do... Aunty Maisie always knows what to do.”

    At lunchtime he returned with the water in the cup again, and was happy for the bird to drink what it wanted. “Only got two half-ripe fruits this time,” he told the poor injured creature.

   Suddenly the boy remembered something. He scratched around under his auntie's sleeping bag and came out triumphantly with a small tin of jam. Maisie had half removed the top with a can opener and placed plastic wrap around the open top.

  "Look Ashes," he said happily, "Look what I found. I forgot about Auntie's plum jam. "But we haven't got a knife or a spoon; never mind, we’ll use a stick." As if in reply the cocky gave a growling screech.

   Bobby hurriedly scooped jam on to slices of bread as best he could and they tried an open jam sandwich. Ashes tilted his head first on one side and then on the othr, peering at the offering. He picked tentatively at first, then got stuck in, licking the jam with his little velvety 'mully-grub' tongue, before wiping his beak side to side on one foot.

   Inevitably, supplies were dwindling. Bobby knew what they had wouldn't last long. He sat on his sleeping bag with his back up against the cave wall thinking of his mother and his auntie and dreading what might have happened.

    At once his resources crumbled, and he fell down clutching his pillow and sobbing uncontrollably, jerking out in between sobs, "Mummy, Mummy, where are you? Please come back Mummy. Please, please come back."

  This was now the pattern for Bobby: rebounding from the need to take charge of not only his own welfare but the cockatoo, back to what he really was: a little boy desperate for comfort himself.

  A wretched, troubled night passed slowly and eeriely. Breakfast was a repeat of the day before but Ashes was uncomfortable, gasping and shuffling around, frequently squirting the ground with loose white mess, accompanied by ear-splitting shrieks. Bobby escaped with only tummy cramps but was forced into a major decision.

   "I gotta go and get some help; find some food anyway," he said, half to himself. He left a slice of bread and jam for Ashes, warning, "I think that half-burnt green fruit is making us sick, mate. I'll be back as soon as I can."



Ashes watched him go.

  End of Part 2



END Part 2