Page 25 of Vanishing Point

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‘Okay.’ Benjamin stopped, leaned over and untied the rope. Katherine quickly put sleeping Carolyn on the central seat and rubbed the marks around her wrist where the rope had chafed. Her hand tingled as blood flowed back into a more normal position. She stretched her whole body to ease the stiffness from sitting so awkwardly. Carolyn sensed the activity, woke and started to cry. Turning slightly away from Benjamin, Katherine breast-fed her baby. The child gazed into her mother’s eyes between suckling and Katherine gently caressed the soft top of her head. The closeness of her baby gave her some small sense of comfort.

Benjamin pulled the decompression lever to end the activity of the engine, turned off the ignition and got out of the vehicle, taking the opportunity to walk into the scrub for a pee.

Katherine noticed he took the keys with him.

Carolyn finally collapsed into a malleable milk-satisfied, replete rag doll, eyes shut and head lolling back over Katherine’s knees as she peacefully went back to sleep.

‘We gunna git goin’ now,’ grumbled Benjamin. ‘If ya need to change bubs or ‘ave a piss, now’s the time.’

Katherine changed her daughter’s nappy and they resumed the journey. They drove in silence, following the beams of light as they bounced forward in time to the Land Rover’s uneven pace across the track. Katherine could see only as far as the beams reached, the road ahead as uncertain as her future.

They made camp well after dark by which time Katherine was exhausted, mentally and physically. Benjamin organised the camp in the same way as the previous night but this time roped her ankle through the bumper of the Land Rover and from there to his wrist. In spite of the discomfort and Carolyn waking several times during the night, she managed to sleep fitfully. Each time she woke she heard Benjamin snoring nearby and wondered if she would be able to free herself and get the keys to the Land Rover. She knew they were in the pocket of his trousers, partly rolled under his head. Once or twice she tried to untie her ankle but the knot was too tight and the movement caused the rope to Benjamin’s wrist to tighten. As soon as this happened he stopped snoring and Katherine froze.

* * *

The morning sun cast long shadows across the red sand plains, making the scattered, stunted mallee bushes and spinifex grasses appear larger than they were. The shadows lapped the walls of the Travellers Village.

A Yugoslav migrant, who spoke little English and was just starting her new life in a most remote part of Australia, carried her cleaning equipment into the ladies toilet. After sweeping, emptying the bins and cleaning the toilets, she took a cloth and vigorously wiped at the broken mirror. She swore under her breath. The waxy writing was difficult to remove and left illegible smudges in spite of her ardent efforts. She left, feeling well pleased with herself that, even though she had not been able to clean it as well as she hoped, at least no-one could read the dirty messages that she was sure had been scrawled there.

By mid-morning the Land Rover pulled up at the gates of a compound with a few buildings surrounded by a six-foot high wire mesh perimeter fence. Benjamin clambered out and left the engine running as he went to open the double gates. It provided an o

pportunity for Katherine to make a desperate attempt at escape. She hastily clambered over the grasping gear levers separating the seats, sliding Carolyn carelessly under her in her frantic attempt to get into the driver’s seat as fast as possible. Carolyn set up a terrible scream and Katherine grated the gears as she tried to find reverse in the unfamiliar vehicle.

Benjamin swung the gates open then, alerted by the noise, turned and ran back to the Land Rover. Katherine slammed the door shut as he reached it just as she found reverse gear and let out the clutch. The vehicle lurched backwards, jack-knifed the trailer and stalled. Benjamin was thrown off balance but managed to hang on to the door through the open window. He was furious. He wrenched the door open, dragged Katherine out of the seat and sent her sprawling into the red sand of the track. He said nothing but grabbed the back of her blouse with one hand and her hair with the other, almost lifting her from the ground. Maintaining that hold on her, he marched her through the open gate. With a push he thrust her forward, tearing the cloth as she fell sprawling to the ground.

‘Git,’ he shouted, his face contorted with rage, ‘inside.’ He pointed to the central building.

Katherine, terrified of what might happen next, unsteadily got to her feet. ‘Carolyn, my baby. Please, she’s still in the car —’

‘Shuddup an’ git movin’,’ Benjamin shouted, his hand raised as if to strike.

In shock Katherine ran, half stumbling up the three steps of the veranda and into the building with Benjamin close behind.

‘Stay there,’ Benjamin yelled. He returned to the vehicle and drove into the compound before returning to close and lock the two gates behind him. He picked up Carolyn, sobbing inconsolably, and brought her over to Katherine, very gently putting the baby into her outstretched arms. He said nothing.

Even in the semi-darkness of the room Katherine could see the place was the home of a man living alone. It was very basic. There wasn’t even a curtain over the small, dirty window at the back. The kitchen had a gas stove, some shelving stacked with abundant tinned foods, a small table smeared with the remains of several previous meals and three chairs. Fine red dust coated most things.

Katherine sat on one of the chairs, clutching her torn blouse, and waited fearfully. Her breath came in sobs matching those of her child.

Benjamin stood and watched her until the sobs subsided then took her firmly but quite determinedly by the arm, forced her up and started to lead her outside and around.

He explained that the buildings were originally established as a field laboratory for research. Whatever they were planning didn’t work out so it was abandoned. It stood empty for some years before being handed over to the Western Australian Department of Agriculture.

‘I got me a lease on the place. I keep bees ‘ere now with the hives outside the fence,’ Benjamin said. ‘I call it me Factory an’ it’s me business now. I get good honey from me Factory, me honey factory,’ Benjamin smiled beneficently at Katherine. ‘Full of sweetness now there’s a woman ‘ere.’

Its remoteness obviously suited his anti-social nature. ‘I like bein’ out ‘ere. Far away from crowds, an’ tourists. Quiet and peaceful. Like God led people in the wilderness for forty years.

It’s where I finds God.’

‘But it must be lonely, too?’

‘Naw. I’se close to God. An’ the reserve there’s got flowers for the bees. An’ me mate brings stuff an’ ‘elps when I need it.’

The Factory consisted of three buildings, all originally placed there for research staff visiting on a temporary basis. Once they had been the sleeping quarters and laboratories. Benjamin had converted two of them into living quarters. The central building, that into which Katherine initially stumbled, had its long axis at right angles to the other two, one on each side. Benjamin had built a timber veranda on the central unit. It abutted the two end units but no doors led from it into them. The building on the right was a workshop, both for repairing machinery on the property and also for separating honey from the numerous hives that stretched in neat rows along the outside the fence. The central unit formed the main living quarters. It had a kitchen combined with a central lounge or eating area and a bedroom on one side with a low partition between it and the lounge-kitchen.

He led her around the central building and indicated her duties. ‘Ya gunna ‘ave ta make sure ya keeps all the rooms clean an’ tidy.’

‘So you expect me to be some kind of unpaid servant?’


Tags: Alan Moore Mystery