"Budgies," Neville pointed out. "And that over there in the tree, that's a Mynah. They repeat stuff you say, great mimics and dirty thieves mostly."
I did not believe him at first, until one of the camels made a grunting noise, and then I heard the bird make the same noise! It was almost exactly the same, surprisingly so, and I saw Neville's smug look when he saw my reaction. What a talented little bird, and how imaginative nature can be!
From there, travel proceeded normally, and the temperature rapidly cooled as the sun sank low in the sky. We eventually came to a small spring, enclosed by yet more Eucalyptus and scrub, and decided it would be for the best to camp for the night. It was late as it was, and we needed rest. Dinner was similarly pleasant, and we refilled our canteens and carafes with the cool spring water, boiled to be free of parasites. Exhaustion caught up to us then, and we soon sunk into sleep, with myself last to do so as I quenched the fire. The stars shimmered strange in the night sky, unfamiliar constellations above making me feel homesick. I looked to McCloud tiredly as he slept and I lay awake in my sleeping bag. I could tell even in his sleep that even though he was well-traveled, he too was feeling a longing for more familiar climes. And Muuzaji? I am not certain how she must feel, being so far from her homeland... Sleep caught up to me then, and I knew no more.
That is, until I felt someone shake me awake, and I turned over blearily.
"Was ist das?" I murmured, rubbing at my eyes and looking upward to find a very concerned-looking Neville and McCloud. "What happened?"
"There's someone 'round outside the camp is what," the Aussie said, face determined and rifle already in hand. That was enough to catch my attention, and I determined to keep watch on the others to be sure. I am simply not able enough of body to be chasing down intruders at my age, and both Francis and Neville are more skilled in tracking than I. The drivers went with them. I sat up, rifle in hand, prepared to shoot if I had to, but nothing came of it. Until, that is, I heard yelling, and saw Lucas jolt awake as well.
"Bloody hell!" he swore, and within minutes we noticed one of the drivers run back.
"Fellas, we got trouble," the driver explained, and he pointed to the others, guns pointed at a shabby-looking figure that seemed to just keep moving forward, never stopping or breaking stride. That made us all nervous, and then we realized something else - the man wasn't talking, and was staying far away from the light of Neville's lantern. But what we could tell was that his eyes were very wrong - it was like he had none, only dark pits. And in the moonlight, he shimmered ever so slightly, the air around him chilly...
"He is dead!" I remarked in surprise. "A ghost... But how is such a thing possible? Who was this man?"
The spirit gave me a look of great sorrow and pain, but still said nothing, and I soon realized he could not speak. He was only responding in nods and shakes, and he kept pointing to the rocky outcropping behind us, where a large hole in the wall of the stone led into a deep cave.
"Wait a minute..." McCloud's eyes grew wide. "What if... you don't think this is Dingo Falls, do you? Because if it is, then this must be..."
"Bill Buckley?" Lucas murmured. "The ghost of Dingo Falls?"
The figure merely nodded, tattered clothing billowed by an ethereal wind none of us could feel. Then, he beckoned us towards the cavern. There was some disagreement on whether to follow him or not, but follow we did, nervous he might kill us, though he certainly did not seem a violent spirit...
The cavern was dark and extended several feet. Thank God we had lanterns, or we may have tripped into the terrible fall not that far in. Three of them, there were, three pathways leading to doom. In one, sharp rubble lay strewn at the bottom. In another, Neville jolted back and remarked that he had found a nest of venomous snakes. And in the third, McCloud found something much more sinister - a broken human skeleton, bones bleached and clothes tattered, its neck and limbs snapped from the impact. There were no shoes, and the faded words I could see on the jacket clearly read B. Buckley.
"I think we found him," Lucas responded grimly. Neville then turned to the spirit, who stood behind us waiting.
"Who did this to you?" He asked the apparition, rage in his eyes at this innocent's death. In response, the spirit knelt to the ground, and proceeded to trace a shape in the dirt. Then another, and another... and soon, an image formed. A picture of himself, being pushed by three someones into some sort of pit, and then those three walking towards a crude house. Beneath each figure were the initials V. S., F. S., and J. S.
"Wait, I recognize the first set of initials!" remarked Lucas. "V. S. - Vern Slattery. The folks in Cucudgerie warned me about him and his sons... they have to have been responsible for this..."
"But where are they?" I asked. "Did anyone say anything to you about where these ruffians lived?"
"Not far from here, which must be Dingo Falls," he confirmed. "Maybe two miles, I reckon. We could walk there."
"And do what with them?" McCloud stepped forward, concerned. "Kill them? We'll be wanted for murder."
"Well we don't have to kill them ourselves," Neville smirked. "But hey, what if we lead 'em here, tell 'em we found gold... and then if something were to just so happen due to a certain spirit well within earshot..."
The others seemed keen on the idea, especially the spirit who smiled wryly at the plan, but neither I nor Muuzaji agreed. It was a good way to get warrants on our heads, and we didn't need the trouble. We were outvoted, however, and had no choice - this was the plan we were going with. Muuzaji was so bothered by the idea that she stayed behind, but I opted to go along with the others for backup. There were three sets of initials, and more people along could certainly not hurt in case things became difficult. And so, this is how we ended up walking two miles at night in the Outback of Australia, to a shambles of a shack in a grove of scrub and dead Eucalyptus, a single light on inside as we observed from the distance. One of us dared knock, and spoke with the man inside. Meanwhile, Lucas pointed something out to me.
"Hey doc, you see that?" He pointed at something behind a rusted-out washtub. "See those boots? They have some writing on them. I can't tell from here though. I'm going to sneak over there and check."
I nodded in agreement and held watch while he grabbed the boots and looked at them. Then, he came back to me, and the look in his eyes told me that what he found was nothing good.
"They're Buckley's," he said, and I now knew the man at the door, the man and his sons who crept out, looking like hoodlums, were the killers we sought.
I'm not sure how they were convinced to follow us, but mein Gott were they annoying for the entire two mile long trek back! The man was a drunkard named Vern Slattery, his son Frank was a boastful braggart, and his other son, only called Jacko, kept blowing a single long note on his harmonica the entire time. If you ask me, I believe the latter may have been mentally disturbed, if not an imbecile entirely - he had a look about him, but one of strangely malicious intent.
Eventually, we arrived back at the cave, and somehow McCloud convinced them that our jeep was stuck in there. Something about a cargo of gold and jewels. The greedy dummkopf took the bait, and went into the cave. Not five seconds later, we saw an orange glow and heard screaming, then a crunch. His foolish son Frank ran after him, and met the same fate. Jacko was stupid enough to need coaching, but I distracted him with one of my small surgical mirrors and eventually he too fell to his death. All that remained then was the spirit of Bill Buckley, stepping from the cavern and looking much more at peace. A smile of gratefulness and thanks for our help crossed the shimmering phantasm's face, and then he turned, waving farewell before vanishing forever.
I do not know that our actions were right, but at the least some form of justice has been served. When we peered into the cavern, we sure enough saw three broken bodies at the bottom, and simply left it at that. It is only in the annals of this page any of us shall ever speak of this again, for who would believe us if we did? It is a secret, I suspect, that we all shall carry with us to our graves.
Travel begins again tomorrow morning, though I suspect it will go much less easily from now on. The desert is harsh, and we are weary. Certainly, a longer rest is needed.
-- Dr. Ludwig Hildebrand, Exhausted (August 3rd, 1928)