Blackwater creek - 1. Chapter 1

Dew glistened on the grass as he fastened his boots, the thin leather cold through the holes in his ancient his socks. Smoke rose up in the distance in thin trickles over the densely forested mountains. The ashes of his own fire lay bland and grey, long dead. In the distance, someone coughed hard, a nasty rattling cough he recognized from his time in hospital. He won't stay long, either, Jack thought as he finished tying his laces. He gave the boots a quick stamp on the wet grass, flipped down the canvas of his tent and pulled out a thick pouch of tobacco from his jacket pocket. A single rolling paper lay curled on top of the dry leaf, and he tugged it out, spreading a trickle of tobacco on top of it.

He followed the river, his trousers dampening as he walked through the long grass. The rest of the camp lay on the other side of a bend in the river, and as he got closer, he caught the smell of fresh coffee and toasting bread.

"Morning, Jake," a young man said, his smile far too wide for that time of day.

"Morning, Billy," Jake said with a faint smile.

"I think today's my lucky day," Billy said, as he did every day. "Yep, today I'm going to find a big one."

"Good for you," Jake answered, sticking the smoke behind his ear, picking up his pace. "You still going to come panning with me today?"

"Sure. You always have good luck. I didn't get a speck yesterday, and if I don't get something soon, I'm going to have to go home."

"Good," he said, stopping and turning towards Billy. "I'm going to the shop. I'll meet you by the river in a few minutes. I know a spot we can try but it's a bit of a walk."

"Fine," Billy said, with a grin, heading back down towards the river.

The camp echoed with low voices and the occasional guffaw. He walked past the shop as they called the rickety wooden shed filled with week old bread, tangy chunks of cheese wrapped in greasy paper, tins of meat, rolling tobacco and bottles of beer and spirits, all sold at ridiculous prices.

"G'day, Jake," Paul, a tall, bald man with one arm and half of another called from inside. "Need anything?"

"Tobacco and papers," Jake said, just as a sharp cramp twisted like a knife in his belly. "Hold those for me, will ya? I'll be back in a minute."

Something was coming, he could feel it. Something bad, and he needed to get away. He hadn't had an attack for awhile, but last night he'd had the dream again. And the dream was a dead sure sign an attack was on it's way. So were the stomach problems. The three dunnies sat in a line, and relief flowed through him when he saw the door of one hung open. He pulled it shut behind him, lowered his pants, and sat down. A sharp pain burst through his belly again, then faded. In the semi-darkness, he pulled the cigarette from behind his ear and lit it. In the flash of the match he could see splinters poking out from the unpolished wood. This was his last day, he thought to himself. He had to get away. No matter where. The tip of the smoke flared as he drew in the smoke.

He hadn't found enough gold, though. He couldn't go back to Wellington without enough to pay off his debts, and if he was lucky, and the legends were true, he could get that today down by Blackwater Creek. He felt happy that Billy would be there, too. He was young, a bit naive, but not stupid. If something happened, one of those flashback attacks as he thought of them, for example, the lad would know who to go to for help.

The stomach pain finally disappeared. He stood up, finished off and went back to the shop.

"Everything alright?" Paul asked. "Got a case of the old jelly belly, again?"

"Yep," he said, pulling out a couple of coins from the packet inside his jacket.

"It's going around," Paul said with a sigh. "I'm lucky up being here by the dunnies. I feel for you guys down in the river.'

"We get by," Jake said with a slight grin, taking the tobacco and papers off Paul. "It's no worse than when we were on the boats."

"That's true," Paul said, stroking the tip of his stump. "And you're much less likely to lose a limb around here."

Jake had never asked Paul if he also had attacks. Their time on the whaling boats wasn't something the men spoke about. He tucked his purchases into his pocket and pulled his jacket tighter as the bitter southerly tugged at his clothing. It smelt a bit like rain, and when he looked up, some of the higher mountains had disappeared behind thick clouds.

Billy sat on a long tree-trunk that had come down the week before, leafy branches still sticking out from the sides. His legs stretched out in front of him, and a half-smoked cigarette drooped from his lips, while a large, black pan peeked out of the top of the leather bag slung over his left shoulder.

"Let's go," Jake shouted, pointing down to the left. "We're heading to Blackwater Creek. There's no path down there so we'll have to walk in the river, but it'll be faster than trying to bushwhack our way down there."

"Crikey, mate," Billy said with a snort. "You never said anything about going down Blackwater Creek."

"Well, that's where I'm going," Jake replied. "Either you're with me or you're not."

Billy took a drag on his smoke and flung it into the rolling white rapids. "Fine, but I don't like it."

Icy water flooded into Jake's boots as soon as he entered the water. The current thudded against him, hard and unrelenting, and he had to lean hard to the left to keep his balance. Billy swung out past him, heading straight for the middle of the river, but the flow of the water made Jake's head spin and he stopped before he got too far out.

"The water looks shallower on the other side," Billy called back to him from where he stood a few meters downstream, white water bursting up around him. "Let's cross over."

Water rose above Jake's knees, pounding. He felt his head spin. He sunk his feet into the gravel so as not to be knocked over. At least my feet can touch the ground, he told himself. Not like out at sea. Hold onto that, and keep going.

"You alright?" Billy called back.

"Just look after yourself, son," Jake shouted. "I'll be fine."

When his heart beat settled a bit, he moved forwards, seeking a stable foothold with his boots before making any move. The river rose over his belt, the force of the water pushing him forwards. He moved his left foot. Instead of gravel, it hit rock. He felt his footing give. Cold water rolled over his head, his body twisted by the pounding current, his leather pack wrapping around him, holding him down. He heard his own screams echoing around him just as he had so many years before. This is it, he thought, I'm really done for this time.

Something strong and warm wrapped around his shoulders, and water-blurred trees burst into view.

"You're alright, mate," Billy shouted, both arms around Jake now, supporting him, and edging him towards the riverbank. "You had me worried for a minute there. I thought you were a goner."

Jake dragged in deep, rasping breaths, his feet set firmly on the riverbed. The water banged against his shaking knees again now.

"Here, dry yourself off a bit with this," Billy said, handing him a thin rag.

"Thanks," Jake said, using it to thrust his dripping hair out of his eyes. "I'm fine now. Let's get moving."

"Sure," Billy said, taking back the rag. "But if you want to go back, I won't hold it against you."

"Come on," Jake growled. "We're behind schedule as it is."

Thin rays of sunshine poked out of the dark clouds as they pushed on down the river, momentarily highlighting the shadowy undergrowth. Jake had never come down this way before. No one went down there, because of the rumours.

"Why did you want to go to Blackwater Creek, anyway?" Billy asked. "Isn't it cursed or something?"

"Supposedly," Jake said. "Legend has it that many years ago, this panner arrived from the old country, full of himself, and almost mad with gold lust. On his first day he ignored all the warnings from the other panners, and headed straight down towards Blackwater Creek. He came back later that day with the biggest nugget anyone had ever seen. People crowded around to take a look, but then they noticed something strange about the man- all sign of life had gone from his eyes. He sat in his tent for days, the gold nugget in his up-turned palms, not even moving to swipe at the flies that crept into the corners of his eyes. Eventually, he keeled over to the left, one eye crushed shut by the ground, the other staring coldly into the ether. They say his mouth remained open, his tongue flopping out at a gruesome angle, the gold nugget still clasped between his tightly crisped fingers. Some said he was cursed for stealing the gold of an ancient deity, while others whispered that, in return for the gold, he sold his soul for devil."

"Golly, that's a heck of a story," Billy said, pulling out his tobacco pouch. "Do they know what happened to the gold?"

"Nope," Jake replied, "although some people say that in order to avoid further vengeance from the local god, it was returned to the river."

"So, we might find it! Do you think it's much further?"

"Maybe another half an hour," Jake replied, his voice still shaky from the cold.

"Does the creek flow off to the left or the right?"

"I heard the left," Jake replied. "But in any case, it's the first one we come to."

"I'll keep my eyes peeled, then," Billy said with a grin, and set about rolling a cigarette. "By the way, there's something I've been meaning to ask you about. I think you knew a friend of mine back up in Wellington, Scotty Walters."

Jake stopped, and stared at the back of Billy's head as he marched on. A Tui twittered somewhere off in the darkness of the bush.

"Yeah, I knew Scotty," Jake said, gruffly. "What about him?"

"Nothing really," Billy called back, his voice soft over the hissing of the river. "Only he told me that you and him used to spend a bit of time together. That's how he put it, anyway."

Jake started walking again, his heart beating rough in his chest like a midnight drum. He hadn't thought about Scotty for a while, nor about the rough ride on the interislander ferry, terror bursting inside him at the thought that they might somehow have got a message across to Nelson on an earlier boat, telling the police to keep a lookout for him.

"That was a long time ago," Jake snapped. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to pry," Billy said, lighting his long, thin cigarette. "It's just, Scotty and I were at school together. And, well, let's just say that what you and he did together, I did with him first."

Jake sighed, and pulled out his own tobacco pouch. "There's a little clearing over there. Let's have a break."

Billy stopped, turned back, and clambered out of the river, and dropped down onto the grass. Jake climbed out and settled down next to him. They sat smoking for a while, swiping at the hordes of mosquitoes that clouded around them.

"How's Scotty doing?" Jake asked finally.

"He's dead," Billy said, flicking the butt of his smoke into the water. "There was a fire in the prison. No one escaped."

"Shit," Jake whispered.

"Yep," Billy said, tearing off the end of a long blade of grass. "Look, I know you don't want to talk about it, but he thought the world of you. He said of all the fellas he's been with, you were the nicest, the gentlest."

"Is that right?" Jake said, hoping the tears he could feel building up would hold off until they were back in the water. "He was a nice lad. Couldn't hold his liquor though."

Billy's laugh echoed out over the rippling river. "That is the truest thing anyone could have said about him. I think he loved you, too. In his own way."

"Shut it, and get your ass up," Jake snapped. "That gold isn't going to pan itself."

Billy laughed and stood up, shaking himself like a wet dog. His long and thin body looked like Scotty's too and for a moment an image of the two of them writhing together naked in a single bed flashed through Jake's mind. He pushed it aside, and lowered himself carefully back into the river.

They walked on for another hour, listening to the birds call, and the occasional trout that swam past or leapt out after hovering insects.

"I think I've found it," Billy shouted finally. "It's dark as hell."

"Wait for me," Jake shouted, water splashing up around him as he started to run.

The creek thrust off to the left, the thick bush hanging over it darkening it like a mine shaft. Billy stood on the grass next to the creek, nibbling at a chunk of dark, grainy bread.

"That's it, alright," Jake whispered. "I can feel it in my bones."

"How far along do we need to go before we can start panning?" Billy asked.

"No idea," Jake said, dropping his bag. "I'm hungry, too. Let's have an early lunch before we head down there."

"Fine by me," Billy replied, pulling out more bread and a chunk of cheese. "I'm always hungry."

"Everyone is hungry as twenty," Jake said with a smile, hoping it wouldn't be interpreted the way he thought it might.

"Scotty definitely was," Billy said with a laugh.

"The amount I spent feeding that lad, I could have a house of my own by now," Jake said, pulling out his own damp half loaf of rye and a few scraps of cheddar wrapped in a thin cloth.

They ate in silence, the high-pitched hiss of the main river underscored by the low beat of the creek that Jake thought must be tumbling over rocks somewhere further down the hill.

"Have you had many relationships like the one with Scotty?" Billy asked suddenly.

Jake chewed his bread. "A few. None that lasted, of course."

"Same here," Billy replied. "I'll probably get married one day. Settle down."

"I thought about that once," Jake said, spitting into the grass. "But I like my freedom."

"Lots of guys like us are married," Billy said, rolling a big of bread into a small ball and throwing it into his mouth. "It doesn't stop them from going out and having a good time when the desire comes over them. Well, not all of them anyway."

"I don't like lies," Jake said, putting the last bit of bread in his mouth. "And saying 'I do' would be the ultimate lie."

"I know what you mean."

Jake lay back, his head on the sack. "I'm going to have a quick nap. Come and join me if you want."

Billy said nothing so Jake closed his eyes. A deep warmth pushed up against his left side, and when he turned his head, Billy's lips met his, their stubble scrapping together with a rustling sound as they kissed. Hands snaked over warm flesh, and Jake felt his trousers being tugged down to his knees. He opened his eyes as Billy pulled his own down, rolled onto his front and arched his back like a man who knew what he wanted. Memories flowed back as Jake thrust in deep, and let himself drown in the pleasure, just as he had so long ago. After a while, his own back arched and he groaned, low and long as Billy moaned beneath him. He lay there for a moment, hardly daring to breathe until something crashed into his belly.

"You almost crushed me, you dopey old bugger," Billy shouted, pushing Jake off him and pulling up his still water-logged trousers.

Another image filled Jake's mind now. A dark night, in a darker street, the tinkle of money being exchanged still lingering in his ears as he sunk deep into the young backside, the skin warm despite the bitter winter air. The scene changed, and water flowed around him. Limbs struck out, crashing into his head. A broken oar floated by, a bit of hull, and in the distance, he thought he could see the whale's eyes, large and hateful, the harpoon still drilled deep into his skull.

"Jake," Billy shouted, his hand landing hard on Jake's face. "Jake. Come on. We have to find that gold."

Jake coughed, and shook his head roughly as the pain brought him back to reality. He shivered, and, realizing his pants still lay down by his knees, tugged them up.

"Let's go get rich, then," he growled, very aware of the fear that still pounded in his chest.

"It's a sin," a voice hurled at him deep inside him. "A sin, and this time you will die for it."

The voice, wrapped in a thick Scottish accent, belonged to his father. It came back at times like this, dark and sinister, pitiless in its judgements.

"You alright?" Billy asked, leaning down to help Jake up off the ground.

"Get away from me," he roared, anger flowing freely into the space where desire had so recently been. "We're going to get that gold and then I'm leaving. I never want to see you again. And don't ever mention this to anyone or I'll bash your skull in."

Without waiting for a reply, he swung his bag onto his back and stormed off into the creek. He could hear Billy splashing behind him, and he knew he'd been unfair. He didn't care, though. His time with Scotty had almost landed him in prison and he didn't want to go down that path again. And he couldn't escape the feeling that now, due to their sin, something terrible was imminent.

The river dropped sharply and he slipped again, but his hand landed on the bottom of the shallow water before his head went under and he pulled himself up. He breathed deeply, then followed the curve of the creek around a corner. The foliage above him fell back and the creek widened into a small pool. He stopped.

"This is it," he called out to Billy. "Get out your pan, we're about to get rich."

Billy didn't reply, but as Jake dropped his sack on the grassy riverbank, he could see the young man's shadow as he pulled out his pan and sunk it deep under the water into the gravelly bottom. Jake pulled his own out, filled it with gravel and shuffled it from side to side. Almost immediately, tiny pinches of glistening yellow showed up. He turned back to Billy who was staring into the bottom of his pan, too.

"We did it, Jake," Billy yelped, holding a large slug of gold over his head.

"This is unbelievable," Jake shouted, pulling dozens of small shards out his pan, and slipping them into his pocket. "Come on, let's get more."

The water began to hiss around them, rings rippling out as rain began to tumble down around them in long, thick strands.

"I can't see a thing," Billy shouted.

"Me neither," Jake yelled back. "We have to get back up to the river before the water rises."

As he stumbled forwards, he felt Billy's hand wrap tightly around his. The shore had disappeared in the thundering rain, and they stumbled over some large stones, dropping to their knees.

"Jake, help," Billy shouted. "My foot's stuck."

"Wait, I'll dive down and try to pull it loose," Jake shouted back.

Fear rose in him again, the memory of the smashed boat flooding in as hard as the rain but he dived down anyway. He ran his hand down Billy's leg until he found the stones. Water smashed against him, filling his nose and mouth, but he kept on tugging until his lungs burnt and his brain grew dizzy. He let go and swam towards where he thought the surface was, but as soon as he let go of Billy, his body twisted like a leaf in a flooded gutter. Stars burst around him, and fire flared up in his lungs, but still he couldn't find air.

Something gave inside him and his body relaxed. For a moment, he thought he saw Scotty's face out to one side, and he let himself float gently towards it. The face faded. Inside his brain, final synapses sparked, and as his eyes widened in a final death glaze, he wished he had told Scotty the truth- that he loved him and always would.