Borderland by Graham Akhurst

Author:Graham Akhurst
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UWA Publishing

Rustling noises stirred me awake. I was dazed and in darkness. I tried stretching my arms to find my torch, but they were trapped inside the sleeping bag.

I could hear heavy, wet breathing outside. Laying still and stiff as a board I listened for movement. Something was right outside, sniffing at the fabric, smelling me out. My eyes adjusted, and a large silhouette formed in the half-dark. The tent was coming in on me and a wet patch emerged where the breathing was concentrated.

It was the beast! In that half-asleep half-awake state, I worked off pure instinct. I flung my arms out of the sleeping bag and found my torch, then bolted for the entrance. The beast was startled, but came in on the tent biting at it. I struggled with the zip. I finally got out and tensed for the fight of my life. I shone the light but couldn’t place the thing. I heard movement and the rustle of bushes, and, in that moment, as my adrenaline peaked, I remembered Mum’s story and the name Wudun.

Wudun the protector. Wudun who would help in times of danger. I said the name soft at first, then louder as I turned my body around in circles, the torchlight dancing around me.

‘Wudun, Wudun, Wudun.’ I repeated the word like a mantra, but no protector emerged. My heart thumped and I was overcome by the thought of uncovering the pale skin, sharp teeth, and long red tongue of the beast.

I flashed the torch on the riverbank a couple of metres away, and what appeared, startled by the light, was a different type of monster: a huge black wild pig, with long tusks, a big wet nose, and beady eyes shamed by the light. I stamped my foot and said ‘Ahh, get,’ and it ran off scared, along the riverbank and away from camp.

I lay back down but couldn’t sleep. The shock of seeing the pig made me restless and I felt silly for saying Wudun. It was a childish campfire story that had no bearing on the real world, and there I was, seventeen years old, asking for Wudun, a figure from the Dreaming, to protect me. Silly and childish indeed. I didn’t want to get up and go out, but I desperately needed to relieve myself again, so I grabbed my torch, which I admit I’d kept on to light the tent as I tried to sleep. My breath billowed in the cold night air. My bare feet were wet from the dewy grass lining the riverbank and caught bits of rock and twig as I walked. I was groggy and could feel a headache coming on. I pissed on a tree nearby, as I nervously looked about with my torch. Afterwards, I wanted water and began walking back to the centre of camp. That’s when I heard the whimpering.

Tabitha was sitting on one of the logs surrounding the firepit, which still had softly glowing embers in it. She jumped up, startled, as I approached.

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