Rogue Element

The violent scenes at Sydney Airport had been picked up by the international news services. By mid-morning, Jakarta time, they had screened in Indonesian homes and on the televisions placed in electrical shop windows throughout the country.

By late afternoon, the forecourt of the Australian embassy was taking a battering from bottles and stones thrown by a mob incensed at the treatment of their citizens in Australia. A line of police kept the demonstrators off the fence. How long they would be able to succeed without the use of riot equipment was debatable, for the numbers of demonstrators were increasing at an alarming rate.

Again, a local news crews captured the passionate display live.

Suluang happened to catch the five o’clock bulletin and was delighted by what he saw. At last, some good news…

Central Sulawesi, 2136 Zulu, Thursday, 30 April

Joe and Suryei awoke in the darkness. They were stiff and sore and barely able to move. They had climbed for most of the previous day, continuing into the twilight. Joe had started to worry that they might walk straight off a cliff; there were plenty of them around. In the dying twilight, they had found an overhang surrounded by rocks. They needed sleep. Going further without it was impossible. They were both frightened that they’d wake up blinking into a gun barrel again, or worse, not wake up at all. Exhaustion had got the better of them so they’d climbed into the hollow, covered themselves with ferns and relied on the camouflage for protection.

Both Joe and Suryei came awake warily, expecting the worst. They stayed motionless, listening to the sounds of the pre-morning, trying to sense if danger was near, but their ears still rang from the explosions of the day before.

When they were satisfied that they were alone, Joe and Suryei drank some water, and began the day’s climb. It was mercifully short. They trudged wearily to the top of the ridge on cold, stiff legs and aching feet. Suryei stopped in her tracks and put her arm across to stop Joe taking another step. The smell made Suryei retch. Kerosene. It was now irrevocably mixed with the dreadful stench of burning flesh. Horrific shapes formed in her mind — black, contorted, ghastly.

Joe pondered whether they had tracked a giant circle through the jungle and ended back at the crash site, but the area didn’t seem at all familiar. It was no longer wet and hot, but damp and cool. He wondered how high they’d climbed — perhaps a few thousand feet. Goose-bumps made the hair on his forearms bristle. He pinched a few leeches off his chest and blood oozed freely from the bites. He’d become casual about them, and wondered while he squashed them how the buggers had managed to get there. The direction of the air shifted slightly and the stench of kerosene strengthened.

Joe and Suryei held their breath and tried to concentrate on the sounds of the jungle. They could hear nothing out of the ordinary. They warily picked their way through the smashed tree branches littering the jungle floor. Something had torn them from the canopy overhead.

The kerosene smell thickened with every step. There was a clearing ahead. Something black and grey sat amongst fallen branches and tangled vines. The object was totally out of context and it was difficult to place. But then it clicked and Joe knew what it was.

‘Jesus, Suryei,’ he whispered, ‘one of our engines.’ They approached it slowly, cautiously. They were not comfortable stepping onto the open ground. It made them easy targets.

They edged towards the twisted metal turbine. The smell made Suryei cringe. Joe walked around it, examining it. He stuck his head in the tail pipe for a closer look. The metal was shredded like the end of an exploding cigar. He ran his fingers across one of the torn edges of metal and quickly drew his hand away, blood oozing from a sliced finger. ‘Shit! When am I going to stop doing that?!’ He clenched his finger and rich, red blood flowed from the cut. He nursed his hand before continuing the inspection.

Joe recalled the intense fireball on the end of the 747’s wing. At the time, he hadn’t been sure what it was. Now the significance of it struck him immediately: the outboard engine. ‘It must have dropped off the wing. Maybe this is what caused us to crash. See how the back of this pipe is splayed out? Looks like something blew up inside it.’

Suryei’s curiosity overcame her fear and she moved closer. She put her head inside the tail pipe next to Joe’s. Neither Joe nor Suryei had the experience to know how much of the damage had been caused by the impact with the earth, or by something else.

The sun still hadn’t come up and there was only a dim twilight. Some stencilled writing on an engine part drew Suryei’s attention. ‘Why would a Rolls-Royce engine have the words “secure here” inscribed in Indonesian on a part?’ she asked.

‘I don’t think it would,’ said Joe.