Vic was shaking with rage. How could she do this, how could she be so stupid, throw away her life after all they had done together. He screamed at her, he shook her, he slapped her.
But she said not a word; she just sat there staring into another place that only her eyes could see.
The others sat there too. But slowly their minds cleared and their senses returned. They told of what had happened and of where they had been, to the place of the crocodile spirit dreaming.
They had not felt fear; they had not perceived danger, but if there had been danger, in that moment, they had been incapable of care.
Now, after, they did not know for sure but thought the crocodiles were not seeking to harm them, only to link with their spirits. But yet, they now acknowledged, what they had done was crazy and the danger was real.
The four men had just stood and watched too, frozen to the spot and unable to move. It was as if a spell had been cast, rendering all other life immobile until something had passed. It was only Vic, in desperation, who had managed to break free, to scream and fling himself at where they stood, knee deep in the water.
Once he moved the others could move too. All knew, deep down, that if the crocodiles had sought to really harm them it would have been too late.
When Vic’s anger cooled he was distraught as he looked at his wife, lost in a trance. He took her hand and sat beside her, talking to her, telling her he was sorry, asking her to come back.
But she said not a word. She just sat there staring into space.
Alan walked across and lifted her up. Her body was an automaton and moved not itself, but did not resist him. He carried her to the car and placed her on a seat. Then he took Vic by the shoulders, walked him to the car and pushed him in so he sat him beside her.
At home she sat in a chair and said not a word, they dressed her, they fed her, they put her to bed. They woke her in the morning. She moved when they moved her, she did not resist, but it was the moves of reshaping a doll.
Vic wished he had never returned to this God forsaken place.
A week passed, then another. He had to do something. The children wanted their mother back, he wanted his Susan back.
He asked Sandy and Beck if they could better explain what happened and how to reach her, but for them this memory and knowledge was gone.
Ross visited each day and tried to hypnotize her, and reach her that way. But she did not respond to anything he did. He took her to the hospital and ran brain scans and connected her to an EEG machine. Her brain showed no damage but it was working at the most basal level.
Ross said it was operating like a reptilian brain now, breathing, heart, digestion, just the basic functions, no signs of arousal in her higher brain centers, just the slow reptilian like brain waves of her brain stem which went on and on, unchanging.
He conferred with other specialists who suggested a range of drugs and electro-convulsive therapy which could be tried. But Vic would have none of this; he would let no one do things to her that may harm her more. Ross had no belief in their likely benefit either.
So Vic went and saw Charlie, saying there must be someone to help.
Charlie had been asking, he felt a share of the blame too. He sat silent for a long time, as if seeking guidance, then said, “We must take her to the place of the crocodile spirit totem, we will seek help from the medicine man of that tribe, the man who talks to the crocodile spirits. Perhaps he can talk to the spirits, ask the spirits to leave her.”
So they caught a flight to Gove, just Charlie, Vic and Susan. An old grey haired man, tall and thin with frizzy hair and a wise face, was waiting for them. He took Susan by the hand and she walked with him. He brought her to an old battered Toyota tray-back and sat her in the cabin. He did not speak and neither did she.
Uninvited, Charlie and Vic got on the back. They drove, no words said, for an unknown passage of time. First the road was good then it got rougher. It ended in two wheel tracks which climbed up to a gap in the hills. They crested the rise and saw, open before them, a view of coast and islands. Just behind the coast, at the end of the wheel tracks, lay a round pool of water, connected by a small creek to the sea.
Still the man spoke not, and looked not towards them.
He took Susan by the hand and led her to the pool. He brought her to a place where a flat rock was lapped by the water. He sat her down and then sat down beside her.
From his pocket he pulled a Baru, like the one of Mark had once owned. He started a chant, tapping two sticks together. It was a crooning, pleading sound. It rose in intensity, keeping time with his tapping.
The sound rose to a crescendo then fell away to a whisper. Then it was silent, the silence continued. Then the crocodile came.
It was not so big, not as big as the last. But it was old, its teeth were worn, its body seemed spare of flesh, too small for its skin. It placed its jaw on the stone ledge, resting between their legs. The old man placed his hand on its head, just behind its eyes. Susan did the same.
Then the old man sang a song, it was a song like no other, no words but only clicks and grunts and barking noises, but as the sounds came and went they formed into a melody. As the melody swelled so too did the crocodile, growing in size and power, glowing with light. He filled the pool and still he grew as the melody grew. Now his tail touched the ocean and his head dwarfed the bodies beside him.
At the crest of the melody he opened his own mouth, teeth yellow, jaws gaping wide. Ever wider went his mouth, as if sucking the whole world into his being. To Vic it seemed his spirit had flowed out of his mouth and now enveloped Susan and the old grey crocodile man. Their bodies became shimmering outlines within this other presence. For a time that seemed to last forever this world stood still.
Then the crocodile barked. He barked the bark of a male reclaiming his territory. It shook the sky and the water like a thunder clap.
And then there was silence.
The man started tapping and singing again, loud first, the volume diminished slowly and then dwindled to nothing. As the music subsided, so did the crocodile, first growing smaller, then sliding backwards and down until all that remained was the water.
The man stood and took Susan’s hand. She stood beside him. He signaled for her to walk back to the others. She walked on her own, barefooted in the dust. Vic looked at her; she looked back at him and smiled. For a long time he had just held her smile, she was so precious to him. Then he reached out and touched her and she was returned to him.
After, neither she nor Vic could ever properly describe what happened on that day. But some things they knew, the old man had sung the supreme crocodile spirit and the spirit had come.
Then, as the music rose, the spirit of that crocodile had come into her mind. It joined with the other crocodile spirit which lived there, absorbing it into the greater being. It had filled her ever more completely, until it was all she knew. When it had captured the whole of her own crocodile spirit it had barked. In the bark it had reclaimed its own, a part of its territory reassumed.
With that done it slowly slid out of her mind, and then it was just her again. Part of her felt sadness for the thing she had lost, part of her felt peace that she had long forgotten. It just was not there anymore, but no longer was there a place of absence that restlessly searched to be filled, a void requiring presence. She felt empty but content. She was Susan or Emily no longer, she was only Jane again; she had chosen that name to be free of the spirit. Now it was gone that name belonged best to her.