Daniel fell to the back of the line, boots dragging through the mud as they ascended the range. He kept glancing over his shoulder, hoping she’d appear, desperate to have him back, forgiving him for his transgressions. But all that was behind him was jungle as dense as his steely heart. A bevy of birds bellowed high above, their song piercing his ears like a screeching baby. Normally Daniel would take pleasure in the sounds of nature, the elements around him and the indistinct beauty of the bush, but every agonising step only deepened his distance from Amelia.
He could’ve slapped himself for not speaking up when she came to say goodbye, for not fighting harder for their love and its place in this world. But she did have a point – he’d betrayed her, to her father, no less, put his needs before her own. And there was so much uncertainty, so much unknown before them … yet the one thing he was certain about was his love for her. So then why couldn’t he say that? He swatted at a vine that hung across the path, wishing he was better at expressing himself. He always held his emotions close, whereas Amelia wore hers like a shield. She’d been ready to fully commit herself, but he’d wavered, torn between his two desires.
She said it was easier this way, but none of this felt easy. The only thing that’d been easy was the way he felt when he held her in that hut, the delicate lines of her body pressed against his. He closed his eyes and inhaled, still smelling her perfume, praying it never faded. But it’d be impossible to hold on to, with what was ahead. How could they find a place together in a society that would never accept them? He was too busy fighting for a place for himself, let alone the two of them together. She must’ve seen that, which was why she was able to walk away so easily. She was right. It was easier this way. He’d have to soldier on without her, even though his shattered heart was screaming not to.
For every white man on the track, there were two to three black ones carrying his goods, blindly trudging up this mountain on the faith of their master’s word. He had to give it to the locals who’d stayed. Most of them had fled into the bush after the Japanese swooped into Salamaua. He supposed for some, like Silas, working for the waitman was the only life they knew. They were far more loyal and brave than they were given credit for. Silas was directly in front of him, dressed in a lap-lap that hung above the knee. His torso was seared with scars, the history of his life written on his body, a preview into the daily hardships that Niuginians faced. He was carrying a spear carved out of bamboo that was tucked into a sheath made of kunai grass. His head slowly shifted from one side of the jungle to the other, like a meerkat watching for predators.
Mr McKenzie was in front of Silas, trudging along purposefully, even though the trek would’ve been taxing on a man his size. Daniel still hadn’t spoken to him since the attack, worried he might have blamed Daniel for Amelia missing the evacuation flight. Daniel was angry with him for allowing Tom to go with the injured men. The lying weasel clearly wasn’t hurt, and yet Mr McKenzie had let him get away with it. And Daniel was still angry with Mr McKenzie for convincing him to betray Amelia. He was angry about it all. But there was no point in arguing about it now.
The line came to a stop as the men ducked under a fallen tree that was blocking the path. When it came to Mr McKenzie’s turn, he stepped aside to let Silas go ahead of him. Then as Mr McKenzie bent down under the mossy log, his trousers got caught on a branch that ripped straight through the khaki material.
“Christ!” he cried as he clutched at his thigh and blood poured out. Daniel ripped one of the sleeves from his shirt and crouched under the log to tie it around the wound.
“Thanks,” Mr McKenzie mumbled. Daniel didn’t reply, but stepped back to the other side of the tree. He shifted his pack, the weight of his cargo digging into his shoulders.
“You coming, lad?” Mr McKenzie asked, eyes concealed by the fog that shielded his glasses. Even at altitude, the jungle was still steamy with heat. “Wouldn’t want you to be left behind.”
You sure about that? Daniel carefully ducked under the tree, mindful of the branch that got Mr McKenzie, but was so weighed down by his pack that he fell arse over in the mud.
Mr McKenzie chuckled and reached out a hand. “You should really let one of the bois carry that for you.” Daniel was the only one who’d felt the need to carry his own pack.
“I’m capable of doing it myself,” he replied as he took Mr McKenzie’s hand and pulled himself up.
Mr McKenzie patted him on the back. “Course you are, lad. But it’s still nice to have the help.”
Daniel didn’t say anything, waiting for Mr McKenzie to start back up the track. But the man hovered, as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know how. Daniel looked around, watching as a palai slinked up the branch, listening as a gecko clicked, suddenly very aware of the intricacies of the jungle.
Mr McKenzie coughed before saying, “You know why I wanted you to come with me to Wau, don’t you?”
“You needed a pilot,” Daniel replied.
“Aye. That’s true. I sure as hell wouldn’t trust Tom in one of my planes. He can’t fly to save his life.” Daniel couldn’t help but smile at that. It was nice to hear his brother being criticised for once. “But that’s not the only reason …” Mr McKenzie continued, lowering his glasses, his impenetrable stare forcing Daniel to meet his eye. “You remind me a lot of your father. That’s why it’s hard for me to say this, but it has to be said. This thing between you and my daughter must come to an end.”
Daniel held Mr McKenzie’s gaze, searching for the man his father had been so fond of, but the old man’s eyes revealed nothing, forcing Daniel to look away. “I already know your sentiments on that, sir. So, if you don’t mind, can we keep moving? I don’t want to be left behind.” He stepped ahead of Mr McKenzie, but the man grabbed him by the arm and said, “I don’t care what you think you know, I need you to confirm that it’s over between the two of you.”
Daniel snatched his arm back. He was sick of being pushed around by this man, desperate to put an end to the inexplicable power he held over him. Daniel lifted his chin and looked him square in the eye. “And what if it isn’t? What are you going to do about it? You can’t threaten me anymore. I’ve lost everything that’s ever meant anything to me. My father’s dead, my home’s destroyed, Amelia’s …”—he swallowed—“gone.”
“I told you I’d make sure you’d never fly again—”
“Who gives a damn! There aren’t any planes left to fly, and if there are any left they’ll likely be seized by the Air Force. Even if I wanted to, they’d never let me join anyway. I’m too black! So enough with your threats. I’m done.” Daniel spat the words out. He wanted to press on with the trek, but something was keeping him in place, an itch to know how Mr McKenzie would respond to such a bold outburst.
Mr McKenzie scratched at his beard as he took in Daniel’s words. He ran his tongue along the inside of his mouth, before turning to spit into the bush. “You are too black,” he said, meeting Daniel’s eye again. “At least you are to the Aussies. But that’s not the reason why I don’t want you to be with Amelia … well, not entirely.”
Daniel had heard enough, and yet still he couldn’t move, beholden to this man’s opinion.
“It’s because Amelia has enough to deal with. Leaving here will hit her hard, harder than it will be for her sisters and mother. Like me, she’s drawn to New Guinea in a way that can’t be explained. To be separated from it, with the potential of never returning, will be difficult for her. She doesn’t need anything else to exacerbate the situation. Pining over you for the next several years won’t help.”
“Don’t you think that’s up to her to decide?”
“No. As her father, I know best. And I know that leaving you behind once and for all is what’s best … what’s easiest.”
It’s easier this way. He gasped. “It was you … you’re the one who convinced her to finish it.”
“I had to. There was no other choice.”
“What did you say to her?”
“I convinced her to think rationally for once. After what she put me and her mother through, she owes us that at least.”
“Why? Why are you so convinced this will be easier?”
“Because …” Mr McKenzie said slowly. “This war will kill you, and I don’t want my daughter’s heart to be broken all over again when it does.”