Josh peered into the darkness. A light winked. He positioned his own lantern and switched it on, turning away so that the flare of brightness wouldnât blind him. He picked up the remaining three lanterns and moved ahead.
Again, he stopped and waited for a spot of illumination in the night, before positioning another lantern and switching it on.
His final lantern flickered alive, glowed briefly, then extinguished. He picked it up and shook it â maybe it was a loose wire and he could get it to work.
No luck. It refused to cooperate. He sighed, hoping Dad wouldnât blame him. He knew it wasnât his fault ⦠but Dad was edgy. When he was in this sort of mood, he tended to lay blame on whoever was closest. Josh wanted Dad to be proud of him, not critical. At twelve years of age, it was a big deal for Josh to be asked to help with the lights â he and Dad out in the night together, while Aunty Karen looked after Mum and waited for them to return with help.
âDad!â he called towards the spot of light. âThis lantern wonât turn on.â
Dad stomped across the track ofcompacted earth and stone to where Josh stood waiting. âLet me see,â he demanded.
Josh passed him the lantern. Dad flicked the switch on and off a few times, then shook the whole thing. He muttered something under his breath then strode off. Josh followed him down the track to the far end.
Dad tossed the lantern into the ute and rummaged around behind the seats, continuing to mumble to himself. âDamn!â he growled, as he finally emerged. âDonât have anything to replace it. And we donât have time to drive back to the homestead to get another. Thisâll just have to do.â
Josh looked out at the nine lights â a row of five and a parallel row of four, evenly spaced, marking out the edges of the track. He wasrelieved that Dad hadnât blamed him. He sighed and looked up into the night sky.
Dad began to pace.
The two of them didnât speak.
Josh wasnât sure exactly how much time had passed, but thought that it would have been more than enough to go back for another lantern.
Eventually he spotted something.
âLook!â he called, pointing up.
Dad stopped pacing and came to stand by his side.
They watched as the lights moved across the night sky, cutting their way through the darkness. As they got closer and lower, Josh could make out a distant droning sound.
âAlmost here,â said Dad, his voice tight with anxiety.
Josh looked at Dad. The pale moonlight made his face seem older â the wrinkles deeper, the bags under the eyes saggier, the receding hairline more prominent.
Josh looked along the track â the dirt airstrip â outlined by the portable lights he and Dad had positioned. Most of the big cattle stations had their own airstrips. They were used mostly for planes that did spraying and seeding ⦠and sometimes for emergencies! His familyâs cattle station wasnât all that big, only about 4000 hectares, but luckily it did have a place to land a plane.
Josh looked back up into the sky. He could definitely hear the aeroplane now.
The lights continued to descend until the plane itself became visible, a shadowy outline in the dark. Standing off to theside, at the far end of the makeshift runway, Josh watched in awe as the plane landed. It seemed to bounce a little as it touched down, kicking up clouds of dust. And then it sped along the track towards him, Dad and the ute.
Josh couldnât help but wonder what would happen if the plane couldnât stop in time. After all, it wasnât a very long runway. Would it speed off the end, into the grass? Would it swerve and crash into them? Would it leap back into the sky?
As the aircraft slowed to a stop, Josh realised that he had been holding his breath. He let it out with a little chuckle.
âThis is no laughing matter,â Dad snapped, before heading
Again, he stopped and waited for a spot of illumination in the night, before positioning another lantern and switching it on.
His final lantern flickered alive, glowed briefly, then extinguished. He picked it up and shook it â maybe it was a loose wire and he could get it to work.
No luck. It refused to cooperate. He sighed, hoping Dad wouldnât blame him. He knew it wasnât his fault ⦠but Dad was edgy. When he was in this sort of mood, he tended to lay blame on whoever was closest. Josh wanted Dad to be proud of him, not critical. At twelve years of age, it was a big deal for Josh to be asked to help with the lights â he and Dad out in the night together, while Aunty Karen looked after Mum and waited for them to return with help.
âDad!â he called towards the spot of light. âThis lantern wonât turn on.â
Dad stomped across the track ofcompacted earth and stone to where Josh stood waiting. âLet me see,â he demanded.
Josh passed him the lantern. Dad flicked the switch on and off a few times, then shook the whole thing. He muttered something under his breath then strode off. Josh followed him down the track to the far end.
Dad tossed the lantern into the ute and rummaged around behind the seats, continuing to mumble to himself. âDamn!â he growled, as he finally emerged. âDonât have anything to replace it. And we donât have time to drive back to the homestead to get another. Thisâll just have to do.â
Josh looked out at the nine lights â a row of five and a parallel row of four, evenly spaced, marking out the edges of the track. He wasrelieved that Dad hadnât blamed him. He sighed and looked up into the night sky.
Dad began to pace.
The two of them didnât speak.
Josh wasnât sure exactly how much time had passed, but thought that it would have been more than enough to go back for another lantern.
Eventually he spotted something.
âLook!â he called, pointing up.
Dad stopped pacing and came to stand by his side.
They watched as the lights moved across the night sky, cutting their way through the darkness. As they got closer and lower, Josh could make out a distant droning sound.
âAlmost here,â said Dad, his voice tight with anxiety.
Josh looked at Dad. The pale moonlight made his face seem older â the wrinkles deeper, the bags under the eyes saggier, the receding hairline more prominent.
Josh looked along the track â the dirt airstrip â outlined by the portable lights he and Dad had positioned. Most of the big cattle stations had their own airstrips. They were used mostly for planes that did spraying and seeding ⦠and sometimes for emergencies! His familyâs cattle station wasnât all that big, only about 4000 hectares, but luckily it did have a place to land a plane.
Josh looked back up into the sky. He could definitely hear the aeroplane now.
The lights continued to descend until the plane itself became visible, a shadowy outline in the dark. Standing off to theside, at the far end of the makeshift runway, Josh watched in awe as the plane landed. It seemed to bounce a little as it touched down, kicking up clouds of dust. And then it sped along the track towards him, Dad and the ute.
Josh couldnât help but wonder what would happen if the plane couldnât stop in time. After all, it wasnât a very long runway. Would it speed off the end, into the grass? Would it swerve and crash into them? Would it leap back into the sky?
As the aircraft slowed to a stop, Josh realised that he had been holding his breath. He let it out with a little chuckle.
âThis is no laughing matter,â Dad snapped, before heading
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