Black

Going down the Flinders highway is no walk in the park. Anyone planning to drive on the road should have a full tank of gas before venturing down that lonely stretch of absalt. Nothing but trees and brush flank my sides as I drive towards the next city. Encountering no trouble, it should take a few hours to get there. If I’m not so fortunate, I’ll be nightfall before I reach civilization. That’s what always gets me on my nerves.

The first time I came to Australia, I talked to a few farmers out on the fringes of Mount Isa. One thing I remember the most, is the dread that came over their faces when talking out having to go east. An older fellow, who had to be past his sixties, said he would keep an evil eye key chain in his glove compartment if he ever suspected needing to drive through Flinders during nightfall. Many other residents had similar attitudes. A seasoned trucker named Mavis always stashed a shotgun in her back seat whenever she went down the stretch. A family of five living at a ranch near the highway would bring a rosary for each member along with a bible if they ever needed to go east.

Regardless of the precautionary measures, everyone was certain about one thing. That thing was to never drive the full stretch of highway at night. Countless potholes and bumps assaulted my wheels as I continued down the dusty road. Despite its age, the old pavement somehow still stayed a solid black. Thoughts of the cause for this puzzled me and intruded on my thoughts. They likely did this to distract me from the real issue.

Unfortunately for me, the sky was dark with clouds. A few drops of rain pattered on my windshield. The weatherman said there’d be some scattered showers today, but there was no mention of long-term rainfall. What I was seeing now was surely that. The clouds were low and heavy. If I didn’t have a watch telling me it was a quarter past three, I would’ve thought the sun had already dipped behind the horizon. A few low rumbles of thunder came. The small dribbles misting my windshield turned to full drops coming down in noisy splatters. I turned up the speed of my windshield wipers and drove ahead. A large bolt of lightning struck the ground a half mile ahead of me. The large crack stiffened me in my seat.

I should’ve known better that eastern outback weather didn’t follow the protocol of weathermen. Instead, it had a mind of its own, and that mind was hellbent on ensuring any human entering it wouldn’t be a happy camper. This was especially true along Flinders. The clouds here were always especially dark when it stormed.

I had to accept surrender. The rain came down so hard I could barely see a few feet in front of me. If I made any sudden moves, I could slide. Thankfully, after a few minutes, I could see a small brick building 100 meters ahead of me as I slowed down. I stopped gently to avoid hydroplaning and turned into an old parking lot. The building had a large ripped awning, I noticed when I got closer. I parked under it and got out of the car.

After twenty minutes, the rain had slowed. The wait had cost me precious time, and I had to get going to make up for what I had wasted. It was then that a slight burn smell came blowing through. I walked out from under the awning and went in the wind's direction. A loud rush of water came from a steep gorge behind the building. I went to the gorge’s edge. A dark deluge of water came past in a large stream, taking large branches and debris with it. The smell of smoke still hung in the air. I looked across the gorge to find its source. A large tree had been spit in half by lighting. Both halves twisted to the ground like a ripped apart piece of string cheese. The tree had been spit symmetrically almost perfectly. To my amazement, the ground between the split was still burning despite the rain. A small red flame amongst the charred wood flickered against the wind.

I stood there a while, transfixed with the small flame, valiantly winning against the moderate rainfall. As I remained at the edge of the gorge, the flame suddenly grew a little bigger. A darker cluster of clouds blotted what was left of the sun again. The water below seemed to grow thicker. Heavy rainfall resumed its loud pattering against the ground. The flame did not go out. Instead, it grew until it filled the hollowed space. The hairs stood up on my neck. As my body remained glued to the ground, the flame continued to grow. The rain became relentless until I couldn’t see anything beyond the other bank of the stream and the tree.

My mind remained transfixed with the flame that refused to go out. Its tongues grew bigger and lapped up the wedges of the tree. Despite the rain, a thick smoke smell invaded my nostrils. My eyes remained locked on the flames.

Another wave of fear slithered through my cold, drenched skin. The flame was forming a core. Thoughts of lighters and barbecues nestled in my subconscious. Everyone knew that hot enough flames formed a blue core in their center. The flame had formed one as well, except that its core was black. I continued watching, shivering as the dark tongue grew and twisted in its orange shell.

I almost thought my legs were paralyzed until I moved slightly back. I knew and not knew what I was seeing all at once. While no logical explanations formed in my mind, I’d already confirmed what was occurring. I had to be witnessing an omen. I broke my gaze from the black beacon to the stream. The water looked like a dark soup reflecting off of the cloudy sky.

A few pale masses came streaming by. I shuddered and took more steps back. The rain had slowed down again. I could see the stream much clearer. Floating past were a dozen bloated bodies. It took my mind a few seconds to register them as dead farm animals. Three holstein cows, two chickens, and seven goats undulated through the rapids. Their bulging clouded eyes stared blankly at the sky, which reassured their soulless state.

A small pygmy goat swerved to the edge, catching its neck in the Y of a tree branch wedged in the muddy banks. The animal’s fur was a faded cinnamon with tufts of it scraped off to expose pale skin. Its head nestled deeper into the branched and twisted violently 180 degrees. My stomach flipped to the unmistakable crunch of bone. The goat’s neck twisted like a sick decomposed licorice. Its black eyes stared up at me from the bottom of the gorge.

I again felt transfixed. The goat’s eyes and mine remained locked, its body bobbled to the current. Despite the raging water, its gaze persisted. The goat blinked.

I fell backwards and sprinted back to the building before my mind commanded it. My chest was heaving violently when my clammy hands grasped the handle of my car door. Before any more thoughts came to mind, I slammed my keys into the ignition and sped off. I quickly turned back onto the road, continuing down the muddy desert. All I knew was that I had to get out.