Page 82 of Wandering Souls

“Decommissioned, yes, but also repurposed. With summer on our doorstep and the worry of bushfire, this old bird has been given a new lease on life.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You still have connections in the military. Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“Not many, but yes, a few.”

Abigail set her hands on her hips. “Have you used them to find out information about me?”

Her question knocked him for six. Or was it the directness of it? He didn’t know but he admired her for taking the bull by the horns. “I tried, but my sway is somewhat limited these days. I’m a dinosaur to them, a hark back to the dark ages no one wants to really recognize anymore. Your captain was a tough nut to crack but honestly, the details he provided were scarce and terribly brief. Just the facts and even then,” he shrugged, “I doubt it covers everything.”

“What do you want to know?”

He doubted she was ready for his questions. Hell, their relationship wasn’t ready for what he wanted to know. Damien shook his head. “Do you want to fly, or not?”

Abigail looked up at the sky and then at the helicopter. Without a word, she walked a loop of the machine, her eyes assessing and appraising, her mind digesting what she saw. He saw a keenness in her that he remembered feeling when he was younger. Regardless of what happened between them, knowing she took after him was reassuring.

Joy radiated from her pale eyes. “What are we waiting for?”

Damien watched her climb in and buckle her seatbelt. He followed suit and took the co-pilot chair. In the quiet interior of the chopper, she studied the instrument panel and familiarized herself with the controls. The delight on her face was beautiful and it was nothing for him to imagine her in the heat of combat.

“You know, if you took a picture, it would last longer,” she murmured, reaching for the headphone-mic set.

Her words stunned him. First uttered by Penny thirty years ago, and then by Stevie a few months earlier, they were like the soundtrack to his life. She looked at him curiously.

“What?”

Damien shook his head. Telling her she was a McCafferty would have to wait, but the more he got to know her, the more definite he was of it. “You look like you’re in your element, that’s all.”

She smiled and the purity of it smacked him hard. “I’ve missed it.”

He watched her flick switches and push buttons to start the blades overhead turning. The gentle whir gathered speed until the rotors thundered above them. Damien adjusted the headset so he could hear her. He hoped she was physically up to the task of flying because it had been a very long time since he’d learned how to pilot a chopper. Even then, he hadn’t flown one since.

The aircraft lifted off the ground in one smooth movement, gaining altitude quickly enough to make his stomach drop. It didn’t quite rival the whoosh of taking off in a plane, but it came close. The grin on his daughter’s face, however, was priceless.

“Which way?” she laughed into the headset.

Damien spread his hands out wide. “Wherever takes your fancy, kid.”

They headed northeast, making a pass over Hollywood’s estate. Down below, the man in question looked up as they flew overhead. From here, Damien could see how far his parcel of land stretched to the north and northwest. The vast carpet of green was so dense he wondered if Hollywood had truly explored all of it. The river that snaked through the vegetation flowed toward town, but from up here, Damien could see that it originated up in the mountains.

From theSanctuary,Abigail took them east and over the mountains. The Great Divide separated the east coast of Australia from its hotter, drier interior. It spanned a line south, from Queensland through New South Wales before cutting a swathe through central Victoria and sputtering out in western Victoria. The source of folklore and legend, the range of mountains were rugged, beautiful and, at times, dangerous.

“It’s beautiful from up here,” Abigail crooned, her gaze taking in the vast landscape beneath them. She turned the chopper to follow the ridge of mountains that was home to Wills Crossing. The town sat to their right as they flew south, toward the smaller settlement of Burke’s Ridge. The towns were named after the country’s early explorers, Robert O’Hara Burke and William John Wills, though there was no recorded presence of them anywhere within the vicinity. They probably should’ve been named after the miners who came looking for gold. Sadly, none of the precious gem was found.

“It’s beautiful down there, too.”

She nodded and pointed out the front windshield. “What’s that way?”

“Burke’s Ridge is about an hour’s drive south of us. It’s smaller than the Crossing but possibly prettier. Especially in winter. There are a few other, even smaller towns as you head down the range.”

They continued south until the Ridge, as the local’s called it, came into view. Nestled in amongst the bush, he could make out the roof top of the supermarket, the pubBuckley’s Chance, and the large yard of the feed and produce store. It’s population of less than five hundred were fiercely proud of their town, and included two of his own.

Damien pointed across Abigail and she swung the aircraft right. “See that?”

She shook her head. “There’s nothing there.”

“Look through the trees, Abigail. Now do you see?”

She squinted and then nodded. “A roof.”

---