Mat Clarke is one of the original 'Minters' and here is chapter 7 from 'Deep Water,' a serial that became one of the most popular in the early days. Mat is still a member of The Story Mint and also runs his own writers club in Melbourne. Last year they published a book of short stories. Mat is an actor and can be seen on Australian TV in many dramas.
Another gulp of water. I gag and more water
shoots into my mouth. I can’t stay up, oh god I can’t stay up. My leg hits
something hard. I’m being dragged along the river floor. I can see the sky past
the few inches of water above my head. I could be closer to the shore than I
thought. I could stand! I wave my arms through the thick water and turn myself
around and face down stream and push against the rocks below, the life jacket
helps me surface. Air partially fills my lungs again. The shore is only yards away;
although it’s the opposite side to where Artie has been left.
I scramble over the wet slippery obstacles
until I’m back onto sun cooked rocks. Water spurts out from my stomach and I
cough and shake. Everything has gone so wrong and Artie is dying. No rafts and
no people are in sight but I can hear far off voices and yelling. A track leads
along the river. It’s my only option. For Artie’s sake I push myself up and
hobble faster than I think I should on whatever is broken in my foot. But for
Artie, I have to for Artie.
‘Help! Bruce, anyone, help me, I’m over
here. Hey!
My voice echoes off the walls but there is
no return cry. I can hear someone screaming. Others must be hurt as well. It’s
like a nightmare. It is a nightmare. Of all the stupidest trips this has to be
the worst. Why couldn’t Artie just take me on a date. Why couldn’t Artie
realise what I feel for him. Idiot! My hand flies to my mouth. He’s hurt and
may be dead and here I am I’m cursing him. The hot sun is warm but my face is
still wet. I keep crying like a pitiful child but can’t help myself. I gulp a
chunk of air like it’s going to run out, sniff and try not to think of future
birthdays without Artie.
The track takes a sharp turn moving away
from the River. A hiss. I step back into a prickly bush. A snake the size of a
cell phone is coiled and upright. It’s almost comical in its size but still
scary and looks like it may just attack out of spite.
‘Help, anybody.’
My throat feels so sore. I can’t even yell
out properly. I’m so useless.
But then an answer to my call and I can
hear running along the path.
‘I’m here! Artie’s hurt we need to help
him. Hurry.’
Then someone comes into view and stops on
the other side of the small snake. He isn’t wearing the wet gear like everyone
in the rafts. Instead he’s in camouflage clothes and a rifle is slung over his
back. He steps forward and crushes the snake, then just stands there as if
waiting for a reaction.
Mat Clarke (Australia) copyright Mat Clarke 2012
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