was a human footprint. It was probably a fresh one, for it was perfectly formed and showed no signs of erosion. It was a small bare print, probably belonging to a child. Were there Aborigines nearby? Bond knew he was on their land. Aborigines were traditionally a peaceful group—they could very well offer him assistance.
He stood up and looked around. There was nothing but the horizon. He put his hands to his mouth and called out, “Hello!” He did it three times in every direction. If there was anyone within a mile, they might have heard him.
Bond knelt back down and continued digging around the base of the tree. After a while, one of the roots was exposed. He wasn’t sure what to do next. It was too large and thick to break with his bare hands, and he had no appropriate tool for cutting it. He tugged on it and squeezed it, but quickly found he was wasting energy.
Damn! There were other plants that contained water, he was sure of it. As he pondered the problem, he ate one of the yellow fruits from his pocket. It went a long way towards quenching his thirst. Perhaps he could make it through the rest of the day without water, but what about tomorrow? And the next day? Of course, by then it would be too late. In fact, if he didn’t reach civilization by midnight, he doubted that he would make it back to Hong Kong before the first of July deadline. Maybe he could alert the proper authorities in time. Then the problem would be finding the bomb. They surely wouldn’t have much time to search an entire territory. The situation seemed quite hopeless.
Bond sighed, then stood up. He glanced at the sun to get his bearings, then turned to continue walking. What he saw stopped him dead in his tracks.
A black girl stood twenty feet away from him. She was an Aborigine, probably in her late teens or early twenties, and was wearing a dirty white t-shirt and dusty khaki shorts. Her legs and feet were bare. The girl was thin but looked healthy. It had most likely been her footprint that Bond had seen. She was carrying a long, thin, sharpened wooden stick in one hand, and also had a netted bag slung over one shoulder. The bag was full of tubers of some kind.
She looked at Bond with a mixture of curiosity and fear. Her brow was creased, as if she was questioning the evidence of her own eyes.
Slowly, Bond raised his hand in the universal gesture. “Hello,” he said pleasantly.
The girl tensed and looked as if she might run.
“Wait,” Bond said. “Don’t be afraid.” He dropped the file he was holding and held out both hands. “Can you help me?” He gestured towards the tree. “I was trying to find water. You know … water?” He mimed drinking with cupped hands. Did Aborigines speak English? He thought they did; but now, out here, he wasn’t sure …
She just stood there, staring at him. Bond tried to review what he knew about the Aboriginal people during the few seconds of silence. He knew that many were nomadic, were family-oriented, and were probably the most neglected and poorly treated races in history. He knew that the women were usually the food gatherers, while men hunted and performed spiritual rites. This woman was probably out gathering food for her family.
“Can you speak?” Bond asked. He pointed to himself. “James.”
She didn’t respond.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out one of the yellow fruits. “Oh, I have some of these. You want one?” He showed it to her and offered it. She eyed it, then looked back at him. Her large brown eyes were full of wonder. She did not fear him anymore, she was wondering what the hell he was doing there.
Bond tossed the fruit to her, underarm. She caught it with her free hand. Bond said, “Good catch.” He smiled at her.
Her eyes never left his as she brought the fruit up to her mouth and bit into it. The juice ran down over her chin and dripped on to her shirt. The moisture spread until the erect nipples of her firm breasts clearly protruded through the fabric. Bond watched her eat the entire thing. Despite the heat, his thirst, and the awkwardness of the situation, he found the sight incredibly erotic.
When the fruit was gone, she did nothing to wipe the juice off her chin and neck. Then, suddenly, she laughed. Bond laughed with her, and nodded.
“Water?” he asked again. “Can you help me get water?” Once more he cupped his hands to his mouth.
The girl nodded. Confidently she squatted on the ground by the tree and began to dig with her hands. Her hands were tough and coarse, virtually tools with which to dig into hard dirt. In less than five minutes, she had dug deeper than Bond had done with the file. She pulled on some smaller roots, breaking them off of the larger vein Bond had found earlier. She stood up and showed them to him. She snapped one in half, then sucked on the broken end of one part. The girl made a loud slurping noise, indicating that there was indeed moisture within the root. She handed the other end to Bond. He placed the broken root in his own mouth and sucked. There was water inside! It wasn’t much, only three or four small swallows. He smiled at her and nodded. The girl squatted again and broke off more roots, then handed them to him. He sucked on a couple more, then stored the remainder in his pockets.
“Thank you,” he said.
She nodded and smiled, although it looked a little like a smirk.
“Uluru,” he said. “I’m going to Uluru.”
She nodded her head and pointed in the northeasterly direction Bond was travelling. He had been right.
They heard an animal’s cry in the distance. She turned around, waved, and made a similar shrill call. It hadn’t been an animal’s cry at all. Off in the distance, Bond could see two other human figures, obviously part of her family or tribe.
The girl turned back to Bond and did something very strange. She reached up and placed her hand on Bond’s face. She felt his features, tracing his eyebrows and the bridge of his nose. She ran a finger along the faint scar on his right cheek. Then she felt his mouth, pinching his lips slightly. She inserted her index finger into his mouth and touched his teeth, as if she was amazed he still had a full set. Bond ran his tongue lightly across the tip of her finger. It tasted salty. She didn’t remove her finger; instead, she giggled.
Then she spoke! “If you keep walking, mate, you’ll reach Uluru by sundown.”
“Christ, you speak English!” Bond exclaimed. “Why didn’t you say so?”
The girl laughed, then abruptly turned and ran towards her companions.
Bond watched her go. The girl turned and waved at him, and soon she had disappeared beyond the horizon. She had made him feel foolish, but she was one of the most sensual creatures he had ever encountered.
Bond continued his walkabout. The sun’s heat became worse as the day moved into afternoon. He applied more sunblock and used some more of the water-saturated roots. Around 3:00 p.m. he came upon a dirt road. It seemed to head in the same direction as his destination, so he followed it. At 4:00 he saw signs of civilization. An old tyre had been discarded on the road. There were telephone poles in the distance.
Finally, he saw it. At the edge of the horizon was a red bump. From this distance, it was a mere pimple where the earth met the sky. As he walked closer, the bump grew in size until it was a mountain. Uluru … Ayers Rock, the big red heart of Australia. It was a sacred shrine to the Aborigines, and the main reason why tourists ventured to the desolation of central Australia. The 348-metre-high monolith was indeed a breathtaking sight. Its fiery glow and haunting colours were at their peak, illuminated by the setting sun.
It was 6:00 p.m. Bond had spent nearly twenty-four hours in the Australian outback, and had made it to civilization. He nearly wept with awe, joy, and relief.
TWENTY-ONE
JAMES BOND STUMBLED INTO THE ULURU NATIONAL PARK RANGER STATION and nearly collapsed on the floor. An Aborigine dressed in a park ranger uniform stood up in surprise.
“You all right, mate?” he asked.
“Water … phone …” Bond whispered.
An hour later, Bond had showered, eaten a meal, and spent fifteen minutes with his eyes closed. He was dead tired and probably had a mild case of heat exhaustion. He would have liked to have crawled into a hole for a week, but there was just a little more than twentyfour hours left. It was precious little time, and he had to find the quickest way back to Hong Kong. The rangers had provided him with a clean uniform, as his clothes were soiled and torn. When he went through his pockets, Bond found the business card that Skip Stewart had given him in the pub
