Blacky Blasts Back by Barry Jonsberg Read Free Book Online

the one furthest away. It was going to be difficult enough getting to sleep as it was. I hoped that if John did try to make a night-time visit to my bunk I’d hear the groan of shifting floorboards. Or his head scraping against the ceiling. Even then I could have done with additional resources. Like a moat. Or a missile launcher. Maybe both.
    Phil and Jimmy were pacing up and down when we reassembled outside twenty minutes later. My impression was that Jimmy, in particular, never relaxed. Probably went swinging through trees while everyone else slept. He took a pace forward. His eyes bulged and his face was red. It looked like a relief map of Mars.
    â€˜Fifteen!’ he yelled. ‘Ya barkin’ wee minkers. Ya bahmpots. Ya choobs. Awa’ and boil yir heids.’
    Phil stepped in.
    â€˜Jimmy’s right, guys,’ he said. No one argued with this, for the very good reason we had no idea what Jimmy had just said. ‘When we say fifteen minutes, we mean fifteen. Not twenty. Not thirty. Fifteen. Got it? Okay.’
    He put his hands behind his back. ‘Here’s the plan for today. We are going to start with a simple team-building exercise. After lunch, we’ll take a small hike into the bush. No more than two kilometres. This will be preparation for a longer hike we’ll take the day after tomorrow. When we return, depending on time, we might take the kayaks out onto the river.’
    I put my hand up. Phil nodded at me.
    â€˜Won’t it be cold in the water?’ I asked. The temperature had dropped even further. A penguin would have been on the lookout for a fleecy jumper and a hot-water bottle.
    â€˜And?’ said Phil.
    â€˜I was wondering if there was heating in the kayaks?’
    Phil laughed, but Jimmy appeared to get even redder. I worried the top of his head might explode. He took a couple of paces forward, elbowing Phil out of the way. He turned the twin bores of his nostrils towards me.
    â€˜Heat, is it?’ he yelled. ‘I’ll give ya heat, lad. Do ye know why yir kayak wud freeze the wee bits oaf a brass monkey?’
    At least I understood most of this. It seemed like progress.
    â€˜No,’ I said.
    â€˜Because ye cannae huv yir kayak an’ heat it,’ he said. Then he burst out laughing. ‘Geddit?’ he spluttered. ‘Yir kayak an’ heat it. Tha’s a wee cracker, so it is.’
    Phil stepped in once again.
    â€˜After that,’ he said, ignoring his colleague, who appeared to be on the verge of suffocating on his own laughter, ‘you’ll be preparing the evening meal – a barbecue – and cleaning up afterwards. Bed will be at eight-thirty, ready for a six o’clock warm-up run in the morning. Any questions?’
    This time he did pause, but no one said anything. I think we were too stunned. I’d been hoping for an opportunity to read a book, maybe catch a quick afternoon nap. Possibly a swim in the resort pool, some television in the games room, a leisurely buffet dinner before settling down in front of a new-release DVD on a forty-two-inch plasma screen. That’s my idea of doing it tough. Unfortunately, we appeared to be lacking a few of the essentials. Like a pool, a games room and a television.
    We trailed after our guides as they led us down to the banks of a slow-moving river. It wasn’t a big river, maybe twelve metres across, but it looked cold. I half expected to see the odd iceberg floating past. Or even a normal iceberg.
    Jimmy still hadn’t recovered from his own wit, so Phil gave us instructions.
    â€˜Your task is to construct a way of getting across this river. Three rules. One, the members of your team must all travel together. You can’t go one by one. Two, the only tools you have are a length of rope and a small machete. Three, you cannot cut anything down from the forest. Anything you use must already be lying around. Two teams. Start when you’re ready.’

Dyl