We listen patiently to a solemn song that sinks into the hollowness of my gut and clap hesitantly when he finishes.
“Welcome to Cullamonjoo National Park,” he says in an Australian accent that sounds different from the one we’ve been immersed in for the last few weeks. “I am Birrani, and it is my pleasure to welcome you to this beautiful place in the heart of the country belonging to the Wangkangurru and Yarluyandi people.”
Nick had told us about this throughout our travels—the colonization of the country by white settlers that systemically destroyed much of the population of the Aboriginal peoples who had madethis place their home—but seeing this man, his passion for his culture, makes it more real than ever.
Birrani speaks to us for several minutes about the land’s history and his people’s struggles, before he leads us around the side of the building, where a line of dune buggies sits waiting for us. Nick divides us up into groups of two—I’m paired with Claire as usual, who looks less than enthused not to be partnered with Declan—and gives us a long rundown of all the instructions and things we are not allowed—I repeat,not allowed—to do on the buggy.
“We’re hours away from civilization out here,” Nick warns. “If something goes wrong, we’re on our own. No one’s coming to help us.”
And then we’re off. I let Claire drive first, which may have been a mistake, as our trip towards the dunes is composed of short bursts of acceleration punctuated by sharp slams on the brakes. Eventually though, she seems to get into it, and soon, we’re climbing the dunes, tires struggling to grip the loose sand beneath our seat. We get going so fast that the tires arc upwards as we graze the dune’s summit, and for a moment we’re weightless. The seat belt digs into my chest, but I barely notice it as I raise my hands above my head and unleash a wild, almost savage yell, one that releases the pent-up emotions that have threatened to flood out of me the last few days.
We connect back to the ground with a bone-jarring jolt, and I steal a glance over at Claire, expecting her to be shocked. But it’s my turn to be surprised. There’s a devilish glint in her eye and her smile is almost manic, something I’ve never seen in her expression before. Then she tilts her head back, joining me in another wild shout.
***
After an hour or so of playing in the dunes, and just as the sun begins to descend, Birrani leads our caravan of buggies away to flatter land. The view changes from sand as far as the eye can see back to the red dirt, groupings of bushes eventually morphing into larger trees, until we enter what looks to be a forest in the middle of the desert. But that isn’t all, I realize. Further ahead, I spot lights sparkling against water.
The red dirt drops off suddenly, merging with the dark blue waters. A lake, I realize, in the middle of all this arid land.
“We’ll camp here for the night,” Birrani announces once we’ve pulled to a stop. “Miraka Lake. It is beautiful, yeah, but don’t be fooled. It’s dangerous. That water holds some of Australia’s most deadly species. We should be fine to stay up here away from the shore, so long as we make sure our tents are zipped before sleep. But none of you best go anywhere near the water.” Birrani shoots us a sharp glance, fortified by Nick’s glare from where he stands behind him.
On Birrani’s instructions, we grab the tents and other supplies from the backs of our buggies and try to set them up. Or Claire does at least. I wait until Birrani comes over to help us. Eventually, we’re settled, sleeping bags laid out in our two-person tents, darkness polluting the sky. Birrani prepares a fire for us in the middle of our tent circle, and Nick pulls out sausages—of course—for us to grill.
An hour or so later, with all of us fed, Nick and Birrani head to their respective tents. Perfect timing for Kyan to pull out a bottle he’sbeen holding on to since Airlie Beach. I feel my heart rate speed up at the sight of it. The effects of my ride with Claire have worn off, and I’m desperately in need of another source of adrenaline to act normal. Kyan passes it around the circle, the fire painting an odd glow against his face, and when it reaches me, I take a deep swig, the now familiar fire of the whiskey burning the lining of my throat.
There’s a warmth hovering over us, light flickering from the fire. But even so, a familiar longing blooms in my chest. A feeling of wanting more, like my basic needs aren’t satisfied.
I take another swig from the bottle before passing it to Declan. I close my eyes, feeling the liquor course through my chest, eradicating the gaping hole that’s ballooned there.
“So,” Ellery says at one point, “I suppose this whole camping experience doesn’t come with public bathrooms?”
“I think you’re looking at ’em, El,” Josh says, gesturing around.
Ellery rolls her eyes. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
“I will go with you,” Tomas says. “To keep watch.”
The two of them head off, and a brief lull falls over the rest of us.
“Truth or dare?” Adrien proposes, a twinkle in her eye. “We haven’t played in a while.”
A faint chill blows up my arms, the desert temperature falling rapidly.
“So, how about it?’ Adrien asks. “Claire, truth or dare?”
Claire’s head darts up from where it’s been resting on Declan’s shoulder.
“Oh, uh, truth.”
Of course, she always chooses truth.
“Fuck, marry, kill. Out of our group.”
“What?” Claire asks, eyes wide.
Adrien laughs. “You need to choose one person you’d like to sleep with, one you’d like to marry, and one you’d like to kill.”
Claire’s face turns redder than I’ve ever seen it, which is saying something.
