Treasure of the Floodplains

“I can’t see bugger all,” Jack cursed over the radio, the noise of the choppers blades trying desperately to drown him out.

FWUMPFWUMPFWUMP.

“You think I’m much better? This joints a bloody death trap”. Jack had dropped Tommy in only moments ago among the jungle of grass on the flood plain, the downdraft flattening the grass out enough for him to see his target roughly thirty metres away, an island of degrading plant matter that was the same as x-marks-the-spot. A treasure trove. And much like the pirates of old, Tommy had to avoid a monster that would kill him without a moments hesitation.

The weight on his hip was supposed to be comforting. Just under a kilogram and almost six inches in length, the ten round Browning pistol was never going to be able to kill it if it decided it wanted to get closer to Tommy. He remembered being handed it the first time three years ago and telling the boss it would be as useless as a pea shooter against the ancient beasts that he was stealing from. The reply he got didn’t settle him. “Use nine rounds on the bloody thing if its coming for ya, but make sure you keep one for yourself,” old Dan told him, “coz that way if it gets ya you can be dead before it gets you under the water, coz the pilot sure as hell isn’t gonna be able to help ya”.

The flashback hit him like a train, his chest tightening up and making it harder for him to draw in any air. He knew that air was precious, and he didn’t plan on wasting any of it if the next ten or fifteen minutes were going to be his last.

“Can you crop dust this bloody grass? I can’t see where I’m meant to be heading, let alone the bastard that I’m meant to be avoiding,” he said, using the pole he was carrying to try push some of the brush over. He knew Jack couldn’t get too much lower but he would take whatever he could get if it meant increasing his chance of surviving by the slimmest of margins.

“She’ll be right to drop another three feet but I can’t do more than that sorry mate,” Jack apologised, knowing full well how vulnerable Tommy’s position was. But that’s why these fullahs got paid the big money, high risk meant high reward, each egg making roughly fourty dollars each and each nest having roughly fifty eggs. Easy two grand a nest for old Dan minus Jack and Tommy’s pay.

With three feet less altitude, the downdraft from the chopper flattened the grass enough for Tommy to see the forests of neon yellow k-pop flowers. These plants are the best indicator for nesting season, with the flowers budding and flowering as the egg laying begins. He slowly turned, taking in what seemed like never ending plains of yellow. But the brightness and warmth emitted from the flowers weren't enough to stop him from freezing in motion, a cold feeling sending chills throughout his body.

It was five-foot wide. That was the first thing Tommy noticed. It’s a friggan monster, he thought as he tried to take in how wide the slide of flattened grass was. The grass either side had formed over the top of it, making an arch that protected the warning sign from aerial view. “Jacko, if I’d known how big this thing was I wouldn’t come down,” he stammered over the radio. He’d seen some big crocs in the two years he’d been doing this work, but this was the biggest by almost a hundred kilos he guessed. Probably over twenty feet too, he shuddered as he imagined the size of the head on it, silently saying a prayer that he never found out how big it really was.

“Might wanna make it quick mate,” he heard Jack say through the comms unit, “The amount of bubbles that just came up in the water about fourty feet away from ya had me thinking the Titanic had just sunk”. That’s all the encouragement Tommy needed to rip the container off his back and get to work removing the top of the nest. It only took him a minute to reach the eggs, stopping in amazement when he removed the first from its resting place. Normally about three inches long and a hundred grams, these eggs were an anomaly he had never seen before. Tommy figured them to be closer to a couple hundred gram and five inches in length, forcing his thoughts again down the path of terror at the size of this dinosaur.

Sweating profusely, his R.M. Williams shirt stuck to him like a second skin in the tropical heat as he worked as quickly as possible to unveil and store the eggs as quickly as possible. He knew if he made it out alive, both of the boys would get a nice bonus from Dan. Removing the last half dozen eggs, a sixth sense told him he wasn’t alone anymore, quickly confirmed by Jack screaming through the radio and an explosion of the water behind him.

HISSSSSS.

The mother shot twelve feet out of the water, sleek as a submarine and as dangerous as a torpedo. Adrenaline and reflexes kicking into overdrive, Tommy instinctively dove to the side furthest from the water. As he stood up, drawing the Browning from its holster, he caught her eye and his blood froze. He knew they were predators, but what he saw in her eyes was a killing machine that had been around for millions of years, that had evolved to be the most effective killer in the animal kingdom.

Then he noticed where the container had ended up. Right between predator and prey. With armour protecting her from the only weapon he had at his disposal, she eyed him hungrily and with her mouth opened slightly it seemed as though she was smiling maliciously at him. She would chalk him up as another nest raider she had exterminated, removing him from the flood plains like a father kills a spider terrorising the household.

Tommy knew there were few weak spots in a crocs hide, with the ones that were able to be exploited being almost minute in size or almost impossible to access. Although on a beast of her size, Tommy knew that she wouldn’t offer him a shot at her massive throat, and knowing his recent run of luck on the TAB he would only end up antagonising her. The only other options then were the nose and eyes. Their noses are full of nerves, making it extremely sensitive and much more likely to hurt the croc. It would just make her even more angry, he thought as he stood tense, his muscles prepared to throw his body into motion at a moments notice. The only other option was the eyes, but with the size of the head, he knew he’d have to be a marksman to make the shot when she was running full pace at him. Only take nine shots, he reminded himself, just like old Dan said.

He still needed the container though, and he couldn’t reach it with his pole and pull it towards him. That left him with two options; get out of there and leave behind a big pay day, or risk it all. I could pay for that new flatbed tray on the ‘lux, he chuckled to himself, making his decision. Taking deep breaths, he slowly reached his foot out to take his first step, before slowly lowering it in an attempt to avoid making any sound. Unfortunately, his slow movements weren't enough to prevent a branch from snapping, reminding him of when he used to wield the old mans whip in the bull pens.

CRACK.

That’s all she needed to be triggered into motion, bursting forward as she rushed to cover the thirteen feet between her and Tommy. Pistol already drawn, he raised his hands and aimed for her gigantic skull, pulling the trigger in rapid succession.

BANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANG.

Nine times, just like old Dan said. One round left for him, just in case. In the time it had taken him to send the rounds towards her, she’d covered ten feet. That’s as far as she got. Every single round had hit her front on, with five rounds mauling her nose, two shattering some of her ancient teeth, one grazing her left leg. And the other, going against his bad run of luck at the TAB, had gone straight through her left eye, the hollow-point round mushrooming as it entered her skull and more than likely bouncing around her brains like a kangaroo. As she lay there Tommy withdrew the magazine and looked at the final round in it. Didn’t need to save ya for myself now did I, he chuckled in relief, already planning to give the round pride of place somewhere. Might grab me a tooth of the old girl and put it next to the round on a chain or something, walking over and inspecting the damage he’d managed to do. Finding the biggest tooth he could, he quickly removed it before calling Jack down so they could load the precious cargo aboard like the pirates would stash jewels onboard their vessels.

The flight back to camp was a quiet affair, with neither of the fullahs still quite believing Tommy’s luck. “To think you couldn’t win a dollar on the bloody pokies but you can stop a croc twenty feet long in nine shots,” Jack said shaking his head in disbelief, “Might have to call ya Lucky Nine or just Nine for short”. Tommy chuckled, just happy to be alive and looking forward to the new flatbed he was buying that afternoon for his Hilux. Yep, life's pretty good, he chuckled as they headed back towards camp, taking in the vastness of the floodplains and enjoyed the sunset they were flying into.