TEAM TOMMY:
AN EXCERPT – Chapter 8

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Preamble:

Tommy’s dad appeared to have been taken by a croc in the mangroves somewhere in Port Douglas.
Tommy had been with him kicking the ball around, and watched as his father Harry had went in retrieve the ball from a creek which meandered its way through the groves to eventually come out into the main stream of the inlet, it was an eerie place.

Senior Sergeant Curtis Morris was in a dilemma, he had to search the mangroves, but would have to be careful, what if there was a croc around and it was hungry, unusual though it may be, there was always that possibility.

There was one thing he did know for sure, he couldn’t just go blundering in there, it was going to be a nightmare, and what if they found the man, or bits of him. It wasn’t worth thinking about.

But Harry Anderson, Tommy’s dad, had to be somewhere, the bastard wouldn’t just disappear would he. Or would he?

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“Nice day for a search eh, Curtis?” 
Rory, the so-called Croc expert, was waiting at the car park. He’d worked at the ‘Habitat’ for many years, and loved his crocs, they kept him in a job, nothing much else did. 

His was a commanding presence. A man in his early forties, long straggly hair under a bush hat, and the outstanding part of his appearance was the long droopy moustache, a throwback to the seventies, he still had a touch of youth about him, and being single he kept pretty much within a small circle in Port.  

He was wearing his bush gear, it certainly had seen better days. Rory had brought along his offsider Melanie, petite, early thirties, long black hair pushed up under a hat that looked like a flying saucer on such a small framed person. But she had one special thing about her, a smile that could charm the cockatoos from the trees, and that wasn’t easy! 

Melanie knew as much, or even more about crocodiles as Rory did, but as for experience in the field she was still a long way behind.
Both were well covered and sprayed up for the search, they knew what mangroves were all about.  
They shook hands with Curtis. 

The challenge was to look for any signs of Harry or the croc, and none of them knew if they would be wasting their time. Curtis had also called on a favour at the club, to tell anyone who was going out on the Inlet to keep an eye open. Even now a couple of tinnies were trolling up and down the waterway, keeping close the sides, creeping slowly, binoculars trained on the mudflats. 

The tide was dropping, but there was still water in the small overgrown creek where the ball had been found. They climbed down, already the mosquitoes were on the attack, searching for bare skin and blood. They came in waves, luckily all three of them were well protected now.  

Their feet constantly stuck in the mud, making it hard going, and didn’t have time to cut a path, not now, they were going to have to push their way through, and would most likely end up with a scratch or two.  

Rory turned around to Curtis, they knew each other well, there was a little social group that met occasionally in Port, once again, similar interests. 
“I think maybe we should try and walk abreast, might cover the place a bit better.” 
“Yeah, I was thinking of that,” replied Melanie.  

She was actually enjoying this, but didn’t want to see a croc right now, not here. She especially didn’t want to see a body, having seen pictures of what a croc can do to human flesh, it wasn’t good. 

The little creek turned to the right. They were looking for signs in the mud, a croc would often leave their imprint, or the slide, where they had moved, dragging their armour coated bodies across the black glutinous mire.  

To both Habitat workers it seemed strange that a croc would have come this far, as to be near the road.
They really didn’t like humanity unless they could make a meal out of them. 

There was plenty of tucker to be had locally, and as far as Melanie knew, (she was the scientific one), there was plenty of fish to eat in the Inlet, and as for one to be big enough to seriously attack a fully grown man, well, where on earth had that come from, it certainly hadn’t been on anyone’s radar. 

“Hey guys, look, what’s that?” They were right in the groves now, all they heard was the occasional splash, or scurry. 
“Where abouts’ Melanie?” 
“Over there to the left. There’s something snagged on that root, duck down a bit.” 
“Can’t see it,” whispered Curtis. 
 It was eerie, and they were nervous, for the sergeant it was a creeping fear, he hated the fucking place. 
“No look, just a bit further in. Something, could be plastic.” 
“Curtis, do we know what he was wearing?” asked Rory. 
“Yes, it was a sky blue football shirt, a Melbourne City shirt so I’m told.” 
“Well, ok guys, I will try and get over there and have a look,” whispered Melanie. 

She wore a pair of heavy gloves, they were soft steel meshed and came halfway up her forearms, and would be some protection if she was ever attacked. 

The two men stood still, watching as she pushed her way through the thick roots, stepping over some, pushing through others, with the clinging slime it wasn’t easy, they’d only managed to work their way thirty metres into the morass, and wouldn’t get much further. She reached forward, the item was stuck between two roots. 

“Oh shit. It’s a plastic shopping bag, do any of you two want it? Not good for the environment you know.” 
“Look, leave it there eh, for now at least, I’m beginning to hate this place even more. I think I’m in a primeval swamp.” Shouted Curtis. He couldn’t wait to get it finished, and was sure they had fuck all chance of finding anything. Rory turned around to face him.  
“Mate, take it from me, you are in a primeval swamp.” 
“Hey you two, stop. There’s something else, over to my right, not far ahead of you.” Melanie was pointing, there was something lying on the mud. 
“Shit yes, I see it now.” answered Rory. 
“Wait here, mate.”  

Rory pushed his way over nearer Melanie. Curtis was fingering his gun, the flap had been undone, he really, really, didn’t like this place, it was so fucking weird. 

“It’s a bloody shirt alright!” 

Rory held up a filthy ripped something, it was almost torn in half. It was sky blue, well, sky blue with a lot of mud, and was a footie shirt, a Melbourne City football shirt, or once had been, not even the op shop would want it now. 
Oh shit, thought Rory. 

“I’m coming back, wait there guys.”  

Melanie and Curtis were together now, watching him. He wasn’t more than fifteen metres away, and holding the shirt he pushed back towards them. 
This certainly changes things, thought Curtis. 

“You two happy to carry on, you both have firearms?” asked Curtis. 
“Too right mate, never without them in this game, but this is a bit abnormal for us, we usually know where they are when we go looking for crocs, thank Christ they can’t climb trees!” Rory was actually smiling. 
“Ok then. Well, I’m going to have to get back, but be bloody careful eh, and thanks. I’ll give you a call to see how you’re going. I’m going back to the station, sadly I’ll have to catch up with this man’s wife, see if it’s his shirt, well it must be I reckon.” 
“Ok, but before you go can I have a look?” asked Melanie. She grabbed hold of the shirt. 
“No piercings?” 
“What,” asked Curtis. 
“No signs of teeth marks.” 
“Oh, ok.” 
“Yes that’s a bit odd I suppose. I mean if the croc had attacked him, well….” 
“Well, what, is there something I should know?” Asked Curtis. 
“Not really, I thought there would be some sign, that’s all.” 
“He could have tried to pull away, imagine the panic. Maybe ripped the shirt right open, would be easy, probably made in China, where else!” 
“Yes, that could be it, the poor bastard, where on earth is he now, I wonder?” 

That was a question Curtis was beginning to ask himself. 

Melanie and Rory kept on with the search, keeping close to each other, she had the feeling, well, she didn’t think they would find much, a body maybe, could that be on the cards? Somehow, she didn’t think so, and with the size and density of the place they needed thirty searchers, not three, the bloody place was almost impassable.