I smile back; I’m weak.
Luke gives me a thumbs up, then rounds the chopper and climbs in on the other side.The blades start spinning.The ground shifts slightly under us.
And then—
‘Um …’ I look around in panic.‘You didn’t shut the doors?’
Ella turns in the front seat, her voice totally calm as it filters through the headset.‘There are no doors.’
I whip my head towards her, then at Luke, then back at the yawning, doorless gap beside me.
When did we as a society decide that flying without barriers was a good idea?
Luke reaches out and finds my hand, threading our fingers together.
I hold on.It’s not even romantic.It’s pure survival.
I focus on the view as we lift off.Wide, open nothingness.Endless stretches of land dotted with specks that slowly sharpen into cattle, fences and men on horseback.A few kelpies chase the stragglers with Olympic precision.
It’s breathtaking.And it would be lovely if I weren’t convinced that I was about to fall out of the helicopter and join the specks on the ground.
‘How many people work here?’I ask, needing a distraction from the rush of wind and mortality.
Ella glances at Darcy, who’s flying the chopper like it’s a casual Sunday drive.
‘Excluding the contractors, forty or so,’ he says.Then, glancing at me, he adds, ‘You interested in joining the team?’
I laugh.Hard.‘God, no.’Then I wince.‘I mean – no offence.I would actually die out here.’
There’s a pause.
Luke lets go of my hand.And maybe it’s the altitude, but it stings more than it should.
But me in the outback?That’s like asking the Spice Girls to sing live.
Some things aren’t meant to survive in the wild.
A crackle from the radio breaks through the steady thrum of the blades, a garbled voice spitting out something I can’t understand.Darcy grabs the mic and responds in fluent Outback Morse Code.
Luke leans forward in his seat, eyes lighting up.
Then the helicopter lurches mid-air as Darcy veers us away from the blue chopper we were following.
‘What’s going on?’I ask.
Ella twists in her seat, wearing a smile that makes me very nervous.‘You’re about to see your first croc.’
I blink.‘I’m sorry – my first what?’
I must look like someone just handed me a live grenade, because Ella chuckles.‘You’ll be fine.There’s four of us.’
That statistic is not comforting.
I grip the seat as we descend towards a riverbank, the rotors sending red dust and my own panic spiralling in equal measure as we land.The engine powers down and Ella, Darcy and Luke hop out as if it’s just another day.The three of them head towards a circle of metal fencing semi-submerged in water.
Cool.Great.
I do not get out of the helicopter.
