The Bunyips of Kangaroo Island

Elson grimaced as the ferry boat rolled and pitched in the dark swells. Her stomach was in full riot mode, and they’d just left the dock. They had been warned, as they had filed off the bus in Adeline, that the crossing to Kangaroo Island would be rough. Another swell hit, and Elson dropped her head onto the deck rail and fought hard not to be sick.

It had been dark when she and her classmates had boarded the ferry, road-weary from the journey south. They’d left the hustle and bustle of Sydney behind, along with all the creature comforts that Elson knew would not be waiting for them on the island.
Elson and twenty-four of her fellow science students were headed to Kangeroo Island Research Station, a rustic working laboratory on the island’s south side. The lab was conducting biodiversity and population health studies in the wake of the brushfires that decimated southern Australian for two years. KI had always been an important sanctuary for wildlife, a stronghold for many already threatened species. It had been heavily impacted by the devastating fires, and the research being done there would reveal how well the island’s flora and fauna were recovering.

The entire island had been declared a key biodiversity area, and to help preserve this important site, the research station regularly invited universities to help with the important conservation work. Elson’s team from UMASS would be working with Dr. Monroe, the resident Ornithologist, netting some of the islands 265 resident bird species for the purposes of cataloging and assessing population growth. It was a chance to do real scientific field work. The significance of the opportunity was not lost on Elson, even as she battled the urge to vomit on the rolling dark seas.

The relatively short, 14 km stretch between the Australian mainland and the island’s shore was an angry patch of water. Elson thought it was no small wonder, given the island’s history was steeped in dark stories from Aboriginal lore and legends from the years when the island was populated by European seal traders. She had read about three Indigenous women and an infant who, after having been kidnapped by seal traders, attempted escape by crossing the same straight the ferry now carried Elson across. There had only been room for two of them in the boat, and so the third woman had tied the baby to her back and attempted to swim to freedom. The woman and her infant had drowned in the waves. Those stories must be the reason why the Aboriginals called this island, Karta Pintingga, Island of the dead.

The captain announced that they would be docking. There was a collective cheer and smatter of clapping. Elson struggled to her feet and strained to see through the dim light and mist. She could just make out impressive cliffs rising up along the coast before the mist turned to a blinding rain. They were ushered off the ferry and into green vans with the KI Research Station logo on the sides. The rain turned torrential.

The research station was as rustic as they’d been warned. Women and men were separated into two dormitories which consisted of bunk beds, an ailing space heater and an ancient looking drying rack. The staff instructed them to claim a bunk. They shed their wet jackets to dry out overnight as more rain was expected tomorrow. Bathrooms were located out back in a cinder block shed. There were only two showers, which meant they’d each have exactly one shower in the seven days they’d be at the station. Elson thought back to her luxurious hotel room in downtown Sydney with a sudden pang of fierce longing. Elson reminded herself that some of the greatest scientific discoveries sprung from some of the most inhospitable places on Earth. She could handle seven days on the Island of the dead.

The next morning the group woke early, donned their still damp jackets and headed north to a site near Murray Lagoon where they would set up that day’s bird-netting and tagging location. They stretched the soft netting across a wide swath of open valley, anchoring it two feet above the swaying grass. In the sunlight, the netting became almost invisible. In a short time, they’d begun collecting the birds. Elson loved holding their delicate bodies while her partner worked to detangle the wings and legs from the netting. The birds were identified, assessed for weight and health, then tagged and released.

Elson and her teammates worked well into dusk, donning their headlamps when it became too dark to properly identify some of the species. The sheer amount of diversity was astounding. Elson identified over 35 different species, including a rare, red wattlebird, wood swallows, honeyeaters and even a spotted dove. It had rained on them most of the day, but the work had been rewarding. It wasn’t until they loaded back onto the vans that they registered their aching joints, wet necks and soggy socks.

Dinner in the station cafeteria was festive and animated despite the limited menu. The lights above their heads buzzed and flickered and rain pounded the windows. Elson excused herself to visit the bathrobe block. She tugged on her damp parka and made her way into the rain. The bathroom block was about 140 yards from the back door of the station. Elson made a run for it, doing her best to avoid the pooling water.
Afterward, she was preparing to make the mad dash back, when she noticed something in her peripheral vision. She threw back her hood and turned her attention to the large bush to the left of the bathrooms. Had she seen something move? Had something darker than the darkness around it suddenly shifted? Elson took a tentative step in the direction and strained her eyes against the sheeting rain. Elson watched as a shape seemed to rise up, taller than the foliage around it. She could see course hair and a rippling, muscular back. All at once a chorus of laughter erupted from the cafeteria, and the thing lifted its head in the direction of the sudden sound.

The eyes were round, orange orbs dancing in the dim light. The face was wide and flat, almost lemur-like. Elson saw a ragged jaw full of sharp, bright teeth. She heard a low, menacing growl over the noise of the pelting rain. She held her breath, frozen in place. In the end, the thing turned its flat nose up into the air for a few seconds, then seemed to melt back into the shadows.

Safely back inside, Elson tried to explain what she saw to her bunkmate Reba. She told Elson that she must have caught a glimpse of one of the island’s resident kangaroos. There was a large population of gray kangaroos that often visited the station. “They can stand up as tall as a man,” she offered, “in the rain, and the dark, they could easily look like something more menacing”.

Elson wasn’t convinced. She tried Dr. Monroe next. The older man told her the outback could play lots of tricks on the eyes. He cautioned her to stick close to the research station, that there were real enough dangers out there like venomous snakes, and a particularly nasty bred of wild boar. Elson wondered if what she’d seen could have been a wild pig, distorted by the falling rain and her tired eyes. Elson turned in early but slept very little. She could have sworn she heard something out there, beyond the walls, prowling and snarling beneath the ambient noises of the night.

It was three days after that, that the disappearances started.

The first to go missing was Annabelle Rex, a petite blonde sophomore who transferred to UMASS from Drew University. Everyone knew her to be a bit of a partier. When she disappeared alongside her tagging teammate, Rick Davis, it was widely suspected the two had wandered off to have a bit of fun in private. When they hadn’t returned to the vans by quitting time, the staff mounted a search with ATV’s borrowed from the ranger’s station.

It wasn’t long before the talk started, hushed conversations among the road staff and KI residents who worked at the station. Slowly tales about Bunyips and something called a Yowie, which Elson took to be a kind of Australian Bigfoot, began to swirl through the station. By the time they found the first body, the talk had become the dull roar of an urban legend come to life. Rick’s bloated course had been found on the bank of the Rocky River, disemboweled and partially devoured. The students recanted the lurid details over their mugs of steaming tea. Reportedly, Rick’s mud-streaked face had been frozen in an expression of terror, one of his arms and both legs had been chewed away and his guts had been strewn around him in thick, ropy red tendrils.

Authorities began descending on Kangaroo Island. All research work was halted. Dr. Monroe sent them on a side excursion to the Remarkable Rocks cultural site. Upon their return, they learned that there had been two more bodies discovered, believed to show evidence of some kind of animal attack. Both victims had been KI support staff. Elenor Fraut, a kitchen worker in her 60’s, and Margie Hatt, the dock steward who had first greeted them at the ferry dock when they arrived. The news plunged KI station into chaos. UMASS announced they were pulling the plug on the program and would arrange transport back to the states the very next morning.

Elson was just finishing her packing when Alessa dropped dramatically onto the bottom bunk.

“I can’t believe this is happening, “she lamented. “We won’t get to make it to the caves to see the fur seals now. That was one of the main reasons I signed up for this trip!”

Alessa was first year marine bio student she’d met on the flight over from Boston. She was a petite, dark-eyed girl with a warm personality. She had been well-suited for the rustic life on the island. She attacked the hiking and the hard, long hours with relish. She never complained and always volunteered for everything. Elson imagined her disappointment was very real. Alessa fancied herself a true scientific explorer. She never went anywhere without the heavy, expensive looking Nikon camera around her neck or the hi-tec binoculars in her pack. Elson noted she had both the camera and the pack with her now.

“Come with me El. I’m hiking out to Hawk’s Nest to see if I can get some pictures of the kangaroos before we leave tomorrow.”

Elson started to protest. It was almost dinner time, and it was at least a 15-minute walk there and back. However, Elson really liked Alessa.
She had made the 14- plus hour flight almost bearable with her easy conversation and laughter. Besides, Elson had little interest in sitting around, listening to the others swap boogieman stories.

They set off toward Hawk’s Nest. The path was wide and well-marked in red clay. The trail was lined with scraggy bush vegetation on both sides until it widened into a large clearing. A small group of gray kangaroos occupied it. Elson was surprised by how large the animals were, almost as tall as a man with thick, muscular torsos and powerful legs and tails. They appeared to be used to visitors and seemed unbothered by Alessa’s movements and her incessantly clicking camera.

Elson was just about to suggest they start back when all the roos went stark still. In unison, they raised their snouts into the air, large ears twitching with sudden tension. All at once they bolted, crashing away into the scrubland, dashing past Elson so closely that she could feel the heat radiating off their bodies. Elson stomach lurched and she suddenly felt strangely exposed. She heard Alessia’s sharp, “what the fuck…” and watched her raise the binoculars to her eyes.

She had turned then, her face draining of color as her mouth flapped uselessly in Elson’s direction. She started moving, reaching to tug Elson along with her. Panic sparked in Elson, and it took a few extra moments to get her feet moving. She saw her friend glance back over her shoulder to the right of the clearing, where some of the taller grass looked to be swaying, as if something was making its way through the open space. Alessa’s eyes fixed on something, and she began to scream. One word, over and over again.

“Run.”

Elson bolted from the clearing. They raced side by side, Alessia’s bag made a frenzied sound as it slapped against her body. The sound mixed with the crash and heavy ground thumps coming from whatever was chasing them. At some point the Nikon broke free of Alessia’s neck. Elson reached back for it as it fell but it hit the ground.

Alessia screamed at her to leave it. Elson paused for a brief moment, and in that frozen second, she saw what was pursuing them.

She knew it was the large creature from the other night, but it wasn’t lost in the shadows now. It was clearly discernable in all its bestial glory.
Its disturbingly humanoid body was covered in thick, matted hair. It was heavy-limbed, and it half loped, half ran forward, propelled by two powerful legs. Something dark and phallic-looking swayed between its legs as it came for them. Its arms were muscled like those of a kangaroo, but they ended in club-like fists with long, black claws that chewed the earth as it moved. There was no neck, only a large squat head with those luminescent orange eyes and that terrible gaping maw filled with rows of ragged teeth. Elson could smell it now, dark and rotten like rancid pond water. It was close, and it began to keen and growl as it raced to close the distance.

How far were they from the camp now? How long had it been chasing them? They were both screaming, wailing and crying, stumbling and struggling to keep their distance between them and the monstrosity. The station appeared before them, 100ft, then 50, then they were throwing themselves against the door, tearing it open and thrusting their terrified bodies inside. Suddenly they were slipping, sliding across the floor which was slick with something dark and viscous. Elson lost her balance and fell to her knees hard. She lifted blood-covered hands and turned to look at Alessia. Her friend’s face registered all the horror and fear Elson would ever need to see.

There, in the large mess hall, were the bodies, or what was left, of their fellow students. Their remains had been torn to pieces and, it seemed, partially consumed.

The terror became a roaring sound in her ears and there was a sudden, crippling pressure in her chest. Karta Pintingga. The words rolled across Elson’s mind even as she felt the rolling blackness take her.

Word Count: 2405