Stacey Taylor-Millar looked at her birth certificate again.
"Michael Taylor." She murmured, folding the page in half and placing it in her half-packed backpack.
Stacey was fifteen when her mother finally told her the truth about her biological father - Mick Taylor, pig shooter and outback legend.
Kelly Millar had met a very charming (yet somewhat dangerous) Mick Taylor while she was 18 working as a barmaid in a South Australian pub. A tiny town in the middle of nowhere called Innamincka, right on the banks of the Cooper Creek. Mick very quickly became a local, drinking at the pub every night. One thing led to another and 18 year old Kelly found herself having a love affair with the pig shooter.
Until one day four months later police found a bunch of dead tourists hanging on meathooks in some nearby trees. Mick disappeared, leaving Kelly alone and eight weeks pregnant.
Kelly had followed the news. Tracking newspaper articles of murdered tourists and their whereabouts, but she never had the courage to go out and find the man who had fathered her baby.
Now it was Stacey's time. She had to find her dad. She didn't care if he was connected to the murders of those tourists (because why else would he have continued to disappear?) all she wanted was to know her dad.
So with a backpack full of supplies, an esky stocked with bottles of water, her swag and three jerry-cans of diesel, Stacey loaded up her white, single-cab Toyota land-cruiser. Her lightweight BLR rifle sat on the parcel shelf behind the seats, unloaded. In her glovebox was a Bowie knife, sharpening stone, two boxes of bullets, a pair of binoculars and a torch.
Growing up on a farm, Stacey learnt to always be prepared for every situation... even if this situation meant potentially losing her life to her own father.
After researching the previous murders thoroughly and catching up on the newest articles, the young girl headed towards the Northern Territory.
There had been a bunch of tourists found murdered in Kings Canyon - motor home burnt out and bodies found two kilometres away. This was the first place she was heading.
Now Stacey was a pretty young woman, petite but strong with chocolate brown hair so long it reached her backside. She had her dad's nose, lips and eyes, but at the same time managed to be a spitting image of her mother.
So when it came time for Stacey to pull over 12 hours into her journey for a nap, it was no surprise when she awoke to a drunken bum peering into her driver's side window. Huffing, she wound down the window half an inch.
"Can I help you?" She asked groggily, sounding half polite, half pissed-off.
"Just lookin' at that peachy little arse of yours darlin'" was the drunk reply she received.
Stacey felt her heart begin to race, as her eyes darted to the lock. Thank god, she'd remembered to lock the doors before she went to sleep. The door handle jiggled.
"How bout lettin' me in and I can have a feel and a taste?" The voice was more threatening now.
It was dark and Stacey couldn't see the face of the man outside her window.
"How bout you go eat a back of dicks, you human stain."
The man laughed, "Say that again."
"Go and eat a bag of dicks, you human stain." Stacey enunciated every syllable, while simultaneously reaching into the glovebox for her knife.
In a split second, the petite girl had the knife pressed against the creeper's fingers curling over the edge of the window.
"Fuck off, or I'll cut your fingers off." She swore, adding more pressure to the blade.
The drunk swore, "Fuck! No, no, I'll leave. Please don't. Please." He begged, slowly pulling back his hand before running off into the night.
Stacey shivered and put the knife away. So much for the long nap she was going to take. Now she was wide awake.
"Might as well keep driving." Her stomach growled.
"Okay, okay, we'll get some food and fuel in the next town."
The engine of the landcruiser roared to life as Stacey began her journey to the north.