HEADLONG
Samantha Black
Copyright Samantha Black 2019
Chapter One
When Abby looked back on the whirlwind that completely changed the studious, meticulously-planned life that she had been crafting since the day she was old enough to understand what a career was, she could pinpoint the exact moment that the whirlwind hit and her new life began.
It was the moment that a rather large brown kangaroo hopped right in front of the loaned and beat-up old Ford Ranger that she was driving—much more carefully than the previous users of the vehicle evidently did, judging by the many dents in the panel work—across a bumpy dirt track in the Australian outback. It was the moment the kangaroo froze while she desperately tried to brake, swerving to the right then over-correcting and plowing straight into the poor beast.
In the hours before the event that altered the course of her life, Abby had been completely engrossed in her work. A geologist, recently graduated and now throwing herself into her master’s research, Abby was only here for the rocks. Rocks were the only thing that would pull her out of her hometown and drive her to travel halfway across the world on her own to join a research team in an isolated town on the coast of Western Australia.
Out since dawn, she’d been excited about the samples she was gathering, and time had flown by. The sun had begun to set and the warm orange glow on the horizon had suddenly reminded her of the warnings that her fellow researchers had given her that the wildlife became much more active once the sun set.
The memory of their warning had startled her to her senses. She had thrown her rock samples and notes into the Ford hastily, before starting the journey home.
She had pulled out her cell to text her research supervisor that she would be late back to the accommodations, only to see in dismay the warning “out of signal” flashing on the screen. Crap.
Her mother had always warned her not to text and drive.
She probably hadn’t expected this though, thought Abby, as her truck screeched to a stop and then stalled. Through the spiderweb of cracks on the windshield, she could see the kangaroo rise and hop unsteadily away. Into the sunset, where the sun seemed to be dropping worryingly quickly.
She sat, staring at the ruined windshield, her hands glued to the steering wheel and her foot still heavy on the brake. Her heart was pounding, and beads of sweat were dripping down from her hairline.
Oh my God oh my God oh my God.
At least the poor animal was okay. She had never hit an animal before.
She had never hit anything before—she was much too careful a driver for that.
Come to think of it, she had never been in an accident, or even driven over the speed limit.
She had never even had a parking ticket.
It must have been a good four or five minutes before she could bring her breathing under control. She was good with control. Every aspect of her life was strictly in order and she avoided surprises and disorder like the plague. But surprises could happen to even the most organized of people. She had long since learnt the benefits of deep breathing to control the sudden panic that would arise when she was faced with anything unknown or unexpected.
She eventually pushed her door open unsteadily and slowly extracted herself. Even from inside the truck she could tell that the panel work was going to be a mess. With a sense of dread, she walked to the front of her truck to survey the damage. The kangaroo must have hit the bumper and rolled up the windshield. The entire windshield was covered in a spiderweb of fine cracks. Below this, the front bumper was concave, and hanging on by a thread.
It was going to be embarrassing explaining this one to the research facility. Even her parents’ generous donation to have her stay to complete her master’s research here was not going to keep her in their good books if she had just totaled the one and only four-wheel drive they had. It was the only vehicle capable of traveling the bumpy outback tracks that led to remote rock sample sites.
She sighed heavily and climbed back into the truck. She turned the key and smiled with relief as the engine gave a grunt and then started as if nothing had happened. Thank goodness.
The sun was perilously close to the horizon now. When it went under, the only thing lighting her way back would be her headlights. With her phone still out of range of any signal, she would be unsure in the dark which of the dirt tracks to take to lead her back to the accommodations.
This was Western Australia after all. Stretching for miles in either direction was nothing but dry red dirt, rocks, scrubby brush and undulating hills. No steep hills to navigate by, but undulations big enough that the small cluster of buildings that she would call home for the next three months would be hidden from view.
The main road in and out of town was little more than a slightly smoother trail, and probably would be easy to miss in the dark. She only hoped she could get close enough to the town to guess correctly the right way to go before the darkness hit.
Slowly she took off, handling the bumps as gently as she could, and squinting through the cracked windshield. The sun was gently grazing the horizon now, and now it was dipping under, slowly, then faster and faster, before disappearing completely.
The darkness was instantaneous. Details of the track in front of her were disappearing into the gloom. She sped up slightly, worried now about being caught at night in the desert.
Then—a pothole. No, bigger than that. A plain old hole smack in the middle of the road.
As the truck hit it, the bumper lurched off completely and the vehicle came to a stop with a grinding and crunching of gears.
She leaned her head on the steering wheel for a moment to lament her bad luck. She’d driven around this hole on her drive this morning. She had even remembered thinking it looked like an accident waiting to happen. How had she been so stupid to forget that it was here?
This time she got out of the truck much faster, scouting the ground for snakes or creepy-crawlies. Anything that would sting or bite or use some other way to administer a lethal dose of venom. From everything she had ever heard, most Australian animals were killing machines.
It took her barely a moment to see that this time it was going to be a lot harder to get going. The bumper was off and now crunched under the truck, while the truck itself hung at a drunken lean, one tire hissing air violently. She jumped back into the truck quickly and turned the key. A bit of a rumble, then the engine cut out.
She had really done it this time.
What to do now? She couldn’t go back to the center tonight, it was too far to walk and the risk of being injured was too high.
She had heard of the wild dogs that ran rampant in the area. Even they were nothing on the small spiders with enough venom to kill ten men, and the silent stalking snakes that would lie in wait for a bare ankle to walk past.
Abby liked to stay safe, and her research was her comfort zone. Just being out here, in the dry, arid desert in a remote Western Australian location was a challenge for her. She did it for the rocks. The wildlife she would prefer to experience or view from a distance. In fact, everything that wasn’t study she would prefer to keep her distance from. On this list was a very long catalog of activities that other, less studious people, might say were rather fun. It included, but was not restricted to, the following: drinking liquor. Save for maybe a glass of pinot gris at a celebration that she couldn’t get out of or a late-night study session, she didn’t drink much at all. Socializing, too, was on the list. Usually her socializing was comprised of short coffee-catch-ups in the university library with fellow students. These were few and far between. Going to parties, bars, clubs, music festivals, live bands, theater shows, overnight trips, res
taurants, social gatherings of any kind, even visiting her slightly overbearing parents was all time that could be spent on her work. As a result she had few friends.
Camping somewhere remote overnight was definitely on her list of activities to be avoided at all costs.
The project she was working on now, analyzing the geology of the area to determine the likelihood of finding additional water sources, was one she was passionate about. If it wasn’t for her deep interest in geology, she wouldn’t have made the journey to the other side of the world on her own. But it was not the kind of trip that would be full of adventures. It was a research trip where she would work, find new rock samples, test them and write a report. There was nothing that was going to be out of the usual for this field trip.
Except this spontaneous camping trip that she was now on, whether she liked it or not.
First things first. She turned to the passenger seat and checked her samples. They were all still intact in their sealed bags. Her camera equipment was also still okay. She had been worried about the impact of the crash, but thankfully the camera seemed to work fine. At least that was a positive.
She had six bottles of water with her, a well-stocked first aid kit, enough snacks to feed an army, two bottles of sunblock, a borrowed hiking pack, two notebooks, an emergency blanket, and a warm sweater. She liked to be prepared for the worst. She had seen some of the other researchers head out for the day with little on them but a bottle of water, a granola bar and sunblock. The thought made her shiver.
She pulled her hair into a ponytail to get it off her neck. It was hot out here and still stiflingly warm after the sunset, but the nights here got surprisingly chilly.
With a sigh, she reclined her seat as far as it could go, put her pack under her head as a pillow and wrapped her sweater around her. She wriggled around for a few minutes to get comfortable. Then she spent ten minutes on breathing exercises—breathing in, slowing and counting to four before releasing her breath slowly. It was a technique that her therapist had taught her, when Abby was in her first year of university and had run herself into the ground with stress over her studies. Her parents had paid for the therapist rather than let her take a semester break. They didn’t want her to fall behind her peers.
Eventually she fell into a fitful sleep, waking often due to thirst but too afraid of having to get out of the truck to pee. The thought of standing on a snake terrified her.
By the time the sun came up in the morning she was parched, cold, and her neck hurt from the awkward angle it had been in all night.
With the sun came a huge feeling of relief for Abby. It wouldn’t be long before someone was sent out to get her. They would have worried about where she was last night, and she was certain that a rescue party would be on its way soon. She got out of the truck, stretched, drank an entire bottle of water and ate one granola bar for breakfast. She then settled herself under a shrubby tree in the paltry shade it provided to review her notes.
For lunch she ate two apples, another granola bar, a small packet of nuts, and drank more water. She walked to the top of the small hill nearby but could only see dirt, dust and scrub in all directions.
She looked at the truck and tried to start it again. The front left tire was now completely flat. The truck wouldn’t start.
By the time late afternoon was drawing to a close, she wasn’t feeling as calm as she had been the night before, and not so confident of her eventual rescue. She spent a long time doing her breathing exercises. Then she reviewed her notes again and half-heartedly dug around the ground for interesting rock specimens. She went through her camera and deleted all the blurry photos. A kangaroo hopped past and she took a photo of it.
The sun was now beginning its slow descent on the horizon and Abby felt her stomach sink with dread at the realization that she was going to be here for another night. In her head she started saying her goodbyes to her family. She wondered what they would be thinking if they hadn’t heard from her today—her usual update of her studies.
She wondered what her senior tutor, Jed, was doing right now. He would be worried about her too, she was sure of that. They spoke most days about her work and research. He was in many ways her research mentor. He was probably the most intelligent person she knew, and she had looked up to him like a god since the moment he had walked into the lab and told her and a small group of select students that they had been handpicked for the geology master’s program.
He was also incredibly handsome, with a smile that made her melt.
In fact, she was totally in love with him. What’s more, he was the only person with whom she had ever been in love, the only person she could ever imagine loving.
Not that he knew anything about her feelings for him. She had never breathed a word of her infatuation with him to anyone.
As she fell into a restless sleep, she vowed that should she be rescued tomorrow, she was going to be brave and tell Jed how she felt.
The next morning she drank less water. She looked with dread at the remaining bottles and the dwindling food supply. How long was she going to be left here? Would she even have the opportunity to tell Jed that she had been in love with him since the day he had talked her through her thesis plan, and his hand had accidently brushed her thigh when they had been sitting next to each other. He had apologized, looking embarrassed, and she had been struck by what a gentleman he was. Why had she not told him before she left for Australia?
The morning passed similarly to the day before. She did a lot more breathing exercises this time. She could feel cracks starting to form in her calm demeanor, but she got through the morning by focusing on her work. She wet her face with a tiny dribble of water, wishing she could shower. To make herself feel better, she tried to comb her hair with her fingers but quickly gave up, instead wrapping it into a messy bun on the top of her head. It was a stiflingly hot day and with every move she took, she could feel sweat dripping down her neck.
Still, she forced herself to keep busy, ignoring the buzz in her ears that sounded like a mosquito was circling her. There was no mosquito. She was imagining things.
She wrote a step-by-step plan for the next two weeks for what she would be doing on her thesis.
She opened all her samples and laid them out carefully in a clearing just off the track, with notes next to them and carefully photographed them all.
She put her camera away carefully in the ruined truck and stepped into the cover of some scrubs to relieve herself. How undignified, she complained to herself. What she wouldn’t give for a proper bathroom right now.
As she squatted behind a bush, not that there was anyone else around to see her, the persistent buzzing that she had heard for the last hour or so rapidly turned into a loud engine noise which grew louder and louder by the second. She looked up to see a helicopter flying low over the scrubs, lower and lower, so close that she could actually see the pilot grinning. Frozen in a squatting position, all she could do was to finish peeing.
The helicopter landed with a thud nearby, stirring up dust and leaves.
Absolutely mortified, she wanted to run away and hide but the desire to be rescued was much stronger. She walked over to the helicopter as the pilot jumped out, ducking under the slowing blades, and walked towards her, pulling off his helmet to reveal long, messy hair, a tanned face and dark eyes filled with laughter.
“I’m Noah, and I’m guessing you’re AbbyI’m here to rescue you,” he said with a hint of laughter. “The research facility were worried you had run out of water, but I will be pleased to radio them that you are still very well hydrated.”
Abby’s eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms across her chest, feeling a flush rising in her cheeks. “What took you so long? I thought I was going to die out here.”
“Is that right? You’ve only had to camp out here for a couple days.” He looked pointedly at her mangled truck, still stuck in the giant pothole and leaning drunkenly to one side. In the daylight and after two nights of being stuck ther
e, it was covered in a fine layer of red dust. It looked terrible.
She turned to face the clearing where the helicopter had landed. Underneath it she could see bits of torn paper, her meticulously written notes on each rock sample, that had been laid out carefully a few minutes ago. “My samples!”
She ran over to the helicopter. Its blades had stopped spinning and she scrabbled on the ground to pick up the bits of torn notes and rocks that she had carefully chosen and recorded. It was a mess—most of the paper was either torn or had blown away, and the two skids of the helicopter had landed right on top of her rock samples. Every sample she had chosen had been chosen for a reason, and dates and times of retrieval recorded, along with a description of where it was found. She would not be able to remember it all without her notes. All her work for the past two days. Destroyed.
She rounded on him, furious, blinking back angry tears. “You landed on my samples.”
He sauntered over to her, still looking amused. She had to look up at him as he stood a good head and shoulders above her. She could see his eyes take in her messy hair, her dirty t-shirt and shorts. She felt self-conscious under his gaze, knowing how awful she had to look.
“I landed on some dirt. What was it I am meant to have landed on?” Close-up she could see tattoos stretching down the length of one muscled and toned arm.
“My rock samples.” She fell onto her knees, her tears falling freely now. “It was everything I had done the past couple days. All my work.”
“Well, uh, you can get some more rocks, can’t you?” He was looking at her in a worried way now. “Have you eaten since you’ve been out here? I have some food with me. You’re sunburned too.” He opened a door to the helicopter and pulled out a bag, opened it and handed Abby a sachet of liquid. “Drink this. It’s got electrolytes in it. You probably haven’t had enough.”
Her throat was pretty parched. She tore it open and drank it. It had an orangey flavor to it, not unpleasant. He was standing close to her and she could smell a faint hint of aftershave. It smelled delicious and she was suddenly aware of how bad she must smell. “I have eaten. I had lots of snacks with me.” She was being defensive, but she didn’t know why. She thought she would rush into the arms of her rescuers in tears, but here she was feeling nothing but angry and upset at this annoyingly nice-smelling, and dare she admit it, attractive helicopter pilot.
Headlong (Quinn Brothers Book 2) Page 1
