Where the Road Bends

by David Rawlings

  Eliza mirrored his sigh. “You sound like me, that’s all. I’ve had so many demands on me for so long now that I feel the same. There’s a part of me that wishes I could disappear too.”

  Andy’s confidence trickled back as a chance to wrestle back the conversation unveiled itself. “Is that why you don’t want to take this CEO job?”

  “Not really. I’m good enough to do it and do it well. But I wonder if it’s the road I should take.”

  Their conversation found a comfortable groove they’d last hit in college. Andy settled into it, enjoying a connection he’d not felt with anyone in ages.

  “We were always alike, and it looks like we still are.”

  Andy fingered the Mars bar in his pocket. Between the perfect exterior of his friend and his own overweight mess of a facade, he might have found someone who could understand what he needed to do. A realization dawned on him—he still didn’t know how he was going to disappear, but maybe Eliza could be an ally.

  * * *

  Bree thumbed the video back on for a tenth viewing. Two tiny princesses in cowboy boots shouted into her face. “Good night, Mommy! We hope you see a koala and a kangaroo and we miss you already and wish you were home with us.”

  Tears welled, as they had each time her daughters yelled their good nights. The video shook and bumped, as it had nine times before, and her screen was filled with Sam’s smiling face. “Sorry about that. They didn’t stick to the script. Hope you had a great flight, and if you want to send us a message from Down Under, that would be great. Love you.” Sam froze mid-grin.

  Lincoln handed back her phone. “You’ve got a wonderful family.”

  “Thanks. I love them more than anything. So what about you?”

  Lincoln smirked. “I love them more than anything too.”

  Bree blushed. “You know what I mean. What about you and family?”

  A wary smile surfaced on Lincoln’s lips as his gaze darted around the cabin. “I’ve been unlucky in love, I guess.”

  “Anyone serious over the years, or have you been playing the field?”

  Lincoln exhaled hard. “I’ve been married.”

  Wide-eyed, Bree sat back in her seat. “You kept that quiet. There’s nothing on your social media that would even hint at that.”

  Lincoln shrugged. “There’s nothing really to share. It was short, and it’s over.”

  “Kids?”

  Lincoln looked beyond Bree. “No, it’s probably just as well.”

  “I’m really sorry to hear that. How long—?”

  His eyes hardened, lowering a boom on the conversation. “So tell me about your husband. What does Sam do for a living?”

  Bree couldn’t help but smile as pride in her husband’s respectful care of the elderly poured out. Sam’s cheeky grin had gotten her attention. His belief in her had won her heart. And his commitment to the people in his care had kept her love burning.

  “And you’re in Nashville. Still involved in music?”

  Bree’s red locks shook. “Not really. I work in a studio that records advertising jingles.” She bit her lip and looked up at Lincoln from beneath lowered eyelids, expecting to feel his disappointment.

  “Well, you’re still in music, and I guess if you want to go back to it after your girls have grown up, you’re in the right place. Tell me about Eliza.”

  The speed with which Lincoln shifted the conversation left Bree’s head spinning.

  “She doesn’t have anyone in her life, does she?”

  “Why don’t you ask her that?”

  Lincoln shook his head and beamed a goofy, embarrassed smile. “Didn’t we have this discussion in our sophomore year?”

  Bree nudged him with a playful elbow. “You want to rekindle something with her, don’t you?”

  Lincoln’s grin slipped.

  “You do! Listen, can I give you some advice? I know things didn’t end well back in college, but I really think she’s moved on.”

  “It’s not that things didn’t end well, it’s that they didn’t end. I came back from Africa and she left me hanging.”

  An attendant’s voice crackled across the intercom. “The captain advises that we’ll shortly be commencing our descent. Would the cabin crew please prepare the cabin for landing?”

  Bree checked the flight map. Caroline Springs had to be close but it was nowhere in sight. Beneath her, miles and miles of nothingness. Occasional long fingernail scratches in the earth, empty roads ready for the next person who might want to visit whatever was down there, whenever that might be. Maybe the town would appear out of nowhere like Sydney did. Maybe that’s what Australia was best at—surprising you when you least expected it.

  Lincoln fastened his tray table and adjusted his seat belt.

  “That’s a shame about your music. Were there any other auditions besides that one in New York?”

  Bree could feel herself welling up, as she always did at this part of the memory. She had to keep a lid on her emotions. “No.”

  Lincoln cocked his head. “Well, you gave it your best shot, didn’t you?”

  No, she hadn’t.

  * * *

  Lincoln strutted across the tarmac, his shoulders burning in the lunchtime sun, his heavy eyelids stuck twelve time zones away. He headed toward a colossal corrugated metal building, a sign of welcome nestled in the gentle scooping curve of its roof.

  The automatic doors scooched open and Lincoln strode into the crisp coolness of the terminal. He placed his feet on carpet of red ochre with bursts of black and brown. The airport at Coolamon Crossing could have been built off-site and dropped right on top of the outback.

  Bree folded back the brim of her wide hat as the cool air buffeted her fringe. “Did you see that giant bird running alongside the runway? Was that an ostrich?”

  A woman with chocolate skin and gold flecks in raven-black hair brushed past Bree. “Actually, it’s an emu.” Her accent was more than flat broadness; its exoticness dripped with dark honey. Her sashaying figure cloaked in a dress patterned in white dots and ochre handprints drew Lincoln’s gaze.

  Andy appeared at his shoulder. “They don’t really care about security here, do they? You could walk to the parking lot right off the plane.”

  Lincoln scanned for the captivating woman gliding through the airport and jumped as his phone beeped again. Another text from Dianne. The smallest of victories surged through him, and he relished the flourish with which he switched off his phone.

  Eliza joined them, her phone swiveling to capture the swirls of color and shape that dotted the walls. “Have a look at the indigenous artwork. Incredible!”

  The woman was gone. “Let’s head over to baggage claim.”

  An explosion of messages peppered with an explosion of expletives erupted as Andy fumbled for his phone. Lincoln laughed. “Someone’s popular.”

  Andy mumbled an apology under his breath.

  Eliza nudged between them. “I admire your commitment to staying offline, Andy, but it’s okay if you answer one message while you’re on vacation.”

  Lincoln turned to Eliza. “Which gate were we at?”

  Eliza laughed as she jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “The gate.”

  They approached a single carousel, a thin ribbon of black snaking its way over the ochre and brick-red of the carpet. The carousel creaked into gear and suitcases appeared—black, black, silver, black. Then expensive leather and Lincoln stepped forward. “Mine made it from San Francisco.”

  A steady stream of luggage filled the carousel and paraded around the tiny airport. Eliza reached for a leopard-print suitcase that dawdled toward them. Andy grabbed a well-traveled canvas. Bree’s anxious scanning ended as her suitcase made an appearance.

  Lincoln surveyed their group and collective baggage. “Okay, does everyone have everything? If so, let’s—”

  Andy shook his head. “Still waiting on two more.”

  Lincoln’s eyebrows shot up. “Two more? How long are you staying for?” />
  Bree sidled up to Lincoln. “Where are we supposed to meet our tour guides?”

  Lincoln zipped open his leather folder, and a single sheet of paper, embossed with a lawyer’s logo, fluttered to the floor. He bent over and snatched it up, beating Eliza’s outstretched hand to it, and shoved the letter to the bottom of his paperwork. His finger trailed down the page as he darted his gaze to Eliza, now engrossed in her phone. “Let’s see . . . what am I looking for? ‘Our representative will meet you at the airport for a comfortable ride out to our campsite.’”

  A flat accent appeared at Lincoln’s shoulder. “Sorry to interrupt, mate, but I think that might be referring to me.” A young man in a black shirt and khaki shorts stood next to them, a pearly white grin set against jet-black skin and under fine-cropped black hair. Over his heart were two embroidered words: Outback Tours. “Are you Lincoln Horne?”

  Eliza brushed Lincoln aside as she thrust out her hand. “I recognize you from the website. Eliza Williams.”

  The young man shook her hand warmly. “Eddie. Eddie McLeod.”

  Lincoln clapped Eddie on the shoulder. “Great to meet you, bro.”

  Eddie chuckled. “Sorry, mate. Don’t talk like that over here.”

  Scolded, Lincoln tried to cover his embarrassment by introducing Bree and Andy as he approached, pushing a cart with three heavy canvas bags threatening to spill from it.

  Eddie surveyed the group. “Do we have all four of you? Well, welcome. Let’s get started.” He turned on his heel and Lincoln fell in behind him, past a colorful display of pink-and-purple paintings made of nothing but dots, baskets of woven grass, and burned wood fashioned into furniture.

  Eliza made a beeline to them. “Wonderful! The color, the detail.”

  Lincoln slowed as they approached the entrance doors to the airport, flanked by two ceiling-high banners, imprinted with photographs of cave paintings—long, sweeping daubs and swirls of ancient art in chalk and red ochre. Shapes that could have been kangaroos and snakes, chased by figures that must have been hunters.

  Bree nudged him. “I hope we see some of those while we’re in the outback.”

  The doors slid open and Lincoln was assaulted by a curtain of crisp heat. Head down, a heavyset man shouldered him as he charged past, the corks jumping and swaying from a battered hat; thick, hairy arms jutting out of his dark-blue tank top, straining against the paunch of middle age.

  Lincoln stepped around him. “Careful.”

  Andy wasn’t looking. The man charged into his cart, scattering Andy and his bags across the carpet. The man rushed to apologize and picked up his luggage. “Sorry, mate. Didn’t mean to bowl you over like that.”

  Andy brushed himself off and squinted up at the man’s outstretched hand. “That’s okay, buddy. I should probably watch where I’m headed.”

  The man tipped his broad hat, the corks bouncing in front of his gleaming eyes. “Shouldn’t we all.” He burst into a cackle of laughter as he charged deeper into the airport.

  “This way, please.” Eddie lifted the last of Andy’s bags onto his cart and gestured along the curb to a massive black vehicle—the love child of a four-wheel drive and a minibus—parked under metal shade sails embossed with squiggles and swirls. On the side stylized writing matched the embroidery over Eddie’s heart: Outback Tours.

  The passenger door opened and a second young man in black and khaki jumped out. A crooked grin and a tousled mop of beach-blond hair thrust out a hand. “G’day! Sloaney.”

  Eddie opened a trailer behind the vehicle and lifted their luggage into it. “Everyone hop in. Let’s go explore the heart of Australia.”

  Lincoln held open the back doors. “Ladies, after you.”

  Eliza and Bree climbed in with grateful thanks. Lincoln followed Andy into the vehicle and another welcome burst of cool air. The interior was sheer luxury of leather and polish. The seats, padded and tall, would have been at home in business class.

  Eddie pulled away from the curb. “We’ve got a bit of a drive to get out to the campsite. I know you’re probably all tired from your long flights, so relax and we’ll let you know when we’re getting close.”

  Lincoln leaned his head back against the soft leather and took stock. The reunion had started well. This trip would be significant for Eliza, even if Bree said she’d moved on. Significant could only mean one thing. Him. She was alone and wondering if she’d made the right decision. Perhaps Dianne’s letter had come at a good time. He no longer needed to hide a marriage that was dead in all ways but a legal sense. The thread it had hung by for two years was about to be snipped. And it wouldn’t get in the way of rekindling an old flame.

  Through Lincoln’s window the airport disappeared behind them, and the world flattened out. He closed his eyes and listened to the drone of the tires. But not for long.

  Eight

  Eliza’s eyelids fluttered open to a red-and-black blur. The red dirt ran parallel to the black asphalt beyond the window that cooled her cheek. She squinted at crisp, white clouds that hung in a sky of azure blue. In every direction was red: the dust powdering the heart of Central Australia and the rocks waiting to be worn down over the next thousand years. The horizon beckoned, a blurred, shimmering, ruled line between red and blue. This was a land of contrast.

  Across from her, Lincoln stared out the window. Behind her, Andy and Bree nodded along in the back seat, lost in sleep. Over the tires’ drone on the road, a low rumble grew and Eliza looked up into the sky. They must still be near the airport. She tried to shake her head into the right time zone as a tiny, shimmering box grew in the distance, miles ahead on the dead-straight ribbon of asphalt. “What is that?”

  Eddie gripped the wheel, the steel sinews in his forearms rippling as if preparing for a collision. “Road train.”

  “A train? Out here?” Eliza strained to look at the road ahead.

  Sloaney threw a comment over his shoulder. “No trains around here for hundreds of kilometers. A road train is a truck. A big one.”

  Eliza was transfixed as the box grew into a large truck that loomed in front of the window, its bulky red cabin taking up more than its share of the road.

  Lincoln whistled. “How big is it?”

  Eddie slowed the four-wheel drive and pulled two tires onto the dirt flanking the asphalt. “They don’t call it a road train for nothing. A big engine pulling along all these trailers.”

  The road train now filled half the windshield and was almost upon them. Eddie gripped the wheel hard but raised one finger from the steering wheel, as if in greeting. The driver lifted a finger in return, and Eliza swore she could see a rust-red ponytail bouncing behind the cap.

  With a thundering roar and a blur of red, the semitrailer rushed past her window, followed by a wall of silvery steel that felt like it lasted for minutes. Their four-wheel drive shuddered as it was drawn into the bouncing wake of the giant truck.

  Eddie turned to Sloaney. “That’s unusual.”

  Eliza cleared her throat. “Excuse me? Unusual to see a woman behind the wheel? Isn’t that a bit sexist?”

  Eddie shrugged. “I meant it’s unusual to see a road train this far out.”

  Lincoln’s lips curled in a smirk. “How far have we got to go, guys?”

  Eddie tapped his fingers on the wheel. “Not far. Probably another hour?”

  “I thought you said it’s not far.”

  Sloaney grinned as he turned to face them. “An hour is a trip around the corner out here.”

  “How long would it take to drive across the entire country?”

  Sloaney’s eyes widened as he did the mental math. “Oh, thirty hours—”

  Lincoln scoffed. “You can drive from LA to New York in forty.”

  “—will get you to the red center from Sydney. From there to Perth is another thirty. Nonstop.”

  Eliza stifled a laugh as she resumed her gaze out the window—the constant red was as bright as in her dream. Now was the time to ask. “So Eddie and Sloaney, I
’d love to learn more about the culture, and I’m very interested in doing a walkabout.”

  Eddie winced as he threw a grim look into the rearview mirror. “I know what you’re talking about, but that’s not a word we still use, so I’d prefer you didn’t out of respect.”

  Eliza flushed. “I’m so sorry—”

  “That’s okay, now you know. If you want to learn, then I’ll tell you. It’s a word based on misunderstanding—it was used to explain something it wasn’t, and then painted a picture of people who weren’t like that. It was more than just some mythical trek, and it wasn’t wandering around on the land as if you were lost. A journey always had a purpose.”

  Eliza pressed on. “So what was this”—she held back the word that had clearly offended her host and scrambled to find an appropriate one—“journey? It wasn’t this idea that you would go into the desert and discover who you are? Being surrounded by your thoughts and being stripped away until you discovered who you are?”

  Lincoln sniggered. “I think I went to a Tony Robbins seminar that sounded like that.”

  Eddie fixed his gaze on her in the mirror. “I’m glad you asked, Eliza. Not enough people do.”

  “I think it sounds fascinating. I’d like to do one.”

  Eddie tapped his fingers on the wheel. “Most people tell us that getting away from their mobile phones or their emails for a week is more than enough to refocus.”

  Surely there had to be more. “Do you have any other traditional ways of finding yourself or discovering who you are?”

  Eddie shared a look with Sloaney. “A couple. We can talk about that around the fire if you’d like. The fire is a good place to talk. It brings people together and brings conversations out into the open. And I’d be more than happy to keep talking about the people of the land as much as the land itself.”

  Good, she could talk further with them, and she would make better use of her time than simply being away from technology. Even if she could learn some techniques, she’d be grateful.

  Eliza flicked her gaze from the ruled line between sky and earth to the one separating black road from red earth. The colors melded as her eyelids grew heavier, and thanks to the droning of the tires, she succumbed to her body telling her it was still the middle of the night.