Chapter Six
Two Years Later
My long hair fell into my eyes as I was trying to pull on my boot.
“Bloody hair!” I yelled as I threw my hand back, pushing my hair out of the way, only for it to fall back on my face immediately.
The springs on the wood-framed wire door groaned in protest as I pushed the door open to step onto the verandah. It was a challenge in itself to walk across my verandah because many of the boards had rotted through. I knew which ones to step on so I didn’t land in the dirt beneath.
Cylinder wind chimes hung on either side of the verandah and were playing a long, drawn out song as the wind blew hot and slow. Although it was only mid-morning, the skies were dark and ominous.
Spud was sprawled across the verandah taking advantage of the gaps in the boards where the cool air flowed up from under the house.
“This rapid weather change is gonna be the death of us, Spud,” I said to him as I patted him on the head. He licked the back of my hand once and put his head down again to the cool floor.
I whistled loudly as I walked towards one of the old utes sitting in my desert-like yard.
Bruce and I spent endless hours working on one, and we got it up and running well. The others, however, were more garden ornaments than functioning vehicles. I never intended to have so many utes, but as my story quickly spread through Warrangatta, the locals all pitched in to help me get on my feet. I was offered everything from spare furniture, help from tradespeople to restore my little house, and—spare utes. I don’t know how many utes they thought I needed, but the townspeople were so eager to help that I didn’t have the heart to refuse.
I had a home once again, and it felt wonderful; but, an unfamiliar feeling slowly began to creep inside me—a sense of displacement.
I thought an adventure to Northern Australia might fill the void, and I didn’t mess around in organising the trip. Bruce agreed to look after Spud for me. I bought a swag, cooking stove, hot water system with a shower; just about every cent I earned went to funding this wonderful escapade. I had been so keen to get going, I had forgotten to tell anyone where I was heading to first, which proved to be a big mistake.
I had driven a few hours when my temp gauge fell to cold. “Damn it,” I cursed aloud. That could only mean there was no water in the radiator and the engine would overheat at any minute. I pulled over into the nearby trees and popped the bonnet to assess the damage. Sure enough, it was a faulty water pump. My heart fell when I realised my adventure was over before it had even begun. In just about any other climate, I could have driven for a while then stopped to wait for the car to cool again, but not in these outback areas. The engine would have overheated within minutes.
I tried to call for help, but there was no phone reception within hundreds of kilometres in any direction. I sat with my car for a couple of days waiting for someone to come roaring along the dusty road, but no one came.
I was all too aware of the dangers involved in leaving my car, but I was unlikely to be found soon. I had two options: stay with my car hoping that someone would come along, or attempt to walk and pray I made it to water. Either way, the outlook wasn’t good.
I finally decided I would have to try and find help. I filled a backpack with as many water bottles as I could and some non-perishable food. I pushed my car deeper into the low trees, behind an enormous brown rock, and covered the car well with dead branches—I didn’t want someone coming along stripping it back to a shell; not that that was very likely out here.
As I stepped away from my now covered car, I noticed an Aboriginal painting on the rock—a picture of the sun. I slowly ran my fingers over it wondering how long the remarkable depiction had been there. I smiled as I thought of all the weather that would have thrashed against it over the years, and yet, there it was, still strong and vibrant. It reminded me of myself; life had beaten me around, but I was still here—strong and vibrant.
I had thought I should be able to walk at least three days with the amount of water I had with me. I didn’t want to walk. I knew better than anyone that the temperatures out here could range from negative –60C overnight, to 500 C in the afternoon.
I set out early in the morning before the sun had peeked over the horizon. It was cool walking along the gravel road; the only noise was the crunch of gravel under my feet as I moved along steadily. I had made good ground before the blazing sun entered the highest part of the sky.
Although I was wearing a hat and every type of sun protection, the sun was radiating off the hot gravel road; the heat was almost unbearable. I kept glancing at my watch and only sipped water every half an hour. But I couldn’t keep it up. The amount of water that was being drained from my body could not be replenished by the tiny sips I was taking. I knew that I needed to conserve water, but I also had to drink more to stay hydrated. I was feeling light-headed, and a hollow pain had begun just below my chest.
I decided I needed a more substantial drink, so I finished off the small amount remaining in the bottle. I let the relief of the water fill my body as I took my hat off and wiped my forehead clean of sweat and flies.
I looked around again to see if I could see a house in the distance, but all I could see was flat land with small shrub-like plants that were no taller than my ankles. I pulled my phone out of my pocket to check for phone reception again. The little cross at the top of the screen continued to flash. I was beginning to doubt my decision of attempting to walk. All the water I had just drunk had already been absorbed into my body, and I was yearning for more.
I slipped my phone back into my pocket, pulled my backpack back over my shoulders and began to walk again.
I walked for what felt like hours until I found a tree big enough to offer any form of shade. I pulled my backpack off and sat down on a small rock under the tree with my head hanging between my knees. My head was thumping, and my ears were ringing. I looked at my watch; it had been forty-five minutes since I had stopped for my last break.
I pulled a water bottle from my backpack; it was empty. I pulled another one out—empty too. I pulled out every water bottle I had; each one was empty.
“Oh, no. No, no, no!” I cried as I looked at what I had done. How could I have drunk all that water already?
“Damn it!” I yelled as I threw the bottles back into my backpack.
It might have been the realisation that my water supply had been completely emptied, or it might have been the feeling that the sun was burning hotter, but I suddenly became aware of how parched my mouth and throat were. I forced myself to stand up, and I swung my backpack back over my shoulder. I walked down the centre of the road with the gravel crunching loudly under my feet. The only thought running through my head was to repeat ‘left, right, left, right’ in a desperate attempt at staying on course; but, occasionally I would stumble over my own feet.
I kept a lookout for anything that resembled water, but mirages were starting to play havoc. I could see water in the far distance. It appeared to be a lake, but I knew that as soon as I got there, I would find nothing but hot, dry, sandy dirt. Even though I knew they were nothing more than mirages, my mind was also telling me to run for the water. I had to use every ounce of strength to resist running toward the false water.
As I stood confused, wondering what action to take, an uneasy feeling washed over me; the feeling of being watched. I turned on the spot—was there someone there? I saw nothing. Just your imagination, Alexandra. I strained my eyes to see any sign of civilisation—a distant camper or a farmhouse that I hadn’t noticed—but there was nothing.
A gentle breeze blew up the road. I took my hat off and let it dance around my hair and cool my forehead. I scanned the sky in hopes of seeing rainclouds on the horizon; perfect blue, everywhere. Another breeze blew, but this time, incoherent whispers travelled with it. My heart pulsated, and my extremities tingled—everything in me wanted to run. Run where, and from what? I forced myself to stand still. It’s your imagination, Alexandra; t
here’s no one out here. Get it together, I scolded myself.
I turned to start walking along the road again, but suddenly a gust of wind blew past me, pushing me to the ground. The dust particles circled me in an upward spiral as the centre of a tornado.
The whispers returned and with them, the eyes; the same eyes that penetrated my mind in the hospital. I stared into the dark blue eyes, and they stared straight back. I scrambled backwards to get away from them, but I wasn’t fast enough. The eyes appeared in my mind, pulling memories out. The first memory was sitting with Andy at the bookstore, laughing at one of his jokes. The second was working with Bruce on my ute. Then I saw the lantern hanging from a dark wooden verandah; it was glowing brightly against a midnight background. A deep voice whispered, “I am coming for you ...” The eyes released their grip and the tornado dissipated. The gravel burned and grazed my cheek as I lay on my stomach. I wanted to push myself from the ground, but I had no energy left.
“Whatcha doing out here?” I heard a man’s voice ask.
“Yeah, bit of a funny place to be doing yoga,” another man laughed.
I saw two pairs of black feet in front of me. I looked up to see if I could identify whose feet they were, but the blazing sun blinded me. It can’t be real. I reached my hand out and touched the man’s foot. It was real!
“Alex, that you?” the first man asked.
I nodded. Relief flooded my body. I was saved.
Hands reached down to help pull me to my feet. I stumbled as they let me go but I managed to stand by myself. My eyes focused on the man standing in front of me. He was wearing only a pair of blue knee-length shorts.
“Pindari?” I rasped.
“Yeah it’s me,” he smiled. “Warrain’s here too,” he said with a quick nod indicating Warrain’s presence behind me.
If I had any water left inside me, I would have cried. Pindari and Warrain were two Aboriginal locals from a town over from Warrangatta.
“Did you see it, Pindari?” I asked, panicked.
“See what?”
“The tornado! I was just inside a tornado—the eyes! They’re back …” I could feel my heart banging hard against my chest.
“Huh?”
“Yeah, just now! I was inside a bloody tornado! How could you not have seen it?”
“Slow down! You need water,” Pindari said.
“No! I need to get away! They’re back!” Panic was building in my stomach.
“Alexandra! Stop it! You’re bloody dehydrated. You need water,” he snapped.
“Right.” I tried to calm myself. “Can you get water from those?” I asked as I pointed to the ankle-high shrubs, aware that the indigenous folk understood their environment well to locate water and food.
“Nah.” He shook his head. “No water ‘round here, mate.” He put his hand in the air and caught something. “Comes in bottles, though.” He smiled as he handed me the bottle of water that Warrain had just thrown to him.
I snatched the bottle from him, ripped the lid off and gulped the precious liquid.
“Thank you so much, Pindari,” I said as I took a second bottle from him, my voice returning slightly.
“You’re just bloody lucky Pindari wanted to go to Warrangatta today.” Warrain walked beside me and stood next to Pindari. He was wearing green knee-length shorts.
“You guys drive here?” I asked. I couldn’t bear having to walk any further.
“Nah, rode our kangaroos … of course we bloody drove here!” Pindari answered and pointed behind me.
I turned around, and there was a single cab ute with a red bonnet, blue doors and the body too rusted to tell what colour it was originally.
“I could hug you.” I opened my arms to hug both of them, but they both took a step back waving their arms.
“Any other day. Alex, you stink,” Warrain said, making Pindari laugh.
“Oh!” I sniffed my underarm. “I think I’m used to it. I can’t smell a thing.” I attempted a laugh.
“How’d ya end up half dead along Moorabilli-Warrangatta Road anyway?” Warrain asked.
I shuffled my feet, avoiding the question.
“Ya didn’t leave ya car back there did ya?” Pindari folded his arms.
“I know, I know. I thought I could make it. And before you say it, I know I’m an idiot.” I threw my hands in the air and walked towards their car.
“Ya a bloody idiot.” Pindari shook his head. “Ya know how many dead tourists we’ve found along here? All because the leave their bloody cars!” he yelled at me.
I rolled my head back. “I know. Just take me home—please.”
Pindari softened his face. “Do you wanna go back for your car?”
I shook my head. “There’s no point now. I need to order in a new water pump. Without it, it’s not moving anywhere. I’ll come back later on. I might get someone to give me a lift ... think I might skip the walk. So you really didn’t see anything ‘weird’?”
“You mean, apart from you lying on the ground half dead?”
I didn’t smile at his joke. If I had started to hallucinate again, it was serious.
“Andy told us about your ‘head stuff’ and it’s like 500 degrees out here. The heat probably got to you.”
“Crap!” I slapped my hand to my head in sudden realisation. “The bloody pills are meant to be stored in a cool, dry place!”
“Well, you got the dry part sorted!” Warrain laughed and slapped me on the back a couple of times. “Come on, get in the back. We’ll drop you home.”
The Aztec Saga - Hunted Page 13
