The Aztec Saga - Hunted

by J.S. Davidson

  *****

  I had ordered in the new water pump at the local garage a few days after Warrain and Pindari dropped me at home. But like everything else, it took forever to get anything delivered, so I had to make use of one of the other utes I owned while I waited. I was grateful I had a spare ute, but it was anything but reliable. No matter how many attempts I made to repair it, I could never get it to start without having to turn the key a few times. At least it provides me with some transport.

  I was running late for work at the bookstore, as usual. I pulled the car door handle. The door groaned open, and I had to hold it firmly so it would not slam back on me. I wore a bruise on my right thigh for making that mistake yesterday.

  I climbed into the ute and turned the key in the ignition. It took a few turns, but it finally rumbled to a start. As I drove down my long driveway, I pressed ‘play’ on the cassette player—I had taped my favourite songs from the radio. I sang along in a loud, out-of-tune voice, as I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. I could see Warrangatta in the distance and my heart warmed. When I first arrived, I believed I would be forever tethered to the life I had with Michael and Sasha, and that I’d live my life alone in a world of darkness. But the townspeople welcomed me unconditionally, and the void created by my family’s death slowly began to fill. But, much as I adored Warrangatta, I didn’t fit in. I wasn’t like the locals, and I didn’t think that would change if I moved towns, either. I felt like I was meant for more. I felt trapped inside myself with no escape.

  The temperature had risen a few degrees in the minutes since I had left my house, and the humidity was like nothing I had experienced in Warrangatta.

  I rolled down my window and put my hand out, letting the air rush through and around my fingers. I loved feeling the hot, steamy air, flowing in through the window and dancing with my long hair.

  I pulled my ute into one of the vacant car parks at the rear of Warrangatta Book Store and dashed out of my car, letting the door slam loudly behind me. Because I was running late, the regular tour guide had already begun her tour of the town and was cluttering the entrance of the bookstore with tourists.

  I rolled my eyes and hung my head back in frustration. I hated when I was late and had to listen to her drone on with the same speech. Her name was Julie Walters. She, too, had red hair, but unlike mine, hers had more of an orange hue. Coupled with her home self-tan, she highly resembled a carrot.

  She and I conflicted from the moment I arrived in town. Whenever she saw me walking up the alleyway, she would make a point of lingering in front of the store while she rambled on about the history of the town.

  “The building behind me was built over one hundred years ago. Its original purpose was a bakery, not as the bookstore it is now. As you can see, it is a double-storey building—the bottom was the shop, and the top was living quarters for the original owners. Now it houses all of Sam’s belongings. Sam is the bookstore owner.” She spoke in her usual nasally voice and used far too many hand gestures.

  The store section had two shop front windows on either side of a washed-out orange door. The top storey was also washed-out orange and had slithers of paint peeling off. No one ever bothered to re-paint it. There was no need to impress the locals of Warrangatta as no one cared about superficial things such as paint. The rest of the stores had similarly faded facades, presenting a run down and ‘outback’ appearance to the town that the tourists loved.

  The bookstore was one of the largest stores in the town, which was fortunate given the astonishing number of books that were squeezed into it. Every first Monday of each month, several vans from the surrounding towns would arrive out the front of the store waiting to collect a month’s worth of books for their local schools and return the previous month’s loans. Warrangatta was a bit of a hub for these towns, some of which were hundreds of kilometres away and with schools that only had a maximum of twenty children each. “Warrangatta was one of the first ‘outback’ towns in Australia,” Julie continued as she puffed out her chest even more than usual, gloating at having frustrated me by blocking my way into the store. She would count that as yet another victory over me.

  I drummed my fingers on my leg as I impatiently waited for the tourists to move along. If the bookstore didn’t double as a tourist information centre and souvenir shop, I would have barged passed them. But, as much as they drove me insane, the bookstore relied on them.

  “Settlers had planned on planting copious amounts of grains,” Julie droned, “but soon found that rain is as scarce as hen’s teeth in these parts. So instead, it became a major station for the rail line. It was, and still is, the only town within hundreds of kilometres in every direction.” She paused for dramatic effect as the tourists ‘oooed’ and ‘aaahhed’ at the thought of such vast distances between the outback communities.

  “Warrangatta is well noted for being one of the hottest and driest towns in all of Australia, the hot, red sands lightly coating everything that remains stationary for more than a minute. Over the last week, Warrangatta has been subject to an unprecedented amount of rainfall, which makes it a fantastic time for you to be visiting the area. Warimudga, a waterhole at the base of Barri-Barri Rock, is overflowing now. It’s a great place for a dip. I think we might all need one by this afternoon; the humidity is stifling.” She fanned her face with her chubby hand. “One of the first additions to Warrangatta was a town pub with accommodation upstairs.” She pointed one of her stumpy orange fingers to the pub across from the bookstore. “The pub still stands today, one of the few remarkable buildings that has not been touched; everything is original, except for the owner of course.”

  And that was the exact reason she despised me—jealousy. I had lost count of the number of times the current pub owner had asked me to date him. She wanted him for herself. As far as I was concerned, she could have him. I thought of him as a self-absorbed idiot.

  “The carrot holding you up again, is she?” I turned to see Emilee standing next to me. She wore her long blonde hair pulled into a loose, messy ponytail at the back of her head. Her hazel eyes darted across the tourists excitedly, as they always did. She was far smaller than I was. Her entire frame was petite and fragile—all except for her chest, which was out of proportion to the rest of her body. She said she hated having large breasts, but considering the low cut shirts she consistently wore, I had my doubts.

  She was one of the first people I had met when I arrived into Warrangatta. Her parents owned one of the largest cattle stations in Australia. As such, they were able to send her to an elite boarding school in France. She had wanted to design perfumes in Europe, but eighteen months into her tuition, she became terribly homesick and decided to return. While in France, she had spent a lot of her time working in coffee shops. When she returned home, she opened her own café offering the most exquisite cakes and coffee. For a long while, the locals exiled her for bringing in something new. They couldn’t understand the need for such fancy drinks and cakes. But the tourists loved it, which meant local business boomed.

  Tourists would come to Warrangatta saying they wanted to experience the Australian Outback, but none of them would truly give themselves to the land. They wouldn’t camp in a swag under the stars by Warimudga waterhole and watch the rivers of stars across the endless night sky. Nor would they climb to the top of Barri-Barri and shower under the stream of water that forever flowed from it. No—they would come into town and feign envy at how simply we lived but then complain at the lack of extremely fast internet that they were used to accessing in the city. They would warn each other not to venture too far from the group as dingoes may attack, and then they would go to Emilee’s café and sip gourmet coffee and nibble on fine cakes. To finish their ‘outback’ experience, they would come into the bookstore and buy a kangaroo teddy or a koala fridge magnet.

  “Yes.” I put my hands on my hips in frustration, as Julie continued to ramble on about the history of the town. “And it’s not as though I can just push through
the tourists. Look how many there are!” I waved my hand at the countless tourists who were eagerly snapping their cameras in every direction. “What is so fascinating about Warrangatta? Seriously, we have like a dozen shops. Can’t they go ‘click’ at something else?” I rolled my head back.

  “Hey! Don’t say that. I need them to buy my coffee,” she laughed. “Besides, some of them are hot!” She pointed to a tall, good-looking man leaning on the verandah post. “Check him out! Oh yeah, come to Mamma!” she growled only loud enough for me to hear. “He is so checking you out, Alex!” She nudged my ribs.

  “He is not.” I dismissed her observation. I didn’t care if he was looking at me; I wasn’t looking at him, or anyone for that matter. It had only been in the last few months that I hadn’t woken in the mornings still searching for Michael’s warm body next to mine.

  “It’s so not fair. I absolutely despise you.” She held her hands on her hips and paced in a small circle.

  “What’d I do?” I snorted.

  “All you have to do is stand there, and every guy wants to jump you. The worst part is, you don’t even notice.”

  “Oh, whatever."

  “Why do you think carrot hates you?” She looked up at me through her overly mascaraed eyes.

  “I dunno, ‘cause I don’t look like I escaped the ‘80s yesterday?” I eyed Julie up and down with disgust.

  Emilee spat a loud laugh. “True, but no. She’s pissed at you because she wants to bang the pub owner, Ben. But he’s after you.” She leant in towards me. “I heard you and him had a steamy night at Warimudga the other night.” She lifted her eyebrows several times.

  “What? Not if he was the last man alive. Have you seen his chest? I could plait that hair! Urg!” My body shivered at the thought of him touching me.

  “Seriously?” She pushed her hands on her hips. “You told me when Tom asked you to dinner, you could never be attracted to him because he didn’t have any hair. You said it would be like dating a child.”

  “Yeah, well ...” I shrugged.

  “Michael’s never coming back.” She spoke matter-of-factly. She had had that conversation with me many times before but never had she spoken so bluntly. I didn’t know if I liked it or not. I knew he was never coming back, but I still wasn’t entirely sure I was ready to move on.

  “But what if I’m no good? I’ve only been with Michael,” I said quietly, as I looked down to my fidgeting fingers.

  “Is that what all this is about?” She threw her hands in the air and turned on the spot.

  “Not all, but a part.” I shrugged a shoulder. I had never told anyone that Michael was the only man I had ever been with. I just couldn’t imagine another man touching me—the thought was repulsive.

  “You just need to do it! Once you do, you’ll wonder why you spent so long alone.”

  I cared dearly for Emilee, but she certainly wasn’t shy around men. She spent most nights at the pub, and she rarely went home alone, or with the same companion.

  She sensed I didn’t want to talk about it anymore so she changed the subject.

  “Anyway, Julie is super pissed with you now. You know, because you’re pregnant with the publican’s kid,” she said coolly.

   “What? I am not!” I folded my arms furiously. “I know she’s an idiot, but does she really have to believe that crap?”

  “She doesn’t believe it; she just likes bagging you out! Like now—she doesn’t have to stop in front the bookstore; she just does it to piss you off. Your problem is that you let it happen. Give her a right hook or an uppercut; that’d sort her out—probably make her look better too!” Emilee laughed at her joke.

  “But that’s it! I haven’t done anything to annoy her.”

  “You exist, darling. She is like the Anti-Christ of you. Everything that you are, she’s not and she’s jealous.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh yeah, I’m screwed up in the head and my family are all dead. I’m peachy.”

  “Well, aren’t you just a bag full of marshmallows today? Harsh much? But I know what you mean. I dunno—Julie is Julie. She’s a self-absorbed, pain in the ass. She wants everybody’s attention, all the time. Why do you think she’s a bloody tour guide? And you, you’re all ‘I’m a gorgeous woman from a faraway land with a sad history. Now excuse me while I’m just going to be all mysterious over here.’” Emilee wiggled her fingers and put on a ghostly voice.

  “What?” I laughed. “I am not like that!”

  She lifted one eyebrow.

  “Okay, so I’m not an open book. Still doesn’t explain the Anti-Christ up there.” I enjoyed using Emilee’s analogy of Julie.

  Emilee leant in closer to me. “I’ll admit it’s weird. I’ve actually never seen Julie hate someone as much as she hates you ... reckon you deserve a trophy or something.”

  “Oh shut up!”

  “Well, anyway everybody’s talking about it at the pub—your pregnancy. I think that’s the fourth guy you’ve been pregnant to this year,” she teased.

  “Why the hell am I the talk of the town? I am the most boring person in the world. I go to work, and I go home. Who can be bothered with all the rumours?” I was bewildered as to how people could be motivated to make up such garbage. “I dunno. But they’re fun. Hey, you still keen to go swimming at Warimudga tonight? There’s meant to be a wicked storm.” She wiggled the top part of her body. Her eyes were alive with excitement.

  “Maybe. I’ll let you know. But speaking of storms, have you seen the riots going on in Melbourne?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “What riots?”

  “Well, apparently this crazy weather is fairly widespread. Heaps of people believe the Government’s to blame and their solution is to block half the cities with rioters. They’re saying they won’t stop until the Government fixes it.”

  “Really, how could Governments control the weather? Oh well,” she sighed. “At least we don’t have to put up with any of that B.S. here. All we need to decide is what to call the four babies you have growing in your belly.” She patted my belly jokingly.

  “Go away.” I playfully hit her hand away. I caught Julie sending a furious look my way as Emilee patted my stomach.

  “Oh yeah, I keep forgetting. Bruce wanted me to give you this.” She held out my necklace; the one Tess had given me at the hospital. “He said you took it off just before you left on your ‘adventure’ ... something about you didn’t want to get it tangled in some mechanical thing you were fixing on your car. I dunno—I don’t get cars. But here you go.”

  “Thanks, Em. I knew I was missing it, but I couldn’t remember where I put it. Funny how you get used to something. I’ve felt naked without it.”