Catherine Jinks TheRoad (86 page)

‘Bloody oath,’ Alec mumbled. Ambrose, however, looked mulish.

‘And go where?’ he inquired.

‘Well – as far as I remember,’ said Ross, ‘it depends on which turn-off we took. If it was the Ascot Vale turn-off, then we’re now heading back towards Enmore and Oakdale stations –’

‘But we didn’t pass Ascot Vale!’ Georgie broke in.

‘– and if it was the Balaclava turn-off,’ Ross continued, relentlessly, ‘then we’ll be hitting the highway again pretty soon. Either way, we’re not going to get lost.’

Satisfied that he had made his point, Ross fixed his attention on the road in front of him, and the car picked up speed. Verlie said: ‘Ross?’

‘What?’

‘Look.’

She pointed at something, whereupon Ross said: ‘Bloody hell.’ Leaning forward, Alec realised why. The needle on the fuel gauge was hovering below ‘empty’.

They were travelling on the smell of an oily rag.

‘We can’t get left behind,’ Verlie quavered, and her husband immediately leaned on the horn. As Ross braked again, Alec scanned his surroundings, nervous of what might suddenly materialise. All he could see was the sandy ridge on one side and a stand of shaggy-looking eucalypts on the other.

He didn’t want to get out. He was scared of what might happen. The mute, enduring land was no longer innocent, in his eyes. It had changed. Once he had regarded it as passive but stalwart beneath the punishing sun, its slow energies directed at creeping renewal, its bedrock shaken and scarred by assaults on its secret stores of minerals. Once he had been able to pass over it unhindered, like the wind. He had felt detached from it. Unaffected by it.

Now he glared suspiciously at the waiting trees, the motionless earth, the hard, bright sky. Until recently, he had looked at them without really seeing, not fully conscious of their existence. He hadn’t felt that his presence was creating any noticeable shift in the air – that his own weight was being registered, somewhere, in the rocks beneath him.

Now he did. No doubt he was projecting his own fears onto the landscape, blaming it for a strange and terrible series of events which stemmed from some other (possibly extraterrestrial) source. But the fact was, he could have sworn that he was being watched.

‘They’re stopping,’ Verlie announced, with relief. Sure enough, Del’s car had bumped to a standstill up ahead. After a minute, it began to reverse towards them.

‘Closing the gap,’ Ross muttered.

‘I’m not getting out,’ Georgie shrilled.

‘What are we going to do?’ asked Ambrose. ‘What if our smell attracts them, or something?’ He looked around. ‘The flies, I mean.’

Then Del’s vehicle halted, just a hand’s breadth from the Harwoods’ bumper, and Del emerged from the driver’s side. She did it a with touch of bravado, but also with enough real confidence to impress Alec profoundly. Perhaps her courage was bolstered by the rifle over her arm. Whatever the reason behind her assurance, however, Alec envied it. He decided, then and there, that he would be sticking with Del.

Though she approached Ross, she didn’t look at him. Her gaze moved busily – jumpily – from the road to the ridge to the treetops.

‘What’s up?’ she asked, as Ross wound down his window a fraction.

‘Out of petrol,’ he replied.

‘Oh, bugger.’ Her drifting regard snagged itself on his face. ‘That’s no good.’

‘What are we going to do?’

‘I dunno. Think about it.’

‘Some will have to stay,’ said Ross, and Georgie exclaimed: ‘Not me! I’m not staying here!’

Everyone ignored her – even Ambrose.

‘We could set up camp,’ Del suggested, doubtfully. ‘Beside the creek.’

‘We’ll have to take a vote, I should think.’ Ross rubbed a hand across the weary contours of his forehead. ‘We might have to draw straws.’

‘Yeah. Right.’ Del frowned, suddenly. ‘But whoever stays here, I’ll stay with ’em. Me and Mongrel.’ She slapped the butt of her gun. ‘And me old mate Lee Enfield.’

It was at this point that Ross pushed his door open. Noel, Alec saw, was doing the same, shading his eyes as he surveyed the immediate vicinity for anything that might pose a threat.

When Ambrose tried to extricate himself from Georgie’s clinging embrace, Alec realised that he had no choice; he had to get out or reveal himself as a lower form of life than Ambrose (who was obviously too dense to be scared).

Reluctantly, he left the safety of the Harwoods’ back seat.

At last only John remained in the sedan with Georgie and Verlie.

‘So what are you saying?’ Ross was asking Del. ‘Are you saying you’d let someone else drive your car?’

‘No. I’m sayin yiz can have all me petrol.’

‘But wouldn’t everyone fit in your car, Del?’ Verlie’s voice had lost a good deal of its strength, but she strained to be heard from inside her car. ‘If we take everything out of the back, maybe...?’

‘Nah. Thirteen people? Not a hope.’

‘Are you sure? Because –’

‘Nah.’ Del shook her head. ‘Even if we could, I wouldn’t dump all our supplies. Wouldn’t risk it. Not now. Not after this.’

‘What do you mean?’ said Noel, and Del squinted at him, one eyebrow raised.

Alec was certain that her thoughts were the same as his.

‘We’ve been out here a whole day already,’ he reminded Noel. ‘Who knows how much longer we’re gunna be stranded?’

Noel looked startled. ‘Oh, but surely – I mean, there must be a station nearby –’

‘Maybe. Maybe not,’ said Del. ‘We can’t be certain, though, can we? Not any more.’

‘That’s right.’ Alec wholly concurred. ‘Who says we’ll
ever
get out?’ It had occurred to him, in a flash of insight, that there was a certain coherence to the events that had overtaken them. Each one, considered separately, made very little sense. Together, however, they suggested that an invisible, intangible fence was being erected around them.

‘Oh, Alec.’ Noel’s tone was reproachful. ‘We won’t get anywhere with that attitude.’

‘Says who?’ Alec’s temper flared. ‘What makes you so god-damn smart all the time?’

‘Okay, okay,’ said Ross. ‘Let’s not fight, it’s not helpful.’ He ran his hands through his silvery hair. ‘So who’s going and who’s staying?’

‘I’m stayin with Del,’ Alec declared flatly. He had weighed his options, and had decided that he would have a better chance if he stayed put. It seemed unlikely to him that anyone would get anywhere in the near future – and he wanted to remain close to the supplies. The supplies and the gun. ‘We’ve got enough food and stuff to last us a few days. And there’s bound to be water here, if we can find it.’

‘You don’t think it will come to that, do you?’ Ambrose protested. ‘I mean,
surely
someone will come looking for us . . .?’

‘Maybe,’ said Alec.

‘We’ll light a signal fire,’ said Del. She looked around. ‘Who else is goin?’

‘Me.’ It was Georgie. ‘And Ambrose, too.’

‘Which will rule out your family, Noel,’ Del frowned.

‘Whaddaya think? Is our top priority to get the kids sorted, or

what?’

‘Our family can’t split up.’

‘I know.’

‘We can’t all fit in Ross’s car anyway. Not if the Harwoods are both going.’

This undeniable fact was absorbed in silence. Then Ross turned to Verlie, stooping, so that he could address her through the window of their car. ‘What do you think, darling?’ he inquired. ‘Do you want to go, or stay?’

Alec could see her face through the tinted glass. She looked pale and dishevelled – no longer the reassuring figure she had once been.

‘It depends on what
you’re
doing, Ross,’ she replied.

‘I’ll be driving. It’s our car.’

‘Then I’ll go with you.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’

‘Because if you go, the Fergusons can’t.’

‘Oh . . .’ Verlie’s expression was suddenly so agonised that Noel jumped in to reassure her.

‘It’s all right,’ he said quickly. ‘We’ll be fine, here. We’ll have Del’s car, in case anything ...I mean, if we need proper shelter. It’s a big car. And there’s still plenty of food and drink. We’ll be fine.’

‘Okay.’ Del scratched her chin. ‘So that’s settled. Ross is goin, and Verlie, and Ambrose, and Georgie ...who else? Anyone? Col?’

‘Me,’ said John. ‘I’m goin.’ His tone challenged anyone to disagree, but Del wasn’t one to be intimidated.

‘Col’s an older bloke,’ she pointed out. ‘He might be feelin the strain.’

All eyes swivelled in Col’s direction. He certainly
looked
the worse for wear. His flesh sagged, his cheeks were flushed with broken veins, he blinked nervously. But he offered up an unconvincing smile.

‘I’m fit,’ he said. ‘Really.’

‘Well I’m not,’ John declared, in his rough voice. When everyone gazed at him, he sucked in his cheeks. ‘Hypoglycaemia,’ he explained, after a pause.

‘Hypoglycaemia?’
said Noel.

‘Low blood sugar levels,’ John mumbled.

Studying that strained, bony face, Alec thought: Like hell you’ve got hypoglycaemia. But there was no way of disproving the man’s claim, not really. Although John might have been lying because he was scared shitless, he had them by the balls.

‘All right,’ Del sighed. ‘So it’s five to go and eight to stay. We’d better siphon off me tank.’

‘You’ll want to keep a little, though. Just in case,’ said Ross.

‘Yeah, yeah. We’ll sort it out.’ Del lifted her head and scanned the treetops, eyes narrowed and teeth bared. ‘No signa them flies.’

‘No.’

‘Good job I brought me Mortein along.’

‘Insect repellent?’ asked Noel. ‘You have insect repellent?’

‘’Course.’ Del cracked a reluctant grin. ‘Can’t leave home without it.’

Then Alec, who had been staring dully at the rough, tufted surface of the slope across the track, noticed something peculiar. There were ants pouring from a crack in the earth – pouring like liquid. They were shiny red ants, thousands moving as one. He saw them seeping from one crack, then another, then another.

‘Come on,’ he said abruptly. ‘Christ, let’s
do
this!’