She sensed the movement before she saw it. The slightest twitch at the foot of the rock, hidden in the shadows at the light’s edges that led to her safety. A small bundle of dark-brown scales coiled underneath a reddish-brown head. A tongue lashing an evil smile.
Between her and freedom sat a snake.
* * *
The sun beat down on Eliza as she sat on her swag, trying to make sense of it all. She had been walking in a straight line for half a day. How could she arrive back where she started?
She pulled her water bottle from her backpack, pointlessly. The plastic crinkled as she returned it to her backpack. The answer wasn’t clear, but the lesson was. They had sent her on a journey faced with choices and she had made the wrong ones. She was sure of it.
Bree. She had to get back for Bree. Her determination flooded back—all she had to do was return to the intersection and choose again. Left or right, she would make that decision when she got back there.
She looked again at the lowering sun. The swag had to come with her. Self-doubt made another pitch but she batted it away. She wouldn’t need to be out here overnight. A tour company wouldn’t allow that, would they?
Eliza unpegged the swag and knelt in front of it when she heard the low rumble. The cloudless sky was not the cause, but she was sure she’d heard that rumble before.
A vehicle. It had to be.
Maybe this swag was a checkpoint, and now that she’d found it, Eddie and Sloaney were on their way to pick her up. She’d learned her lesson and would take that home with her. Or maybe the lesson was deeper. When you found yourself in trouble, you needed to go back to the beginning and start again. She’d certainly been to enough self-help seminars to have heard that before. The beginning—that first trip to Africa fueled on adventurous spirit and bullheaded desire to make things right. So that was the lesson: she had to find that version of herself and reconnect.
Eliza shielded her eyes from the afternoon sun. The rumble grew as plumes of dust billowed from the road. She exhaled away her frustration as she savored her win. She had been on a harrowing, mind-bending trek through outback Australia and survived. On her own, with only herself to rely on.
Fueled by a fierce self-pride, she allowed her banished anger and indignation their moment. After the debrief—which always came at the end of these corporate personal development exercises—she would give them some honest customer feedback and a substantial piece of her mind.
The rumble quaked her calves as the shape emerged from the heat haze—a large box of a vehicle, red, not black, and significantly bigger than a four-wheel drive. It seemed to fill the entire width of the dusty track.
She reevaluated her options. Eddie had said there was little traffic out here, but she was in no position to argue with a stroke of fortune. A deadlier feeling pressed in on her. Lincoln said on the plane that the country was dangerous, and the threats extended beyond the creepy crawlies. The stories of people hitchhiking the back roads of Australia who were never heard from again.
Fear pulsed through her nervous system, setting her ablaze. While Lincoln could have talked up the danger, there was a chance in this he hadn’t. Her empty water bottle lay in the red dirt alongside her only safe place in the outback.
What choice did she have? Her need for water and shelter outweighed whatever danger she might face.
The haze dissipated and the detail of the road train filled in, dust clouds flying alongside its long, thin body. Her overworked muscles shook—needing the rescue, dreading the threat. She had to get the driver’s attention, regardless of the danger.
The danger of a random stranger was possible. The danger of dehydration or exposure was certain.
She jumped into the middle of the track, arms windmilling in the now-still, tinder-dry air. The rumble lowered into a deepening roar, and the giant vehicle slowed as it pulled to one side of the track. Eliza’s heart thudded as she clenched her fists and twitched her calves, tensed for escape.
With a loud hissing and the squeal of brakes, the road train came to rest with a lurch, the red cabin and shining silver grill towering over her.
Red.
Through the windshield Eliza saw large sunglasses under a cap’s visor. The cabin door flew open as every scenario between uncomfortable and catastrophic flashed before her eyes. She checked over both shoulders for somewhere to run.
The driver jumped to the ground, brushing hands on khaki shorts. Long, slender legs down to thick, chunky work boots. The driver removed the cap, and a rust-red ponytail swished from side to side.
The woman removed her sunglasses to reveal the most crystal-blue eyes Eliza had ever seen, sparkling above a crooked grin and grease-stained cheeks. “What are you doing out here, love? Not lost, are ya?”
Eliza fell to her knees, her chest heaving. But the tears wouldn’t come. Not in front of a stranger.
Twenty-One
The flat, brassy horns and chugging guitar drifted across the pub from the jukebox, along with an impassioned, croaking scream:
Out where the river broke
The bloodwood and the desert oak
Andy pushed aside the tiny plate, now filled with only a few pastry crumbs. “Do you have a car? How can we get back to the campsite?”
Smithy nodded along with Midnight Oil. “Where is the campsite?”
Embarrassed, Andy laced his fingers behind his head. He’d had no idea where the campsite was. “We are with Outback Tours. Two guys—Eddie and Sloaney. Do you know them?”
Smithy shook his head. “How did you end up here?”
Andy’s conscience answered the question at a different level, and it didn’t like the answer. “I walked. I woke up on a cliff above a river, which should be around here somewhere.”
Smithy shrugged. “That could be anywhere out here.”
Andy heaved a sigh, his pulse racing as an unwelcome option presented itself. He needed to stay off the grid and below the radar. “They’ve got a satellite phone. Could you call them for me?”
Smithy nodded at Andy’s phone, facedown on the table. “Why can’t you?”
“No coverage. So what can I do?”
Smithy took great care to place his glass back on its coaster. “We need to get you going where you need to be. Let’s work it out. How long were you walking for?”
Andy’s mental gears creaked into action. He woke at seven and it was now after two. His phone beeped and he shoved it across the table, unable to face the message.
Smithy frowned at him. “I thought you said you had no coverage.”
How could he explain this? It would be hard enough to talk about being abandoned on a cliff top. It would be impossible to describe a disconnected phone that still received messages. And he couldn’t talk about the deepest truth of all.
Another roar bellowed from the corner. Now a dozen people followed the parabolic path of the copper coins through the air.
Smithy put down his bite-sized pie and leaned toward Andy, a kindness in his eyes. “Is everything okay? You look a bit, I don’t know the word for it . . . hunted?”
Andy’s face warmed as his voice emerged in a staccato burst. “What makes you say that?”
“The way your gaze darts around the room, checking out everyone. Not wanting to use your phone. The only thing you look like you’re interested in is the game of two-up.”