Just when I think I’ve fumbled my one chance of escape, the ute slows again.
He reverses slightly before entering the fuel pit.
His tray is strapped down with equipment.
Cones, steel frames, rolled fencing.
The driver’s high vis shirt flashes neon orange inside the cab.
He opens the door and climbs out.
Probably been working overnight on the river bridge project outside town.
I’ve seen the crews working down there for weeks.
Now he’s fueling up.
Heading back to wherever he came from.
Somewhere that isn’t here.
Quit standing there like a yobbo and move your ass,a voice inside me urges.
Perhaps it’s my voice, perhaps it’s my mother’s.
She’d want me to do this.
The driver lifts the diesel nozzle and removes the lid on his tank.
The click and hum of the machine is steady.
But the numbers on the screen tick rapidly.
Soon they will come to a halt.
Fucking move,I scold myself.Say something, you egg.
Better than trying to walk the whole way.
Every step toward the truck feels heavy.
My stomach twists with embarrassment as I get closer.
I’m suddenly hyper aware of the split in my lip, the bruises on my cheek and jaw.
The stiffness in the way I hold my body.
The driver glances over.
His eyebrow lifts slightly when he sees me appear from the shadows.
I stop a few feet away.
Don’t want him to think I’m gonna rob him or something.
“Are you going to Longreach?” I ask.
My voice cracks slightly.
