Catherine Jinks TheRoad (27 page)

‘Ross!’ she exclaimed.

‘Give me the bloody map!’ he barked. Rather than try to help him, Verlie opened her door and got out. She grimaced as her stiffened muscles were forced to work again. She had a crick in one knee from sitting down for so long.

She unlocked the boot and pulled an apple from the picnic basket.

The silence was impressive – almost eerie – once the car engine was switched off. The land around them seemed empty, though Broken Hill was presumably just over the horizon. Peeling her apple, Verlie did a slow 360-degree turn, and nearly jumped when she saw a crow sitting on a white post not five metres away.

A gentle breeze ruffled its coal-black feathers. It gazed at her without blinking.

Carrion bird, she thought. Ugh. Something must be dead around here.

Inside the car there was a convulsive rattle of paper; Ross was still wrestling with the map. It was spilling into Verlie’s seat, but she got back in anyway because she suddenly felt rather exposed standing out there beneath the arching sky. She offered her husband a piece of apple.

‘No thanks,’ he muttered.

‘Could we turn the radio on, do you think?’

‘In a minute.’

Verlie glanced at the fuel gauge, but of course it wasn’t working – the engine was turned off. She wondered if Ross had checked it lately, but knew better than to ask him. Asking him would only elevate his stress levels.

‘Hmm,’ he said at last, and she waited. He began to fold the map, which of course wouldn’t cooperate; he had to unfold it, and refold it, and unfold it again, and finally dump it in her lap with an explosive request that she ‘take care of the bloody thing’ while he drove the car. Obediently, Verlie shook out the enormous sheet of paper, which, because it was brand new, didn’t have any well-worn creases in it.

Folding it was like folding a blanket.

‘Well,’ said Ross, ‘I don’t know. According to the map, we should be there.’

‘Really?’

‘I know we’re going the right way. I know my watch is right, because the clock on the dash says exactly the same thing.’ He turned his key in the ignition, and guided their car carefully back onto the road. ‘So all I can suggest is that the map’s wrong. They’ve misprinted the numbers or something.’

Verlie leaned a little to the right, so that she could see the fuel gauge. The tank was less than a quarter full.

‘But are we going to make it?’ she asked anxiously.

‘Make it? Of course we’re going to make it.’

‘I mean, our petrol won’t run out? Before we get there?’

She knew that Ross wouldn’t take kindly to this question, but she put it to him regardless. He shot her an irritable look from under his silver-grey thatch.

‘I just told you we’re going to make it,’ he retorted.

‘And you don’t think the truck we passed – the abandoned truck – you don’t think the driver of that truck was using the same map?’

Ross said nothing.

‘Ross?’ Verlie pressed, and he frowned.

‘How the hell should I know? He probably broke down, or something.’