Emergency Response (4 page)

As though reading her mind, Nathan’s next question surprised her.

“What about your family? Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“I do. I have five sisters.”

And one brother.
Although she wasn’t telling him that.

His eyebrows shot up in astonishment. “Six girls!? Imagine having to share a bathroom!”

“Yeah,” Mackenzie said with a smile. “I’m used to it, but I love the shock it gives people when they hear there are six of us.”

“I pity your poor father.” Nathan tilted his head. “Especially if they are all as beautiful as you.”

She groaned. It was the worst pick-up line she had ever heard. Plus he needed to have his eyes tested. She wasn’t beautiful – not like her sisters.

Mackenzie was different from her sisters in many ways. Aside from the fact she was the only one still unmarried, she looked nothing like them. Not that appearances had anything to do with her single status, but, unlike her willow-thin, blonde-haired sisters, Mackenzie was short with dark features. As a child she had to tell people she wasn’t adopted. Her Mum said she looked exactly like her maternal grandmother at the same age. Although she’d never met the woman – and only had grainy black and white photos as a reference point, she agreed there were some similarities.

“My sisters are all beautiful, yes.” She wasn’t lying. “And happily married,” she added, in case Nathan got any ideas about using her to meet one of her siblings. It had certainly happened before.

“So
you’re
not married?” Nathan let the sentence hang.

At his question, bittersweet memories of Bailey’s wedding came to mind. It was the most recent occasion the family had gathered together and at the end of the ceremony her father had scowled at Mackenzie and said, “You know what they say, Mack …”

He never finished the sentence, but Mackenzie knew the saying well. If it was true “three times a bridesmaid” meant “never a bride,” what would it mean to be a bridesmaid
five
times? If she believed her father, Mackenzie was doomed to be single, and therefore miserable, for the rest of her life. His words had cut deep and she hadn’t spoken to him since that day.

“No. I’m not married,” she repeated, feeling herself blush again, which annoyed her.

Why should she be embarrassed that at thirty-five she had only had one serious relationship? Sure, she’d dated over the years, but nothing ever lasted beyond a couple of weeks. Her longest relationship was years ago with a man she’d met at university. Together for nearly six months, in the end they mutually agreed they were only ever going to be friends, not lovers.

“You’re single then?” Nathan asked.

She nodded but didn’t elaborate. She needed to shift the conversation onto safer topics and away from her personal life.

“How do you cope out there? You said it’s isolated in Iron Ridge. You grew up in Sydney and you’ve been living where? London? It must have been a massive culture shock coming back to Australia, let alone moving to the middle of the Outback.”

“Yeah, it was a huge shock, but I’m used to it now. Sometimes it’s pretty lonely,” he said, a quick shadow passing across his face, “but I get paid well and I know it’s not forever. While they’re still digging stuff out of the ground and I’m building up a nice nest egg for the future, I’ll keep doing it. When I’ve saved enough money maybe I can go back to university or something.” His voice trailed off and silence fell between them. “I know they’re looking for a nurse to cover for someone later this year. Maybe you should give it a try,” Nathan said. “Might do you good to escape to the country.”

She narrowed her eyes and looked at him. “Why do you say that?”

Nathan grinned. “Look how well it’s turned out for Kate.”

Mackenzie chuckled and looked across at Kate, nestled in Joel’s arms. The loved-up couple chatted comfortably with Joel’s parents, Sean and Lorraine. Nathan was right – escaping to the country had turned out perfectly for Kate. A new job, a new rural lifestyle and a new man, all in one year.

It sounded perfect to Mackenzie.

Five months later, on an overcast and wet morning in the middle of August, Mackenzie sat on her own in a plastic chair in the domestic terminal of Sydney Airport. She had left her apartment at five thirty that morning after waking at four twenty-four, six minutes before her alarm had gone off. Maybe the steady hypnotic beat of rain against her windows had woken her, or maybe she hadn’t slept at all. She wasn’t sure. Supercharged with nervous energy, her brain refused to switch off. She could hardly believe she was going through with her decision to leave Sydney.

Someone nearby was eating overly-spiced Asian noodles for breakfast and Mackenzie’s stomach clenched and unclenched at the smell. A young girl called out names from behind the counter at
Gloria Jeans
. A thousand conversations droned like out-of-tune bagpipes around her. The sounds of a faceless multitude of people chatting and tapping away on their smartphones were a reminder of why she was leaving city life behind. The distant hum was intensifying, causing a headache to build.

An ancient-looking Aboriginal man wearing dirty jeans and boots sat beside her, his well-worn Akubra resting on the seat between them. He kept glancing at her from the corner of his eye while shuffling a newspaper, and if Mackenzie was the betting type, she’d be confident he hadn’t read a single word. Every now and then, he would catch her eye and when she smiled, he smiled shyly in return, showing off white teeth against his dark, shiny skin. Bushy eyebrows framed a friendly face covered in skin wrinkled and dried from years in the harsh Outback sun.

“Where are you headed, miss?”

Her mind was miles away and his question startled her. “The Pilbara,” she answered.

“I’m heading over that way too,” he said with a small nod.

“That’s nice.” As friendly as the older man seemed, she wasn’t in the mood for conversation with a complete stranger.

Once the flight had taken off Mackenzie gazed through the small window down at Sydney’s famous harbor bridge and white beaches. They were all part of a life she was leaving behind. Would she ever return? Her flatmate had no trouble finding someone to take over Mackenzie’s share of the lease, and, after giving away clothes she didn’t think she’d need, Mackenzie had packed up all her worldly possessions into two massive suitcases. She had then watched as the bloke at the Qantas counter weighed them, tagged them as oversized and hoisted them onto the conveyor belt. They slid along the black rubber mat and through the plastic flap out of sight and were now stored somewhere beneath her feet. She closed her eyes. As much as she believed she was doing the right thing by leaving the comfort of her job and lifestyle and heading to the Outback, was it possible she was just running away again?

The flight from Sydney to Perth was uneventful and she slept most of the way. After a four-hour stopover she boarded the second flight from Perth which headed slightly north and back inland. Cloudless blue skies made it easy to watch the red-bronze landscape pass beneath the plane. She spotted small townships and massive mines, shaped like spiral staircases with wide terraces circling deep into the rust-colored soil. She’d seen photos on the internet of the trucks. They looked as small as ants from the sky but in reality were vehicles of monster-like proportions.

Situated on the edge of the Karinji National Park, the small purpose-built mining town she was headed toward was only fifty years old. A friendly community with a population of 1,417 people, the nursing agency had employed Mackenzie to work in the hospital’s small emergency department for the next three months. After that, she had no idea what the future held.

As soon as she had the job, Mackenzie joined a Facebook group and asked a million questions about the town. One woman described it as a hot, dusty tart, saying, “It doesn’t matter how much you dress her up, she’s still rough around the edges.” Everyone Mackenzie chatted with online declared their love for life in the Pilbara. Most said they would be sad when they eventually left. Their opinions were enough to fill Mackenzie with confidence she had made the right choice.

The pilot announced their descent and she tightened her seatbelt and glanced out the window. She was nearly there.

*

Almost eight hours after leaving Sydney, the plane touched down heavily on the tarmac. It screamed and shuddered as the flaps lifted and the engines slowed, causing clouds of dust to swirl around outside. Dread settled in her heart. It was so barren and bright. And empty. Even the unexpected flash of color from the lone wildflowers along the edge of the runway did little to soften the blow of the harsh reality of the landscape. It looked like she’d landed on Mars.

The plane came to a standstill and the passengers stood to retrieve their bags from the overhead lockers. Not Mackenzie. She remained seated, staring in dismay out the window at the cream-colored tin shed, which evidently served as the airport terminal. It was much smaller than she had expected.

A blast of hot dry air engulfed Mackenzie the moment she stepped out of the plane. The flight attendant standing at the open door near the cockpit smiled at her shocked expression. It felt like summer after the air-conditioned plane. She tore off her cardigan and stuffed it into her carry-on luggage. Making her way down the steps at the front of the plane, she was thankful she’d been smart enough to wear flat shoes. Nathan had told her the Outback was no place for heels and she was glad she’d given her few pairs away. She recoiled at the burning heat of the metal rail. If it was this hot in winter, how was she going to cope when the temperatures reached forty-plus degrees every day in the middle of summer? Mackenzie liked the heat, but this was ridiculous.

She dragged in a lungful of air and then coughed, trying to clear her throat of the fine red dust she’d inhaled. In the distance, past the sage scrub and seemingly endless stretch of desert, was a low-lying mountain range, although it may have been a mirage. Flat stretches of nothingness lay in every direction and for a split second her resolve failed her again. She glanced back toward the plane. Maybe she could just walk back up the narrow steps and let the plane take her home again. The question was, where
was
home?

As though sensing her hesitation, another flight attendant positioned at the bottom of the steps smiled at her. “She’ll be right, mate. Give it time and it’ll feel like home before you know it.”

Smiling her thanks, Mackenzie set her shoulders back and stepped purposefully across the shimmering black tarmac. She might be well and truly out of her comfort zone, but she could do this! Everyone assured her the locals were friendly, and with people arriving to live and work in the town every day, she wouldn’t feel like the newbie for long. Even so, never in her whole life had she felt so isolated. She turned around slowly, taking her new surroundings in. Someone had told her the Pilbara was like living in the 1970s, except with broadband, and now, on arrival, she knew exactly what they meant.

She waited nearly fifteen minutes in the sun, the heat of the asphalt biting through the soles of her thin shoes. Finally, they tossed her luggage out from the belly of the plane and onto the flatbed of a trailer. Obviously in the Outback there was no indoor baggage claim area. A dry wind lashed at the dry grasses nearby and whipped her long hair around her face. Securing it with a hair tie, she waited patiently until it was her turn to retrieve her suitcases.

Dragging her bags behind her, she shuffled slowly toward the shade of the terminal only to find it locked. A cold sweat broke out across her skin and she shivered even in the intense heat. What had the email from the nursing agency said? Was someone meant to meet her, or were they leaving a car for her to pick up? Was she supposed to collect the keys from someone? She drew in a deep breath and counted slowly to ten. She was not going to panic. Even so, the wide open space pressed in, crushing her. Doubts swirled around like the thick red dust. She ran her damp hands down the front of her pants. What should she do?

In the end, she made a decision and tramped round to the front of the tin building, dragging her cases with her. She gazed around. To her right, a number of dusty four-wheel drives wore a coating of red iron ore dust like a badge of honor. They looked nothing like their city cousins. Standing on the side of the road, she stared in both directions as she brushed the flies from around her face. No one seemed to be coming for her.

Just as fresh dread began to flood her veins, the Aboriginal man from the airport in Sydney strolled up. He touched one finger to the brim of his old hat. “Wanna lift, miss?”

She looked around, hoping someone else might come to her rescue.

“Out ’ere we help each other. That’s how it works.”

It didn’t look like she had any other options.

“Thanks. I’d appreciate it.” She held out her right hand. “My name is Mackenzie.” He ignored her hand. Was it inappropriate to shake hands with an Aboriginal man? She had no idea. “I’m a nurse. Coming to work at the hospital.”

“Odd name,” he grunted and walked off in the direction of the car park.

He threw his own name over his shoulder. He might have said Gary, but it could also have been Barry or Harry. Mackenzie trotted along behind him, trying to keep up. She dragged her cases across the packed red dirt. The wheels were going to be completely ruined.

“Where shall I drop ya then, miss?”

They had reached his car, a filthy four-wheel drive emblazoned with high visibility strips and multiple antennas on the roof. Two dented plastic jerry cans sat behind the front seat. The car door screeched as she wrenched it open. Climbing awkwardly up into the cab beside him, she wrinkled her nose at the rich smell of heat, dust and stale sweat.

The man threw her cases in the back, then climbed behind the wheel and turned the engine over. It started with a roar. He squirted water on the windscreen and the wipers smeared the dirt everywhere, making a bigger mess.

Just like her own life.

Her heart sank a notch.
What have I done?

“I guess you could drop me at the hospital please,” Mackenzie said. “If it’s not too far out of your way.”

“Nah. It’s just ten minutes thataway,” he said, pointing in a vague direction out through the front windscreen.

In front of her was nothing except scrubby bushes lining the gray strip of asphalt, Wedgewood blue skies, rust-red soil and open space that stretched forever. The quintessential Australian Outback. Exactly as the photos on the internet depicted it, only hotter. Sweat ran down her back – the old man obviously didn’t believe in using the car’s air conditioner – and with his window wide open, it soon felt as though her skin was covered in a thick coating of dirt.

“Probably looks pretty bad when you’re not used to it,” he shouted above the road noise.

She had no idea how to reply without sounding offensive. Sure, her first impression wasn’t overly positive, but there might be hope for the town itself.

A narrow train line traveled parallel with the road, ready to carry the massive trains that transported the iron ore from the mines to the ports. Apparently they could be over two kilometers in length. Mackenzie wasn’t sure she’d read that fact correctly. She’d also read if you were stopped at a railway crossing, you’d wait up to fifteen minutes for them to pass. Trains traveled four times a day from mining towns in the Pilbara to the coast, each one carrying one million dollars’ worth of iron ore. When they said there was money in mining, they weren’t wrong.

They drove in uncomfortable silence until they crested a small rise and Mackenzie’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Oh wow!”

Everything was so green! Massive gum trees, their silver trunks glowing white in the late afternoon sun, signaled the beginning of a small township, which seemed to pop up out of nowhere. 1960s-style brick houses sat on large blocks with massive front lawns and no sidewalks. A white substance coated the lower half of the houses, splashed up against the bricks and windows.

“Calcium,” the old man said, as though that explained everything. “From the reticulation system,” he added.

“Oh.” It made no sense to her.

Approaching a T-intersection, he slowed down and turned right without indicating. It didn’t matter. There hadn’t been another car on the road since they’d left the airport. To her left was a Shell service station, its faded signage greeting weary motorists. Was it still operating? They turned left and he pulled up in front of a tired-looking, single-story brown brick structure. The sign simply read “Hospital” in faded red lettering on a white background.

Well, she had wanted a change and by the look of it, she had one.