Stolen (16 page)

After more rough driving, you stopped the car. I heard your door shut and the trunk snap open. When I finally opened my eyes, all I could see was sky: bright blue, cloudless sky, with a large bird circling in it. I sat up. We were parked somewhere high up. Through the windshield I could see the desert stretched out before me like a map, an endless blanket of brown and orange and flatness. There were small squiggles of green—the spinifex—and humps of gray—rocks—and long dark worms of dry riverbeds.

There were trees around the car with red-black trunks, and ants crawling up them. I even heard birds somewhere above me: small birds, chattering like kids on a school excursion. There were rocks around us, too, with swirls and patterns in their texture. Tiny flowers grew out of their crevices, and a slight breeze made their petals sway. Considering the barren land all around, this place was a kind of oasis.

You’d spread a picnic to the left of the car, under one of the larger trees. You sat at the edge of a faded tartan blanket, chopping some sort of fruit. The seeds oozed out as your knife cut in. Flies were settling on the rolls you’d made earlier. You didn’t brush them away.

There was a bottle of sparkling wine. It seemed so out of place standing up in the sand that I couldn’t stop staring at it. I got out of the stifling car, drawn to the promise of a breeze more than anything. You poured me a glass, then poured yourself a smaller one.

“Just as well I brought it.”

“Why?”

“Your twenty-first day! It’s special. You must think so, too, or you wouldn’t have said.”

Once again I wished I’d kept that information to myself. I looked down at the glass in my hand. “Have you drugged this?”

You knocked yours back in one annoyed movement. “I won’t do that again, I told you.”

I shook the glass slightly as I studied it. Some of the liquid fell over the top and onto my hand. It was warm. Back home, my parents hid alcohol in a locked glass cabinet. Instead I’d get drunk with my friends in the park on someone else’s booze. But out there, with you, I didn’t want it. I tipped the liquid into the dirt. You poured us both another glass right away.

You handed me a roll. The damper bread was hard as rock and the tomato slice inside looked like it had melted. You caught my expression and shrugged.

“Best we have.”

“If you’re trying to impress me with a picnic, it’s not going to work.”

“I know,” you said gravely. “I forgot the strawberries.”

You took your shirt off and wiped your forehead. Then you knocked back your second glass and lay your head onto the T-shirt, staring up at the tree branches. Something was shaking the leaves up there, and you frowned as you tried to figure out what. Sweat beads formed on your chest, settling in the hollows of your muscles. I took a tiny sip from my glass. It was like hot fizzy tea. I recognized a sweater from the dresser back at the house sitting folded on a corner of the blanket; I grabbed it and stuck it on top of my head. The sun was beating down through the branches and leaves, making the landscape lazy.

“Listen,” you said.

“To what? There’s nothing.”

“There is. Maybe not shopping centers and cars, but other things … buzzing insects, racing ants, a slight wind making the tree creak, there’s a honeyeater up there, scuttling around, and the camels are coming.”

“What?”

You nodded toward the land below, a slight smirk on your face. “Go see.”

I stood and glanced down at the flatness. Sure enough, there was a bunch of hazy black dots down there, becoming bigger as they moved closer to our small hill. I no longer needed binoculars to see they were camels.

“You didn’t
hear
them coming … you’d need Superman’s hearing for that.”

“Who says I’m not Superman?” You were looking at me with one eye closed against the sun. I shrugged.

“You would have rescued me by now if you were Superman,” I said quietly.

“Who says I haven’t?”

“Anyone would say you haven’t.”

“Anyone’s
just looking at it wrong, then.” You pushed yourself up a little, onto your elbows. “Anyway, I can’t steal you
and
rescue you. That would give me multiple personalities.”

“And you don’t have them already?” I muttered.

I ate the roll, and forced down more sparkling wine. When your eyes closed against the sun again, and I had nothing else to look at, I glanced quickly at your chest, curious, really. I’d only seen chests like that in magazines. I wondered if that’s how you’d got all your money … modeling. I looked down at my stomach. I grabbed at it, seeing how much fat I could lift up in a roll.

“Don’t worry,” you said, one eye open again like a crocodile, watching me. “You’re beautiful.” You tipped your head back. “Beautiful,” you murmured. “Perfect.”

“You wouldn’t know. You’re built like some sort of supermodel.” I bit my lip, wishing I hadn’t complimented you like that. “Or a stripper,” I added. “Prostitute.”

“I wouldn’t want you to think I’m repulsive,” you said, half smiling.

“Too late.”

You opened your other eye to squint at me. “Will you ever give me a break?”

“If you give me your car keys I’ll think the world of you.”

“No chance.” You shut your eyes again and leaned your head back into your T-shirt. “You’d only get lost and die.”

“Try me.”

“Maybe next week.”

You lay there for a few more lazy minutes. You looked almost peaceful, with your eyes closed and your lips parted slightly. A fly landed on your cheek, then crawled to your bottom lip. It stopped halfWay across and cleaned itself with your saliva.

After a while, you packed away the picnic, and we drove back down the hill. The car was almost vertical on parts of the decline and several times we hit rocks that sent the steering wheel spinning. The landscape shrunk as we descended, and when we hit the bottom I’d almost forgotten the view of endlessness that had spread out before me at the top.

You parked in the shadow of the hill. It was too hot to wait in the car so you told me to get out and stand in the shade. The camels came eventually. After ambling slowly toward us for several minutes, the camels picked up the pace, their body shapes getting larger as they came closer. They must have been traveling fast. You fixed your binoculars on them.

You turned and yelled, “Get in the car! They’ve seen us. They’re going to turn before they get here.”

There was a distant drumming of hooves on hard sand.

“Come on!” You waved me toward you. “Quick, or I’ll leave you behind.”

It was a tempting suggestion. But even though I pretended not to be, I was excited, too. I wanted to see how you were going to capture one of those huge creatures. You screeched off at top speed, even before I had the door closed, glancing over to check I was in.

“Sit down and hang on to something!”

The speedometer shot up as we raced toward the camels, the car going faster on the harder sand. Things were clunking and smashing in the trunk. I hoped the snake wasn’t still in there, getting flung around, about to ricochet in my direction at any moment. I could feel the tires skidding. The car swung wildly sideways more than once. Your face was intent, fiercely concentrating.

“This isn’t safe!” I shouted. My head hit the roof as we soared over a sandbar.

You glanced behind as your binoculars flew across the backseat, smashing into the door. “Maybe not.”

You laughed as you pressed your foot flat to the floor. I gripped the door handle tightly. The speedometer stuck on just about 35. We were almost level with them. You were right; they had turned before they got to us. Now they were running full tilt toward the horizon. Their necks were stretched and low, their legs taking impossibly huge strides. I’d never seen a wild camel before. It was scary how much they towered above the car. One well-timed kick and a leg could go right through my window.

“Get the pole from the backseat!” you yelled. “Quickly!”

I turned and reached for the long wooden pole with the roped noose at one end. I tried to get it to you, but it was difficult in the small space. It wedged itself against the frame, and I couldn’t pull it through the gap between the seats. You glanced at the pole, then back at the camels, trying to keep the car straight and level with them.

“I need it now!”

“I’m trying!

You reached around to yank at it. As you pulled it free, it hit you in the face. The car swerved alarmingly to the right and toward the camels. I screamed. Your hand lashed out at my shoulder.

“Shut up! You’ll scare them.”

You pulled the pole over your lap and out of your window. The noosed end was pointing at the camels. You were looking them over carefully. Sweat was pouring off your face. It was pouring off mine, too, despite the breeze rushing past me.

“I’m going for the young female,” you shouted. “The one nearest to us. You OK to drive for a moment?”

You started to lean out of your window.

“What are you doing?”

“Take the wheel!” you ordered.

You didn’t give me much choice. As soon as you shouted it you were gone, leaning dangerously out of the car, which started to bank toward the camels. If it kept going like this, your head would probably crash into the back end of one of them. I was tempted to let it.

“Take the wheel now!”

I reached over. I could hear the camels grunting with the effort of running. I could hear you breathing hard, too. I took the wheel. It was hot and sticky from your grip. Your left foot moved over to be on the accelerator instead of hovering near the brake. Your right leg was resting on the door frame. There was only the hand brake to stop the car if we needed to.

“Keep driving in a straight line!”

I tried not to look at you or the camels. Whenever I did, I started veering toward them. I looked at the sand in front. I swerved to avoid a spinifex bush, nearly sending you headlong out of the window.

“Jesus! You’re a worse driver than me!” You laughed into the wind.

You hooked your right leg behind your left one, and leaned farther out. You held the pole steady, drawing out the line of rope that was trailing behind it. Your thigh was pushing into my arm; I think you were holding it there to keep your balance.

“When the noose is over her head, get out of the way. The rope will rip through the car. Duck down if you can: If you get tangled in the rope, it could snap you in half. I’m serious.”

I looked at my body stretching over from my seat and at my hands clamped tight around the wheel, and wondered how it would be possible for me to get out of the way of anything. The car jerked and shuddered as you pressed the accelerator. You were ready to throw the noose. Your whole body was tense and concentrated, your leg pushing harder against my arm.

I forced myself to keep breathing. Your arm was up and ready to throw. You leaned farther out, your long torso stretched to its limit, every muscle tight. If I pushed you, would you tip right out? You circled the pole around your head, gathering speed and momentum.

Then you let it go.

I caught a glimpse of the noose heading toward the camel’s head, the rope flying fast behind it. The end of the rope whizzed through the car, past my arms, burning my skin as it went. It whipped over your bare stomach, too, branding you with a deep red streak. You almost plunged out of the car as you struggled to hold on to it. And then, suddenly, the car was banking hard, turning of its own accord. I felt the back swinging around to the left. I tried desperately to spin the wheel the other way.

“Leave it!” you yelled. You dropped back into the driver’s seat, almost sitting on top of me. With one hand, you grabbed the wheel. You spun it toward the camel.

“Hang on!”

Your left foot stopped pressing the accelerator and went straight onto the brake. And then the car really did start to spin. I tumbled into my seat, trying to grab at anything, and shut my eyes.