You can make the whole trip that way – by Brooke Dunnell
ISLAND | ONLINE ONLY
They’re driving in silence when, out of nowhere, Elvie presses the side of her fist against Kay’s ribs. ‘Hey, wait.’
‘Jesus, careful!’ Kay palpates the squeaky brake with the ball of her foot and checks the rear-view mirror. Nothing but the silver of the receding highway and shadows of tree carcasses. They’re not being chased. Elvie’s unaware of the bruise she just pressed.
‘Look.’ Elvie pats Kay’s side in atonement, then gestures across the dash. ‘See? Slow down.’
‘Nothing there,’ Kay says immediately, leaning over the wheel. It’s dark. They left the bar late; Dale will be waiting. Roads are quiet around here so she’s been going fast.
‘Look,’ Elvie insists, a whine tugging at her voice. ‘Pull over.’
‘Elv,’ Kay sighs, curving the wheel into the breakdown lane and bringing the vehicle to a stop. Her heart pounds. She tastes wine on her breath and reaches down the side of the door for chewing gum. ‘Did you see a cop?’
Shouldering open her door, Elvie drops into the dark. Kay borrowed Dale’s ute and looming this high over the road makes her feel on the verge of losing control. The mist of Elvie’s perfume lingers in the cab and Kay wishes the air could chew gum too.
There’s something miserable about driving home after a night out. Everything that was so wonderful no longer feels worth it when you think of what’s waiting.
Elvie’s shoes clack on the bitumen. The ute’s headlights burn into her back, her dark hair gathered in a slipping knot, tendrils catching in the sequins of her top. A white crescent of skin lumps above the waistband of her jeans. She hurries out of the sharpest arc of light and into the grey shadows at the edge of the road.
Kay watches as Elvie slows, cranes forward, stops. In a moment she turns and hurries back to the ute like a child trying to move as fast as they can without being yelled at for running. She stops at the open door and grips the handle, breathless. ‘I think there’s somebody up there.’
‘Where?’
‘Just up the road. You see that bundle?’
Kay peers. There are no streetlights out here. ‘No.’
‘This side of the road. Forty or fifty metres ahead. The end of it’s going over the reflector line. Feet.’ Elvie thrusts her head into the cab, as if to will Kay to see the same thing she does. ‘Look!’
‘I’m looking. I don’t see it.’
‘Drive a bit closer.’
‘It’s a roo.’
Elvie pauses, face pale and glossy like a mask. ‘Do you see it, though?’
‘It’ll be a roo.’
‘It’s a body.’
Kay goes cold. She touches her wedding ring, then puts the ute in gear. ‘Get back in the car.’
‘We need to—’
‘Get in.’
Elvie hitches a leg in, then stops. ‘Are you going to drive closer?’
A scoff-laugh bursts out of Kay. ‘Are you fucking joking?’
‘We need to get help.’
‘It’s a roo.’
‘Just drive closer,’ Elvie pleads, her eyes bright under the dome light. Aware of the drain on the battery, Kay reaches to flick it off, a shiver rippling across her shoulders. ‘Just take a look.’ Her friend’s voice is strained. ‘Kay, please.’
‘Okay.’ Kay feels her core tighten. She is extending, scalp brushing the cab’s fabric ceiling, but in the new dark Elvie can’t see her properly. ‘Get in. We’ll go a bit closer.’
‘Really?’
‘Get in. Yes.’
With a rushing sigh Elvie heaves herself back into the cab and drags the heavy door shut. As soon as she hears it catch Kay presses the accelerator, twisting the wheel into the road without checking first. For an instant she imagines the squeal and horn of an approaching vehicle but it’s as deserted as ever out here. Nothing has passed in the two or three minutes they were stopped.
Elvie hangs from the grab handle, swaying. ‘Put your belt on,’ Kay grunts.
‘It’s up here – it’s ju – slow down!’
Kay keeps her eyes fixed as she speeds past whatever Elvie thinks she saw.
Her friend screams. ‘Kay, stop!’
‘Put your seatbelt on,’ Kay shouts.
‘I saw it! There’s someone on the road!’
Kay shakes her head.
‘Kay! Fuck! What the fuck!’
‘Put your fucking belt on.’
There’s a click, then an atmospheric roar. Elvie has unlatched her door.
‘Christ!’ Now Kay’s the one to lean across, pushing her elbow against the other woman’s stomach, holding her back. Assuming control comes with a low thrill. She finds the door handle and hauls it back into its clasp, pinching Elvie’s clutching fingers beneath her own. With the ute contained Kay stomps on the accelerator pedal and the vehicle lurches forward to devour the unfurling road.
‘Fuck, get off!’
Sluggishly, Kay realises she’s still bracing Elvie in the seat and pulls away. ‘Belt. On.’
It clicks into the mouth of the buckle and Kay’s neck relaxes. The tyres whine against the bitumen. A torchlight of pale grey shines ahead of them, steadying as the vehicle finds its bearings.
‘What the fuck.’ Elvie’s voice is low.
‘You don’t want to get involved.’
‘But there was someone—’
‘Just a dead animal.’
‘I saw it!’
Kay keeps her foot on the accelerator. She’s doing the speed limit and her alignment is straight. The alcohol on her breath has been absorbed by the gum that’s now a plastic disc in the pocket of her cheek. She’s not really that late. It will be okay.
Elvie’s crying. The pitiful sound makes Kay’s neck seize up. She tries to be kind. ‘Look, you don’t want to get involved, I’m telling you.’
‘They needed help.’
‘Did you see them moving?’
‘I don’t know.’
Kay shakes her head. ‘If you saw movement, you would’ve said.’
‘They needed help!’
‘Then what? You call the cops. They get you to give a statement. They start checking Dale’s … the car, to see if we were the ones who hit them. There’s an investigation.’
‘We didn’t hit them! We stopped fifty metres back. They were already on the road when we—’
‘They have to check anyway.’
‘So?’
Kay’s eyes flick to the side mirrors. Nothing but depthless black. If only forgetting were so easy. ‘We get involved in the case. Testify at the trial.’
‘But we didn’t see anything.’
‘Yeah. So we can’t help.’
Elvie’s arguments die away. The cab’s cold all of a sudden and Kay reaches to crank up the heat.
‘I don’t feel right about this,’ Elvie says quietly.
‘Well, get over it.’
Kay feels Elvie’s face revolve in her direction, eyes wide with horror. In response, Kay brushes her hand against the tender point at the base of her ribs. Checks the time. Her hairline prickles.
On the outskirts of Elvie’s suburb, the lights begin to shine again. They’re out of the void. A car passes, heading the way they came. The driver lifts a finger from the wheel in greeting. If there’s something out there to find, let him do it.
Kay cuts the engine to glide into Elvie’s drive, trying to do the neighbours a favour, but Elvie slams the door loud enough to set the street’s dogs barking. Neither one speaks. Kay has the feeling they never will again. Dale says Elvie’s a bitch anyway. Kay roars the engine and reverses onto the road, throat thick as she rummages in the centre console for her phone. At the first stop sign she checks the screen: too many missed calls. Blotting tears with the side of her forearm, she touches the emergency connect button with a fingertip, then peels into the next street. Almost home.
‘Police, fire, ambulance?’
‘Police.’
There are hums and clicks as the call is forwarded. The ute draws towards an orange light and Kay’s foot hovers over the accelerator. No one out here either. She could make it. But she brakes instead.
The next operator asks for the location of the emergency just as the light turns green. Kay clears her throat but doesn’t answer. This is her street.
‘Hello? Are you there? What is the location of the emergency?’
She pulls the ute into the driveway. There’s a light on in the house. Dale is awake.
‘I’m sorry,’ she tells the call handler. ‘I’ve made a mistake.’
But she does not hang up. ▼
Image: Doug Bagg - Unsplash
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