Catherine Jinks TheRoad (77 page)

‘You
from
Broken Hill, love?’ Col inquired.

‘What do you think?’

‘Well...’ Col shrugged, apparently unabashed by Georgie’s uncooperative tone. ‘I think you look like you come from Mars. No offence, but I’m a bit out of touch, someone my age.’

To Peter’s surprise, Georgie smiled. At least, he
thought
she was smiling; it was hard to tell, with all the light reflecting off the windshield. But she certainly moved, opening her eyes and turning her head. Because she was crammed into such a restricted space, this was no small feat.

‘I
am
from Mars,’ she said. ‘Haven’t you noticed all the red dirt? This
is
Mars, and I’m a Martian.’

‘You’re right, there,’ Alec muttered, reminding everyone of his existence. Noel turned to him.

‘You’re a local, aren’t you?’ he said. ‘Do you know about this back road up ahead?’

‘Yeah,’ Alec replied, almost sullenly.

‘Do you think we should try it?’

‘If we get there? Sure.’ Alec sounded flat, tired, discouraged. ‘But I’ve been keepin an eye out for a road since yesterday morning. Haven’t hit anything yet. Don’t expect to, either.’

‘Ah,’ said Noel. Col pointed out that the track couldn’t be more than ten minutes away, if that, and Alec snorted. Mongrel continued to bark inside the station wagon, the sound of it as regular and irritating as the dripping of a tap, the trill of a telephone, the
parp-par
p-parp
of a car alarm. Ambrose was getting down from the back of the ute, slapping clouds of dust from his jacket. Noel and Del and Linda and Ross were clustered around Col (whose elbow was hanging out of the driver’s window) discussing the possibility of sharing out petrol, redistributing passengers, leaving the caravan behind. Alec stood a little apart, chasing the flies from his face. Verlie was talking to Louise. And Rosie . . .

‘Rosie!’ Peter exclaimed. ‘What are you
doing
?’

She was digging in the dirt with a stick, and she was filthy. Her hands and forearms, her nose and knees, were smeared with some kind of reddish substance which looked like blood. Hearing

Peter’s cry, Linda glanced over at her, and screamed.

‘
Rose
!’

‘Oh my God,’ Verlie gasped.

Rose, who had been squatting, straightened up as her mother darted towards her. ‘What?’ she said, in a tone that was both bewildered and defensive.