‘Yeah. We’ve always kinda hated each other’s guts. Getting to lay into me was an added plus.’
I touch his bruised jaw carefully. ‘When we get out…’
‘When we get out,’ he repeats, with emphasis. ‘First, we need to think.’
‘Reggie has my phone. He should’ve called Dad. I already texted Dad about trying to find you, just before Ando grabbed me. Help should be coming.’
‘But they don’t know where we are. That we’re travelling. We can’t rely on them to be there when the doors open at the saltworks.’ He casts around. ‘We need to check in here, see if there’s a way out.’
But there’s nothing. There’s no window, just a tiny vent high in the roof, and the doors are firmly locked. All the seams are tight. How would we prise anything open anyway? The shelving is screwed down, and the cardboard boxes are the only things around.
‘Should we yell?’ I suggest. ‘Bang on the walls? Let people outside know we’re here?’
‘I dunno.’ Harris grimaces. ‘Do we wanna get shot in the face? The van-man looked pretty serious that time I met him.’
‘Then…what? We just sit and wait?’ The idea is eating me up. Every minute we spend in here brings us closer to the saltworks, and Marcus Anderson’s cold eyes.
Harris looks grim. ‘I’m gonna check Snowie’s pockets again.’
We find a switchblade, a packet of Marlboro Lights (Harris shakes his head. ‘Low tar. Lotta good that did him.’) and some loose cash. Nothing else useful.
‘The knife is something,’ I say.
‘Ando will have something worse.’ Harris eases back against the wall again. He’s started shivering.
I take off my jacket, put it around him, snuggle against his chest. I’m thirsty now, which means Harris must be feeling it more.
‘How’s your nanna?’ he says softly. ‘She still making plans for that dinner?’
I make a tired smile. ‘She’s great. I told her about you – I had to tell her. She’s probably back at the house, coordinating with Mildura CIU and making up a seven-course menu.’
He laughs but it sounds hoarse.
I tuck another slip of cardboard into the shoe beside us. ‘Apparently my auntie’s plan to have me stay on as Nani’s carer was organised without consulting her. She said she doesn’t want me to stay. She wants me to live my own life instead.’
‘Is that what you wanna do?’
‘Yes.’ I say it with conviction. ‘If we somehow manage to get out of this, I want to live. Properly, I mean. I booked an interview for the residency. I want to make my own choices and figure out the things that make me happy.’
‘That sounds good.’ Harris’s voice is muted. When I look up I see his eyes dipping closed.
‘Harris.’ I shake his arm. ‘Harris, don’t pass out me. No sleeping until we get you to hospital.’
‘Okay,’ he slurs.
‘Harris… You make me happy.’
I lift my head and kiss him gently. Kiss the side of his smile, the edge of his bruised cheek, the soft lobe of his ear. Kiss the blood-stained curve of his chin, the blue thumbprints on his neck… All the marked and unmarked places of him. By the time I return to his mouth, his lips are searching for mine.
‘I can’t believe you came for me,’ he whispers.
‘Any time you want me or need me,’ I say. ‘For any reason. I’m here. I’m yours. Just call for me…’
We kiss for a long time then. That seems to wake him up.
Which I think might be a good thing. The van is travelling smoothly now, no stop-starting for traffic lights or corner turns. This is the road from Mildura to Ouyen – the road home.
The road to the saltworks.
