It was a truck.Technically.But nothing like the semi-trailers she’d seen back in the city.This thing was a monster—three trailers long, and full of diesel fury.
It thundered past her, sending the wind to slap at her sideways, as a fresh wave of red dirt blasted into her hair, down the collar of her blouse, even into her bra.Leaving her neatly pressed suit streaked in outback grime, to look like she’d just wrestled a dust devil and lost.
‘Seriously!’
Dusting off what she could—although the red dirt seemed part of her DNA now—Taryn resumed dragging her suitcase in a one-woman wrestling match against dirt, rubble, and a supposed road.
On the corner stood a cluster of sun-bleached signs that pointed this way and that:Hospital, Park Rangers, Aged Care—The Lodge, The First Responders…
On the right, stood the quaintest firehouse she’d ever seen.It looked like a dollhouse.Now she understood why the cartoon of a Dalmatian, mid-pee on a fire hydrant, was painted on its roof.Even if it was utterly ridiculous, it did give a certain quaint charm and unique character to the building.
So the other painted roofs she’d seen from the air—a cracked spanner, a vintage 50s styled woman in curlers, a snail racing with envelopes in its mouth, and the Mad Hatter’s tea party—had her curious to see which business matched which painted roof.
When a puff of warm breath hit the back of her neck.
Slowly—very slowly—she turned around.
Areally bigbuffalo stared at her.Ribbons tangled around one horn, and a daisy stuck to his ear, with the supermarket specials smeared in chalk across one side.His big black shiny nose sniffed at her neck, her ear, her hair.
It was enough for Taryn’s breath to catch somewhere between a scream and a prayer.
If she moved, would he chase her?
If she moved too fast, would he jab her?
Even though the ribbons and flowers made him look friendly, that didn’t change the fact his wide horns could skewer a watermelon without breaking a sweat.
But there were no cars, and no one to help her.Just her suitcase, and a walking billboard made out of a buffalo with the body of a tank and the manners of a Labrador.
She eyed the police station just down the street—so close.
‘Alright, buddy,’ she whispered, as if negotiating with a hostile hostage taker.‘I’m going to walk.Slowly.And respectfully.And you can just keep on advertising that toilet paper special like a good boy.’
She stepped sideways, one inch at a time, with her eyes locked on the buffalo.
He just watched her through long black lashes, tail swooshing with ribbons, as one ear flicked away a fly.
‘Okay now, we’re doing this…’ Closing her eyes, Taryn turned her back on the beast, and resumed dragging her suitcase while walking on nails, ready to run at the first sign of attack.
Clip-clop.Clip-clop.
He was right behind her shoulder, breathing heavily in a way that was going to give her nightmares for a week.
How did he sneak up on her like this?
And who in their right mind allowed a water buffalo to roam the streets?
Almost there.
ThePolicesign glowed like a beacon of hope ahead.The car park held a sleek patrol car.
One step onto the bitumen.Then another.
The buffalo followed.
She didn’t dare look back.Not now.
Just a few more steps and she’d be safe—or at least indoors and out of this scorching heat.
