by JD Nixon
Nobody had. Like me, they’d been too nervous or simmering with anger to notice anything peripheral on the drive here. When he heard, Heller would probably gently scold me about being so inattentive to my surroundings. He probably would have noted every structure on the way. He was infuriating like that sometimes.
Gloria and I walked together at the head of the group.
“How did half-rations treat you?” I asked her.
She shot me a withering glance. “How do you think?” She pulled the waist of her track pants out in front of her to show me how much weight she’d lost. “I didn’t lose as much as you though.”
“Too much exercise and not enough food will do that to a woman.” I began to reminisce. “Remember what it was like to have dinner, a real dinner?”
“Mmm, spaghetti. Plates and plates of spaghetti. I’ve been dreaming about it.”
“I’m going to shovel whatever I can find down my throat when I get home.” Hopefully it wouldn’t be my pillow.
“For how long do you think we’ll have to walk?”
“I have no idea. However long it takes to find a phone.”
“Are you sure these friends of yours will come out to fetch us?”
“Yep, absolutely positive.” Heller would tear them a new one if they didn’t.
We continued in silence, both of us too tired to speak more. I trudged in a food-deprived state, robotically placing one foot in front of the other, somehow staying upright. After we’d walked about eight kilometres, some of the other women openly began to complain – they were tired, they were hungry, they were thirsty, even though I’d instructed everyone to bring a bottle of water with them.
Shut up! I screamed to myself, sick of the moaning. They were getting on my fragile nerves. Nobody deserved to complain more than Gloria and I, but we kept stoically silent. The others should have taken a hint.
“What if we never find a place with a phone? Are we going to walk forever?” groaned one of them. Yvonne? Helen? I couldn’t be bothered turning around to find out which.
“Shut up, Yvonne,” snapped Gloria. “You should be thanking Tilly for having the balls to organise this. If you don’t like it, you’re free to turn around and go back.”
“Don’t you talk to me like that, Gloria.”
“I’ve had a gutful of listening to your constant whining for the last two weeks. You have to be the most self-centred person I’ve ever met.”
“Well, you’re just . . . stupid.”
“Oh, great comeback.”
“Okay, ladies,” I stepped in, tired of having to deal with these people. All I wanted to do was dump these people and go home. “We have to stick together.” I stopped for a moment, noticing something ahead. I turned to the rest. “Look!”
In what I hoped was the first of many tonight, by fortuitous chance, just when Gloria and Yvonne seemed as if they might actually come to fisticuffs, we’d reached a T-junction. It was the one where we’d all turned off the minor bitumen road so long ago to reach the boot camp. The small milestone lifted the mood a little.
“It can’t be more than twenty kilometres to the city from here,” I said. So close to the city, surely we’d soon find somewhere that had a public phone from which I could reverse-charge call the Warehouse to beg for help?
Our spirits raised a little, we tramped for another couple of kilometres on the road, not a single vehicle passing us.
And then it appeared, like an oasis in the desert to a thirsty person – a service station. We all giggled with light-hearted (and in a few cases, light-headed) happiness. Sure, it was closed, but there was a public phone sitting like the Holy Grail directly in front of the building.
“Can anyone remember the reverse-charge number?” I asked, my brain completely blanking on me. It wasn’t something I’d needed since I was a teenager and lost my mobile phone once on a shopping expedition.
Jessie recited it off the top of her head and I blessed her for being so young, though apparently with a family too stingy to fork out for a phone for her. I yawned hugely as I went to ring. The others took advantage of the lull and flopped onto the concrete, sharing water.
But when I reached the phone, I saw the small handwritten sign attached to it: Out of order. I could have cried. I could have curled up into a small ball and lay on the concrete until someone else came up with a brilliant idea. I was tired and hungry and homesick. I no longer wanted the responsibility for the others.
But instead of doing that, I returned to the exhausted women and broke the bad news. “It’s out of order.”
“No!” was the collective wail from the others, accompanied by few forgivable tears.
“What are we going to do now?” asked Ariadne, lying on her back and stretching out her cramped muscles.
I looked down the road and said in despair, “I suppose we’ll have to keep walking until we find the next place.” The prospect of taking another step then seemed like climbing Mount Everest backwards with a blindfold on.
“I can’t. I just can’t,” said Jill, not bothering to hide her tears. I felt awful for letting her, all of them, down.
“We don’t have a choice,” said Gloria. “It’s either that or give up now.”
I didn’t think she should have phrased it quite like that, sure that more than a few of them were ready to give up, including me.
She stood and helped me to my feet. “Come on, Tilly. You have to stay strong. Think of your family.”
I also wish she hadn’t said that. Uncontrollable tears gushed down my cheeks. “I was so sure there would be a phone here.”
Gloria hugged me tightly and I clung to her, desperately needing the comfort. After a while, she held my hand to lead me away to continue our journey. I was grateful – it was nice for someone else to take charge.
“A car!” said Jessie excitedly, pointing up the road from where we’d come. “Maybe they might give us a lift?”
We prepared to hail and greet them, but then I noticed something.
“It’s them!” I said urgently. “It’s one of the boot camp vehicles. Quick everyone, out the back. Get into the bushes.”
We scrabbled as fast as we could, but we were slow. They’d spotted us. We crashed through the bush and crouched behind the vegetation, holding our breath.
“Do you think we can’t see you, you stupid women? Get out here now. You are going to regret doing this,” threatened the Director’s angry voice.
“Did you think we wouldn’t notice your absence?” came Assistant One’s hateful voice. It seemed as though there was only the two of them.
How did they find out? I thought in despair. I thought I’d developed the perfect plan.
“I’m so glad I sprung a surprise inspection tonight,” gloated the Assistant. “Glad I decided to keep a real close eye on you, Chunky. It’s paid off big time. I can’t wait for you all to return. You think you’re tired now? You have a whole night of exercise in front of you.”
“We’re not going back,” I called out more defiantly than I felt. “You’re all sadists. It’s sickening what you do.”
“Get out here now,” demanded the Director, a man of little patience.
“No,” I insisted from my hiding spot. “I’m going to tell everyone about you people. I have a good friend in the TV industry. You’re going to regret messing with us.”
“You can’t say a word about us to anyone,” said the Director.
“You can’t stop me.”
“Well, I won’t, but our lawyer will. You all signed a confidential, non-disclosure agreement.”
We looked at each other in confusion. “No, we didn’t,” I said.
“Yes, you did. When you signed the entry document, you mustn’t have read it carefully. The non-disclosure agreement was included in it.”
For some strange reason, I believed him. It sounded exactly like something they’d do. Momentarily deflated, I tried valiantly to rally. “Doesn’t matter. We’re not going back.”
“Yes, you are. Otherwise we
can sue you for that too.” He tutted with fake sympathy. “You ladies really should read what you sign more closely.”
I remembered signing something that presented itself as an agreement to abide by the rules and conditions of the camp. Though if I was honest with myself, I was so angry with Clive that I hadn’t read anything properly. But to hide something important like that in amongst pages of other text was surely unconscionable in the worst possible way.
“I’m not going back and I am going to expose your shoddy practices,” I said. Trent would love this story.
“I’m sure you’ll enjoy meeting our lawyer. He eats minnows like you for breakfast.”
“Well, guess what? My boyfriend has a damn good lawyer too. Bring it on.” I stood up and walked out of the bush. I wasn’t going to hide like a fugitive from a couple of shonky business people. This was a boot camp, not a reenactment of The Great Escape. It wasn’t like they were going to force me into their truck or anything. I was going to flip them off, walk away and continue the trek home.
My mistake.
The bright headlights of their truck blinded me to the surroundings. The boot camp pair charged from the darkness, crowding me from either side. They grabbed my elbows, manhandling me towards the back of their truck.
“What are you doing? This is absolutely ludicrous,” I said, struggling against them.
My bunker-mates and Gloria rushed from their hiding place armed with sticks and rocks. They began hitting, punching and beating the pair.
“Get off me, you crazy bitches,” shouted the Director, copping blows from every direction.
Though weakened, we had the slight advantage of numbers. I managed to free myself because of their distraction and someone handed me a stick. I used it to great effect, poking and jabbing them in every vulnerable spot I could find, taking out my frustration. I suspect I wasn’t the only one, considering the viciousness of the attack.
Cowed, the pair retreated to their truck and spun off, performing a dangerous U-turn. Their tyres squealed as they high-tailed it back to the camp.
“We did it,” Ariadne said with wonder.
“Woman power,” Gloria triumphed, fist punching the air.
“I can’t believe they left so easily. It seems too simple,” I said, stepping out on the road. I couldn’t see any tail lights in the distance. The Director must have really applied a lead-foot to the accelerator, probably the first person in the world who wanted to hurry back that hellhole.
I returned to the women, to ensure everyone was ready to set off again, Jessie said, “More headlights coming.”
“Round the back again,” I demanded, gently pushing them in that direction in case it was the pair returning for another go at us.
I sneaked to the corner of the building, ready to bolt if needed. The vehicle, a ute with an oversized back tray, pulled into the service station. It didn’t show any boot camp insignia on it.
A huge, hairy man stepped out, swearing when he saw the station wasn’t open, though surely the unlit signage should have warned him. He kicked one of the petrol bowsers in fury, turning the air blue with his language. I guess he wasn’t haven’t a good day.
Instead of getting back in and zooming off in a temper, which I expected, he strode off to the far side of the station courtyard. I heard a zipper being undone and soon after the gushing sound of a man who’d been desperately holding in a pee for ages, accompanied by a deep, low voice groaning, “Oh, yeah. Feels so good.”
I spotted the chance for a free ride. “Round up the others,” I hissed to Gloria, beckoning my group forward. We huddled briefly. “Get in the back and be quiet about it. Stay as low as you can.”
The man, who was probably in his fifties, took an absolute age peeing, something for which I silently thanked both him and his overfull bladder. I waited anxiously for Gloria’s group to join mine in the back of the ute, ushering them forward. Gloria boosted them up into the tray, some of them helping her in turn. I was the last to join the group, just about to dash over to the ute, when the man came back, doing up his fly.
Shit, I thought. I didn’t want to be the only one left behind. When he settled his butt in the driver seat, slamming the door behind him, I sneaked over. I fervently hoped he wasn’t one of those cautious types who checked all their mirrors before driving.
I made it to the ute and began to climb into the back, when he revved up the engine and screeched off, leaving me clinging on in panic, my feet resting on the bumper bar.
“Shit!” I splurted again. I’d never recommend that anyone try it, but it’s frigging difficult to hold on to a moving vehicle. I didn’t want to fall off, especially at the speed he was going.
The other women peered out at me in horror. My group and Gloria held out their hands to me, but I was afraid to loosen my death grip on the back of the ute tray to take them. Could this night possibly get any worse?
And the answer to my purely rhetorical question was clearly yes, because we all heard the man loudly shout, “What the fuck?”
He pulled sharply over to the side of the road, the impact of him braking hard to come to a stop throwing me off the back. I scrabbled to my feet, rubbing my butt, as he stalked around the ute, regarding us with incredulity.
“What the –? Get out of my ute, and I mean now,” he yelled, dragging the nearest woman by the arm to the ground. “Fucking weirdos.”
“Please, mister,” I implored him. “Please just take us to the next working phone.”
“Are you out of your mind? You look like a bunch of escapees from prison or a loony bin or something. I don’t want you in my ute and I’m not taking you anywhere. All of you, get out now!”
The women climbed out and stood bunched up together their faces a mixture of embarrassment and dismay. He shook his head.
“Unbelievable. Freaking weirdos. Wait until I tell the guys at the pub about this. They’ll think I’m yanking their chains.”
Approaching headlights illuminated the sorry scene. The vehicle pulled up behind the ute and the Director and Assistant One stepped out.
“I am so sorry, sir. These women escaped earlier tonight from our facility,” explained the Director in a calm, authoritative voice. “We’ve been trying to track them down them since.”
“I knew they’d escaped from somewhere. Why else would they all be wearing the same tracksuit?”
“You were very right to evict them from your vehicle,” said Assistant One in a reasonable voice.
“They’re lying,” I desperately implored again. “Please take us to a phone. I’m begging you.”
“What kind of facility?” asked the ute-driver.
The Director answered. “Let’s just say that most of these women can be rather irrational at times.”
“I thought so,” the man said in quiet satisfaction. “This one here,” he pointed at me, “has crazy eyes if I ever saw them.”
“I’m very sorry for your inconvenience and any distress,” grovelled the Director. “I hope you have a pleasant evening.”
“Weirdest thing I ever experienced,” he muttered to himself as he climbed back into the driver’s seat and sped off.
We watched our only chance of help disappear into the darkness in a cloud of exhaust smoke.
“You women are even stupider than I imagined and I imagined you were pretty stupid,” said the Director, smiling in the way a sadist does with a fresh victim. “Get in the back of the truck.”
“Don’t do it,” I told the women. “Run into the bushes now.”
We scattered into the safety of the surrounding dense vegetation, our visibility poor, branches scratching our skin and snaring our clothes. We crouched down, waiting. The two boot camp staff searched fruitlessly for a while, not willing to become entangled in the bushes, their torches not providing enough light to penetrate far enough. They eventually chucked it in.
“You think you’ve won, but you haven’t,” shouted the Director at us in frustration. “Our lawyers will soon be visiting e
ach and every one of you and you can guarantee that we are going to sue your arses off.”
None of us moved or said anything.
“Have a pleasant long trek back to the city, morons. And enjoy the rest of your life as lazy fat arses.” They climbed back into their truck and once again, left us in the dark.
“Gee, he’s got a silver tongue on him, hasn’t he?” I smiled, exhausted but momentarily triumphant.
“Do you think they’ve really given up on us this time?” asked Gloria.
“I guess so. They think they’re going to sue us all.”
Jessie started crying. “My step-father’s going to be so angry with me.”
I put my arm around her and squeezed her shoulders. “They’re not going to succeed. I plan on exposing them and there’s nothing they can do about it.” Just to be on the safe side though, I decided I’d better talk to Heller’s lawyer, Corby. He seemed pretty sharp.
We returned to the road to continue our trudge, my triumph fading fast at the prospect of the feat still ahead of us. I honestly didn’t know how any of us remained upright and moving by that stage, but I switched my mind to automatic, and thought of nothing while I walked, staring ahead without really noticing anything. There was little further talking, except an occasional weary request for water, but when that ran out, none of us spoke at all.
By the time we reached the outskirts of the city, dawn was breaking, the sun peeking above the edge of the horizon. I was so tired, I began to hallucinate, jumping out the way in fright as I imagined terrifying creatures barrelling towards me.
We found a working phone in one of the most outlying suburbs.
“Do you want to all come back to my place and someone can ferry you home?” I slurred with sleepiness.
Just as drained as me, Gloria mustered up the energy to shake her head. “I just want to go home. I’m going to wake up my husband and demand he pick me up. It’s the least the bastard can do for sending me to that place.”
The others agreed with her that they only wanted to go home. So they called a number of taxis or assorted relatives, sitting on the curb to wait for them, their eyes closed.
I rang Farrell’s mobile reverse-charge. He answered after the third ring, accepting the charge of the call.