by Caz May
Turning around to vomit from the pain, I see that beyond the fence is a farmhouse, a rundown possibly un-lived in farmhouse.
Seeing this farmhouse even though no one may live there seems like a light at the end of the tunnel.
Scanning the fence line for a way in seems futile in the low morning light, and I soon realise the only way to get there is to climb over the fence.
It's not high, but barb wire is poking out in all directions. Sighing and trying not to think about anything other than getting to that farmhouse I put one leg over the fence and then the other, catching my pant leg on a stray wire.
Pain like a knife slicing my flesh rips through my leg and I fall flat on my face into the red dirt.
It's gritty in my mouth, making me gag and spit.
I need to get to that farmhouse.
I can feel my leg is bleeding, can feel the gush of my blood filling my pant leg and I grab it to try to curb the blood.
Trying to stand up is excruciating and it seems the only way forward is to crawl.
Edging along the dirt like a snail causes the pain to rush through my body. I want to scream out help, but fear opening my mouth and getting another mouth full of dirt.
Reaching the farmhouse seems like a mirage, as I hoist my body onto the verandah.
It stretches around the whole house and is weathered and tired looking, reminding me of what I must look like.
The whole house is definitely rundown, looking like it hasn’t been painted or taken care of for years.
My heart is pounding in my chest and I’m cursing myself for thinking anyone lives in this shithole of a house.
Of course no one lives here, look at the place Savannah.
Crawling along the verandah is even more painful than the dirt and I'm leaving a trail of blood behind me. I should probably consider myself lucky that the sight of blood doesn’t bother me or I’d be a goner for sure.
The front door is in sight now and using it to support myself I stand up and beat my fists against the metal screen door, finding my voice screaming, “Hello, is anyone home?”
No answer comes.
Maybe no one lives here.
The door handle feels loose in my grip, so loose that the lock clicks to open when I depress the handle. The wooden main door behind the screen door slips open when I turn the handle as well.
Grabbing the walls for support I stumble into the house, calling out, “Help, please someone help.”
But again no answer comes.
The inside of the house appears to be lived in. All I can see from the hallway is the dining table in the large kitchen and the dirty coffee cups and plates that are piled in the sink; just looking at them makes me cringe.
A rush of pain overcomes me, causing me to clutch my stomach.
I need to lie down.
I stumble down the narrow hallway, peering into the rooms as I pass them, a study, a bathroom and a large bedroom, followed by a smaller one with a single unmade bed in the middle.
A bed has never looked so inviting.
Falling into it, I claw at the unmade sheets pulling them to my body in comfort.
My eyes are closing, my thoughts wandering back to noticing men’s clothing hanging in the open wardrobe in the other room.
Hmmm, a man’s house.
A thought of panic comes to mind, but my eyes are closing and i’m thankful to slip away for a while.
(4) Hunter
The sun is just making an appearance when I force myself to rise from the comfort of my swag.
Blitz licks my face with his usual sloppy doggy smooch.
I’ve become used to his morning greeting, although it’s different in the swag as I’m at his level and he doesn’t have to stand with his paws on my bed to reach me.
“Ok buddy, I’m getting up,” I muse softly, stretching my arms above my head in a further effort to wake my body up.
He gives me an excited bark, watching and cocking his head towards me as I pull on my boots.
It’s a warm morning and I debate whether or not to even wear a shirt, but think it’s best as the morning sun can be fiercely hot.
Pulling the dark blue t-shirt on over my head I sigh a moment, stretching my legs out, cursing myself for wearing jeans to sleep in.
Blitz starts barking eagerly, ready to start the day and get into droving.
Ruffling his furry head quietens him, “You’re eager today Blitz. Something up?” I ask him, even though I know he can’t answer with anything but a bark.
My mind is definitely elsewhere today, wandering to thoughts of the car by the road as I roll up my swag before throwing it in the back of the ute.
Blitz follows behind, jumping enthusiastically in the tray.
“You ready buddy? Let’s get this over with.”
I’m really not in the mood to move any cattle today, as I have a feeling they are going to be stubborn about moving to the middle paddocks but I need to get them out of the top paddocks to regenerate their feed source.
My savings aren’t enough to be buying in feed.
Sliding into the drivers seat, I turn the reluctant ignition over and the engine sputters to life.
Nothing is more comforting that the rumble of the Utes engine. Knowing the ute is running is a special kind of freedom.
I crank the window open and it squeaks down reluctantly. I can’t help but think about getting out the WD-40 to fix the squeak, wishing there was some miraculous cure to fix broken hearts too.
Crunching the ute into gear I drive off into the paddock. It isn’t long before the cattle come into view and Blitz begins to bark at them.
It’s always such a marvel listening to him and watching the cattle follow suit, seeing the unspoken connection between animals, even though they’re different species.
Hand out the window, slowly edging the ute forward, I speak calm orders to Blitz to direct the cattle to the gate between the paddocks.
He jumps from the ute tray and shoots between the cattle when I pull up to the gate.
It too screeches as I open it.
I really do need to get out the WD-40.
Blitz is keeping the cattle still, so I can drive the ute through the open gate.
He’s like a lighting bolt, jumping straight back into the tray as soon as I pass through the gate.
He barks towards the cattle and then follows my lead through the gate.
Once the last cow has passed through the gate, I jump out and run to close it.
Back at the ute I ruffle Blitz’s fur, “Jump in the front buddy. It’s getting hot out already.”
He barks in response, jumping through the drivers door and settling on the passenger seat for the bumpy drive back to the house.
Glancing at the clock on the dash tells me it’s seven am. The sun is up and it’s certain to be a warm day.
Blitz sits up, looking around panting as we drive through the paddocks. I’m more than relieved to see the farmhouse come into view.
I really should paint it though, it's certainly looking rundown.
Pulling up to house, I cut the engine and step out. Blitz follows, sniffing the ground and pawing at the dirt.
Puzzled by his odd behaviour I follow him, gazing at the dirt and finding a trail of blood that leads up onto the house verandah.
Blitz has reached the front door, barking crazily to be let in. He knows he isn’t normally allowed inside the house except at night to sleep, so I’m a little fearful as to why he is desperate to get inside.
Depressing the handle slowly I open the screen door. The main wooden door isn’t closed which is not how I left it the day before.
Ready to strike any potential intruder I grab my golf umbrella from the hallway stand and follow Blitz and the trail of blood down the hallway.
It stops at the spare bedroom, on the bed, collected around a figure on the bed.
I drop the umbrella in shock. On the bed is a woman, lying on the now blood soaked sheets.
Blitz is by h
er side, immediately sniffing her and letting out a whimper.
“It’s ok buddy. I think she’s alive.” I kneel next to the bed and shake her slightly. “Miss, are you ok?”
She doesn’t respond, her body seeming lifeless, but I can see the rise and fall of her chest and can feel her breath on my cheek.
Evidently she’s unconscious, but thankfully still breathing.
Extracting my mobile from my pocket, I hesitantly dial ‘000’, asking for an Ambulance.
It clicks through immediately.
“Ambulance, this is Kat.”
“Kat, it’s Hunter.”
“Hunter, whats wrong? Are you hurt?”
“No, no, not me. I…just..returned.” I pause, my heart thumping in my chest. The thought crosses my mind that she’s from the car on the side of the road.
“Take your time,” Kat reassures me.
“From droving…and there’s an unconscious woman on my spare bed in a pool of blood.”
“Is she breathing, Hunt?”
“Yeah she’s breathing.”
“Great, any evidence of trauma?”
“Her leg has a nasty cut but I don’t think all the blood is from there.”
“Ok, Hunt. We’ll dispatch the guys now.”
“Thanks Kat. Whats their ETA?”
“Prolly thirty minutes I’d say. Just talk to her. Let her know you’re there.”
“Ok Kat. Thanks. I’ll catch you at the pub on Saturday yeah?”
“Yeah no worries. Just doing my job.”
Blitz is still by the mystery woman’s side, whimpering and nudging her chin.
It melts my heart at how caring he’s being. He never seemed to like Addison, she was always slapping him away in disdain and seemed scared of him, if that was even possible.
Stupid bitch that she was, beautiful but nasty.
“It’s ok buddy. The ambulance is coming.” His head turns to me, his ears pricked up, as though he’s asking what I mean.
“They’ll help her Blitz.”
Kneeling down beside the bed, next to Blitz I stroke a hand up her arm, feeling a rush of emotion course through me.
Oddly I feel a pang of attraction for her, wanting to kiss her but curse myself for thinking such things about an unconscious woman.
I can’t deny that she’s beautiful, her dark chestnut hair pulled tightly into a ballerina bun, highlighting her features.
My eyes are drawn to her lips and I brush my finger across them. I quickly draw it back, sure that she made a sound and flinched at my touch.
Her eyes are still firmly closed and I find myself wondering what colour they would be. I have no doubt that they’d be striking whatever colour, set off by her dark hair.
The wailing of the sirens is becoming closer to the farm. I race outside, to open the gates and usher them in. Blitz is still glued to her bedside, his whimpering not subsiding for a second.
Once the ambulance has stopped, they greet me with a firm handshake.
“Hey man,” Mark greets me, “where's this mystery woman?”
“In the spare room,” I respond, knowing that to Mark that probably sounded sexual. He often proved to have a dirty mind, joking about his sexual escapades at the pub.
It seemed an odd profession for him to work in at times, but he always kept his personal life seperate from his work life.
Entering the house, he calls back to me, “Trust you to only have an unconscious woman in one of your beds, Hunt.”
I playfully punch him in the arm. He knew I’d not really been with anyone since Addison left and he’d been a good friend as well, trying to set me up with other woman on our nights out at the pub, but even though i’d gotten over Addison I hadn’t found anyone I wanted to move on with.
Despite his professional nature he’s always down to earth.
“Fuck man. What’d you do to her?” he says looking at her still lifeless body on the bed.
He gently pushes Blitz aside, and begins checking her pulse and other vitals.
I feel extremely anxious, watching as they slip an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose.
“Hunt, relax man. You don’t even know her,” Mark says to me as my breathing becomes laboured in panic.
I feel like I do know her. At least I want to know her and that’s a scary thought.
“Do you know anything that happened to her?” Mark asks.
“Nothing, I just found her like this when I got home from droving this morning,” I state, trying to remain calm.
“Any idea how long she’s been out?”
“No, I’m guessing that maybe that car down the road is hers, but look I don’t know anything man.”
I step out of the room, as the other ambulance officer wheels in the stretcher.
Bracing her neck and covering her badly cut leg they lift her onto the stretcher. Slowly they wheel her out of the house to the ambulance. Blitz has followed, jumping in the back of the ambulance.
“Blitz, come on buddy. You can’t go with her.”
His head droops.
“BLITZ!” I yell at him, knowing that raising my voice always causes him to correct his behaviour.
He jumps out and wags his tail when Mark pats him on the head.
“Good work Blitz, we’ll take it from here,” he coos to him, shutting the ambulance doors behind him, before jumping in the drivers seat and turning the sirens on.
Blitz and I watch as they tear through the gate. Walking over to shut the gate, the flood of emotion hits me again. Shutting the gate behind them I notice the piece of fabric hanging from a loose wire and the wire is stained with blood.
That must have been how she cut her leg.
I feel even more guilty now, than I had about not going back to the car.
I should have helped her.
(5) Savannah
My eyes flutter open, scanning the surroundings. Panic rises in my throat, my chest when I realise I’m in a hospital bed. An IV is connected to my left arm, red liquid flowing from it’s bag into me.
My heart begins to pound harder in my chest, feeling intense pain in my leg, an ache that runs up my calf to my thigh.
Pulling back the blankets, seeing the bandage on my leg, from my knee to my ankle, I feel the colour drain from my face. Questions plague my mind
How did that happen?
How did I end up here?
Where is here?
Breathing deeply to try and calm myself, I again scan the room I’m in. It’s a private room with a door, small windows and cupboards along the wall, as well as a nightstand by the bed. A jug of water and cup are the only items on it.
Straining to reach it I pour myself a glass, gulping it down. It feels so good sliding down my parched throat. Eagerly I pour another glass, gulping that down as well. I have never felt so unbelievably thirsty.
I feel like picking up the jug and pouring all of the remaining water down my throat. But I know that would end up with me getting water all down the front of myself. I shiver at the thought of it, sensing the room is rather cold. Reaching over by the bed I press the nurse call button and wait.
Not even a minute passes, before the door cracks open. The person walking into the room is clearly not a nurse or a doctor.
Quickly I focus my eyes on scanning him, snapping them shut so he won’t know I’m awake.
His presence in the room is intense, stirring something inside me, deep in my belly. It’s almost an instant attraction.
He crosses the room to my bedside and hesitates a little stepping up next to me. I feel him place the bouquet of flowers he’d been holding on the bed beside me. The smell of jasmine and rose floating into my nostrils is divine and blocks out the hospital smell for a moment.
“Hi,” he says gruffly, as though he wants to say more but the words are caught in his throat.
His hand brushes my cheek, it’s coarse but his touch is sensitive and it sends shivers through my body, sending the feeling in my belly a flutter again.
A simple gesture like that has never stirred a feeling like that in me before.
I want to open my eyes so desperately.
One quick look at him has caused such an ache in me, but I don’t know this man. I can’t help but think if he is the reason I’m here.
If he has something to do with the cut on my leg?
And the reason I have an IV attached to me filling my body with blood?
Shaking my head I try to remember what has happened over the last couple of days, since I’d made my escape.
Intentionally I’d blocked a lot out, so the only thing I can remember is running out of petrol and waking up in the back of my car in unbearable pain.
Instinctively I clutch my stomach, knowing that it’s over. My baby is gone.
The pain, the blood, the cut, it all comes rushing back in my mind but I can’t remember anything after that, certainly not how I got to be in a hospital bed. Surely from all the pain and the blood loss I should have been dead.
I can’t help but wonder if the man standing by the bed still has something to do with the fact I ‘m not dead.
It definitely seems as though he knows me, even though I have no idea who he is. The ache in me wants to know him. But to know him I need to look at him again.
Forcing my eyes open I slowly take him in, my eyes scanning his body first, then his face.
The man standing by the bedside could have been described with many words.
Ones that shoot to my mind immediately are delicious and handsome. His jawline is chiselled, dotted with dark brown stubble and his eyes are a striking iridescent shade of blue that are so dreamy I could get lost in them. He’s wearing a flannelette shirt, unbuttoned a little too low, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and tucked into his dark denim jeans, that are worn at the knees and held up by a tan belt with a bronze buckle.