Unsheltered by Clare Moleta (spiritual books to read TXT) 📕

it out, but she didn’t have enough water left to hydrate properly in the cold hours. Her throat was dust dry and the shifting of the remaining liquid as she walked tormented her. She tried to focus on the lake where she was going but her mind took her away. Sometimes she was back on the stairs with the men coming out of the dark, crawling away and hearing their breathing behind her, and then it wasn’t her crawling away, it was Matti. Or they were back on the highway from Nerredin and Matti was saying, I’m sick of walking, and Frank said, Tell us a story, and Matti started. My heart pants as I cuddle in beside my ten-year-old cousin. I’m only five, so you can see how frightened I am. This story isn’t happening right now, the girl is remembering, so it’s back the time. In the green meadow, no home to sleep in, wolves about. And no Mum or Dad.

Li put the stick down wrong, jolted her foot and cried out. She knew she couldn’t walk much longer without water but she didn’t have time to stop and harvest it, she’d lost too much time already. The dizziness and the pressure behind her eyes made it hard to think. How long before her body stopped working, started shutting down? If she finished the water then she wouldn’t have to keep feeling it sloshing against her back. And maybe it would keep her going for a few more hours but she wouldn’t be able walk through the night, whether she drank it or not.

In the end she couldn’t stand knowing it was there. She tried to sip it and she did feel a bit better afterwards but it was very hard to start walking again, and as soon as she did, the emptiness of the bag began to weigh on her. That was it now. Even if she stopped, it was too late in the day for condensation to help her. Now it was just her and her failing body. And if she kept walking, if she made it to the lake and found Matti there, what would she have to offer her? How would she save her? Matti didn’t know she was coming, she wouldn’t wait. Even now her child was leaving the lake, or was too thirsty, too hungry. Matti was dying, afraid. Matti was dragged into a truck and disappearing in dust. The Takeaway wears a black coat. She saw herself tiny and crawling across a space made for giants. For things with wings and wheels.

At dusk, still the tenth day, a Homegrown truck went past. Just another truck. Except this one stopped up ahead of her. When she drew level, the cab door opened and the driver climbed down. An older man, sun-creased and balding, wearing tiny shorts. Val’s age. No, Val would be older. This man was holding a bottle.

She watched him cross the road towards her, knowing she couldn’t run. It was only her hands that gave her away.

He held the bottle out. Go on, it’s clean.

She didn’t take it.

Don’t be a hero. You look like you could murder a drink.

I don’t have any trade, she said. But she took it. Felt the cool liquid through the metal.

Spose you’ll have to owe me, then.

She unscrewed the lid carefully, sniffed it. Tilted the bottle. The water was cold and heavy in her mouth and it tasted of nothing. She drank and drank. Gulped it – felt it running down her throat, branching through her body, making things possible again.

You got a container? the truckie asked.

She hesitated, the waterbag wasn’t something she could lose, but the water in her belly made her reckless. He took it back to the truck and pushed his door open wider so she could see his co-driver sitting up in the cab with a rifle. Company supply trucks were always double-crewed now, and the crew was always armed. He said something to the co-driver and she reached back and passed him down a jerry can without taking her eyes off the scrub. One of her knees jiggled nonstop, keeping time to some too-fast rhythm.

Li watched the truckie fill her waterbag without letting a drop spill. She understood this was his personal supply. When he brought the bag back it was full for the first time in days. The heft of it made her lightheaded.

He looked at her foot. What is that, sprained?

I think so. Maybe a ligament.

The other thing he’d brought back from the truck was a first-aid kit. He unzipped it, resting it open on one knee while he sorted through it. I’ve got anti-inflam in here somewhere. Here you go. He threw her a small green tube, kept hunting. And a whadayou call it, compression bandage.

Why? she said, holding the cream.

He shrugged. Company issue – no skin off my nose. Half this stuff’s past its use-by anyway.

It came to Li that maybe he didn’t want anything. The woman called down to him through the open driver’s side door to hurry up.

He said, Yeah, yeah, and pulled out the bandage. You’re going the opposite way to everyone else, he told Li. Where you headed?

Lake Ero.

On that ankle? It’s still about forty k to the lake turnoff. You know it’s dry, right?

I’m meeting someone there.

Hell of a spot for a date.

Yeah. It’s my daughter. We got split up.

How d’you know she’s there?

She took the bandage from him and stuffed it in her pocket. I heard she was with a big bunch of kids, heading that way to camp. Maybe they thought there’d be water. Have you seen anything like that? Just children walking on their own?

I haven’t been up this way in a couple of weeks, he said. They had me on the Gulf run.

What about other drivers? Anything you heard?

He shook his head. You see people all the time. Can’t always stop. If I saw a bunch of kids on their