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

Li’s ear and pointed at the rest area. There, on the edge, she said. Close to the road – not too much ground to cover. She touched her steel-capped boot lightly to Li’s ankle. Can you run? If you have to?

Bit fucking late to ask now, Li thought. She’d left her stick in the tray when she saw she’d have her hands full, but her ankle felt solid so far.

Run, yes, she said. Drag fifty litres, maybe.

I’ll stay on your left. We just have to get halfway and then Shaun and Mira can take over.

Li wrapped the plastic tubing of the siphon tighter around one hand and felt for the empty container with the other. She was wearing a harness made of bicycle-tube inners and rope, crossed over her chest and around her hips, to drag the water back to the ute. She had her toolkit and her knife and Matti’s horse in her pocket. Everything else she owned was in the ute.

Most of the weight’ll be on your hips, Jasmine said. Just lean. She hesitated. You’ll be right, we do this all the time.

Li felt an unexpected flash of gratitude. The drivers were moving inside.

Right. Stokes kept it just above a whisper. Me and Shaun’ll go first – get us a spare.

Shaun said, Two tyres is better than one.

Let’s see how we go, eh? Stokes shuffled forward. Jas, Dev, check the time. See you at the ute in twenty.

They came out of the scrub and ran forward in a crouch, almost touching, keeping the containers off the ground. Crossed the highway. Only security left now, black cutouts of bodies and guns in the headlights. They were aiming for a tanker on the near side of the rest area. No guard around that she could see, dozens of other vehicles blocking the view from the roadhouse. They moved through the gaps between headlights, hip to hip, like they’d been doing this for years. Li blocked out all the peripherals: her throbbing head and churning gut, the location of Eileen and Stokes and the others, the music and voices leaking through the glass doors of the roadhouse, the smell of asphalt and cigarettes. It was just the two of them closing on the tanker they’d picked out. They were in the rest area now, on the hard dirt. Jas caught her foot on something and Li steadied her on the run. Her ankle was holding. She felt quietly amazed that they were a good match.

They reached the side of the tanker and flattened themselves against it in the dark. Jas was readying the drill. Li put her container down and moved her hands along the metal, feeling for rivets, then guided Jas to the weak point directly alongside the seam. The warmth of her hand was unexpected. Li shifted forward to keep watch, offering Jas her back, and Jas braced against her and positioned the drill.

The noise was muffled by layers of padding and tape but Li kept scanning, listening for guards. She had a sense that the darkness around the rest area was fuller now than it had been a minute ago, kept hearing tiny sounds out there that she couldn’t account for. Stokes and Dev should have a spare off by now. They’d be rolling it away or going for the second. Jas braced harder against her back, Li felt the last brief resistance in both their spines and then the drill was through. Now she turned around and let Jas guide her hand to keep pressure on the hole while she changed up to a fatter drill bit. That cool, taunting smell came through the metal and she felt the immensity of the pressure inside.

Jas leaned in again and in ten seconds the hole was wide enough. They swapped places and Li uncoiled the tubing and worked one end into the hole, keeping the other end bent over on itself to make a seal. Fed the tube deep into her container so it would fill quietly. When she released the seal the flow started almost immediately but it was too slow. One thousand, two thousand, three thousand. She adjusted the angle, felt a gush of water. Some sound, not too much. She felt Jas tense but she was calm, focused.

The container was half full when Jas nudged her and pointed. Two figures ran past them to the truckstop, bent over, carrying something between them. But not their crew. Three-quarters. Jas blew out between closed teeth, a tiny sound. Hurry. Were there other mosquitoes descending on the convoy? What were the chances of none of them fucking it up?

Full. Li sealed off the tube and eased it out. Jas screwed the lid on and positioned her empty container. Started unwinding her harness. Li hooked up, unsealed, adjusted the flow. More sounds on the periphery now, too many and not quiet enough. Somewhere on the other side of the tanker a guard swore and there was the double click of a gun being cocked. Hard to tell how close. She tied Jas’s harness to the handle of the full container. Turned back. The second one was only half full.

Fryer? someone called from the truckstop, waddaya got?

Close it off, Jas breathed in her ear.

A single shot. A guard yelled, Got one!

Almost full. Someone shouted, Mozzies! and there was more gunfire, less controlled this time. She sealed the tube, screwed on the lid. Heard people run out of the roadhouse, feet pounding in the dust and darkness.

Watch your aim! someone shouted. Keep clear of the fucking trucks.

People were coming out of the dark, closing on the convoy like it was a carcass. A guard yelled, Keep the fuck back! Screams, gunshot. The tubing was caught in the hole.

Leave it, Jas hissed. Just rope up.

But Jas’s own harness was dangling loose. Hadn’t Li done that? She let go of the tube and fumbled for the end of her rope, looped it round the handle and knotted it. When the pain came it was