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

white folds radiated up to the next peak. Li only saw this in grabs – mostly her eyes stayed on the next bend.

She heard the road train before it lumbered into view, taking up more than its share of road. She slowed, veered a little more to the left and then held her course, buffeted in the wake. The driver blasted the horn as they passed each other and she sensed him gesturing through the open window of the cab but she kept her eyes on the empty patch of road behind the last trailer. It wasn’t until she was safely past that she registered the Serkel logos along the side and remembered the matching logo on her driver’s door. It didn’t matter. He might radio back to his depot but he wouldn’t be turning around on this road.

Early afternoon, the gauge was very low now. She didn’t know how far it would run on empty but if she made it over the top, maybe she could coast part of the way down. She came out of the sunlight into the mountain’s shadow again. The wheel was wrenched out of her hands. She felt the back slew out, braked too hard and the tyres locked. Her face was hot and everything was slow. She pumped the brake, a useless instinct. The metal box began to spin and kept on spinning, building momentum. Mud sprayed up behind her. Li caught the wheel and held on. There was the far mountain and the near fence, snow, bank, road, a river of places. She leaned over the wheel, leaned into the current and swam for the bank.

There was blood running to her head. Cold air, the upward pressure of the seat belt, the work of breathing, smells of earth and diesel, a clock ticking too fast.

She opened her eyes. The windscreen frame in front of her was full of road but it was wrong, too close, and when she looked up she saw the bonnet. Upside down. No, she was upside down and the engine was still running. She breathed in the spilled fuel again and her focus contracted. Reaching out and up, she located the steering wheel and then the key ring with its Serkel logo. Turned off the ignition. Breathed for a moment, checking her pulse, waiting for the pain to surface. Something was trickling from her cheek to her forehead and when she ran her hand through her stubble it came away red.

She reached down to brace herself on the ceiling before she tackled the seatbelt. The buckle strained against her weight and then gave, and she slumped onto the roof. Dragged herself out through the empty frame of the windscreen, and the gap between the bonnet and the road, into the open. She stood looking at the crumpled vehicle with the slip banked up half-way over it, glass and metal spewed across the road, right to the barrier. She saw how the barrier had caved at the point of impact, the drag marks, but she resisted the urge to go and look down, as if she might see a tiny vehicle crushed and burning on the valley floor.

She was intensely conscious that she was still alive. There were shards of mirror around her feet, she picked one up and held it in front of her face. Her pupils were dilated and blood was smeared in tracks down her cheeks and up into the fuzz on her head. There was a gash under her collarbone that accounted for most of the blood. It wasn’t deep but she was going to need to clean it up and bandage it or it wasn’t going to stop. That chain of events didn’t seem to affect her personally, though, in the same way that she had started to shiver but didn’t feel cold. Li tried to order things in her head. The first thing was to not keep standing in the middle of the highway. But she needed her stuff.

Her walking boot was upright metres from the wreck, as if someone had just stepped out of it. She limped over and put it on and then went back to the vehicle and managed to wrench the back passenger door open. Retrieved her knee crutch, then the rest of the gear, bit by bit, and carried it across the road to the siding. She pulled her balaclava down over her forehead and then dug out the first aid kit, cleaned her hands with snow and then with saline, cleaned the wound and covered it with gauze and adhesive.

The phone was the last thing she found. The screen was cracked and it wouldn’t turn on. She fumbled taking the back off, and saw that the battery had jolted loose from the terminal. She started laughing at how easy everything was getting. She had survived the crash and now, when she needed to walk, it had stopped snowing, and those things seemed like some kind of sign. If there was a message from Chris it would be proof, but when she turned the phone on there was still no reception. The diesel fumes were making her dizzy and laughing hurt her head. She was standing there, holding her knee crutch and trying not to laugh, when a truck came round the bend towards her.

It was an aid truck, westbound, marked with the cross that meant an NGO of any precinct. As soon as it was clear of the bend it pulled over. The driver put the hazards on and got down. She wore a baseball cap with Wet Creek Hotel printed across the front.

You okay? she yelled over the engine.

Li nodded, still fighting the urge to laugh.

The woman came closer. You’re bleeding.

It’s not serious.

The driver looked over at what was left of the four-wheel drive, the wreckage on the road. I guess I’d be happy too.

She led Li back to the truck. Li let herself be led, climbed up into