side of the road, she stared in both directions as she brushed the flies from around her face. No one seemed to be coming for her.
Just as fresh dread began to flood her veins, the Aboriginal man from the airport in Sydney strolled up. He touched one finger to the brim of his old hat. “Wanna lift, miss?”
She looked around, hoping someone else might come to her rescue.
“Out ’ere we help each other. That’s how it works.”
It didn’t look like she had any other options.
“Thanks. I’d appreciate it.” She held out her right hand. “My name is Mackenzie.” He ignored her hand. Was it inappropriate to shake hands with an Aboriginal man? She had no idea. “I’m a nurse. Coming to work at the hospital.”
“Odd name,” he grunted and walked off in the direction of the car park.
He threw his own name over his shoulder. He might have said Gary, but it could also have been Barry or Harry. Mackenzie trotted along behind him, trying to keep up. She dragged her cases across the packed red dirt. The wheels were going to be completely ruined.
“Where shall I drop ya then, miss?”
They had reached his car, a filthy four-wheel drive emblazoned with high visibility strips and multiple antennas on the roof. Two dented plastic jerry cans sat behind the front seat. The car door screeched as she wrenched it open. Climbing awkwardly up into the cab beside him, she wrinkled her nose at the rich smell of heat, dust and stale sweat.
The man threw her cases in the back, then climbed behind the wheel and turned the engine over. It started with a roar. He squirted water on the windscreen and the wipers smeared the dirt everywhere, making a bigger mess.
Just like her own life.
Her heart sank a notch. What have I done?
“I guess you could drop me at the hospital please,” Mackenzie said. “If it’s not too far out of your way.”
“Nah. It’s just ten minutes thataway,” he said, pointing in a vague direction out through the front windscreen.
In front of her was nothing except scrubby bushes lining the gray strip of asphalt, Wedgewood blue skies, rust-red soil and open space that stretched forever. The quintessential Australian Outback. Exactly as the photos on the internet depicted it, only hotter. Sweat ran down her back – the old man obviously didn’t believe in using the car’s air conditioner – and with his window wide open, it soon felt as though her skin was covered in a thick coating of dirt.
“Probably looks pretty bad when you’re not used to it,” he shouted above the road noise.
She had no idea how to reply without sounding offensive. Sure, her first impression wasn’t overly positive, but there might be hope for the town itself.
A narrow train line traveled parallel with the road, ready to carry the massive trains that transported the iron ore from the mines to the ports. Apparently they could be over two kilometers in length. Mackenzie wasn’t sure she’d read that fact correctly. She’d also read if you were stopped at a railway crossing, you’d wait up to fifteen minutes for them to pass. Trains traveled four times a day from mining towns in the Pilbara to the coast, each one carrying one million dollars’ worth of iron ore. When they said there was money in mining, they weren’t wrong.
They drove in uncomfortable silence until they crested a small rise and Mackenzie’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Oh wow!”
Everything was so green! Massive gum trees, their silver trunks glowing white in the late afternoon sun, signaled the beginning of a small township, which seemed to pop up out of nowhere. 1960s-style brick houses sat on large blocks with massive front lawns and no sidewalks. A white substance coated the lower half of the houses, splashed up against the bricks and windows.
“Calcium,” the old man said, as though that explained everything. “From the reticulation system,” he added.
“Oh.” It made no sense to her.
Approaching a T-intersection, he slowed down