***
I pumped the pedals and pressed forward over the handlebars to surge myself over McLean's Bridge. On and on it went, a never-ending mass of concrete overshadowing Lake Onslow. Up the footpath then around the curb, I peddled like a mad thing. The hot summer wind threatened to burn my skin as I boldly sailed down Macquarie Avenue, riding with no hands.
This was the freedom I had yearned for and never in my life would I have believed I would have found it on a Monday. But it was the holidays now and things had been switched up. I would meet up with Ellie after lunch as planned. In an attempt to still my overactive mind and get the most I could from the day, I had grabbed my bike and headed around the back roads of Onslow. The Mitchum bike trail had some of the best bushland scenery around. Luckily, being Australia, I didn't have to worry about mountain lions, grizzly bears or wolves ? just poisonous snakes, deadly spiders and the odd wayward wallaby that wandered down from the foothills of the Perry Ranges.
As I glided along the isolated road, I sought refuge amidst the trees that edged my way, blocking the searing sun in intervals of shade-light-shade. I had circled this area a hundred, maybe a thousand, times and each time there were new sounds, new scenes. It made me forget the mundane existence of all that troubled me. I stood straight up on the peddles, lifting my face to the sky and breathing deeply, feeling the flashes of the changing shades flicker spots under my closed eyelids. This was living. In a space that seemed like nowhere, there were no worries, nothing could touch me here. Nothing!
And that's when I heard a snap.
Remember the never-ending stretch of the McLean's Bridge? The one I just had to leave behind me? Well, that was nothing compared to the long, barren stretch of bitumen that faced me now. This seriously had no end, I was going to die here! Suddenly all the wonder and the beauty of my surroundings lost its lustre for me as I limped my bike back down the road. I stopped every few steps to survey the damage to my skinned knee that had already started scabbing over, thanks to the heat of the day.
As I stopped for the hundredth time, I was surprised and a little disappointed that there wasn't more blood flowing from my gaping wound. It stung like a bitch! I took my anger out on my bike by giving it a good kick.
"Stupid bloody chain."
It had snapped clean in half, causing it to make an infuriating clanking sound with every rotation of the wheels. I clenched my jaw and limped on.
Nature sucked. I hated nature; I hated the now seemingly blistering sun that threatened to burn my skin. I hated the trees, the lake views, the birdsong and, most of all, I hated my carelessness. No phone, no water, no sunscreen. From now on, I would pack a survival kit that would consist of my dad's Swiss Army Knife. For what? So I could clip my toenails and open a bottle of wine?
Real smart, Tess.
My God, the heat was frying my brain, maybe I was losing too much blood? I might need a transfusion by the time I made it around the sweep of the Horseshoe Bend, my next landmark that was still nowhere in sight. After that, there was a bit of a declining slope, nothing too major and then the caravan park, owned by the Remingtons - Stan's parents. Perhaps they would let me dial triple zero by the time I stumbled through their gates. Or my mum.
Failing that, the next stop was the Onslow Hotel, where I could seek shelter and water and be nursed back to health by Melba, Rosanna and Chris.
Yeah, I think I would pass on that one.
I had a better chance of backstroking across Lake Onslow. But even though it weighed me down and I was seriously pissed with it, I wouldn't leave my bike. She was last year's Christmas present, a deep midnight purple with a tan cane basket on the front, very Jessica Lansbury circa Murder She Wrote. In the beginning, Adam and Ellie ribbed me about it constantly, but guess who wanted their swimming gear carted when it was too awkward to hook onto their handlebars? Oh, how they loved the Grandma basket then. Not that it served me much good now, it housed nothing more than a beach bag with my purse which held a whole $15 and my student ID.
Each time the cool breeze flowed through the trees it whipped around me, fluttering my loose peach singlet and refreshing my skin that was slick with a light sheen of perspiration. I stopped in the shade of a towering gum tree. Letting the bike rest on my hip, I pulled my hair up off my neck and closed my eyes, allowing myself to cool and rest for five.
The serenity was disturbed by the distant sound of kookaburras mocking me with their laughter. I peeked one eye open and listened closer. A sound was slowly closing in with a murmur that became louder and louder. What was that ? a car? Possible salvation? Oh, please don't be a serial killer. I was desperate, but not desperate enough to hitchhike with a scary local who liked to play the banjo. I grabbed my bike and continued to walk, cool, calm and collected, instead of sweaty, bloody damsel in distress. I would politely decline any invitation and rough it alone, surely it wasn't much further?
The thudding of a burly vehicle and sound of music closed in behind me. The engine slowed, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to raise. The music volume lowered.
Oh no, no, no. Please keep going.
I walked faster, looking straight ahead, my bike chain rattling more insistently.
Leave me alone, it's a nice summer's day, can't a girl take her bike for a walk?
The car crawled now, it could be a creepy white van with a hooded deviant behind the wheel, I just knew it. I had watched enough late-night horror movies with Adam and Ellie to know all about stranger danger. My heart was leaping out of my chest. I know I said I would never leave my bike, but, honestly, I was getting to the point of ditching the sucker and heading for the hills screaming MURDERER.
That's when I heard my name.