Page 5 of Outback Mate
Frowning, I carefully climb out of the ditch, stumbling twice as the loose rocks slide beneath my unsteady feet.
As I approach the kangaroo, movement catches my eye and I halt.
A cute black nose pokes out from the mass of fur.
It’s a baby kangaroo – a joey.
“Oh!” I gasp. “Hello there.”
I crouch down, making myself smaller so not to frighten the creature.
Its little head sticks up out of its mum’s pouch, wide eyes blinking at me.
“Well, at least you’re okay, little fella.” I glance at the red stain on the road and sigh. “Your Mum’s not, though.”
I shuffle awkwardly, unsure what to do. I can’t leave the little guy in the middle of the road like this.
I look left and right, but there isn’t a car to be seen. The Outback is red, hot, and completely isolated.
I can’t just leave him here. His mum can’t care for him, and he’s a sitting duck for predators. Besides, the next car that comes along isn’t going to be stupid enough to swerve.
“Alright then, looks like it’s you and me, little fella.”
I return to my car, pop the trunk, and rummage around for something to wrap the joey in.
I emerge holding my old comfortable sweatshirt like a trophy. It’s threadbare and soft, perfect for a little baby to burrow in. I return to the joey and hastily tie the sleeves together to make a pouch. Holding the shirt open for him, the joey follows his instincts and dives headfirst into the makeshift pouch.
My heart squeezes and I swear my ovaries come close to exploding from the cuteness.
Returning to the car, my pride deflates at the sight of the flat tyre.
I’m going to need to change it.
And I would… if I had a spare tyre.
I didn’t replace it after the last time I hit a pothole. I went through five spare tyres last year, and my emergency funds are depleted. I’d resorted to taking the bus to avoid the whole unlucky-vehicular-accident shenanigans my aura sickness was putting me through.
“You’re the unluckiest person in the whole wide world,” I pout, kicking at a rock. It bounces off another rock, and rebounds into a side window, a leaving a chip in the glass.
I groan in frustration and defeat.
“And the stupidest.”
My blonde hair is plastered to my head and neck with sweat. I wipe my running mascara from under my eyes with my thumb.
The little ember of hope which reignited at the start of this trip flickers and fades.
The kangaroo pouch is wriggling, and despite the scorching heat of the midday Outback, he feels cold. I tuck him in closer to my chest, hoping my warmth passes to the little orphan.
Well, as shitty as my day is going, it’s not worse than this joey’s.
I bite my lip and attempt to organise my hazy thoughts into a survival plan.
I could drive to the nearest town on a flat tyre, but I’m not sure how far the town is without looking at a map. And my map is on my dead phone.
I know very little about survival, but I know you should never leave your car. It’s the only source of shade and a beacon for a rescue party.
There’s still no movement on the horizon, so help seems very far off.
