dirt, and I can’t see her face. How can I be sure? Yes, it’s Barbara. She’s—not breathing, is she?”
Charley pulled out a chunky transceiver and spent a minute fighting the bad reception to report what they had found. Then, leaning on the boulder, she picked her way down. She bent and examined Barbara. “There’s still a pulse. No apparent bleeding. Her skin colour’s still good. No sign of major bruising or contusions where I can see. I can’t rule out a head or spinal injury yet, so I don’t want to move her, but otherwise I can’t see anything organically wrong. It doesn’t look like anything attacked her.”
“Could she have eaten something here? Alkaloid poisoning?”
“I’m not an expert on the symptoms, but it’s as good an explanation as any. Let me take her pulse.” She lifted Barbara’s wrist.
The arm jerked out of her grasp, the legs kicked, and then Barbara’s body was still again. Charley stood up quickly and stepped back. Then she turned to Elinda.
“That probably answers the questions of spinal injuries. Help me turn her over.”
Barbara was as rigid as a statue. When they turned her onto her back, her arms were crossed on her chest, her face pulled down towards them. Her eyes were closed and in shadow.
Cautiously Charley bent to lift her eyelid, and Barbara came to life again. She knocked Charley away and hunched forward. Her teeth flashed and snapped. The whites of her eyes were livid against the mud on her cheeks. They jerked back and forth, and short harsh cries burst from her throat, “Ah—Ah—Ah—” Then she flopped face down at the base of the rock and ceased to move.
Elinda had fallen back against the stone. Her hands were pressed against its rough surface and air rasped through her throat.
Charley picked herself up and looked down at Barbara, breathing heavily. “We’ve got to get help. She broke my radio.”
“You go then,” Elinda mouthed. “I’ll stay with her.”
“Are you going to be okay?”
She nodded. “Go on.”
Charley’s footsteps grated on the scree. Then Elinda was alone with Barbara. She pushed herself away from the rock. Her fingers were scratched. She sat beside Barbara. She remembered walking with her in these woods, and Barbara squirming up a tree to pluck garlands of glossy purple-and-gold leaves for their hair. Slowly Elinda put out her hand and let it rest on Barbara’s shoulder. After a few moments Barbara shifted uncomfortably. Elinda realised there was something hard in the breast pocket of Barbara’s parka. She reached and eased it out of the way.
The wind was still slapping waves against the causeway and the valley was filled with smoky red sunlight like the aftermath of an inferno.
Jon Grebbel turned the dump truck into the service bay and edged it toward the plugin. Beside him in the cab, Menzies, the foreman, looked down from his open window. “You can come another metre easy, and over to the right a bit. Better. That’s it. Now I’ll show you how to plug in the charger. Switch off first.”
Grebbel swung himself to the ground and watched as Menzies unhooked the battery cable and plugged it into the power socket. He tried to stifle his impatience.
“Check the voltage on the meter before you leave it,” Menzies was saying. “Some of these batteries get cranky after a while, and if the voltage isn’t regulating, you can come back and find bits of the truck all over the scenery.”
“How long do you expect me to be needed here?” Grebbel asked.
“You think you’d be happier doing something else?”
“This isn’t coming naturally to me, at any rate.”
“You’ll get the hang of it. We’d like to keep you as long as we can, unless you totally screw up. We’re short-staffed. Shit—everyone’s short-staffed, to hear them talk. But if this dam isn’t working by next spring’s floods, it’ll be another year before they can fuel their survey fleet, and the news’ll be all over the networks into the
Charley pulled out a chunky transceiver and spent a minute fighting the bad reception to report what they had found. Then, leaning on the boulder, she picked her way down. She bent and examined Barbara. “There’s still a pulse. No apparent bleeding. Her skin colour’s still good. No sign of major bruising or contusions where I can see. I can’t rule out a head or spinal injury yet, so I don’t want to move her, but otherwise I can’t see anything organically wrong. It doesn’t look like anything attacked her.”
“Could she have eaten something here? Alkaloid poisoning?”
“I’m not an expert on the symptoms, but it’s as good an explanation as any. Let me take her pulse.” She lifted Barbara’s wrist.
The arm jerked out of her grasp, the legs kicked, and then Barbara’s body was still again. Charley stood up quickly and stepped back. Then she turned to Elinda.
“That probably answers the questions of spinal injuries. Help me turn her over.”
Barbara was as rigid as a statue. When they turned her onto her back, her arms were crossed on her chest, her face pulled down towards them. Her eyes were closed and in shadow.
Cautiously Charley bent to lift her eyelid, and Barbara came to life again. She knocked Charley away and hunched forward. Her teeth flashed and snapped. The whites of her eyes were livid against the mud on her cheeks. They jerked back and forth, and short harsh cries burst from her throat, “Ah—Ah—Ah—” Then she flopped face down at the base of the rock and ceased to move.
Elinda had fallen back against the stone. Her hands were pressed against its rough surface and air rasped through her throat.
Charley picked herself up and looked down at Barbara, breathing heavily. “We’ve got to get help. She broke my radio.”
“You go then,” Elinda mouthed. “I’ll stay with her.”
“Are you going to be okay?”
She nodded. “Go on.”
Charley’s footsteps grated on the scree. Then Elinda was alone with Barbara. She pushed herself away from the rock. Her fingers were scratched. She sat beside Barbara. She remembered walking with her in these woods, and Barbara squirming up a tree to pluck garlands of glossy purple-and-gold leaves for their hair. Slowly Elinda put out her hand and let it rest on Barbara’s shoulder. After a few moments Barbara shifted uncomfortably. Elinda realised there was something hard in the breast pocket of Barbara’s parka. She reached and eased it out of the way.
The wind was still slapping waves against the causeway and the valley was filled with smoky red sunlight like the aftermath of an inferno.
Jon Grebbel turned the dump truck into the service bay and edged it toward the plugin. Beside him in the cab, Menzies, the foreman, looked down from his open window. “You can come another metre easy, and over to the right a bit. Better. That’s it. Now I’ll show you how to plug in the charger. Switch off first.”
Grebbel swung himself to the ground and watched as Menzies unhooked the battery cable and plugged it into the power socket. He tried to stifle his impatience.
“Check the voltage on the meter before you leave it,” Menzies was saying. “Some of these batteries get cranky after a while, and if the voltage isn’t regulating, you can come back and find bits of the truck all over the scenery.”
“How long do you expect me to be needed here?” Grebbel asked.
“You think you’d be happier doing something else?”
“This isn’t coming naturally to me, at any rate.”
“You’ll get the hang of it. We’d like to keep you as long as we can, unless you totally screw up. We’re short-staffed. Shit—everyone’s short-staffed, to hear them talk. But if this dam isn’t working by next spring’s floods, it’ll be another year before they can fuel their survey fleet, and the news’ll be all over the networks into the
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