Chapter 20

Ten days later, Evie clutched her map before it slid off her lap, her body jerking from side to side in the truck as she and Adam made their way over the roughest terrain they’d encountered so far. They were now at the other end of the Gibb River Road, a couple of hundred kilometers northwest of the lively, booming town of Kununurra, on a strictly four-wheel drive, high-clearance-vehicle dirt track locally known as the Damsel Road. It led to Damsel’s Hole, a freshwater pool not featured on any of the tourist bus routes. And for good reason. It was remote and extremely rugged—even by Kimberley standards.

“Man, this road’s rough.”

Evie gripped the grab handle with both hands and let the map fall into the footwell, no longer needing it now they were set on this path into the wide unknown. The line of dirt scoring the earth in front of them was the only thing resembling a road out here. She watched Adam change gears, slowing the truck to a mere walking pace. It had taken them an hour to cover just twenty kilometers, and they had fifty more to go. “Should we turn back?”

“Nah, it’s fine. It’ll just take a little while longer to get there.”

But the crease lines of concentration between his eyebrows weren’t as reassuring as his words. These past ten days, Adam had proved that he really was keen to explore the Kimberleys, but maybe now he was proving it a bit too much. Evie had mentioned Damsel’s Hole to him the other night, having first heard about it from the Glaswegians in Derby who’d described the track as “challenging”.

“We could try it,” Adam had said. He was always eager to head for the quieter, more remote spots. “This would make up for not going to the Mitchell Falls.”

She’d been touched that he’d remembered her disappointment about not being able to make the two-day drive to the Mitchell Plateau. The trip just wasn’t worth the risk at this time of year, the waterfalls would be dried up by now and tackling those conditions in such extreme heat was just asking for trouble.

So they’d asked at the tourist office in Kununurra about the Damsel Road and were told they’d have to gain permission from the Aboriginal owners first, which they’d had to do at the roadhouse and fuel station on the highway. They’d paid a small fee, signed for a key to open the gate at the beginning of the track and now they were here, getting shaken to bits.

Evie gripped her seat. So far, the roads they’d taken, though mostly unsealed and corrugated, hadn’t been too tricky for a high-clearance vehicle like theirs. The drives to the gorges they’d visited off the Gibb River Road had been relatively smooth, proof that the main attractions of this vast and rugged area were becoming victims of their own popularity. This well-trod tourist trail was becoming less exclusive now which was why she’d wanted to travel the area out of season in the first place, and why she’d been intrigued by Damsel’s Hole—to experience the true, true outback.

But reality now dawned.

Out here, remote also meant highly risky. The area was breathtakingly beautiful, but it could also be deadly. Disaster could strike at any time—and it could strike in an instant. A fact Evie had taken for granted until now. “Um . . . I’m happy to turn back if this is too much.”

“This isn’t too much.”

She winced as Adam revved over another deep corrugation. “You’re absolutely sure you can handle the truck out here?”

“Yeah, I can handle it.” Adam looked away from the road for the briefest of moments to glance at her. “It’s just that . . . I’m having trouble remembering which gear is which, and these pedals—the brake is the one in the middle, right?”

She swatted his arm. “Oh, you’re so funny.”

“Then trust me,” he said, his face turning serious.

Had her lack of faith in his driving skills offended him? She’d ask but didn’t want to distract him right now to find out, not when sharp rocks were jutting out like shark’s teeth from the arid ground and the track was getting bumpier. A lot bumpier. In places, the corrugations looked to be a meter deep as the track curved and dipped with the land. Steep inclines and declines of dried up waterways.

Evie kept her concerns to herself, failing miserably in trying not to think about how isolated they were. The thing was, if something bad were to happen to them, they had no backup. In peak season, they could possibly have relied on other tourists passing by to help, but their only safety net of sorts now was the satellite phone—a call for help which wouldn’t come immediately. Far from it.

And the expense! The gray nomads had said it had cost someone $10,000 for a tow. Evie mentally added up her savings and waved goodbye to buying Zac out of his share of their old flat.

Then trust me.

But she did trust Adam, didn’t she?

Evie clutched the grab handle again, recalling that day after Windjana when they’d visited Tunnel Creek National Park, home to Western Australia’s oldest cave system. Dazed and sated by the sex the night before, she’d been smiling all morning, joking and laughing with Adam until she’d entered the cool dark mouth of the tunnel, her head torch not throwing out as much light as she would have liked.

The 750-meter long tunnel had been formed by a river wearing away the soft limestone rock as it flowed underneath. Evie had stuck close to Adam as they’d waded through calf-deep water, grateful that it wasn’t at chest height like she’d read it sometimes could be after the heavy rains of the wet season. But she’d hesitated just the same—not liking her inability to see where she was stepping. “I can feel something nipping my ankles.”

“Probably an eel,” Adam had said.

Evie had tried not to scream. “I don’t find the word ‘probably’ very reassuring.”

Adam had stopped abruptly then. She’d been so close that she’d bumped into the back of him. “Why are you scared of the dark?”

Despite her jitters, she’d straightened her shoulders. “I prefer the term ‘uncomfortable.’”

“You big baby.”

She’d been prepared for his teasing, a big man like him, but before she could defend her waning courage and prove to him she could get through this, he took her hand and gave it a little squeeze. Then the beam of her head torch reflected a pair of shiny eyes—the shiny eyes of a freshwater croc—and she’d yelped and lost her footing.

Adam pulled her up before she’d splashed belly down in the water. “Easy there. It won’t hurt us. We just need to give it a wide berth.” He swooped her up and carried her over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift. “Tell me why you’re so uncomfortable of the dark?”

“I don’t like not seeing what’s there.” She’d gripped his T-shirt, enjoying the novelty of feeling so feminine and delicate. Her mother would go nuts.

“You’re a control freak.”

She’d tried to deny it but, giddy from being draped over his shoulder, she’d surrendered to giggling like a schoolgirl. How had he figured her out so quickly? “I just like to know what’s going on around me, and it’s hard to do that when I can’t see.”

“Damp walls of ancient rock are all that’s going on.”

“But I’m cursed with a very vivid imagination. My brain fills in the blanks, and believe me, it can come up with all sorts of things.”

He spanked her bum.

“Hey! What was that for?”

“Just giving your imagination something else to think about.”

Evie smiled at the memory now. They’d covered a lot of ground since then, exploring caves and gorges, as well as each other. She felt safe with Adam, and after spending every minute of every day with him, she’d got to know him. And not just as a lover.

She’d often sneak glances at him while they walked or drove or simply lazed about in the shade, noticing things about him. Like how he took his time to absorb his surroundings, touching rocks and stones, and how he liked to watch the flight of birds, often stopping to listen to their calls.

“Did you know,” he’d said early one morning as he mixed powdered milk for their cereal, “birds fly in a tight formation when they’re heading for water? When they’ve had a drink, they fly back a little more scattered. It’s one of the ways you can find water if you’re ever stranded.”

“Where did you learn that?”

He shrugged. “I read a whole bunch of survival stuff before we left Derby.”

“In case we got stranded?”

“Mainly to prevent it.”

They were revving up a hill now, spurting plumes of red dust as the tires lost their grip. Adam jerked the steering wheel, his feet working the pedals as he shifted gears. Up, down. His body taut and alert as he focused on the track. One mistake, they’d be well and truly stuffed—stranded—following the flight of birds for water while they waited days for someone to come by and pull them out of a hole.

But not once did Adam flinch. Not once did he look scared or unsure of himself.

How could someone like him, who drifted and swayed, keep his cool under such pressure?

He inched the truck over the hill’s rocky crest, stones crunching underneath the tires as they began to descend. The path had become very, very narrow, the track edges had worn away, and with a spinning head, Evie looked below to where rocks had slid and lodged to form piles among the thick tops of bushes.

Trust me.

She held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut, and before she knew it they came to a stop at the base of the hill.

“Aw, damn,” Adam muttered. “We’ve got a flat.”

“A flat tire?”

Adam switched off the engine and turned to her. “Now, Evie,” he said just as calm as he’d been before their dicey ascent and treacherous descent. “You’re not going to repeat everything I say again like you did that first time, are you?”

He stepped out of the truck and when she joined him at the back, her gaze darted along the trail of tire marks they’d etched in the dry dirt, her mouth dropping at the depth of each corrugation they’d driven over and how close they’d been to the edge. One slip and it would all have been over, the truck, among the bushes and rocks at the bottom of the hill.

With shaky hands, Evie wiped her forehead and blew out a long pent-up breath. “Wow. You really do know how to drive this beast.”

Adam paused midway of pulling out the new jack and stared at her. “Didn’t you believe me? I wouldn’t have risked our lives if I wasn’t a hundred and ten percent sure I could make it.” He reached for the tools, a flicker of hurt tightening his lips.

Evie pulled him back, cupped his face and kissed him deeply. “I did believe you and I do trust you, so thank you.”

He stared at her for a long moment, then kissed her back. “You’re welcome.”

The rest of the journey wasn’t as treacherous, and even though, on some of the rockier dips, Adam had to slow down to a crawling pace, not once did he seem to doubt whether or not he would make it.

Eventually, the track, still very rugged, flattened out and started to lead to the base of the rocky plateau that had been described to them as the end of the trail. As they got closer, the line of vegetation grew thicker, which surely indicated the location of the pool.

Adam cranked the handbrake and took off his sunglasses, staring ahead as he massaged his neck and shoulders. He looked very tired but by no means beaten by the journey.

“Looks like we’ve arrived,” he said at last.

“Yes.” Evie squeezed his hand. “It looks like we have.”

After the intense three-hour drive to Damsel’s Hole, Adam chased Evie down a pebbly bank wasting no time in getting to the water. The pool was half shaded by trees, glistening in the dappled sunlight. Jumping in together—still wearing the dirty, dusty clothes they’d been living in for days—they reveled in the fresh, cool water. Adam took his T-shirt off and threw it to the water’s edge, and to his delight, Evie followed suit, her saturated sports bra clinging to her skin. They laughed like kids in a paddling pool, dunking themselves in the clear water. It was too shallow for any real swimming, so Adam paddled out to a deeper part of the pool with Evie hitching a ride on his back. Fallen branches jutted from the water, but it still only reached his chest.

“You’ve got a swimmer’s physique,” she said, when they’d reached the other side. “Broad shoulders, long arms. Big hands and big feet.”

These past few days had been some of the happiest of Adam’s life, but when Evie said things like this, he was reminded that this wasn’t his real life. This was a vacation and these happy days would be short lived.

After they’d cooled off in the pool, they lay on the fine sand-like pebble beach with their legs in the clear shallow water. Kissing soon turned needy and greedy. Working his way down her body, Adam spread her then licked her until she came. The condoms were in the truck, a good fifty meters away, but as if she sensed the effort it would take for him to move and get them, she pulled him back and guided his hips so he could stroke himself against her wet flesh. Evie was always so giving like this. She didn’t seem to mind the mess, nor the earthy, sweaty heat they generated—a million times more intense than the outback sun.

He’d gone crazy with it. Crazy with her.

The squawk of two white corellas in the trees snapped him back to reality. He rolled off her and slowly, slowly, when she sat up, he could tell she’d been snapped back too.

“What on earth are we doing?”

“Don’t overthink it,” he told her, even though he felt the absence of the bubble they’d just vacated. He didn’t want to consider what on earth they were doing because that would inevitably lead to thinking about the end.

“I’m not overthinking it,” she said. “I just can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“You want to stop?”

“No, I don’t.”

“We’re just a man and a woman making out.”

“Making out?” Evie laughed. “Most of the time I feel like I’m in a porn film.”

He flashed her a wicked grin. “And that’s a problem because . . .”

“It’s all very unexpected.”

Adam leaned back. Yeah, he understood that. The fantasies she’d told him about were one thing, but sex—with him or anyone else—hadn’t featured on her to-do list. “It is what it is. Let’s just go with it.”

“Drift with the tide?”

“Yeah.” He brushed his lips against hers. Exactly that. Exactly what a guy like Adam would want her to do. “Just drift and sway.”