Raw by Scott Monk

looks brand new.’
    â€˜Yeah, thanks. I do. I was a bit worried about taking her north with me though. The stones and bugs and all that. I thought I might damage her. I’ll be glad when I get her back in the garage.’
    â€˜It’s a “she” is it?’
    â€˜Yep. And I treat her just like a girlfriend. She’s sexy, looks good in blue and knows all the right moves. What’s more she doesn’t complain when I come home late.’
    James laughed and Brett smiled.
    â€˜You got a girl?’ James asked.
    Brett looked out at the dark countryside. ‘Used to. She left me for some country hick a couple of days ago.’
    â€˜Sorry to hear it.’
    â€˜Well, we weren’t exactly going out anymore. It was kind of an on-again, off-again relationship. We kept going out then breaking up. We really only got together when we had no one else to turn to.’
    James waved his free hand. ‘Forget about her. You’ll meet another one — or three.’
    Brett grinned. ‘This week, I hope.’
    A green road sign slipped past. MOREE 95 km.
    â€˜Oh-oh,’ James said.
    â€˜What’s wrong?’
    He tapped the dashboard several times with his finger. ‘It’s the engine light. It’s blinking.’
    â€˜Is that good or bad?’
    â€˜Bad. I’ll have to pull over.’
    James slowed the Mustang down before stopping in an empty truck rest bay. There wasn’t a property in sight.
    â€˜Wait here,’ he said, opening his door. Brett watched him as he walked to the front of the car, his face lit up by the headlights. He lifted the bonnet and Brett heard him say, ‘Oh man. I knew this would happen.’
    â€˜You need a hand?’
    â€˜No, I’m okay. The engine just needs a couple of minutes to cool down, that’s all.’
    â€˜You sure?’
    â€˜Yeah, I’m sure.’
    James tinkered with the engine for a while, jerking his hand back and wincing in pain as he burnt himself again and again. Finally, Brett couldn’t watch the guy cook himself any more and got out. He walked round to the front just as James closed the bonnet.
    â€˜Is everything okay now?’
    James hissed, tucking his burnt hand under his armpit. ‘She should be cooled down enough by now. Hop back in. We better go find a petrol station.’
    The Mustang rocked as they jumped back in. James turned the keys but the engine just rrr-rrr-rrr ed and died.
    â€˜What now?’ James said, slumping back into his seat.
    â€˜What’s wrong?’
    â€˜It must be the water valve. I didn’t see it anywhere. It must’ve fallen down inside the engine.’
    â€˜I can find it. Do you have a torch somewhere?’
    â€˜Er, yeah. I think so. It’s in the boot. I’ll open it and the bonnet if you like.’
    â€˜If it gets us going again — yer.’
    Brett opened the door and stepped out again. He walked round the back and called out to James to pop the boot. But James didn’t hear him. He was too busy starting the engine. And it sounded fine.
    â€˜Hey! What are you doing?’ Brett shouted as the car started driving away. He grabbed the side of the Mustang until the pull became too great and he had to let go.
    â€˜Hey! Come back here! What about me?!’
    The Mustang blazed away at a hundred k’s an hour. Brett ran after it screaming. But it was no use. Conned, he watched his bag and wallet disappear into the night.

Brett slept badly, if “slept” was the right word. He’d crashed behind some trees hidden from the main road. (He didn’t want the cops or some pervert cruising by while he was catching some z’s.) The ground had been hard and lumpy. Rocks and twigs and roots kept poking into his back. And he could have sworn that something had been watching him for most of the night. It was about four o’clock when he did get to sleep and then only out of exhaustion. Two hours later