Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 11

Knowing that the Bathurst police who had organized him into pulling the cattle would know this driver, Peter had no worry about seeking his help. Besides, he was driving for the same company as Peter.

"I've done you a favor." Peter had to get this right. "Mate, perhaps you can do me one."

Easily, Peter slipped into his patois. "The missus is beat. She insisted on coming - just wouldn't listen to me. Thought I was getting a bit on the side. I told her it'd be too much - her expecting the first 'un an all."

All the time he prayed that Susie was asleep and didn't hear.

"D'ya reckon you could pick me up at Kelso tomorrow morning early? We'll be spending the night there. The missus can rest and we can go on."

"That's not a favor, cobber." The stranger was pleased to assist. "The rig'll be parked waiting for ya - cleaned up an' all. Things'll suit me fine. I'll drive to the yards, unload - there'll be stockmen on hand - and be back before daylight. I live in Kelso and besides, I work for the company that is taking delivery of this truck. The one I was driving is to be pensioned off."

Peter pulled to the side of the road outside the motel and helped Susie down from the cab.

"What are you doing?" She clambered down. Half asleep, she allowed him to lead her into a motel room as the roar of their loaded rig receded in the distance.

"I'm putting you to bed."

Still she didn't suspect Peter's motives as he began to strip her.

"Put your hands up."

Obediently she stood still while he tugged her dress over her head.

"That's enough!" She began to struggle as Peter attempted to continue. "That is enough! Stop! Peter, stop! No more!"

"Don't be silly." Peter struggled with her hands, grabbing a handful of hair, tugging it to turn her face up to his. He kissed her cruelly, biting into her mouth.

Valiantly she fought his advances.

"Stop it, Peter, stop it. What the hell's wrong with you? I don't want you to do this."

Peter cut her short as she felt him ripping the remainder of her clothing from her body. He picked her up and carried her bodily to the bathroom and under the shower where, despite her sobbing and struggles, he washed her thoroughly before drying them both. Then he tossed her onto the bed.

"Are you going to rape me?" Distressed, she dragged Peter's head up from where he was cruelly sucking her nipples.

"Rape went out with long red underwear. You know it and I know it." Peter knew he was sounding cruel. The lone wolf was howling to the moon.

She sagged, defeated. "Please don't hurt me. I don't like being hurt."

Suddenly feeling very tired, Peter released her and turned to his trousers hanging behind the door. From deep in a pocket he dragged out a tablet - one of those he had come to rely on to get though the trips to Bathurst. He tossed it to the back of his throat and swallowed.

As he turned back to the bed, a change seemed to come over him. To Susie he was staring sightlessly at the blank wall in front of him. To Peter it was different. Almost in a daze, a shadowy memory -- his mother - seemed to crystallize before him.

"No, Peter, no! You're not like the monster who captured us, forcing me to share his bed and to accept his incessant cruelty." The vision of his mother, whose eyes seemed so sad, faded.

With a long drawn out howl of, "Noooooo," the lone wolf stormed out of the room into the freezing night air to slink off into the darkness.

He didn't regret what he had begun. He had enjoyed battering down Susie's defenses right up until when his 'mother' appeared to bring a breath of sanity back into his life.

The lights of oncoming cars made Peter dive for the shadows. He wanted no intrusion into his blackness. Suddenly there came a long blast of an air horn and the headlights of a truck approaching from behind bathed him in light.

A rough voice shouting through the passenger's window broke through the night.

"Where're ya headin', mate?"

Peter coughed, trying to clear his mind.

"Bathurst. Bloody truck expired."

"Hop in."

The few miles passed in silence - the driver too tired to converse, Peter too immersed in his hatred and anger. Let off on a street corner, he wandered the streets of Bathurst, not thinking, not caring. He just walked aimlessly until he found himself walking past the showground and back to Kelso. Once again, he was at the motel. It was morning.

Seeing the damned truck, that he had driven from Sydney, clean and parked patiently waiting for him, he could only just nod his head. That driver was reliable, no doubt about it.

Not daring to knock, he inserted the key in the motel door then stood leaning there, motionless. The pills on which he had so long relied had outlived their usefulness and his body had finally rebelled.

Wakened by the peculiar sounds at the door, Susie opened it to find Peter leaning against the wall. Slowly, and with a great deal of effort, she dragged the almost comatose Peter into the room. None too gently she stripped him and pushed him under the shower, appalled at the criss-cross of scars across his back and buttocks.

"Peter, Peter, wake up!" Susie was getting desperate. "What the hell's going on? Wake up before I call the police and the ambulance. You're on some kind of drug and I've completely lost patience with you."

Savagely she punched him in the ribs. Ignoring his moans, she continued her fierce assault until his eyes opened and he was able to lean against the wall without her assistance.

"Get yourself cleaned up and dressed. Then, when we've eaten, I want an explanation of these!" Opening her hands, she revealed six tablets she had retrieved from his pockets. Silently, she put them into her bag and sat with it on the bed as Peter found his clothes once more. "And while you are at it explain your back."

Dressed, he sat on the edge of the bed, the tray of food untouched before him. Unable to look at Susie, he was beaten, his shoulders hunched, a picture of abject despair he stared at the floor.

Susie looked intently at him, unable to believe this was the Peter she knew. Wordlessly she lifted his chin and was horrified to see the hurt, the anguish, the distress in his eyes.

At last Peter spoke. "I'm so sorry, Susie." His words trailed off but then he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry that I couldn't get a seat on a plane back to Sydney today. I'll take you to the railway and get you a seat on the express."

Still he couldn't look at her.

Without any further exchange of words, the air frosty between them, they left the motel and he drove the truck into the transport yard, coming to a halt outside the office.

"Ah, Peter." The manger came bounding down the steps. "I heard you had a busy night."

Leaning against the bull bar and ignoring Susie, he continued.

"You've been busy, eh, but nevertheless you've delivered the truck here as promised. Ten trucks in how many days and not one delivered late. You and your company are a marvel and there's a lot more work coming your way."

Then the topic changed. "What have you planned for the weekend?"

The manager didn't notice the bleakness in Peter's eyes or the slow drawl of his reply.

"Nothing. Bloody nothing." Peter had to admit to himself that he might as well tell the truth. The rest of his life would be blank.

Listlessly Peter reiterated, "Absolutely nothing."

Susie shot him a piercing look, her attention gained by the despair and resignation in his voice.

"Could you help us?" The manager ignored Peter's misery.

Oh, no, not another mate job. I'm no-one's mate, was the answer Peter wanted to give, but he was silent.

"There's a rig to be driven to Sydney for delivery Tuesday and we have no driver. We've tried everywhere. Seems everyone has the flu. Don't suppose you could help. There'd be a few bucks in it for you," the manager continued, hoping Peter could help.

Peter just nodded his acceptance. What else was there to do? No one was waiting for him anywhere. Again, he was alone, although he had to admit Susie seemed to care.