Last India Overland by The Last India Overland (epub)

Author:The Last India Overland (epub)
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

It was Charole’s idea to go down and give Pete some moral support. Though I think the idea behind this was for him to give us moral support.

And he did, to a certain extent. While Patrick took three dozen pictures of the bus, Pete told us it wasn’t as bad as it looked.

“You mean it’s worse?” I said.

He didn’t ignore me. Because, of course, it would’ve been worse if it hadn’t been for me and my toothache, and Pete realized that.

He said, “Looks like the carburettor got the worst of it. Might need to replace a few gaskets, and the oil pan, just to be on the safe side. Maybe the fan belt. That’s about it.” He looked at me. “Thanks for the phone call, Mick.”

Mick. First time he ever called me by name.

“No problem,” I said.

Then he said we all might as well get some sleep and he told Charole he was going to spend the rest of the night on the bus, just to be on the safe side, which brought a pout to her face, and she asked Kelly if she’d mind coming over to her room.

Kelly glanced at me, as if to say, well, aren’t we one ill-starred romance, and told her sure.

In the lobby the guy behind the cashier’s desk was acting like nothing had happened. Like he saw this kind of thing every night.

I don’t think anyone got a lot of sleep that night. The next morning around eight, Pete came knocking. Told us we could all do as we liked but if we were smart we’d stay in the hotel. He said we were probably going to be stuck here for a few days while he found repairs. And that was it, he was gone.

Then Suzie came knocking. She looked like a rabbit who’d just seen a big hungry wolf

“When’s the bus leave?” she said.

“No one knows,” said Charole. “Your guess is as good as anyone’s.”

“What do you mean?” said Suzie.

There was a big ugly hickey on her neck and she hadn’t combed her hair, which was a first, I think, for Suzie.

So Charole told her the news.

“I don’t believe it,” said Suzie, even while she was looking down at the bus, with Pete’s feet sticking out from underneath it. She looked at Kelly. “This is a malaria nightmare, right?”

“That’s what we’ve all decided,” Kelly said. “It’s some sort of hideous group malaria nightmare. We’re going to write about it and submit an article to Psychology Today.

Kelly looked at me. I gave her the chuckle she was looking for.

“Har, har,” said Dana. She was sitting on her bed, painting her toenails mauve.

Charole got out a little pink pillbox, knocked back eight or nine pills, crawled beneath her sheets. “Wake me up,” she said, “when the nightmare’s over.”

Patrick looked at me. “I think what might be in order, Mr. McPherson, is breakfast. Don’t you agree?”

Well, I was feeling a tad famished. Charole had given me a donut the day before and that was about all I’d had to eat in about forty-eight hours.

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