Good Reading dips into the first few paragraphs The Community by Christine Gregory to give you a taste of what’s to come.
By the time the van pulled over, the rain was thumping down so hard that it drowned out the sound of the engine. The storm raging outside echoed in time with her beating heart. She was soaked through and shivering so badly she was sure that he could hear her teeth clattering in her jaw. They sat in silence, both staring straight ahead at the rain lashing the windscreen.
Lightning flashed in the distance. There was an electric current running through her. She imagined it was what it felt like before one of those twisters hit in the Deep South of America, the ones she’d seen on the TV shows about extreme weather. The world going silent, before the rumble like a train in the distance and then everything cracking wide open.
Inside the house, a single light was coming from the living room. ‘Wait here,’ she said, reaching for the doorhandle.
‘Please,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I’ll be back,’ she said.
Once inside, she stripped off her wet clothes and changed into a pair of loose-fitting pants and a singlet. She stuffed a few items of clothing into the bottom of her backpack, adding her toothbrush, phone charger and whatever cash was left inside the bedside drawer. On a whim, she threw her passport on top. Holding tightly to her phone, not wanting to wake anyone, she held her shoes in one hand as she descended the stairs. Pulling the door closed behind her, she remembered to grab the torch which was kept next to the front door. The sun was a pale strip of light in the distance. In the 15 minutes she had been inside, the rain had settled into a gentle drizzle. She pulled her rain jacket tightly around her shoulders, then turned off the torch, allowing her eyes to adjust as she walked the last few metres to where he was still waiting. The headlights flicked on.
Holding up her hand against the glare she hurried to the passenger door and climbed inside.
‘I need to ask you a favour,’ he said.
‘You don’t think you’ve already asked enough of me?’ It was beginning to dawn on her, the gravity of the situation.
‘Turn off your phone. Take out the sim card.’ She frowned at him. ‘Why would I –’
‘They’ll be able to track us through our phones.’
She reluctantly did as she was told and slowly handed him the sim, watching as he shoved it inside the front pocket of his jeans. She curled her body away from him, making herself as small as possible. The weight of his hand on her knee. A gentle squeeze.
‘I promise, I’ll come up with a plan.’
She nodded slowly. Wanting to believe him. Wondering if it was too late to turn back. ‘Drive,’ she said, ‘before I change my mind.’
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Christine Gregory is an Australian writer of crime and general fiction. An earlier version of The Community, was runner up for the 2022 Banjo Prize. Christine has previously been shortlisted in the Sisters in Crime, Scarlett Stiletto Awards.
Christine is a former international aid worker and now works as a Director in a national-not for-profit, working on the prevention of violence against women and children. She lives and works in Naarm (Melbourne) with her husband and two children.
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