Death is Forever

died. Erin slammed the shifter into reverse, holding the vehicle in place on the gears alone while Cole put the emergency brake on.
    It became very quiet. As grit swirled through the interior, she looked at him.
    “What, no cracks about women drivers?” she asked shakily.
    “You can drive me anytime, anywhere,” he said. “You want to get us to a level spot, or do you want me to do it?”
    “It’s all yours.”
    By the time they switched places, put the Rover in low range, and crept to the bottom of the gorge, the adrenaline had stopped running wildly through Erin’s blood. She began to feel as flat as dust. When Cole found a level place and parked, she sighed with relief.
    He ran his fingertip down her nose and smiled. Then he got out, rummaged in the Rover’s battered toolbox, and vanished beneath the vehicle, taking a small flashlight, a crescent wrench, a screwdriver, and several feet of small black tubing with him.
    “Don’t you dare wander off and start taking pictures,” he said.
    She jumped. His voice had come from beneath her feet. Guiltily she returned her camera to its bag. After a few moments she grabbed the binoculars, stepped on the front fender of the Rover, and from there to the platform on top. Between one of the spare tires and a cluster of fuel cans, she found a reasonably comfortable seat. Much more comfortable than the ground was, if Cole’s language was any indication. She pulled her hat firmly into place and began scanning the countryside.
    Nothing moved but heat spiraling up from the land. The breeze was halfhearted, as sullen as the color of the sky. The gorge and the plateau on the other side were empty of life. No cattle, no kangaroos, no birds. Nothing but rocks and trees whose stubborn will to survive had to be seen to be believed.
    When she lowered the binoculars, a subdued ripple of movement caught her eye. She focused the binoculars on a spot thirty yards away.
    “Cole?”
    A grunt was his only answer.
    “What do Australia’s poisonous snakes look like?” she asked.
    His head emerged from beneath the Rover, followed by his greasy, dirt-smeared torso. His shorts were the same color as the rusty earth. So were the backs of his legs. A narrow piece of tubing dangled from his right hand.
    He glanced up at Erin, where she sat cross-legged on the spare tire, staring through the glasses. He followed her pointing finger and saw a snake curling across the dirt. The reptile was light brown with a faint blue blush along its belly. Shining as though every inch of its five-foot length had been recently polished, the snake moved with the languid, muscular ease of an animal supremely at home in its environment.
    “Some of them look like that,” he said.
    “It’s dangerous?”
    “As hell.”
    “Damn. I wanted to get close enough to photograph it,” she said.
    “Why?”
    “The contrast between the shiny scales and dust, the perfect curves against the angular land, life where there’s nothing but rock and dust…It’s beautiful.”
    “It’s a king mulga, and it’s one of the most lethal snakes on earth. Stay away from it. Beautiful. Christ. I suppose I should have expected it. Anyone who believes in the tooth fairy is bound to be a little weird in other ways.”
    Erin looked at the tubing Cole had in his hand. “Now that’s ugly,” she said. “No doubt about it.”
    “Could have been deadly, too,” he said. “There’s been a slow leak since we tried to climb a termite mound on the other side of Fitzroy Crossing. The clip that was holding the tube cut into the rubber. When it got weak enough, the tubing gave way and the fluid dripped out.”
    “Now what? More driving slow and praying fast?”
    “No worries. The Kimberley is hell on vehicles. That’s why extra tubing and brake fluid are standard equipment. I replaced the bad tubing and didn’t find any other spots where fluid had bled through. Once I fill the reservoir again, we’ll be back in business.”
    “Thank God. I wasn’t looking forward to walking out of here.”
    “During buildup? Not likely, honey. You’d be lucky to get two miles before you keeled over.”
    He opened the supply cupboard at the rear of the Rover, removed a gallon can of brake fluid, and shook it. The can was almost full. He went to the front of the vehicle, opened the hood, and took off the cover of the brake-fluid reservoir. Remembering the helicopter’s dirty fuel, he tipped a little of the liquid onto his index finger and