Death is Forever

rubbed. There was no gritty feel.
    But after a few moments his finger burned. He sniffed the opening of the can. Beneath the heavy petroleum odor was something else.
    “Son of a bitch. ”
    He scrubbed the fluid off his fingers with dry soil, then poured the contents of the can into a shallow runoff channel at the side of the road.
    “What’s wrong?” she asked.
    “Someone added a corrosive to the brake fluid. If I’d used this to replace what we lost, there wouldn’t have been enough tubing in the Kimberley to fix the mess.”
    She looked at the empty can of brake fluid. “How far will we get without brakes?”
    “Not as far as we will with them.”
    Cole began searching through the cartons of camping supplies. He pulled out several bottles, put them back, and then lifted out a big bottle of liquid soap.
    She watched, horrified, as he poured soap into the empty brake reservoir. When he was finished he capped the reservoir and smiled at her.
    “Fluid is fluid. This is a little heavier than the regular stuff, but it’ll do.” He smiled crookedly. “Look at it this way. We’ll have the cleanest brake lines in the Kimberley.”
    “How long will it last?”
    He shrugged. “We’ll be the first to know.”

38
Kimberley Plateau The next afternoon
    Dog Four was behind Erin and Cole. When they finally came to the area that held promise of having a karst drainage pattern where caves might be found, their progress slowed to a walking pace. Cole began inspecting the ground on foot. She went with him, because it beat sitting in the Rover’s oven and baking.
    The heat was, as always, stunning. Clouds towered and billowed, climbing toward a storm that never came. She watched the sky hungrily, hoping to see in its blistering turbulence the dark storm that would bring an end to the buildup’s savage heat and humidity.
    “Rain, damn it,” she muttered.
    “Not today.” He stood and dumped the handful of dirt he’d been dry-panning. “Probably not for a week.”
    She sighed. “I wish it would rain and rain and rain.”
    “Tell me that in January. I’ve seen it start raining on one afternoon and not stop again for four months.”
    “Promises, promises.” She flapped her tank top, sending air circulating over her breasts. “No wonder people go crazy. The buildup is just one endless striptease. Like Abe’s blasted mines, each one a little better than the last, but none of them really worth a damn.”
    Cole forced himself to look away as the cloth fluttered back down to conform lovingly to her breasts. Wanting Erin and not having her was making him a lot more irritable than the climate was.
    “At least we’re in limestone country again,” he said.
    “Any luck with the dry panning?”
    “Enough that I want to look farther upstream.”
    “What stream? The only water within miles is my sweat. And yours,” she added.
    Shiny trails of sweat glistened through the hair on his naked chest. As she watched, a drop slid down the median line of his body and vanished behind his cotton shorts. She looked away quickly.
    “Don’t forget the canteens we’re wearing,” he said. “There’s water in them.”
    “How could I forget? Mine weighs more than my camera bag.”
    “Doubt it. You must be carrying five pounds of film alone.”
    “And I’ve shot all but three rolls. I’d go back to the Rover for more,” she said, sighing, “but I don’t feel like walking that far.”
    “Is that a hint?”
    She smiled wryly and shook her head while she fanned her top again. “Thanks, but it’d be a waste of energy and film. The sun is getting too high. It flattens out the shadows. By the time the light slants again, the clouds will have moved in. Maybe there will be a break at sunset. If not, there’s always tomorrow.”
    Flapping her shirt again, she thought longingly of taking off the hot weight of the canteen, but she didn’t suggest it. He’d told her to wear the canteen every time she got out of the Rover to take pictures. He was no easier on himself. Not only did he carry an even bigger canteen for his prospecting expeditions but he also carried a large rucksack of gear.
    She’d been startled to discover that a shotgun and several boxes of shells were as much a part of his gear as compass, binoculars, shovel, specimen bags, labels, sheath knife, survival blanket, and large swaths of plastic sheeting whose purpose mystified her.
    “Drink,” Cole said. “Water weighs less in your stomach than hanging on