Death is Forever

protein. Her mind might know the difference between snake and sushi, but her stomach wouldn’t. Certainly snake couldn’t taste any worse than seal.
    “There’s a lot of water in snake meat,” he said as he drew his knife from its sheath on his wrist. “If you don’t believe me, watch me skin it out.”
    “No, thanks.”
    “Don’t worry. After you cook it, the meat is white and tastes just like—”
    “Chicken,” she interrupted, grimacing.
    He glanced up at her, surprised. “Did you eat snake in Alaska?”
    “No, but I’ve been told the same thing about frog legs and grubs and every other so-called delicacy I’ve ever eaten. It’s a lie. Chicken is the only thing that tastes like chicken.”
    “Snake is better than goanna.”
    “As long as it’s better than seal, I won’t complain. Much.”
    The corner of his mouth kicked up. “Have I told you that you’re good company?”
    Without waiting for an answer he began dressing out the snake with quick, skilled motions. She watched through narrowed eyes and decided it was about as bloody as cleaning a fish and far less gory than seal.
    “Get a fire going,” Cole said as he worked. “You can roast the meat while I empty the stills. If you can’t eat your share now, I’ll save it for you. After we’ve walked all night and your stomach is gnawing on your backbone, mulga will taste better than smoked salmon.”
    She didn’t believe him but she didn’t argue. When the time came to eat, she would eat, because it was the only way to survive.
    By the time Erin was finished roasting chunks of protein over the eucalyptus fire, Cole had emptied the four solar stills. The result netted just under a gallon of water. While she watched, he divided the water evenly between two canteens.
    “This one is yours,” he said, handing it over to her. “Drink.”
    The water tasted as exotic as the snake meat had, for both were flavored by eucalyptus and acacia. Despite her thirst, she drank less than a third of the water in the canteen before she reached out, took the tin cup from Cole’s belt, and poured in half the water remaining in her canteen.
    “This is yours,” she said. “Drink up.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous.”
    “You’re twice as big as I am. That means you need twice the water I do.”
    “Erin—”
    “No,” she said, cutting him off. “If you can carry everything because you’re bigger than I am, you can damn well take your real share of the water and food.”
    For a long moment he looked into her clear, beautiful green eyes. “I’d rather you drank it,” he said finally.
    “I’d rather carry my own gear, but I’m being sensible about it. If both of us are going to survive, we both have to be sensible, right?”
    He hesitated, then drank the eucalyptus-flavored water to soothe the thirst that had been tormenting him. When he was finished, he bent and brushed the last drops over her lips in a gentle kiss.
    “You’re quite a woman, Erin Shane Windsor.”
    “And you’re quite a man,” she said simply. “If I have to die, at least I’ll have had a chance to live. Thank you for that, Cole. I wouldn’t have made it alone.”
    His fingers caressed her cheek before he turned away and methodically began packing the rucksack. When he was finished, he consulted the compass and his memory of the map. Then he held out his hand to her.
    “Ready?” he asked.
    She smiled almost sadly. “As in ‘Ready or not, here I come’?”
    “Something like that. I know you’re tired, but we do make much better progress with some daylight to help us.”
    She took his hand and they set off into the staggering heat and emptiness of the Kimberley Plateau.
    Cole led her carefully around the area where he’d spotted fresh human tracks that morning. There was no point in letting her know their meager progress was being watched. If she knew, she’d begin wondering why they were being played with instead of being finished off in a single merciful stroke.
    It was something he wondered himself.

40
Kimberley Plateau The fourth night
    Thirst was their savage companion. It was more consuming than the darkness, more suffocating than the heat, as vast as the star-strewn sky.
    Erin tried not to think about water. Instead she concentrated on the need to walk steadily. Cole walked in front of her, seemingly unaffected by the grim rations and desperate thirst.
    But she knew he wasn’t.
    She’d seen the fine trembling of his hands when he’d dressed out the