Death is Forever

went inside to pay.
    She kept looking around but saw no one except an Aborigine with grizzled hair on top, thickly calloused feet on bottom, and a freeform castle of Black Swann beer cans piled to one side.
    When Cole emerged from the combination grocery store, café, and bar, he was carrying a stack of sandwiches and lukewarm soft drinks from an overmatched refrigerator. He stopped for a moment, exchanged a few words with the Black Swann castle builder, left a sandwich, and came back to the Rover.
    Moments later they were on the road again. She had the distinct feeling he was glad to be out in the darkness once more.
    “There’s a roadside park thirty klicks north,” he said. “We can use the picnic tables as cots, if nobody beats us to them. Or we can push on to the station.”
    “Which is safer?”
    He shrugged. “Little white Japanese vehicles are common here. The town is full of them. If our bird dog got smart and cut across the Tunnel Creek road instead of turning around and going over his backtrail to catch us, he’s probably ahead of us. He’ll assume we’re going to push for Abe’s station, where we have help. It’s damned easy to set up an ambush at night out in the bush.”
    “I’ve always wanted to sleep on a picnic table.”
    He laughed softly. “Don’t worry, honey. I’ve got a tarp and sleeping bags in back. We’ll hollow out a place in the sand and sleep like babies.”
    They saw no other traffic until ten minutes later, when headlights flashed into life about a half mile ahead. The height and number of the lights told Cole that the oncoming vehicle was a roadtrain. The headlights of the rig were a white blaze. Its searchlight reached out toward the Rover like an accusing finger.
    Automatically he lifted his foot from the accelerator and began checking the shadows at the edge of the spotlight with unusual care, seeking the eerie flash of animal eyes. Erin tried to look away from the oncoming lights and concentrate on checking the shoulder for range cows, but the cone of brilliant light nearly blinded her.
    The distance between the two vehicles closed rapidly. Cole grunted and switched off the Rover’s spotlight.
    The roadtrain didn’t return the courtesy. It raced toward them, growing bigger and more blinding by the instant.
    “Christ, must be a million candlepower on that bastard,” Cole muttered. “He could jacklight deer on Jupiter.”
    Angrily he lifted his hand to shade his eyes from the blinding glare. At the same time he let the Rover drift farther out onto the shoulder, giving the oncoming vehicle most of the pavement. The roadtrain gave way as well but didn’t slow at all. It bore down on them like a runaway freight train.
    “Is he forgetful or just rude?” she asked as she slapped the spotlight switch on and off in an unsubtle reminder.
    Two hundred yards away the huge, dazzling spotlight flicked off.
    “About time, you stupid son of a bitch,” Cole said.
    No sooner had their eyes begun to adjust than the huge spotlight exploded into life again. Its brilliant blue-white beam pinned the Rover’s windshield as the huge roadtrain roared straight toward them, no room to swerve, no place to hide, and the light like a knife in Cole’s eyes. Blindly he yanked the wheel hard left, sending the Rover careening wildly over the savannah, dodging chest-high termite mounds and splintering small gums on the bull bar.
    After a few hundred yards the Rover clipped a big termite mound, went sideways, caromed off a swollen boab trunk, climbed a smaller termite mound, and almost rolled over. The front wheels cleared the mound before the Rover stopped moving and hung canted, off center, helpless, its engine racing.
    During the final moments of the wild ride, Cole’s head slammed against the side window. For an instant he sat stunned. Then he killed the lights out of reflex and shook his head roughly, trying to focus. Images came in twos and fours. He shook his head again. It didn’t help.
    There was a screaming from the highway as the roadtrain’s brakes locked up and burned rubber.
    “Erin?” he asked hoarsely. “Are you all right, honey?”
    “Shaken,” she said, her voice ragged, “but nothing permanent.”
    “Take the shotgun and run into the bush.”
    “But—”
    “Do it!”
    Shotgun in hand, she opened her door and scrambled out into the dark. Instead of following orders, she ran around to his side of the Rover and levered the door open.
    “I said—” he