Death is Forever

waited, neither moving nor breathing, listening with every nerve ending. He caught the faintest suggestion of cloth against spinifex, a bare hint of boot against soil, a blurred shadow retreating. He threw himself to one side, rolled over several times, and fired again. Then he rolled back in the other direction and waited.
    Silence.
    Cole eased three more fat shells into the magazine of the shotgun before he moved silently in the direction of the roadtrain. He felt a sudden flash of sensory memory—a night thick with heat and humidity and the silent jungle all around, too silent, telling of predators on the move.
    Kill or be killed.
    Live or die.
    Nothing new.
    But this time it was different, more difficult, for he was protecting more than his own life. He cocked his head, listening to make sure Erin had not betrayed her hiding place. He heard only silence.
    Motionless, Erin lay and listened to the silence, fighting the urge to call out Cole’s name. She’d stalked animals in the wilderness with her camera, she’d watched wolves hamstring and bring down moose, but never before had she been facedown in cover while she waited for men to kill or die. She wished she had something more deadly at her command than her own clenched fists and fraying patience, but she didn’t.
    A door slammed. The roadtrain’s diesel growled and revved. Gears clashed violently as the train began to retreat, picking up speed with every second. The spotlight and headlights were out, as though the fleeing assassin was afraid of drawing any more fire.
    Warily Cole retreated in the direction of the Rover. When he was close to where he had left Erin, he whispered her name.
    “Over here,” she whispered.
    A moment later he slid down beside her, pulling her into his arms, holding her until she stopped shaking, being held in return. Long after the first rush of adrenaline-induced trembling passed, he continued to hold her, stroking her as he listened to the night. Slowly the small sounds of insects and nocturnal life returned, telling him that no one had been left behind on the road to sneak closer to the Rover and wait in ambush.
    “You’ve been itching to drive all day,” he said quietly. “Feel up to it now?”
    She nodded.
    “Stay here while I take a look around. If it’s clear, try getting the Rover off the mound.”
    “Why wait around?” she demanded. “He could be setting up another ambush down the road.”
    “He was heading toward Fitzroy Crossing. We’re not.”
    “What if there were two of them and one took off and the other one stayed behind?”
    “He’s not that stupid.”
    Her breath came in quickly. “You sound disappointed.”
    Cole’s teeth glinted coldly in the moonlight. “There’s nothing I’d like better than to put that bastard in the ground.” His smile vanished. “They weren’t after just me this time. You came too damn close to buying it under that roadtrain’s wheels. As far as I’m concerned, it’s open season from here on out.”
    Before she could say anything, her mouth was claimed in a swift, fierce kiss that ended as suddenly as it had begun.
    “Five minutes,” he said. “If I’m not back and you haven’t heard anything, try to get the Rover off that hump. I’ll catch up before you get to the road.”
    She waited until she decided five minutes had passed, then made her way to the Rover. She had to climb in at an awkward angle, but once she scrambled behind the wheel, she started the engine easily. The gear box had been designed for a man. A strong one. She wrestled the shifter into reverse gear and fed gas. The Rover dragged a few inches off its high point. She shifted into first, inched forward, then quickly went into reverse. This time the front wheels caught and held traction.
    No sooner did the Rover groan and thump free of the mound than loose soil threatened to bog the wheels. She shifted into low range and tried again. The Rover eased forward. She made a very slow turn without lights, heading back toward the road.
    Cole materialized from the shadows beside her door.
    “I’ll drive,” she said quickly, stopping. “You ride shotgun.”
    He went around to the other side and climbed in. “You drive to the station turnoff. I’ll take it from there.”
    “No camping out on picnic tables?”
    “Not tonight. We’re going to ground in the bush until I stop seeing double.”
    “Wouldn’t we be safer at the station?”
    “Safer?” He laughed, but there was no humor in the