Lexicon

me.”
    “Sorry about the chase. We just really, really didn’t want you to get away.”
    “I will fuck you up,” said Emily.
    “It’s okay.” The girl smiled quizzically. “It’s okay, Emily; you passed.”

MEMO
    To: All Staff
    From: Cameron Winters
    Hi guys!! Just a quick one to say we ARE getting leave loading on the 29th so that’s double time for all casuals! Nice one head office!
    I’m away for the long weekend so Melanie will be CRO. On her 18th birthday too (Saturday)!! Sorry Melanie it just slipped out!!!
    Also please please!! be careful who you give the bathroom key to. We had a junkie and a poor guy walked in on her, she freaked out and scared the customers, obviously not a good look!!!
    Peace,
    xCx

[THREE]
    The van’s tires slipped on the freeway merge and the interior filled with the light from an approaching eighteen-wheeler. “Fuck!” said the tall man. A horn bellowed. Wil felt a looseness, a surrender of the vehicle to natural forces, then the wheels bit and straightened them up between the lanes. The truck’s horn blew endlessly.
    He wondered how much damage he would do to himself if he kicked open the door and flung himself out at this speed. Probably a lot. His hands were bound.
    “Fuck,” said the man. He was silent a moment. “
Fuck.
”
    Wil said nothing.
    “What’s your name?”
    “Wil Parke.”
    “Not now! Before!”
    “I don’t know what you mean.”
    “When you lived in Broken Hill, Australia. What was your name?”
    “I’ve never lived in—”
    “I can hear your accent!”
    “I grew up in Australia. In Melbourne. But I’ve never been to Broken Hill.”
    The man hauled the wheel. The van slid across three lanes and slewed to a stop in the emergency lane. He pulled on the hand brake, took the shotgun, and tried to drag Wil out of the van. Wil resisted and the man hit him twice with the shotgun butt and Wil tumbled out into snow. When he got to his feet, he was looking into a gun barrel.
    “You’re thinking if you’re not who I want, I’ll let you go,” said the man. “When in fact, if you’re not the outlier, I’m going to shoot you and leave your body in the snow.”
    “I’m the outlier.”
    “Eighteen months ago, where did you live?”
    “Broken Hill.”
    “Where in Broken Hill?”
    A car blew by. “Main Street.”
    “Oh for fuck’s sake,” said the tall man.
    “Tell me what you want. I don’t know what you want.”
    The man sank to his haunches. “You drive a Taurus. You’ve been in the States eight months. A year before that, you lived in Broken Hill. You had a dog.”
    He shivered.
    A truck passed, wheels spitting road ice. “Not the outlier,” said the man. He shook his head. “Well, fuck.”
    “I’m really sorry.”
    “Forget about it,” said the man, standing. “Get up. Turn around.”
    “What?”
    “You heard me.”
    He rose, cautiously.
    “Turn.”
    He turned.
    “Walk.”
    “Where?”
    “It doesn’t matter. Away from the road.”
    “Okay, let’s think about this.”
    “You don’t walk, I’ll shoot you here.”
    “I’m not walking into the woods so you can shoot me there!”
    “Fine,” said the man, and there was a rustling, and Wil started walking. His shoes sank into the snow. It wasn’t more than ankle deep, but he made it look like it was. “Faster.”
    “I’m trying.”
    “I’m trying not to shoot you,” said the man. “But it’s getting fucking difficult.”
    He forged through deepening snow. His mind was a great white expanse. A snowscape, devoid of plans that ended with him alive.
    “Veer right. You’re trying to angle back to the road.”
    He veered. There were trees ahead, a thin stick forest. He was going to be shot in the woods. His body would disappear beneath the snowfall. In the spring, he would be gnawed by foxes. He would be discovered by Boy Scouts and poked with sticks.
    “Stop. This will do.”
    “Don’t shoot me in the back!” He turned, fighting snow. The man was ten feet away, unreachable in drifts this deep. “Leave me here. I can’t make it to anywhere in a hurry. You can get away.”
    The man raised the shotgun butt to his shoulder.
    “At least have the . . . goddamn common courtesy . . . wait! Tell me why!
Tell me why!
You can’t
just shoot me
! In the bathroom, you said to hop and I didn’t! That meant something, didn’t it?”
    “No.”
    “Don’t shoot me in the face!”
    The man exhaled. “Fine. Turn around.”
    “Okay! Okay! Just let me . . .” He