feet or so.
That ground would not bear the weight of a mounted man, let alone the Land' Rover With the engine idling, Craig could clearly hear the roar of the truck behind them, and machine-gun fire whiplashed over them, so close that Craig ducked instinctively.
'Turn left! 'he shouted. 'Back towards the pan: They turned at right, angles across the front of the approaching truck, machinegun fire goading them on, Timon's groans reachirg Craig above the engine beat. He closed his ears to them.
'There is no way through' Sally-Anne called. The spring-hare burrows were everywhere.
'Keep going,' Craig answered her. The truck had swung to cut them off, closing very swiftly now.
'There!' Craig cried with relief. As he had guessed, the spring, bare colony mopped short of the salt, pan edge, avoiding the brackish seepage from the pan. There was a narrow bridge through, and Craig guided Sally-Anne into it. Within five hundred paces they were over the bridge with the ground firm ahead. Sally-Anne pushed the Land Rover to its limit, directly away from the pursuit.
'No! No!' Craig called. 'Turn right, hard right.' She hesitated.
'Do it, damn you!' And suddenly she saw what he intended, and she spun the steering-wheel, running ite direction across the front Of the back in the OPPOS approaching truck.
Immediately the truck turned to head them off again, turning away from the pan, and from the bridge of firm ground through the subterranean maze of burrows. It was so close that they could see the heads of the troopers in the open back, catch the colour of a burgundy-red ge, hear the beret and the bright spark of a silver cap-bad fierce, bloodthirsty yells, see an AK 47 rifle brandished triumphantly.
feet ahead Machine,gun fire ploughed up the earth ten the standing dust.
of the Land-Rover and they tore into Craig was blazing away with the AK 47, trying to keep the driver's attention off the ground ahead of the truck.
as he changed 'Please! Please, let it happen,' he pleaded gods were listening.
the magazine on the hot rifle. And the full bore.
The truck went into the undermined ground at ing into a pitfall. The earth it was like an elephant running opened and swallowed her down, and as she went in she men out of toppled to one side hurling the load of armed the back. When the dust rolled aside, she was half buried, around her, lying on her side. Human bodies were strewn upright, others me of them beginning to drag themselves so lying where they had been thrown.
y'll need a bull' That it! Craig shouted down. 'The dozer to get out of that.'
'Craig!' she called back. 'Timon is in a bad way. Can't you help him?'
'Stop for a second.' the roof, and scrambled into the back Craig dropped off seat, and immediately Sally' Anne drove on.
eat, his head Timon was lying sprawled half off the s thrown back and pillowed against the door. He had lost gargled in his throat, and the his glasses. His breathing back of his battle-jacket was a soggy mess Of blood. Craig eased him cautiously back in the seat and unzipped his jacket.
He was appalled. The bullet must have come in through the metal cab, and been deformed by the impact into a primitive durn-durn. It had torn a hole the size of a demitasse coffee cup in Timon's back. There was no exit wound.
The bullet was still in there.
There was a first-aid box clamped to the dashboard.
Craig took out two field dressings, stripped the wrappers and wadded them over the wound. Hampered by the Land Rover's erratic and violent motion, he strapped them tightly.
'How is he?' Sally-Anne took her eyes off the ground ahead for a moment.
'He's going to be okay,' Craig said for Timon's benefit, but to Sally-Anne he shook his head and mouthed a silent denial.
Timon was a dead man. It was merely a matter of an hour or two. Nobody could survive a wound like that. The smell of hot metal in the cab was suffocating.
can't breathe,' Timon whispered, and sawed for breath.
Craig had hoped he was unconscious, but Timon's eyes were focusing on his face. Craig knocked out the Perspex pane of the window above Timon's head with his fist, to give him more air. A
'My glasses,' Tim(on said. 'I can't see.' Craig found the steel-rimmed spectacles on the floor between the seats, and placed them on the bridge of his nose, ing ille sis over is ears.
'Thank you, Mr. Mellow.' Incredibly, Timon smiled. 'It doesn't look as though I'll be coming with you, after all.' Craig was surprised by the strength of his own regret.
He gripped Timon's shoulder firmly, hoping that physical contact might comfort him a little.
'The truck?' Timon asked.
'We knocked it out.'
'Good for you, sir.' with the smell of burning As he spoke, the cab filled rubber and oil.
'We're on fire! Sally-Anne cried, and Craig whipped around in the seat.
The front end of the Land-Rover was burning, red hot metal from the damaged bearing had ignited the grease and rubber of the front tyre. Almost immediately the -tough the engine bearing seized up completely, and aid roared vainly, they ground to a halt. The slipping clutch wing out from under the burned out, more smoke spe chassis.
'Switch off Craig ordered and banged open the door, grabbing the fire, extinguisher from its rack on the doorpost.
He sprayed a white cloud of powder over the burning front end, snuffing out the flames almost instantly, and then unhitched and lifted the bonnet, scalding his fingers on hot metal. He sprayed the engine compartment to of the fire, and then stood back.
prevent a resurgence 'Well,' he said with finality. 'This bus isn't going anywhere any more! The silence after the engine roar and the gunfire was overpowering. The pinking of cooling metal from the body ig walked of the Land' Rover sounded loud as cymbals. Cra to the rear of the cab and looked back. The bogged truck was out of sight behind them in the heat haze. The silence buzzed in his ears and the loneliness of the desert bore down upon him with a physical weight and substance, seeming to slow his movements and his thinking.
His mouth felt chalky dry from the adrenalin hangover.
Voter!' He went quickly to the reserve tank under the seat, unscrewed the cap and checked the level.
'At least twenty, five lit res sop There was an aluminium canteen hanging beside the AK 47 in the rack, left by one of the grave, diggers Craig topped it up from the tank, and then took it to Timon.
Timon drank gratefully, gulping and choking in his haste to swallow. Then he lay back panting. Craig passed the canteen to Sally-Anne and then drank himself. Timon seemed a little easier, and Craig checked the dressings.
The bleeding was staunched for the moment.
'The first rule of desert survival, Craig reminded him self, 'stay with the vehicle.' But it didn't apply here. The vehicle would draw the pursuit likea beacon. Timon had mentioned spotter aircraft-On this open plain they would see the Land-Rover from thirty miles. Then there was the second patrol coming down from the Plumtree border-post. They would be here in a few hours.
They couldn't stay. They had to go on. He looked down at Timon, and understanding flashed between them.
'You'll have to leave me,' Timon whispered.
Craig could not hold his eyes, or reply. Instead he climbed on to the roofagain and looked back.
Their tracks showed very clearly on the soft earth, filled with shadows by the lowering angle of the sun. He followed them with the eye towards the hazy horizon, and then started with alarm.
Something moved on the very edge of his vision. For long seconds he hop el it was a trick of light. Then it swelled up again, ll0e a wriggling caterpillar, floated free of earth on a lake of mirage, changed shape once more, anchored itself to earth again and became a line of armed men, running in Indian file, coming in on their tracks. The men of the Third Brigade had not abandoned the chase.
They were coming on foot, trotting steadily across the plain. Craig had worked with crack black troops before, he knew that they could keep up that pace for a day and a night.
He jumped down and found Timon's binoculars in the cubby beside the driver's seat.
'There is a foot patrol following us,' he told them.
'How many?'Timon asked.
On the roof he focused the binoculars. 'Eight of them they took casualties when the truck overturned.' He looked back at the sun. It was reddening and losing heat, sinking into the ground haze. Two hours to sunset, Its he guessed.
'If you move me into a good place, I'll give you delaying fire,' Timon told him. And as Craig hesitated, 'Don't waste time arguing, Mr. Mellow.'
Sally' Anne refill the canteen,' Craig ordered. 'Take the chocolate and high-Protein slabs from the emergency rations. Take the map and the compass and these binoculars.' re around the stranded He was surveying the fields of ri m that flat terrain.
vehicle. No advantage to be wrung fro The only strong point was the Land' Rover itself. He
