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the force of the blow. It started with the front wheels. The Ranger was thrust up^everal feet into the air, Josh's head banging against the roof of the vehicle as the collision threw him up from thejiriver's seat. The engine stalled, and Josh slammed his feet hard on the brakes. The impact of the front wheels would kill any normal man. After the back wheels had chewed him up, even the rattlesnakes would think twice about having him for their lunch.
    The truck landed hard on the ground. Josh could feel it swerve sideways as the rear wheels kicked in hard against the fallen bike. He gripped the steering wheel to try to bring the machine back under control. Slowly, the Ranger juddered to a halt. The sand kicked up by its wheels was still falling through the air, making the atmosphere thick and dusty: Josh's lungs were already filling up with the tiny particles that were choking off his breath and clogging up his vision.
    Suddenly he could feel the energy draining out of him. In the midst of the battle, the adrenalin had kept his pain under control. Now it was flooding back through him. His leg was numb with agony, and blood was still seeping from
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    the open wound in his neck. He looked behind him. Ten yards to the right, the bike was lying broken and mangled on the ground. The handlebars had been crushed into the front wheel, leaving a messy spaghetti of tubes, tyres, piping and wires. The petrol tank had broken open, but had not burst into flame: instead, the liquid had spilled out over the wreckage, covering it with a thin oily film. Josh looked harder, peering out beyond the bike.
    He saw the leg first. The separation must have been relatively clean, he decided. If the boot had caught on the underside of the Ranger while the torso had stayed with the mangled bike, then the leg could have been pulled clean from its socket, the muscles, veins and tendons snapping like a pod being popped open to expose its peas. Six yards further on, the rest of the body lay face down in the dirt. Blood was still pulsing from the socket where the leg had been attached.
    No man could have survived that kind of pain. It would have been unendurable.
    The biker was- dead.
    Turning the key in the ignition, Josh fired the truck back into life. Wearily he started to reverse, using the rearview mirror to help him to steer the Ranger back over the broken torso of his opponent. 'Broken into a thousand pieces, pal,' muttered Josh as the debris kicked up by the Ranger's wheels spread a sprinkling of dirt over the bleeding body of the biker.
    Josh pulled the truck^ back up towards the road, then slumped back, leaving the engine still idling. The pain was starting to win now. Josh could feel himself starting to lose concentration. Nothing else mattered except trying to fight back the terrible agony assailing every inch of his body. He could feel himself starting to become afraid.
    'I'll drive,' said the woman, leaning across him and starting to pull him away from the driving seat. With
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    difficulty, they swapped seats again. 'I'll get you home. You need treatment.'
    Josh had no intention of resisting. He moved back across to the passenger seat, trying to rest his head in the space between it and the driver's place. He could feel the woman brushing her hand across his forehead, gauging his temperature. For the touch alone he was grateful.
    There was nothing worse than the thought of dying alone. And right now I feel as if I really might die, Josh thought.
    'Who am I?' asked Josh, looking up into the woman's eyes.
    She shrugged, tossing back a lock of her red hair that had fallen down over her forehead. 'How the hell should I know? I just found you at the side of the road.'
    Josh struggled to keep his eyes open, fighting to hold on to consciousness. Suddenly, he had a sense that if he closed his eyes he might never open them again. Even in the humid, sweaty cabin of the Ranger, he could feel himself growing colder. 'No, I'm serious,' he said, gripping the