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doesn’t move, doesn’t turn.
    â€˜Come on,’ he calls again. ‘You’ll get left behind.’
    Still she stands motionless. Colm trots over to her and shakes her shoulder. ‘Lyd,’ he says. ‘Joe’s waiting.’
    His sister doesn’t answer at first, then speaks in a strong, firm voice.
    â€˜We mustn’t go there, Colm.’
    Colm drops his hand from her shoulder. ‘Why not?’ he asks, impatient, exasperated. He can hear Joe turning Sheila’s motor over. But then he remembers the events of two nights ago and softens. He makes his way back to the truck.
    â€˜Joe,’ he says through the cabin window. ‘We didn’t die in the lean-to in Nurrengar because Lydia knew something was going to happen and made us leave. She’s saying the same thing now. She doesn’t want us to go down to Midgin.’
    He feels foolish, embarrassed. Maybe the other night was a coincidence and this is a stupid mistake, he thinks. He has no way of telling.
    Joe looks puzzled. His mouth is turned down and his forehead is furrowed. Colm thinks he sees sweat breaking out on his pink pate again.
    â€˜Right,’ says Joe. He turns off the engine and drums his thick fingers on the steering wheel. ‘You know we’re just about outta juice, and there’s only enough water for a few more hours. If we don’t go into Midgin, what are we gunna do about supplies?’
    Colm shuffles and scuffs under Joe’s gaze. He doesn’t know what to say.
    â€˜Son,’ continues Joe. ‘I want you to get your sister and put her in the truck. We’re gunna go down to Midgin or we’re gunna die.’
    Colm doesn’t look at Joe. ‘I can’t, Joe,’ he says. ‘She won’t come.’
    Joe exhales loudly then gets out of the truck and walks over to where Lydia is still standing staring at the town.
    â€˜Come on, Miss Bell,’ he says kindly. ‘We’ve got a long way to go yet.’
    â€˜I know, Joe,’ she replies. ‘But that’s not the way.’
    â€˜Which is, then?’ asks Joe.
    Lydia looks about her for a moment, even turns around and looks back in the direction they came. She wrinkles her brow as though remembering.
    â€˜I don’t know,’ she says. She does not seem at all distressed about this. Colm wonders why she isn’t embarrassed.
    â€˜Come on, Lyd,’ he calls. ‘If we can’t go that way, which way can we go?’
    Lydia turns her face to him and he sees in her eyes the same fiery resolve that revealed itself when they were confronted by the brown snake. His own eyes weaken under her stare and he knows that arguing is useless. Joe, too, seems to have given way to a greater authority, and the three of them climb into the truck in silence. Joe spins the wheel in a circle and they head back the way they came, following the winding road down through the hills. When they reach again thecattle grid and the private road, Lydia commands Joe to turn into it. He baulks momentarily, then swings the truck off the public road and across the grid.
    The road is bad. Sheila hauls herself in and out of potholes, creaking and groaning with every turn of her wheels. Joe drives slowly, worried that if he goes into a hole too quickly one of the axles will break. Colm feels unbearable shame. What if something terrible should happen on this road? Joe would never forgive them. He tries to make himself as small as he can by pressing himself against the cabin door. Lydia, he notices, has no such compunction. She is sitting upright and staring straight ahead at the road. Her eyes hold still their fire of resolve.
    They pass signs, warning signs.
Trespassers prosecuted. Beware of dogs. Property patrolled by AAA Security.
The signs are old and rusted and fading. But they are threatening enough that a seed of anxiety takes root in Colm’s chest and begins to grow there.
    The night is folding in around