Red Centre by Ansel Gough Page A

bed.
    Glancing back to where she was driving, all
Lisa saw coming were roadside trees, the dirt road already curving,
the truck still going straight. She pumped the brakes; the truck
slid several feet on loose road. It stopped, the hood inches from
smashing into the skinny, tall trees. Dust blanketed the
four-by-four.
    Lisa slowly turned her head to look at a
rattled Chris. A chill swept over her entire body.
    Chris grabbed the flashlight and unlocked
his door. Someone had to take a look. It was probably nothing
anyway. At least, that was what he was telling himself. “It’s just
some guys goofing off,” he said as he climbed out of the truck.
    The wind blew hard as Chris slowly stepped
out onto the sandy road. His clothes wrapped his body, whipping in
the wind. He clicked the flashlight on.
    The bright beam lit up the empty night and
formed a lightsaber in the swirling dust. Chris’ heart pounded. He
slammed the door closed. Lisa quickly slid across, locking the door
behind him. She had fear in her eyes, almost tears. And she was
supposed to be the ranger—the protector out here. He gave a small
nod to say “it’ll be okay.” If this had been happening in the US,
at least she would be packing some heat. But nope, not out here in
the sunburnt country. With all the stories of strange lights out
here, it wouldn’t hurt to be packing a couple of guns. Hell, even a
.22 would be something of an insurance policy.
    He took a deep breath. His
mind was racing. What to do? he thought.
    Chris took the flashlight in his right hand.
He banged on the side of the fiberglass roof with his open left
hand. “Hey, asshole! I’m coming for you. You better take off.”
Chris waited to see if anyone would bolt down the road. You never
knew. It could be some dumb ass who got drunk and found a place to
sleep it off—like that fat-ass Roy.
    Chris leaned in close to
the truck to see if he could hear anyone in there. Nothing. He took
a small step toward the back. This is
stupid. No one’s in there, he told
himself. He inched forward a little further, then stopped. What if someone, or a wild animal, was in
there? What was he going to do if there
was?
    His heart beat more quickly. Rapid breaths.
Nerves were getting the better of him.
    Lisa looked back, trying to see what Chris
was doing. She could see he was still. Then he turned and came back
to the door. She quickly unlocked it. He climbed in, slamming the
door closed and locking it behind him. Lisa raised an eyebrow.
    Chris turned around, facing the small, rear
window. “There’s nothing in there.” He placed the flashlight flush
to the rear glass, clicked the light, and swept the bed of the
truck with the light. The back window was dirty, covered in dust
and muck. It was difficult to see into the bed. Chris leaned in
close, trying to see. Lisa leaned in as well. Fog circles formed on
the glass from their warm breath.
    A few small boxes and other tools—ax,
shovel, rope—lay scattered around. No sign of a dumb ass. Although
something could squeeze up in the corners against the bed wall, out
of sight. Chris got up onto his knees. He really wanted to cover
every inch of the bed, just to be sure. His forehead pressed to the
cold glass, trying to see around the corners. Trying to see deep
into every part. Then something shifted. “Shit.” Chris jumped, and
so did Lisa. Maybe it was just a possum, or some little freak of
nature getting out of the light. He wasn’t sure.
    “ What?” Lisa grabbed his
arm.
    “ I’m not sure.”
    Still without a positive ID on anything,
Chris moved the light around, changing his position. Suddenly a
large, gray, open hand slapped the glass. Chris fell back against
the dashboard out of shock, the flashlight dropping to the truck
floor. Lisa screamed.
    Chris fumbled for the light, trying to
compose himself. He felt cold air rush into the cabin. Lisa’s door
wide open. Night invading his space. He caught sight of Lisa
bolting into the darkness, overcome