Mike Dixon

twitched like an injured crayfish. In his dreams a shark had
dashed in. But, in his more wakeful moments, David knew
there was no shark. Tim had died because the back of his
head had been blown away.
He was awakened by the sound of the van door opening.
Daniel bounced in.
„Push over, mate. I‟ve got to hide this.‟
The boy levered him to one side.
„It‟s my dad. He said I wasn‟t to take it on holidays.‟
Small fingers fastened round the screw that held the flap
of the rear light compartment in place.
„My dad says there‟s something in the Bible about not
taking radios on holiday – but I don‟t believe him.‟
Daniel got the flap undone and hid the radio inside.
„They‟ve gone up to the road. They want to know if the
crossing is open. I told them there isn‟t a chance. It‟s been
raining all night. You only have to look at how the river has
risen.‟
He tapped David on the shoulder.
„That‟s good. Isn‟t it, mate? We won‟t be able to get
back to school.‟
David nodded.
„Of course,‟ Daniel put on a big smile, „my dad won‟t be so
pleased. He‟s the school principal. People will wonder if we
don‟t get back on time.‟
The boy jumped down from the van and hurried off saying
he was going to look for some crocodiles he had seen earlier.
David lay on his side, one eye covered by a damp towel,
the other wandering over the interior of the van. It alighted
on the rear light compartment.
He pulled himself up, lent on his arm and retrieved Daniel‟s
radio. Most channels were broadcasting commercials or
news reports. He flipped through them and heard his name.