Mike Dixon

He gave a malignant grin.
„I‟m Clive and my colleague here is Barry. We‟re Barry
and Clive. You won‟t have heard of us because we are not
as famous as Bonnie and Clyde. That is because we are not
publicity seekers like what they were.‟
They laughed uproariously, rocking in their seats, peering
at him in the rear mirror. There was something ritualis-
tic about the performance, as if they did it for all their captives.
David was reminded of a cat tormenting a mouse be-
fore killing it.
Clive pointed towards the dump.
„You‟re going on a little ride, kid. It‟ll be the last you take
so you‟d better make the best of it. My good friend here is
going to demonstrate the skills he has acquired in off-road
driving. You may find some of them a bit scary but don‟t let
that bother you. It‟s what comes after that you need to
worry about.‟
As if on cue, Barry swung the wheel and headed for a
pile of soggy mattresses that had failed to make their way
over the edge the gully. He crashed into them and started
an avalanche. Years of accumulated rubbish slid down and
the van followed.
Once in, there was no way of stopping it. David was re-
minded of the slides at Water World. You lay on a mat and
were channeled along brightly colored tubes to a pool of
clear water. This was more like a mudslide and you did it in
a van.
Walls of sticky clay funneled them towards a slimy creek.
Barry steered with the brakes, rising up in his seat, yelling
continuously. He reminded David of a hick rodeo rider at a
country show. Somehow the van remained upright and
pointing in the right direction.
„You beauty!‟
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