Mike Dixon

stay on his feet. The next flash saw him on his belly, slither-
ing over the mud towards them. Noelene prayed that he‟d
end up in the gully and be dispatched by a karate blow from
Janet. Then the wind slackened. The man struggled to his
feet and made for the landing strip - slipping and sliding.
„He‟s buggered off.‟ Noelene reached for the rifle. „I think
he found the weather a bit too hard to take.‟
She took aim at the plane as a tangled lump of vegetation
slid into the creek. It lodged against a mangrove tree
and formed an instant dam.
Noelene fired and Janet grabbed her arm.
„Time to go!‟
„Where to?‟
„Back to the farm.‟
„We‟ll get blown away if we leave here.‟
„We‟ll bloody drown if we stay.‟
Janet pointed to the rising water and heaved herself onto
the mudflat. The problem now was to find something to
hang onto. Her fingers fastened on a root. She pulled herself
forward and found another. Noelene followed. They dragged
themselves along in pitch black and blinding light, battered
by lightning and a torrent of mud.
„Don‟t stop! Keep going!‟
Janet shouted encouragement and was annoyed to see
Noelene scramble past. She felt humiliated to be overtaken
by an amateur – especially one who was fifteen years older
than herself. She followed Noelene off the mudflat onto a
windswept slope, strewn with branches and fallen trees.
They clambered over rocks and reached the protection of a
rocky overhang.
It was like entering the foyer of a luxury hotel. Suddenly
all was peaceful again. Nothing was flying through the air.
No one was spraying bullets and there was no need to hang