As he left the bush and headed out into the open country he found himself enfolded in the thick haze of red dust that still hung over the landscape. But as the haze shifted and shimmered, he could see the distant black basalt hills of Morgan’s Reach silhouetted on the far horizon. He was almost home.

*

Algernon Baker opened his eyes and stared into the yellow demonic orbs of some prehistoric spiny creature with a forked tongue and long tail.

He scooted backwards with a yelp of fright and the creature hissed furiously at him before skittering off in a puff of dust. It was only one of those lizards, he realised, but it was probably poisonous, like most things out here in this godforsaken place, so he’d had a lucky escape.

His heart was still pounding as he did his best to clean his sore, itching eyes and look round warily for any other slithering, hissing creatures. It was well known that snakes liked nothing better than to share a warm bed with a human. But it seemed the storm had sent them scurrying for safer shelter, and with a sigh of relief he took in his surroundings.

The dust was a shimmering red pall that floated all around him, but as it shifted and lazily swirled like smoke he could see no sign of a homestead – or of the tarmac road. He tried to quell the fear, but his heart was thudding painfully and he was finding it difficult to breathe, or even to think. He knew only that he was lost, and that his thirst was greater than ever.

He reached for the last water-bag and carefully rationed himself to one precious mouthful. He held it on his tongue, feeling it absorb into dry gums and cracked lips until he could no longer resist swallowing it. It might taste warm and musty, but it was nectar, and it took all his willpower not to drink more; his hands trembled as he determinedly replaced the cap. This was all he had to see him home, and although there would doubtless be boreholes and troughs along the way, he knew the mineral-rich water that came up from the depths of the earth would cause stomach cramps, sickness and diarrhoea – and he was weak already.

The sun was only now breaching the horizon, but it shed very little light through the haze, which he thought smelled strangely of wood-smoke and eucalyptus. He dismissed the idea as fanciful – an aberration due to his unfortunate circumstances and an overactive imagination.

He fumbled in his jacket pocket in search of the large white handkerchief he always carried, and tried his best to clean the grit and mucus from his eyes. The handkerchief would do to cover his mouth and nose, for the dust was making it difficult to breathe. But without his hat, there was nothing he could do about his swollen eyelids or the raw scratching every time he blinked.