John pulled off the highway where it met Belcunda Road north of Burra and shut off the engine. In the predawn darkness, he settled in to wait for Paul. Within minutes, the lights of Paul’s Land Rover appeared on the other side of the fence. He climbed out to help Paul transfer his camping equipment and supplies into the back of the Land Cruiser.
‘Morning,’ said Paul, as he handed his swag across the fence to John. ‘I hope we’re doing the right thing.’
‘You want to spend the next twenty five years in Yatala?’
‘Not particularly.’
They worked in silence to stow Paul’s gear and then climbed into the Land Cruiser. ‘Where are we going?’ said Paul, closing the door.
‘Bush,’ said John, ‘and make sure you turn your mobile off. They can use those bloody things to track us.’
Paul pulled his mob
