39
Don Williams and Luke Boyd gradually closed the gap between themselves and the police waiting ahead of them. Occasionally, they glanced in their respective rear vision mirrors, assessing the progress of the following police vehicle. As they came closer to the road block ahead, they slowed their machines and eventually stopped about fifty metres short of the police vehicle parked sideways across the road.
“How do you want to do this?” Boyd asked.
For a moment, Williams did not answer. He sat astride his bike and stared at the vehicle ahead. Then he looked out into the darkness to his right and then to his left. “Do you still want to do this?” he asked, finally.
“Do what? Die in the fuckin’ desert?”
Williams shrugged in the darkness. “We always knew it might come down to this.”
“Do
