Eleven
By 3 p.m. the following day, the sun had turned to scorch across the courtyard where a barbeque was being arranged. Benjamin appeared from the kitchen door carrying a large stereo in his hands. He could feel the density of heat about him and placed the stereo onto an upturned breeze block with a huff. Turning, he saw Herbert edging carefully down the side of the bank that ran onto the driveway, tipping salt from a large bag in a rough thirty-metre circle around the house.
The circle had already passed through the edge of their back garden and now crossed over the driveway, where Herbert found himself close to the hedge that ran into the neighbouring farmer’s field and back around to the front of the house. Catching himself against bramble, he set the bag down and stretched up, wil
