They faced each other down in a staring competition. A breeze rustled the leaves. The lizard scuttled out to watch with a stupid grin across its stupid face.
“Ok then, off you go then dear,” Bexley joshed. She knew Maurice was scared of her own shadow. She tried hard not to laugh. There was a little chuckle though from the lizard.
“You didn’t even give me a choice!” Maurice cried. “I would rather die than go to …”
“I thought you would feel this way. That’s why I didn’t tell you,” Bexley calmly replied.
“Seriously Mum! Even if the road still exists after all the superstorms out here, on these old bikes … 80 degree slopes? You are crackers?!”
“Ah-ha! I’ve got this!” Maurice crowed. “You are gonna blink.” They always settled fights with staring comps.
The lizard cocked an eye at Bexley and then turned to Maurice and ran swiftly over her foot.
Maurice let out a high-pitched squeal and hopped from foot to foot. Bexley giggled and fished out Maurice’s bike from the long grass. She wheeled the bikes back to stand in front of Maurice.
“Bad Luck! I win. Here,” Bexley said. “On yer bike.”
“Poo-poo, poo-poo, poo!” Maurice snapped. Maurice winced, silently smarting at her predicament. “Not fair!”
“Maurice baby, I know you don’t think so but I do know what I’m doing. Trust me. Not far to Gloucester now. We can walk. The storms have been through here so they won’t return for a while.”
“But maybe you’re wrong, mum. It is 50/50 either way…”
“Walcha is already the end of the line so maybe the end of the world will miss it, right? I’d say, 80/20 probability,” Bexley snapped.
Maurice snatched the bike up and wobbled off towards the long-deserted town of Gloucester.
“Right?!” Bexley shouted, as Maurice poured on the speed, raising a dust cloud. Bexley trailed a safe distance behind the dust cloud.