Bob allowed his bicycle to roll to a stop beneath a lone acacia tree on the side of the road. Resting in its sparse shade, he tugged a water bottle from its cage and drank sparingly. Australia's bleak Nullarbor Plain stretched for miles around him in the afternoon sun: grand, imposing. He drew a deep breath, relishing the isolation. The last seventeen days had seen him complete approximately one third of his journey across the smallest continent.

Taking a look around, Bob kicked the pedals on the bicycle and started anew. Settling in to a steady pace, he listened to the whir of the tires on the pavement as he rode. Mile after mile, road, sand and scrub brush slipped quietly around him. As the sun touched the horizon, Bob began looking for a place to camp. Peering ahead, he noticed a bundle on the side of the road. Drawing near, he realized it was a person lying on the ground.

Bob stopped and looked carefully at the stranger, trying to detect life in the still form.

"Hey, are you okay?" he queried. No answer.

Approaching the prone figure, Bob reached out and shook it by the shoulder. Hearing a quiet moan, he returned to the bicycle and retrieved a water bottle.

"Do you need a drink?" he asked, holding out the water.

The stranger moaned again and struggled to rise. Running forward, Bob caught the man and held the bottle to his lips. The man drank, slowly at first, and then with more gusto. After some time, he pushed the bottle away and slowly sat up.

"Thank you, friend." he croaked.

After a few minutes, the stranger appeared to gain some strength and looked up at Bob in the evening light. Bob peered back, thinking he had never seen a stranger looking man. Thin face, lank hair, round eyes, baggy clothes and a floppy hat made the man seem somehow unearthly, but Bob couldn't say why.

Offering the stranger more water, Bob asked, "Are you lost?"

"No, not lost, just ran out of water."

"What are you doing out here?"

"Prospecting. Looking for opals."

"You're in the wrong place. You should be up at Coober Pedy"

"That figures." The stranger looked at Bob quizzically. "Do you have any batteries?"

"Sure," replied Bob, turning back to his bicycle. He rummaged through one of his saddle bags and pulled out a pack of AA cells. Handing them to the prospector, he watched as the man reached in to his pocket and extracted a small box.

"I'm Bob. What's your name?"

The stranger snorted, "Bob? that's a vulgarity where I'm from."

Bemused, Bob watched as the prospector continued to tinker with the small box. After a few minutes, the man gave a triumphant grunt.

Moving in closer, Bob tried to see what the stranger had accomplished. Suddenly, the man stood up and grabbed him by the arm. Before Bob could react, a column of light surrounded them and Bob's head began to spin. The last thing Bob remembered before blacking out was seeing the reflectors on his bicycle pulsating with a bright light in the dim twilight.

Copyright (C) 2017 Winslow Williams. All rights reserved.