He lay flattened against the rocks. A spotlight went skittering over the lava and back again. The truck slowed. He could hear the engine idling. The slow lope of the cam. Big block engine. The spotlight swept over the rocks again. It's all right, he said. You need to be put out of your misery. Be the best thing for everbody.

The engine revved slightly and idled down again. Deep guttural tone to the exhaust. Cam and headers and God knows what else. After a while it moved on in the dark.

When he got to the crest of the ridge he crouched and took the.45 out of his belt and uncocked it and put it back again and looked out to the north and to the east. No sign of the truck.

How would you like to be out there in your old pickup tryin to outrun that thing? he said. Then he realized that he would never see his truck again. Well, he said. There's lots of things you aint goin to see again.

The spotlight came on again at the head of the caldera and moved across the ridge. Moss lay on his stomach watching. It came back again.

If you knew there was somebody out here afoot that had two million dollars of your money, at what point would you quit lookin for em?

That's right. There aint no such a point.

He lay listening. He couldnt hear the truck. After a while he rose and made his way down the far side of the ridge. Studying the country. The floodplain out there broad and quiet in the moonlight. No way to cross it and nowhere else to go. Well Bubba, what are your plans now?

It's four oclock in the mornin. Do you know where your darlin boy is at?

I'll tell you what. Why dont you just get in your truck and go on out there and take the son of a bitch a drink of water?

The moon was high and small. He kept his eye on the plain below as he climbed along the slope. How motivated are you? he said.