I made my way home instead and found Linda and Brenton on the drive, talking to Sandy and my mother.
‘Just the man we came to see,’ Brenton said as I joined them.
‘That so.’ If they wanted something, they were going to be shit out of luck. I’d lost interest in helping others today.
‘Have you got any spare water tanks?’ Brenton asked, and I immediately frowned. He wasn’t off to a good start.
‘Why’s that?’
Linda frowned at my terse response, then realised what I was meaning.
‘Oh, no, nothing like that,’ she said with a laugh. ‘We’re not asking you for anything. It’s just, we have some.’
‘And what, you want a hand hooking them up?’
‘No, no,’ she said. ‘We were going to offer them to you.’
‘Oh.’ I hadn’t seen that one coming.
‘Take a breath, my son,’ Jenny said, with that condescending tone I hated. The second person to speak to me like that in the last few minutes. ‘You’re only trying to help, aren’t you, you two?’
‘Yeah.’ Brenton studied me. ‘Sorry if we offended you mate, but we have a couple of spare barrels and we wanted to offer them to you, since…you know.’ He shrugged. ‘You’ve helped us out.’
My cheeks got hot and I felt like a fool. I tried to force down my embarrassment. ‘Ah…thanks. I do have a couple that I was going to connect up to the spouting, so if you need them…’
‘We’ve got four,’ Linda said. ‘I had this great idea of connecting them all up and using grey water for the garden, but we never got round to it. We’re going to hook up two, but there’s only the two of us and you’ve got a houseful here, so we thought you might need the other two more than us.’
‘That’d be great,’ I said, my mood lifting. ‘I’d really appreciate it. I’ve got the connections and taps for mine.’
‘It’s settled then. Come down when you’re ready, we’ve got all the piping and stuff.’ Brenton gave me a smile. ‘You’re welcome to them.’
They headed home and I gathered Rob and Archie to give me a hand. I could tell that my mother had something else to say but my mood hadn’t lifted far enough to entertain that, so she wisely backed off.
We collected the barrels from down the road and carried them home. They were standard blue plastic barrels that held 220 litres each, and had taps already attached at the bottom. Brenton also gave me the spare spouting he had bought and Archie carried that home in a shopping bag.
We placed them around the house and the sleepout, one at each downpipe so as to maximise our catch.
Rob straightened up and wiped sweat from his brow. ‘That’s very kind of them,’ he said. ‘And here I was, thinking he was a dork.’
Archie giggled. ‘Poppa, you shouldn’t call people a dork.’
‘That’s right, I shouldn’t,’ he agreed. ‘People also shouldn’t be dorks.’
Archie went off searching for food and entertainment, and Rob and I set to work. The sun was doing its best to dodge the clouds sliding past and there was a light breeze, but even so it soon became hot work. I rested my rifle nearby and stripped down to my T-shirt.
It didn’t take much to divert the downpipe into the first barrel, going through the hole we cut in the top. Once the barrel was full with run-off from the guttering, any excess would flow through the second pipe we inserted and connected back to the downpipe. The barrel stood on stacked bricks to allow better access to the tap.
Doing the manual work took my mind off the run-in with Clyde and Ellette, the pressures of the situation we found ourselves in, and the fact that Gemma was still out there. Somewhere.
Rob finished sealing off the two inserts with silicone to prevent leakages, and I stepped back and surveyed our work.
‘Not bad,’ I said. He gave a satisfied nod.
With the average person needing three litres of water a day for cooking, cleaning and drinking, this barrel alone, once full, gave seventy-three days’ worth of water for one person. The four barrels together would supply our family – once Gemma got home – with enough water for forty-eight days. With winter coming around the corner, there’d be no issue with them being filled.
Normally set-ups like these were used like how Linda had planned, simply for irrigation, but water was water and it was essential for us to secure as much as possible. We couldn’t just order a delivery by truck anymore when we ran short.
Rob poked my arm with the silicone tube.
‘Come on boy,’ he said. ‘Got three more to do.’
Sandy poked her head out the door and hailed us for morning tea. I smiled to myself. Even with things the way they were, she always got morning tea ready at ten a.m. I could bet it was cheese and crackers and a cup of tea. The routine was familiar and comforting.
Forty-Two
Gemma and Alex made their way through the copse of trees to find themselves at the edge of a rural road.
The road was empty but they could see a couple of houses further down on the left and another up on the right, where the road crested a hill and dropped from sight. Across the road were more fields rising up a hill, cattle grazing peacefully.
‘It’s very quiet here,’ Alex said.
‘Welcome to the country, Alex,’ Gemma said with a smile. ‘This is what it’s like.’
‘I have been to the country before,’ he said indignantly. ‘I know what it’s like.’
‘Okay.’ She shrugged. ‘You don’t need me to tell you to watch out for that wasp nest then?’
He looked around doubtfully then jumped back when he saw the large nest of paper wasps on the trunk of a pine beside him. ‘Jesus, that’s huge.’
‘I know you saw it, but…’
He grumbled under his breath as she led the way across the road and over the wire fence into the paddock. Gemma waited patiently while Alex clambered awkwardly over the fence. He paused at the top, staring gingerly at a single strand of wire that ran parallel to the fence.
‘Is that electric?’
‘It was, it’s not on though.’
‘How d’you know?’
Gemma resisted the urge to roll her eyes. ‘I touched it with a piece of grass. Besides, the grid’s down, isn’t it? Unless they’ve got solar power, it wouldn’t be on anyway.’
‘Or a generator,’ he said, still wobbling in place on the fence. ‘They might have a generator.’
‘I just told you it’s not on,’ she said. ‘Hurry up.’
Alex got both feet onto the top wire and tried to jump, but he slipped and landed with a thud on the ground. He groaned, tried to get up and put his hand in a cow pat. He cursed and looked up at her, only to find his companion laughing at him.
‘It’s not funny,’ he complained, wiping the crap off on the grass. ‘It’s alright for you.’
Gemma put out a hand to help him up, pulling it back when he stuck out the hand he’d just wiped. ‘Other one.’
She helped him up and he dusted himself off and picked up the Marlin he’d dropped.
‘Are you alright now, poppet?’ she said.
Alex frowned. ‘Don’t call me poppet just because I’m gay,’ he said.
‘I’m calling you poppet because you’re behaving like a child,’ she retorted, softening the jibe with a smile. ‘Come on, nothing’s broken.’
‘Only my pride.’ He grinned reluctantly and rubbed his shoulder.
‘Let’s get going before you break a nail.’
The cows watched them go by with nothing more than a passing interest, and they soon reached the top of the hill. Ahead of them lay a block of farmland with another road a few hundred metres away. A stream cut through the paddocks near the road, and more cattle grazed. Farmland extended out on all sides. Further ahead were the Bombay hills.
Home was not far on the other side of that, and Gemma felt a surge of energy. They were nearly there.
She turned to Alex. ‘We’re so close now.’
He was about to reply when they bot
h heard the crack of a bullet pass between them, close enough that they both felt the wind. The report followed a split second later.
They dropped as one, a second bullet passing overhead.
‘Who the hell is that?’ Alex cried.
‘No idea.’ Gemma tried to look while she stayed flat, but couldn’t see a thing with the long grass around them. ‘We need to get out of here though.’
She started to crawl forward, the way they had come, using her elbows and toes to move. Alex followed suit, a third shot sounding.
‘It’s coming from our left,’ Alex said. ‘Maybe those houses?’
‘More likely someone on foot,’ Gemma said, doing her best impression of a commando.
They reached the start of the downward slope and kept going, gathering some speed. A fourth shot sounded and the bullet thudded into the dirt off to their left.
‘Trespassers!’ a man shouted from that direction. ‘Get off my land!’
He followed it with another shot, this one hitting the ground to their right.
‘Run,’ Gemma said, pushing herself up, ‘go!’
She threw herself into a dead run for the fence to their right, a standard wire and batten number that divided the paddocks. She could hear Alex behind her as she pumped her arms and legs, going for gold. She didn’t hear the next shot but felt the wind past her head.
She planted her hands on the top rung and swung her legs over in the most graceless hurdle she’d ever done. She tumbled to the ground and rolled awkwardly, the day pack pushing and jerking at her back as she moved. Alex hit the ground in a heap, swearing to himself, and Gemma already had the Glock out in both hands, arms extended, searching for their hunter.
Maybe the second paddock wasn’t his and he’d just give up.
Another crack told her that wasn’t the case. She could see him now, on the far side of the paddock they’d just left, a rifle at his shoulder. He was wearing a blue and black patterned fleece like hunters wore, and was on the other side of the fence, maybe fifty yards away now. With a hunting rifle, he could pick them off easily.
She wondered if they could call a truce and just back away if he only wanted them off his land. She was about to shout to him when he fired again and one of the battens in front of them splintered.
A splinter of wood ripped across her cheek and she yelped with pain.
‘Wanker.’ Gemma saw him working the bolt on his rifle. She sighted as best she could at the distance and fired one shot. The guy looked up in surprise and stood stock still. She fired again and he dropped down. ‘Go.’
Bent over, Alex ran parallel to the fence line, dropping down twenty metres or so away.
‘Cover me,’ Gemma shouted, thinking she sounded like a hero in one of the movies Mark liked to watch. She fired again as she got up then she focussed on running, hearing another shot from the guy and a return pair from Alex. She went past him and dropped down ten yards further on. ‘Alex, go.’
She scanned for the guy but couldn’t see him, as Alex ran past. Mark had told her about “pepper-potting” at some stage and explained why it was done, and she figured it was probably a good idea to do it now, given they were so exposed.
The guy popped up again with his rifle and she fired, making him drop back down. Alex called her forward and she ran again, and they continued on like that until they reached the far end and could no longer see the guy. Pausing to catch her breath, Gemma realised they hadn’t been shot at for a minute or so.
‘Think he’s gone?’ she panted, wiping sweat from her brow. She could feel blood trickling down her cheek and wiped that too. The cut stung from the sweat running into it.
‘No, there he is,’ Alex said, pointing.
The guy was tracking them down his side of the other fence, keeping the distance of the paddock between them. Gemma could see the blue of his top against the green and brown of the paddock. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that the paddock they were now in was maybe forty metres wide, with a slight slope away from them.
‘We can get to the next fence,’ she said. ‘Back behind us. Get into the next paddock over and it’ll be harder for him to see us.’
‘You go first,’ he said. ‘I’ll cover you.’
Gemma raced off parallel to the fence line, hearing Alex open fire behind her. She stopped half way and turned, covering Alex as he sprinted towards her. They made it to the next paddock without being fired on and made their way down, heading south again.
They lost sight of the guy and he seemed to have given up. Crossing another fence, they kept on running but Gemma started to relax a little. She could see the road up ahead, just two more paddocks to go, with the stream creating a natural barrier. The cattle grazing in the paddocks seemed undisturbed by the shooting.
‘Nearly there,’ she said.
Forty-Three
‘The fuck was that?’ Dice muttered, sticking his head out the window. ‘Someone shooting at us?’
Shavaunne slowed to a crawl, straining to hear. The Skyline’s muffler was deliberately loud but she heard another shot – a hefty boom – then a bunch of lighter pops. ‘Definitely shooting,’ she said. ‘Don’t think it’s at us though.’
‘Maybe someone’s huntin’,’ Dice guessed, and she gave him a scathing look.
‘And what, the rabbits are shooting back?’
Dice frowned. ‘Doesn’t hafta be rabbits,’ he said.
‘For fuck’s sake, it doesn’t matter. Animals don’t shoot back, dumbass. That’s a fuckin’ shootout.’
More shots sounded and she threw the Skyline around then accelerated back the way they’d come. There were a few houses down that way; maybe shit was going down back there. She gassed it down the country road.
She wasn’t sure exactly where they were but the adrenaline was pumping now, mixing with the meth in her system to give her a buzz better even than sex. Definitely better than sex with Uncle Curtis, at least. That fat fucker grunted like a pig and pawed her like she was a piece of meat.
As much as she had enjoyed driving the blade into Lena – her first kill with a knife and, goddamn, that was satisfying – she would happily do the same to Curtis. If she could get her hands on his stash, she’d have no further need for him. Plus he’d shot up her car, the fat fuck.
Her and Dice could go it alone, roaming the countryside like Bonnie and Clyde, taking what they wanted from whoever crossed their path. They had guns, wheels and a bad motherfuckin’ attitude. It was on like Donkey Kong.
Of course, she’d have to try and manage Dice’s raping. He did like it and he had the attention span of a pencil.
They passed some empty fields and got to the first house. A quad bike was parked beside an open gate and nobody was around. They continued on, past another house, and reached a T-intersection. To the left was the way they’d come, heading back towards the barn a k or so away. Shavaunne went right, stopping at the top of the hill. She got out, scanning the countryside around them.
Fuckin’ fields and cows and trees and shit everywhere. She fuckin’ hated the countryside – it smelled like shit and there were too many bugs that wanted to eat you.
She heard more shots in the distance, beyond the houses they’d just passed. She switched off the engine and listened again, hearing only the ticking of the engine as it cooled. She shaded her eyes against the mid-morning sun and looked, knowing they were out there somewhere. Her gut told her it was the people they were chasing. Who knew who they were shooting at, and who cared? If those two fuckers were there, she’d find them.
‘What’re ya…’
‘Sssshh.’ She ignored her brother and continued scanning, working her way across the fields she could see. A minute later a broad smile broke across her face. ‘Gotcha.’
She could see two figures running beside a fence, heading south. It had to be them. She started to turn back towards the car when a flash of blue caught her eye and she wheeled back.
Someone else was there, tracking the two runners. That person,
whoever they were, was ahead of them and heading in the same direction. Instinct told her that the person in blue was hunting the two runners, and she felt a kick of adrenaline. No fuckin’ way was she gunna let someone else take them down.
Shavaunne turned back to the car and her brother. ‘Let’s go,’ she said.
Forty-Four
The community hall at Meremere had been cleared of anyone who wasn’t invited, and the doors were closed.
A guard stood at the door and everyone else gathered in the hall itself, sharing smokes and drinks. The kitchen door was closed too and Little Dog sat at the table with Jake, Pua and Dion.
Jake knew that the last two were more than just Little Dog’s bodyguards; they were trusted lieutenants. The thought had occurred to him that they needed to be watched, but he also needed to build a relationship with them. He’d known them off and on over the years, never been too close though.
He fired up two smokes and passed one to Little Dog. He offered the pack to the others. Both declined. By the looks of their ’roid muscles, these boys would rather hit the bench than the baccy.
‘So,’ Little Dog said, ‘our boys are still in the hinaki.’
Jake nodded. A hinaki was an eel trap, but was also an old-school term for prison, which was pretty much the same thing. ‘We gotta crack this a different way,’ he said. ‘Them soldiers ain’t gunna roll over just ’cause we show up.’
Little Dog bristled. ‘Then they ain’t met the Bandits before, bro.’
Jake nodded again. No point shooting down the Prez in front of his boys; he had to make this Little Dog’s idea.
‘What I’m thinkin’ is, we be a bit more sneaky.’ He rubbed the bristles on his jaw and looked thoughtful. He had the plan worked out already, but Little Dog needed to “help” him with it. ‘I’m thinkin’ we send a diversion in, maybe a car with women in it. Distract ’em while we come in on a few different angles, lay it on heavy, and go in hard.’ He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and looked up at Little Dog. ‘Gunna need some heavy artillery though.’
Early Warning (Book 2): Getting Home Page 16