‘I don’t think you’ll be going to that, somehow,’ Sandy said.
Rob grunted, concentrating on the traffic ahead.
She tapped out a message to Gemma and sent it, and was still typing one to her brother when they finally reached the crash site. There was a single cop in attendance along with a fire crew. A car was in the ditch on the other side and two more were banged up nose to tail and sitting on the shoulder of the road. A man with a bloodied face was being tended to by a firefighter.
Rob noticed that the cop had a pistol holstered on his belt beneath his fluoro vest. He buzzed the window half down as he got alongside the cop and the fire crew chief.
‘I can’t even get Comms on the radio,’ the cop was saying, frustration clear in his tone. ‘It’s like there’s no signal.’
‘I’ve lost the connection again,’ Sandy said, frowning at her phone.
‘Same with ours,’ the fire chief was saying, checking his own portable radio. ‘This is not good.’
The cop glanced up at the motorhome and realised Rob was listening. ‘Keep moving there mate, you’re holding up the traffic.’
Rob nodded and moved ahead, buzzing up his window.
Knowing that the emergency services couldn’t contact their own control rooms didn’t fill him with confidence.
Thirteen
I pulled up outside the camping store shortly afterwards, the trailer now loaded with the stuff I had been after.
Sure enough, one of the staff was standing just inside the doorway and as I crossed the threshold I saw the semi-auto shotgun leaning casually against the wall beside him. He saw me clock it and met my eye firmly. He was a young guy who I had spoken to there before. I had an idea he was the boss’ son.
‘Alright mate?’ he said.
‘Yeah, you?’
‘Good.’ He glanced away, scanning the car park again.
There were several staff in the store, like there always was, and they were all busy. It took me a moment to realise what was going on.
They were shifting the stock around in the floor displays, pushing the cheaper and lesser quality stuff towards the front and moving the better, big ticket items towards the rear. I noticed a second staff member stationed to the other side of the store front, leaning against a wall beside a tall poster that advertised a clothing brand. The bulge behind the poster told me there was a second shotgun ready at hand.
These guys were taking things seriously alright.
A few small groups and individuals were shopping, and by the looks of what they were grabbing they had also accepted the reality of the situation we now faced. Everybody was quiet and focussed, no panicking, just a mind-set of get-in-get-out.
I ignored the fishing and camping stuff and went straight to the counter at the rear. As I got closer the owner/manager emerged from the back office. He was an older guy named Ken, a bloke who totally lived and breathed the outdoors. He looked flushed in the face and greeted me with a grim smile and a crushing hand shake.
‘Alright mate?’
Maybe the boy at the front was his son, after all.
Racks of rifles and shotguns lined the wall behind him, and the glass display cabinets held air pistols, knives, and accessories. There was a room off behind the counter with more firearms on display.
‘All good mate.’ I tossed my chin at the busy workers. ‘Good idea. Had any trouble yet?’
‘Some hoods from the Rezzo came in demanding this that and the other. The boys sorted them out pretty quick, but not before they’d nicked a few bits and pieces and broke a display. Fuckin’ arseholes.’ He sat down heavily on a stool behind the counter, clearly happy to take a break.
‘I see you’re a bit better prepared now.’
He looked at me sharply. ‘Not a problem, is it? I’m not gunna let those pricks just roll in and help themselves.’
‘It’s a good idea mate. I’d do the same.’ I thought about the Browning I had stashed under my car seat and the Rossi under a blanket in the foot well. I didn’t want to be away from the truck for too long.
‘Had a couple of yobbos too, when he news first come out. Just country boys. Came in wanting guns and ammo to hold off the Indonesian invasion.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘I told them it wasn’t fuckin’ Red Dawn and they’d be welcome to come back with their licenses or somebody I knew. Didn’t like that too much.’ He grunted. ‘Too fuckin’ bad. I still got a business to run, and I got my own family to worry about too.’ He waved a hand towards his workers. ‘That includes my boys and girls here.’
‘Fair enough too.’ I dug out my firearms licence and put it on the counter. ‘I need a few things myself.’
‘Oh yeah.’ He heaved himself off his stool. ‘The usual?’
‘Yeah, I need .22 long, .357 Magnum, and twelve gauge – double ought and number four.’
‘Uh-huh.’ He wiped the back of his gnarled hand across his mouth. ‘How much?’
‘A thousand of each. Plus half that of nine mil.’ I thought for a second. ‘Got any three-oh-three?’
‘Not a lot, how much d’you want?’
‘Five hundred?’ A thought occurred to me. ‘Long shot, but I don’t s’pose you’ve got any chargers for a Lee Enfield have you?’
He wasn’t fazed. ‘No worries. And of course I’ve got chargers – what kinda gun shop would this be if I didn’t? Those old bang-sticks are still popular, y’know son.’ He glanced around then leaned in closer and looked me in the eye. ‘I’m tryin’ not to worry these guys, but it’s obvious this is bigger than they’re saying. I know you’ll know. What’s the word?’
I felt a kick in the back of my brain, that kick you get when your conscience is telling you to do the right thing. Old Ken was a good man and he was trying to do the right thing; all he wanted was information. But what was the consequence of giving up what I knew? How far would he spread it? One, two, ten people? They spread it to another hundred, a thousand, and panic grows and spreads faster than wildfire.
Or hold it back and have Ken know I held out on him?
‘I don’t know more than anyone else, mate,’ I told him softly. ‘I’m outta the loop now. But you’re no slug, and it seems to me that you’re doing all the right things. You’re in a good position here to look after yourselves and your families, so I’d carry on doing what you’re doing.’
Ken nodded slowly, his eyes still on mine. I got the feeling he knew I was still holding back some, but I hadn’t fobbed him off either.
‘I need to get going,’ I said. ‘The only other thing I can really say is that I don’t think the worst has come yet. Keep an ear on the news.’
Ken wiped his face again, pausing only to grab one of his staff as she went past and give her a scribbled note he’d made. ‘Right, he said finally, ‘you better come round and give me a hand.’
I wasted no time in getting around the counter and stacking boxes by the till. These guys weren’t the cheapest in town but they were reasonable, and they never tried to flog off smoky Chinese shit ammo. And he was right; he did have half a dozen chargers for the Lee Enfield. They were obviously old but still looked serviceable, and I trusted that Ken wouldn’t try to flog them off if they weren’t.
He got side-tracked with another customer who was negotiating on a rifle with one of the staff, while I filled my mental shopping list. When he came back he glanced at the stacked ammo.
‘That’s a fair whack there, mate.’
‘You’re not wrong, mate.’ I had cash but wasn’t sure if it would cover the lot. I pulled the wad from my pocket, and Ken looked at it.
‘I just heard you sorted out some arseholes over the way there,’ he said.
I continued counting. ‘Unfortunately someone had to.’ I was nearly at the end of my cash and we could both see I was short. Well short.
Ken glanced at the money in my hand then looked me in the eye. He gave me a short nod.
‘Take it,’ he said. ‘Just take it and get goin’.’
I didn’t argue
. ‘Thanks Ken, I appreciate it.’
Since he was in a giving mood I added a couple more bricks to the pile. While I took the first armful out to the truck, he started unlocking a security bar on one of the displays. When I came back inside from the next load, Ken had laid a semi-auto shotgun on the counter.
‘You still got that lever action Rossi I sold you?’ he said. ‘And the Mossberg?’
‘Yep.’
‘You don’t have anything better suited for, ahh…more selective fire?’
‘Nope. You know me Ken, I’m Mr Low-tech.’
He grunted. ‘Shame,’ he said. ‘I’d let you have this but it’s my last one. You’ll have to rely on what you’ve got.’ He gave me a crooked smile. ‘I’m pretty sure you’ll be okay. Wait here a sec.’
Ken disappeared to his back office and returned in a moment with a cardboard box in one hand. I could see it was a case of Back Country freeze dried meals. They weren’t cheap but they were nutritious and light to carry. I hesitated, unsure whether to accept the gift or not – as much as I wanted it. Ken twigged and waved his hand dismissively.
‘Don’t worry about me, mate.’ He gestured at the walls around him. ‘I got a whole shop full of stuff; I’ll be okay. And if it’s a false alarm I trust you to return everything to me, right?’
‘Fair enough.’ I nodded. ‘Make sure you keep a note. I threw in another couple more bricks of .22 and double-ought.’
‘I saw that. It’s all good. I know you’re good for it.’
I didn’t know what to say. When the chips are down the best people really do come to the fore, and in a bizarre kind of way, it seems to make some people more generous than normal.
‘Now get goin’.’
My heart was racing and I felt a lump in my throat. ‘Thank you,’ I said. I stuck out my hand and we shook. ‘You take care of yourself.’
‘You too.’ Ken turned away and started loading shells into the shotgun.
I turned and left without a word. It was time to get home and get some of my own preparations underway.
Fourteen
The fighting had somehow ended but everyone still seemed to be standing around. There was a lot of agitated talking and hand gestures but no real action.
Gemma didn’t wait around. She headed to the stairs with Alex in tow and her Get Home Bag over her shoulder. They had both moved their cars back to their parking spots and left them locked. She could hear other people in the stairwell above them, loud talking in panicked voices.
They passed a group of three who were heading for the car park and Gemma paused to tell them that the exit was blocked.
‘Are you sure?’ one of the guys asked, frowning at her. He was a young guy with curly hair and glasses. She thought he was maybe from Customer Services.
‘Yes, I’m sure,’ she replied tersely, ‘it happened right in front of us.’
She made to carry on up the stairs but he stopped her with a hand on her arm. ‘You can’t be right,’ he said, a condescending tone to his voice. ‘That just doesn’t sound right.’
‘It is,’ she said, shooting him a look.
She shook her arm free and he gave her a look of annoyance. ‘Jeez, keep your hair on, sweetie.’
‘Sweetie?’ Gemma gave him a cold look. ‘Seriously? I’m probably old enough to be your mother.’
He opened his mouth to retort but one of the others ushered him along and they carried on down the stairs. Gemma could hear him continuing to mouth off as they hit the next flight down, but she ignored him and continued upwards. They reached the ground floor and emerged into Reception.
Teri was crossing the floor towards the front doors, her jacket on and her bag over her shoulder.
She stopped by the door when she saw them coming. ‘Where have you been? Have you heard what’s going on?’
‘Yeah we heard. We’re heading home but some jerk blocked the exit ramp and we can’t get our cars out.’
‘Jesus.’ Teri’s face was pale. She was a decade younger than Gemma, a nice girl who lived with her boyfriend. Their wedding was only a few months away and she was desperately trying to lose weight for it. ‘It’s pretty scary eh?’
‘It’s serious,’ Gemma agreed. ‘Are you going home?’
Teri pushed the door open to the entrance foyer. There were lifts and more doors to the stairs over to the left and the main front doors to the building to the right, the centre of the glass-fronted building. Other people from the other businesses in the building were bustling about and the exit doors were held open by a constant stream of people going to and fro.
‘I think everyone is,’ Teri said. ‘Melinda just told me to shut up shop and get going.’
Gemma nodded, hearing a faint rumble as they started to cross the atrium-like foyer. She cocked her head, noticing other people doing likewise. She saw the people closest to the door staring out into the street and she followed their gaze.
‘Oh my God,’ Teri said, pointing.
The rumble continued, getting louder, and Gemma heard a new sound now. A popping followed a clatter. It took her a moment to spot the origin of the noise.
Out in the street she could see smoke and some kind of objects sailing through the air.
‘What the hell?’ Alex said in amazement.
A woman screamed and people started to back away from the doors.
Manhole covers in the road were exploding upwards, hurtling into the sky under the pressure of the flames bursting up from beneath them. As each hole on the road was exposed more smoke and flames burst forth, columns of flame shooting upwards like geysers. Each eruption was accompanied by a cloud of dust and debris, the clouds rolling down the street into each other.
Everybody stopped and stared, transfixed by the bizarre spectacle as it got closer. The rumble was getting rapidly louder and the floor was trembling beneath their feet.
A manhole cover out at the kerb closest to them shot into the sky in a cloud of smoke and angry orange flame.
‘Gas lines,’ Alex said. ‘Oh shit!’
He turned, grabbing Gemma and Teri and pushing them away as the glass front wall exploded inwards.
They tumbled to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs, sliding on the polished tiles as a pressure wave rolled over them and shattered glass fragments went everywhere, showering them like confetti.
Gemma got her arms over her head and scrunched her eyes shut tight, feeling her body being buffeted by unseen forces, the weight of somebody across her shoulders holding her down. Her ears were ringing and there was an alarm screeching somewhere.
A stillness descended and she forced her eyes open. Glass was everywhere and people were screaming. The air felt hot and she could smell gas. Alex moved off her and she climbed to her feet, helping Teri up. The three of them looked at each other and Gemma wondered if she looked as shocked as the other two.
‘What the bloody hell was that?’ Teri quavered.
‘Gas pipes underground,’ Alex said with some certainty. ‘They’re blowing.’
‘No shit.’
The entire front of the ground floor was blown inwards and Gemma could see a car on fire out at the kerb. As she looked further she could see more damage. At least half a dozen cars on fire, actually. Trees overhanging a boundary fence across the road were aflame and a ruptured water main had also burst, jetting skywards.
Car alarms were going outside and in the building there was another siren shrieking. The water sprinklers hadn’t activated, so Gemma presumed it was an intruder or panic alarm rather than a fire alarm.
She realised someone was screaming as well and spotted a huddle of people near where the front doors used to be. They were from one of the other businesses’ upstairs. A woman was slumped against the wall with a hand clamped to her face, blood flowing between her fingers. Another woman standing beside her was screaming for the Olympics and a man kneeling beside the injured woman was shouting at the screamer to shut up and call an ambulance.
Gemma felt a jab in her neck
and brushed a piece of glass from her collar. She put her bag down and shook herself, brushing more fragments from her hair and clothing.
‘Oh my bloody God,’ Alex whispered.
Gemma followed his gaze and recoiled in horror. A man she didn’t recognise was leaning against the wall several metres away, hunched over and holding both hands to the front of his white business shirt. He was well dressed, maybe early thirties.
The shirt was bright red and a stream of red was running down his pants to the floor, puddling round his shiny shoes.
Gemma froze, watching as the man slid down the wall ever so slowly. His butt hit the floor and his legs sprawled out in front of him. His face was as white as the collar of his shirt.
‘Jesus!’
She felt herself moving forward, her legs on auto-pilot, knowing they had to help him. The size of the blood puddle around the guy wasn’t promising. She’d never been good with blood or emergency-type situations; that was Mark’s domain. She was better at providing comfort afterwards, but something told her that this man wouldn’t be needing that.
‘Watch out!’
Gemma heard the shouted warning and looked round in confusion, unsure what it was about.
She didn’t have time to see who had shouted, the cracking of timber above her head drawing her attention instead. Looking up, she saw the glass ceiling of the atrium was caving in. The wooden framing was broken and great sheets of glass were falling through the air.
Her feet slipped on the debris beneath her as she scrabbled to get away, throwing herself towards the furthest away wall where a great steel pillar rose up like a beacon of safety. She hit the floor and slid on her front, glass fragments stabbing at her, her hands outstretched like she was diving for the corner flag.
There was a deafening crash as the ceiling hit the floor and exploded into a billion pieces. Gemma’s hands slammed into the wall, followed painfully by her shoulder and hip. She covered her head and cowered against the wall, trying to curl herself into the pillar for what little protection it could offer her.
Early Warning (Book 1): Martial Law Page 6