Early Warning (Book 1): Martial Law

by McLean, Angus

  Rob felt his gut tighten as the realisation hit him. They needed to get the hell out of here.

  Sandy came up beside him, her hands tucked into the pockets of her windproof jacket. She smiled at the young couple, who were now well into their cups of tea and seeming to brighten up, even the guy.

  ‘Is anything moving?’ she asked.

  ‘Not yet,’ Rob said. ‘But it needs to. All these cars need to get going, but we need help to do it.’

  ‘And I take it you have a plan?’ Sandy’s eyes twinkled behind her glasses – she knew her husband well.

  Rob gave a small smile and outlined his plan to her. Sandy nodded her approval. As the young couple were finishing their drinks, Rob introduced himself and shook hands.

  Josh and Sienna were soon listening to his plan and nodding their agreement. Rob set them on their tasks and made his way to the cars behind the motorhome. As soon as he started talking to the motorists there, people began to drift over to listen, and within a few minutes the crowd was growing bigger and more people were sifting down the line to spread the word.

  Sandy stayed behind the wheel in the bus for two important reasons – they wanted to be ready to move as soon as possible, and Rob was conscious that such a vehicle was an obvious target for thieves, either to steal outright or to loot for provisions. Sandy kept the doors and windows locked and the key in the ignition, ready to go.

  By the time Rob had walked a few hundred metres down the highway, he could see the tailback snaking back past the side road. The fact that people had elected to sit on the highway all night in their cars, rather than taking a side road and trying to get out, astounded him. Perhaps they were too reliant on GPS and didn’t have the gumption to have a go. Perhaps they were just sheep that followed the sheep in front of them.

  Whatever the reason, a lot of these people had made their own situation worse. As usual it took someone like him to come along and fix it for them. Rob sighed inwardly. If it took holding their hand to make his own situation better then that was what he would do.

  Josh and Sienna were coming back towards him, having walked down to the side road and started spreading the word from down there. In the distance, Rob could see vehicles starting to move as people got themselves going.

  He walked with them back towards their own vehicles. As they walked, Josh fell into step beside him.

  ‘Sorry for being a dick,’ he said quietly.

  Rob chuckled. ‘Don’t worry mate, we’re all dicks at times.’

  ‘Thanks for helping us out.’

  Rob nodded. ‘No worries, I’m sure you’d do the same for someone else.’ He glanced sideways at the younger man. ‘Have you run out of gas?’

  ‘That’s the other thing I was going to ask.’ Josh looked sheepish. ‘I don’t s’pose you’ve got any spare gas have you?’

  ‘Got a little bit. How far are you going?’

  ‘Raglan.’

  Rob whistled. Raglan was a small town on the west coast of the Waikato, a couple of hours’ drive from where they were now. That was a fair hike in the current circumstances and they had a lot of highway driving to get there.

  ‘Let’s see what we’ve got, eh?’

  Even though they hadn’t picked up as much gas as he would’ve liked, Rob felt for the younger couple and didn’t want to see them stranded on the side of the road again. With things the way they were just now, anything could happen. Sienna was a pretty young thing and he doubted either her or Josh had the skills or mindset to protect themselves.

  He poured about ten litres from a spare fuel can into their tank and recapped the container.

  ‘Should be enough to get you to Pokeno or Mercer,’ he said. ‘Hopefully you can get more at the gas station there. Or the pumps at Hampton Downs or down in Te Kauwhata.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Josh said, closing his fuel cap. ‘Appreciate it.’

  ‘Thank you so much.’ Sienna gave him a hug and waved to Sandy, who had buzzed down the window.

  ‘Looks like we’re moving,’ Rob said, seeing the queue behind them starting to inch back. ‘Good luck.’

  Sandy moved across to the passenger seat and he climbed up behind the wheel. It still took another half hour before they actually got to move, but just the anticipation of it lifted their spirits. When it came to their turn, Rob let Josh turn around and head in the right direction before following suit. The motorhome was nearly as manoeuvrable as a car but it didn’t stop someone from honking their horn for him to hurry up.

  ‘Jerk,’ Sandy muttered.

  Rob ignored the other driver and focussed on getting around and into the correct lane. Already somebody had had a nose to tail up ahead and two cars were stopped while the drivers remonstrated with each other.

  ‘More jerks,’ Sandy commented. ‘Seems to be a morning for them.’

  Rob felt himself smile. ‘You’re a box of birds this morning,’ he said.

  Sandy peered over her glasses at him. ‘The sooner we get there the better. I’m all for camping in the van, but this is not what I had in mind.’

  Thirty-One

  When I got to the Pukekohe Police Station I found the car park full and more cars double parked outside on the road, some on the footpath.

  The crowd at the front entrance was so big it was spilling outside. There were more people down the side of the building at the vehicle gate, and I could see a couple of uniforms on the inside of the gate. Whether they were talking or not I had no idea; it was hard to hear over the shouting of the crowd at the front.

  The station was a single storey white concrete block with a small glass-walled front foyer and a narrow garden out the front. On one side was a car dealership and on the other were a couple of small businesses. The windows of the station were all covered internally by blinds so it was hard to tell if anyone was inside.

  What had always been a normal, friendly local station now resembled a place under siege. I had avoided the highway patrol base at Pokeno and the four-man station at Tuakau to come here, because it was the area HQ. I hadn’t made the decision for a third trip to Pukekohe lightly, but I needed information.

  I dropped the truck across the road outside a lawnmower shop and trotted over. There was plenty of traffic around and nobody seemed too bothered about pedestrian safety. I went down the side driveway past the first crowd and angled towards a side door that I knew was regularly used. I knocked on it and looked towards the nearest window, seeing the blind twitch after my second knock.

  A moment later the door opened and a middle-aged uniformed cop told me to hurry up and get inside. I did as I was told before the crowd realised there was another way in and he shut the door behind me.

  The guy looked at me and I recognised his face but had to check his name badge.

  ‘Gidday Steve,’ I said, as if we were old friends. ‘Looks a bit busy out there, mate.’

  ‘Oh fuck, you’ve got no idea.’ The stress was pounding off him. ‘These people want answers we can’t give them, they want help we can’t fuckin’ give them, and there’s no bastard in charge here.’ He ran a hand through his greying hair. ‘It’s all fucked mate, and all I wanna do is get home to Donna and the kids, but of course I can’t.’

  ‘Where’re all the bosses?’

  ‘Crisis meeting up at Manukau, trying to sort out what the hell we’re gunna do. In the meantime all the patrols are out and we’ve only got a skeleton staff here.’

  I heard a booming voice from the direction of the front counter. It was a voice I knew.

  ‘What’s that fuckwit doing here?’ I said.

  Steve rolled his eyes. ‘Lives in Patumahoe, doesn’t he? Thought he’d be better off down here for a while, he even took over someone else’s office.’

  The voice belonged to Superintendent Artie Darroch, AKA the Artful Dodger. He’d barely done a day’s policing in his life but rose through the ranks via support groups where he didn’t need any actual policing skills. He’d bullied and harassed so many people along the way that nobod
y wanted to work with him, and he’d ended up being given a made-up job at the district HQ at Manukau just to keep him out of the way.

  He was also the man in charge of my case and had taken great pleasure in making the whole experience as difficult as possible for me.

  ‘I’m ordering you all to leave the station immediately,’ he was shouting. ‘If you don’t leave on your own, you will be made to leave. Now go!’

  The people at the counter were clamouring for attention, shouting over each other, each voice adding to the level of tension and energy in the crowd. Even without seeing them I could tell this wasn’t going to end well.

  ‘I don’t know who he thinks is going to force them out,’ Steve muttered. ‘There’s only me and three others here, plus the two ladies at the front.’ He looked at me. ‘What’re you here for anyway?’

  ‘Information,’ I said. ‘There’s fuck-all coming over the radio and I want to know what’s actually going on.’

  Steve shook his head gravely. ‘It’s not good,’ he said.

  ‘No shit.’

  He jerked a thumb in the direction of the front counter. ‘No point asking that arsehole for any info.’ He frowned as a thought struck him. ‘Not wanting to be funny, but are you even allowed to be here? In a police station?’

  I shrugged. ‘As far as I know.’

  ‘What the hell is he doing here?’ bellowed a voice from up the hallway. We both turned to see Darroch poking his head around the doorway from the front counter area. He looked surprisingly unhappy to see me.

  ‘Pretty much the same as the rest of the civilians here, Dodger,’ I said, deliberately using the nickname he hated.

  ‘Get him the hell out of my station!’ Darroch shouted at Steve, before ducking back out of view again. The raised voices continued out the front and Steve shrugged apologetically.

  ‘So it’s his station now, I guess,’ he said with a tight grin.

  ‘Fuck ‘im,’ I said. ‘He couldn’t…’

  I was interrupted by shouting, Darroch and several other voices all going for it, accompanied by a female’s shriek.

  ‘Back off or I’ll shoot! I’ll shoot you! Armed Police!’ Darroch screeched.

  Steve and I both bolted for the front counter, and Steve raced through the doorway into the office area where Darroch and the two Watchouse ladies stood on our side of the counter. A couple of people were up on the counter itself, trying to clamber over the security wires there, and Darroch had a Glock trained on them. He was still screeching at them and they were still ignoring him. God only knew what he was doing with a gun but it was a terrible idea to have presented it right now.

  A couple more people reached across the counter and somebody grabbed one of the Watchouse ladies, Bev, by the arm and pulled her forward until she was half on top of the counter. Whoever that was started whaling on her and Steve leaped to her aid.

  Somebody in the crowd threw a bottle and it hit the wall near Darroch’s head, exploding fizzy drink everywhere.

  The Glock went off and one of the people trying to get over the wire barrier yelped and fell backwards as if they were crowd surfing. In all the confusion I couldn’t even tell if it was a male or a female.

  The crowd started to stampede, some going for the doors, others just crashing into each other. People were falling and getting trampled and in seconds someone had crashed through the glass exit doors, scattering glass everywhere.

  I stayed back out of the way, not wanting to be anywhere near Darroch and his shooter. It seemed that I had probably overstayed my welcome anyway, but there was no way I wanted to exit out the front with that crowd there.

  Steve had freed Bev from her attacker and was now trying to console her and her colleague, both of them crying and distressed. Darroch turned to me and I could see his eyes were out on stalks.

  ‘What’re you doing here?’ he shouted. ‘Get out! Get out now!’

  ‘Probably not your best decision,’ I remarked, not moving.

  ‘You saw them, they were savages! They were going to kill us!’

  That was a bit of a stretch from what I had seen, but I figured it was best not to argue with an idiot with a gun. I could see that the crowd had all gone now but I could still hear them out the front, shouting and screaming.

  Darroch turned on Steve, bellowing at him to secure the front doors. Steve left the women to do so and Darroch turned back to me.

  ‘What’s the rest of the plan?’ I asked.

  He glared at me. ‘It doesn’t concern you what the plan is,’ he snapped. ‘You’re a civilian now, so you can just get out of the station. This is a restricted area anyway.’

  He came towards me with the Glock in his hand. It was pointed towards the ground but I had seen how quickly he’d overreacted before, so I backed up.

  ‘You’ve got a big problem on your hands here mate,’ I told him. ‘Those people won’t stay away, whether you’ve got guns or not. If they want to get in here, they will.’

  ‘Not while I’m in command,’ Darroch replied, sounding like a B-movie actor. ‘Now move.’

  ‘Kind of ironic,’ I said, turning towards the side door I had entered earlier. ‘You shoot someone for climbing on the counter, and I’m the one who gets the boot for excessive force.’

  Darroch gave a snort. ‘Shut up and get out,’ he said, jabbing a finger at the door. ‘You’re nothing but a thug. You were a disgrace to the uniform right from the start.’

  My blood was boiling and I wanted nothing more than to wring his neck, but I kept myself in check. I didn’t care about proving him right or wrong, but I was certain that he would just shoot me if I attacked him.

  I put a hand on the door handle and paused. I could hear the crowd outside but they didn’t sound too close. Maybe I could slip away without being noticed.

  ‘Move it or I’ll arrest you,’ Darroch snapped.

  I pushed through the door. It was probably time to get home anyway. Hopefully the McMasters’ had arrived by now. It was obvious that I wasn’t going to get the information I sought.

  Emerging out into the air, all hope of slipping away disappeared immediately. The crowd had grown in numbers so there were maybe fifty or so people gathered in the driveway, a few of them tending to someone on the ground. I could see now that it was a man and he was bleeding from a wound to the shoulder.

  The scariest thing about this crowd was that most of them were just normal people. A few shitkickers were amongst them for good measure, but by far most of them could have been my neighbours or members of my family. It didn’t bode well.

  The crowd were riled up already, and the sight of me emerging was enough to spur a few into more shouting. The door banged shut behind me and I saw some of the bolder ones start to come forward. They were several metres away but their intent was pretty clear.

  ‘He’s one of them,’ somebody called out, ‘I saw him in there.’

  ‘Fuckin’ arsehole,’ somebody else shouted. ‘We only come to ask for help.’

  ‘Same here,’ I replied, ‘they kicked me out too.’

  Any hope of solidarity from these guys disappeared the moment I laid eyes on Stew Patten. He was a self-appointed community activist, the sort of dickhead that turned up to every protest or rally going, who wrote a constant stream of letters to the local paper, and who complained about every interaction with cops that he’d had in his miserable life. He was a scrawny little no-chest prick but he was vocal and a section of the community saw him as the little guy standing up against The Man.

  ‘He’s a cop,’ Patten called out, his eyes locked on mine. ‘I know him.’

  He certainly did. I’d once dragged him out of a protest against a visiting dignitary up in the city, managing to ruffle his thinning hair in the process, and spent the next two years being investigated for it.

  I shook my head and began to head past them, moving with purpose to dissuade any of them.

  A few more insults were thrown my way and I continued walking, nearly past them when
Patten spoke up again.

  ‘He’s one of them that shot Richie.’

  That was the final straw for the hotheads amongst them, and I was grabbed from behind as I broke into a run. I tried to pull free but there were several of them and someone got an arm around my throat, bending me over backwards and throwing me to the ground.

  They piled in on top and I was taking punches and kicks all over. All I could do was curl up and cover my head, hoping the cops would intervene before these pricks killed me.

  I took a decent boot to the back and someone began stomping my ribs and hip. I tried to roll away but got a boot in the guts for my efforts. I didn’t hear any shouts other than the guys above me hurling insults and egging each other on, but finally the stench of pepper spray reached my nostrils. I recognised it immediately and screwed my eyes shut, trying to hold my breath.

  The kicking and stomping stopped and I heard more cursing, accompanied by the odd thump of a baton against a body.

  I stayed where I was until hands rolled me over and I heard Steve’s voice.

  ‘Get up, get up. You’re okay.’

  My body was telling me otherwise but I let him help me up anyway. The crowd had broken up but was still there, a few on the ground either taken out by OC spray or the batons wielded by Steve and his uniformed colleagues, and I got the feeling this was just a temporary reprieve.

  Darroch appeared now that the action was over, and began directing the cops to arrest some of the stragglers that were close to hand. I didn’t see the point myself; surely he wanted them to clear off rather than hang around? Then his gaze fell on me.

  ‘And him,’ he called out, pointing at me.

  Steve looked back at him. ‘Are you sure?’

  Darroch’s face darkened. ‘Don’t question me, Constable! Arrest that man and get him inside with the others.’

  It crossed my mind that I should just run for it, knowing Steve wouldn’t put up much of a chase, but I could see that Darroch still had the Glock in his hand. I didn’t trust the bastard not to shoot me in the back.