by John Marsden
I was shivering badly by three o'clock. But this time it was definitely from cold more than anything else. I was genuinely keen for Fi to get the truck rolling; unusual for me. I normally was in no hurry to risk my life.
Three o'clock ticked slowly past. "Hurry up Fi," I cursed. I was afraid I was going to start getting cramps. Five past three and the road was as quiet as a hayshed. Ten past three, and nothing. I couldn't believe it. I wondered how long I should wait before giving up. We hadn't worked that out. New sentries, fresh, wide-awake sentries, came on at four o'clock, and I wanted to be well gone by then. At 3.15 I stood slowly, hearing the little clicks in my knees, feeling the strain in my hammies. I'd decided 3.20 would be my deadline and at 3.24 I acted on that, beginning a retreat that was almost as slow as my arrival. By the time I got to the back wall it was 3.40. I paused in the compost pit for a few seconds, wondering if I was doing the right thing, then scrambled over the wall and set off at a jog for the music teacher's house.
Homer was already there, in a frenzy of worry. "What the hell do you think's happened?" he kept asking. "What do you think?"
"I don't know," I kept answering, very helpfully.
"Do you think anyone would go straight to Mrs Alexander's?"
"Not without their swags."
Just after four Robyn arrived. "Nothing, no sign of anyone," she reported.
At 4.30 came Lee, and at last, at 4.45, came Fi. She was distraught. "The truck was locked!" she blurted out as soon as she saw us. "It was locked!"
I laughed. There was nothing else to do. Such a simple thing, and we'd never thought of it. I hadn't seen anyone lock it during the day, but I hadn't been watching especially.
"I couldn't think!" Fi sobbed. "I couldn't smash the window because of the noise. I kept waiting for one of you to come, but nobody did."
We were all exhausted, probably emotionally as well as physically. When I said we had to keep watch from the church for another day I got no support at all.
"Oh no," Fi groaned. "It's too much."
"We've done enough for one night," Robyn agreed.
"Do it yourself," Lee snapped. "I'm going to bed."
"All right, I will."
I was sure it was important. They watched sullenly as I got my gear together. No one said a word as I left the house. But I could hear them through the window, starting to argue about who'd do the first sentry duty. I pushed the window up and put my head in, to get the last word.
"Keep it to a whisper, guys. Sound travels a long way at night."
I knew it'd be a lonely day in the tower of St John's, but I didn't mind. I had a sleep for an hour or so when I got there, which left me feeling stiff and sore, but when I'd recovered I spent the day just watching and thinking. Not a lot happened in the street. The truck was moved down to the next house and had a baby grand piano loaded on it, and then to the next, where it collected a couple of rugs and a dresser. By then it was too far down the hill to give us any hope of trying to stampede it again. We had to come up with a better idea.
I saw Major Harvey emerge from his house at 9.30. The Range Rover had arrived and was waiting for him. He got in the back of the car, on his own except for the driver, and the Range Rover U-turned again and drove away. I wondered if he was going to the Showground. Maybe it was my parents he'd be interrogating today.
When he returned, just after four, he got out of the car and went into the house, but this time the driver got out too, and went to another house, leaving the Range Rover parked in the street. It was still there when I gave up and stole back through the darkness alone, at about ten o'clock. But by then my knowledge of the sentries' habits, and the smell of cooking food which had been making me drool all evening, had given me an idea. That time spent crouched behind the house in the cold early morning hadn't been wasted.
The others fussed over me when I got back. I think they were feeling guilty. I was so tired that I accepted it without protest. And when I told them my idea they accepted it, almost straightaway. It was like the previous night: we were desperate for something that would work and so were clutching at any old straw.
What I wanted was to cause an explosion that would rattle windows in Los Angeles, that would make the San Andreas Fault seem like a minor mistake. My idea was based on the memory of our gas heater in the TV room at home. There was one thing I'd learnt in infancy about that heater — if you turned the gas on and it didn't ignite straightaway, you had to get it off again fast. If you waited a few seconds, then lit another match, you'd nearly lose your face. It was amazing how fast the gas poured out.
If that could happen so fast, what would be the effect of leaving on three or four heaters, full bore, for thirty minutes? And then striking a match? A huge, huge bang, that's what.
So that was the main part of the plan. But Homer and I made them go through everything carefully and closely. One thing had made me nervous during our failed raid and that was the feeling that we hadn't spent the time planning that we normally did. We'd left too much to chance.
So this time we worked out careful timetables, based on our succeeding or our failing. And we decided to collect five bikes and take them with us, so we could get to Mrs Alexander's garage faster if necessary. That left us with just one problem to solve. I'd known all along it would be our biggest one. The problem was the fuse. I'd suggested laying a trail of inflammable liquid, like we'd done when we'd destroyed the bridge with the petrol tanker, but I'd always known that was the weakest part of the plan. And sure enough, the others ruled it out straightaway.
"The sentries'd smell it," Homer said. "We've already got one risk with smell, although they should have their windows shut on these cold nights. But we don't need another risk."
Lee solved the problem. He'd been sitting in silence for half an hour but he suddenly leapt to his feet, giving me a shock. He didn't actually yell "Eureka," but we got the general idea. "Go into any houses you can find open," he commanded, "and bring back toasters. And electric timers. Don't come back till you've got one each. And don't ask questions. There isn't time. We can still do this tonight if we hurry."
"And while we're at it, get the bikes too," Homer said, as we stirred our tired bodies into life. I'd lost track of the last time I'd had a proper sleep but I was operating on autopilot now.
I went with Fi. We were moving a little more confidently around the town. There were two other areas, apart from Snob Hill and the shopping centre in Barker Street, that were lit each night. We assumed people were living there and we kept away from them. But the rest of the town, the dark streets and silent houses, seemed to be left alone these days. We never saw patrols in them. It seemed like the soldiers were confident that they had Wirrawee under control. They'd probably caught everyone except us.
"Well," I thought grimly, "if we do what we want to do tonight, we won't be safe in Wirrawee for a long time."
Fi and I got into four houses, getting four toasters easily enough, but having trouble with the timers. But in the last house we struck a jackpot. There were timers in almost every room, each controlling a radiator. Seemed like a very organised person lived there.
By two o'clock we were back at the house, each with our little collections and each wheeling a bicycle. Robyn had a pump, which we all needed, as most of the tyres were quite flat. Lee hadn't been able to find a timer, so Fi and I solved that problem for him. But Lee did have a pair of pliers, and with those he gave a demonstration of what he wanted us to do. It was very simple and very clever and had a very good chance of success.
When we were satisfied with his plan he used his pliers to cut the filament in each toaster and made us practise setting the timers. By then it was three o'clock and time to go. We set our timers, quickly repacked our swags and saddled ourselves with them. We were taking them with us this time, so we could make faster escapes.
We'd chosen the same houses as the previous night. I had Fi's neighbours,' Robyn had the next one, which we thought was also being used as offices, then L
ee took the next—Dr Burgess's house—which was obviously the main headquarters. Opposite that was a big new brick house where a lot of officers slept, and Homer had chosen that. Now that Fi didn't have to take a truck out of gear she was free to attack a house too. She bravely offered to do her own but we talked her into going to the one at the top of the hill, which seemed to be more heavily used. Of course there was every chance that hers was going to be damaged by the blast,' as she knew.
I followed the same course as the previous night, climbing the brick fence and trekking through the compost pit. I was clutching my toaster; a timer was making a bulge in one pocket, and a torch in the other. We had to be in our positions by four o'clock, so again I had enough time to be able to move slowly and carefully. But I guess I was sick of being so careful, so disciplined all the time. After taking five minutes to move six steps I finally lost my cool and moved ten metres in one rush, to hide behind a lemon tree. I thought by doing so much it'd make the rest of the trek less monotonous. But it nearly killed me. I was just about to leave the tree and take my next step when I heard a snap of wood. It sounded horribly like the tread of a human foot. I hesitated, then crouched and waited. Sure enough a moment later a beam of light shone across the garden. It traversed the plants in deadly silence. I crouched even lower, scrunching up my eyes, waiting for bullets to come tearing into me. Do you hear the bullets before you die? I wondered. Or does it all happen so fast that you feel them and die without even hearing the noise? I forced myself to open my eyes and twist my head slightly, to take a little look. I half expected that the sentry would be there, looking down at me, with rifle poised. But there was only the torch beam, continuing to explore, at this moment quite a way from me and shining on a rose bush. Then it was turned off. I realised straightaway what a stupid position I'd put myself in by my impatience. If I moved any time between now and four o'clock I risked being heard. If I didn't move I'd left mvself quite a distance to get to the house when four o'clock came. Time was going to be tight enough anyway. I thought about it for ten minutes and decided on a compromise. I'd move to a position where I could see the sentry, and then decide my tactics.
I moved with excruciating care. With excruciating pain too, after being curled up like a frightened guinea pig for so long. I nearly got the giggles when I wondered how I'd explain the toaster if I were caught. "I had a sudden craving for toast, and I was looking for a power point." I kept shuffling along, taking little sneak looks every step or so, until at last I could see the sentry. He or she—it was too dark to tell—seemed to be facing out into the garden still, as though watching and listening. Just my luck to get one of the efficient ones. I tried to get a look at my watch but it was too dark here to tell the time.
We had arranged everything for the sentry change at four o'clock and now I didn't know how close four o'clock was. My only hope was that I'd hear the new sentries arriving out the front, for the changeover. There was quite a little ceremony that took place for the changing of the guard. I'd watched it so often now that I knew the script. The new ones marched up the street to the Burgess house and halted there. Then the person in charge blew a whistle and the different sentries emerged from their positions, made their reports, formed a line and marched off to their quarters, while the new ones split up to go to their different posts. It only took a few minutes, but it was those few minutes we depended on.
I thought that if the sentry could hear the whistle then I should too, so I stayed frozen where I was and waited. I thought that I'd be there for ages but after only ten minutes I heard the scrunch of marching feet from the road. The sentry heard it as well, and suddenly lost her attentive attitude and walked off to the corner of the house. She paused there, waiting for the whistle. You could tell she wasn't allowed into the street until she heard it, but she was hanging out for the signal. I'd guess that every house had a guard poised at its back corner, waiting for the moment of freedom. Four hours of boring duty in the middle of the night would have that effect.
I heard the distant trilling of the whistle, and the sentry was gone, without a backward glance. I didn't have time for any more caution. I stood straightaway and walked quickly to the back door. These sentries were going to be in a heap of trouble tomorrow, if they survived. My biggest fear now was the door itself. If doors were locked we'd agreed to use our discretion: either to give up, or to wrap a hand in our jumpers and punch a pane of glass out. But Fi was sure they wouldn't be locked. Her theory was that most of the people who lived in Turner Street were so security-conscious that they'd all have deadlocks, like on her house. For the soldiers to get into these houses in the first place, they'd have had to break in. That meant, that unless the doors had been repaired, they'd still be unlocked—and unlockable.
It was a very logical theory and for once logic worked. When I turned the handle of the door and pushed, the whole door nearly fell off. It had been smashed open, then stood up again and propped against the doorframe. "Onya Fi!" I grinned, hoping the others were going as well as me. It was so dark that I had to use the torch; I fished it out and put my hand over its lens and switched it on. In the dim pinkish light I saw a row of boots and knew I was standing in the back porch. It was just the way Fi had described it.
I moved fast, straight through to the kitchen. With a tiny thin ray of torchlight I found the stove. One glance was enough to make me feel sick. It was electric. That meant I'd have to search further, take longer. I hurried through into the dining room, sweat starting to rush out of my pores. Here I found what I wanted: a gas heater. I turned it full on, and jammed the timer and toaster into a power point, throwing the switch on. I'd set the timer to an approximate time, as we all had, in case we were too rushed to fine-tune them. Now, I didn't know if I had time or not, but I was too scared to think about it, and to be honest, too scared to care. But I did check the broken filament in the toaster: if the two broken ends weren't close enough together there'd be no spark and all this would have been for nothing. Gas was gushing into the room and I was trying not to breathe it in. The smell was terrible. It was frightening how quickly the gas rushed out. I moved the ends of the filament a little closer together, put it down gently, and ran into the sitting room. Another heater here, good. Turn it on. Is there time to check the rumpus room? And the study? Yes. Well, one anyway. The rumpus room. Into there on fast feet, and another quick search with the covered torch. And yes, lucky lucky, a third heater. I switched it on and scrambled for the back door, desperate to get away, full of desperate fear that the new guard would be in position. I could smell the gas even at the back door. I couldn't believe how it was spreading. I got to the door and took a quick peek out. I couldn't afford to take any more time, to show any more caution. I propped the door up again behind me and scurried for cover. Scrunch, scrunch, scrunch. That was the sentry's boots on the gravel, coming around the side of the house. I dived like a footballer, landing under a bush with tiny leaves and tiny flowers, but banging my knee on a rock as I did. Oh, that poor knee. Every time I hit anything it seemed to be with that knee I stuffed my fist in my mouth in agony and lay there with tears smarting my eyes. At the same time I couldn't help noticing how sweet and fragrant the bush smelt. It seems crazy to have been aware of that, but I was.
I let myself have a few seconds under the bush, but I knew I had to move. With the rough job I'd done on the timer, the whole place could go up much earlier than I'd planned. I crawled out from my cover and began another interminably slow hike through the garden to the back wall. I gave myself ten minutes, but I was terrified there'd be an explosion before that. Sweat was streaming down my face, as though I'd run five k's. I kept picturing the timer suddenly throwing its switch on, the rush of electricity into the toaster, the sparks flying from the end of one broken wire to the other, the gas erupting in a sudden huge blast...
At the compost pit I ignored my knee and hauled myself over the wall, then did a kind of limping run down the lane. I went straight to the bikes and with wild joy saw Fi, holding
a bike with each hand.
"What are you doing?" I hissed. "It's too dangerous to wait here." But I grinned at her.
"I know," she said. "But I couldn't bear to go off on my own." And I saw her perfect white teeth gleam back at me from her grubby face.
I grabbed the bike and without another word we pushed off. As we did I heard running feet behind me. I looked round, startled, but hopeful. It was Lee, panting hard.
"Let's get out of here," he said.
"Good line for a movie," I whispered. He gave me a puzzled glance, then remembered, flashed me a smile, and took off. Inside a second he was five metres ahead of me. Fi and I had to pedal hard to catch up.
It took us ages to get to Mrs Alexander's. We had to go such a roundabout way, and most of it was uphill. But as we were finally dismounting outside her garage, the hill opposite seemed to catch fire. I've never seen a volcano, but I imagine that's what it'd be like. There was a kind of "whoosh" and flames shot into the air like a Roman candle. A moment later a thunderclap of sound hit us. At exactly the same time there were two more eruptions. We couldn't exactly see the houses but I saw the roof of one lift into the air and disintegrate, and the next moment all the trees around them caught fire and were blazing fiercely.
"Golly gosh," Fi said, gazing in awe. That was about the strongest expression she ever used.
The roar of the fire was so loud we could hear it from our possie. A wind of energy from the explosion suddenly came through the garden like a wall, bending trees and plants over and buffeting us. Small dark shapes blipped past me. They seemed to come from nowhere: birds fleeing from the blast. The whole of one side of Wirrawee was gradually being lit up. There was a hellish red glow in the sky; I could almost smell the burning.