31.
The quad bike was not very stable on broken ground. Lance held on tightly to the roll bar that looped over his head. Jo stopped to give him a rest. After all, he was only ten. Her arms were aching from the effort of holding the ATV on course, with the machine bouncing and juddering as it hit damaged parts of the road.
Jo arrived at the boggy swampy area through which they had made their escape. The road took them to the far side, away from the end of the pipe they had crawled through. This was the part that had received most damage from the earthquake, the part, as Richard had said, that generated liquefaction -dangerous liquid mud.
The ATV stopped suddenly, throwing Jo on to the handle bars and Lance over her head. He landed in thick grey stinking mud. Jo was not so lucky. The ATV's rear wheels lifted and flipped the vehicle over, with Jo trapped under it. The roll bar stopped her from being crushed but she was totally winded, gasping for air and in acute pain from her ribs. Upside down, she was disoriented, especially when a pair of skinny boy's legs came into her upside down view.
Lance lay on the ground and put his face close to hers.
"Switch off," he said, but his words came out so jumbled Jo could not understand. Lance began to get angry, shouting his words in Jo's ear: "Suuff oh." while hammering on the framework of the overturned ATV.
Jo realised the motor was still running. She could smell petrol from the fuel tank. She was very scared. The back wheels stopped turning as the motor died. She looked for Lance but he was no longer there. She called out but there was no answer. Jo tried to lift the bike as it pressed heavily upon her. Her strength was simply not enough.
Jo felt the mud closing in on her. It covered her feet first then her legs and then her waist. She knew it would soon cover her face.
Then Jo felt a piece of wood, a fence post, being pushed under the roll bar from the rear of the vehicle. The frame lifted a little.
Jo wriggled sideways. The framework came down on her again but she had moved several inches towards freedom. Again, the length of wood was lifted, giving Jo a little more wriggle room. Jo managed to get her head clear. On the next try, she freed her body, and then on the last effort by Lance, she got her legs free.
"Oh boy, that was close," said Jo. "You are very strong, Lance." Lance said nothing. He just stared into space as if he was watching a movie on some screen in the sky.
There was no way they were going to right the ATV. The mud held it in a tight grip, upside down. They sat with their backs against the ATV, exhausted. Jo looked at Lance who was covered in sticky grey mud. She began to laugh as she remembered the time earlier in the day when she had also been covered in grey slime. It seemed like days ago.
"Come on," said Jo. "We've got a job to do."
Lance sat unmoving, his eyes unfocussed. Jo took his hand and pulled him to his feet. He made no protest as they began to walk at right angles to the road, seeking a path across the boggy mess that had gripped their vehicle. Jo reasoned that they should climb higher up the slope to get above the swamp.
It didn't take long to find firmer footing. Jo led Lance above and parallel to the road they had been on. The swampy area was quite long. It took over twenty minutes before Jo thought that they could cross the swamp and resume their journey. Although the ground was soft and wet it did not grip their footwear. Holding Lance's hand, she walked across the soft ground until she came to firmer ground. She and Lance walked diagonally down to the road. Although buckled and bent, the road was whole and it was firm. If only they had the quad bike now!
The road was fenced on both sides and the white lines in the middle of the road showed up clearly. The young woman and the boy walked on until they came to a bridge.
It was gone. One beam was left, suspended on piles that had buckled and twisted, throwing off the heavy planks that had covered the roadway and which supported the tar sealing of the road. Only this narrow beam was left.
Jo stood at the approach to the bridge and looked down. The river was a long way down, but with care they could find their way down to the stream and wade across it. They would then have to find a way up the other side.
"Wait here," said Jo. "Mr Tricksy, tell Lance to wait here. Mr Tricksy, guard Lance."
Jo saw the dog react to the command to guard. She went on the alert, looking about her, with her ears pricked for any strange sound. Greg was the leader of her pack. Greg said to her every day. 'On guard. Look after Lance.' She was the pack mother, the next in line to Greg. Ashleigh fitted in after Lance. This was a strange human pup but Tricksy knew what to do. She sat on her haunches next to Lance and waited.
32.
Jo went over the bank, working her way slowly down the scarred earth. There were giant rocks to get over or around and slippery clay to move through. Finally, she reached the bottom. She was about six feet above the water. She thought she would jump but night had fallen and although the water's surface was shiny and clear and Jo could see what was around her, she could not see under the water's surface. She decided to slide down the remaining distance.
It did not go as she had imagined. She was on her stomach, lying feet first, with hands above her to grip on stones and vegetation when suddenly she began to gather speed. Her blouse flew up around her neck, stopping her from breathing. She tried desperately to slow her progress but was not able to. Her feet caught on something momentarily and Jo shot backwards into the stream.
The water broke her fall. The shock of the cold water took her breath away as she was carried downstream. She propelled herself with her arms and legs. The water was not deep, so she got her legs functioning properly and pushed the water backwards with her arms, a sort of breast stroke while walking. She reached the edge of the stream and stumbled on to dry land.
Sitting on the ground on the far bank of the stream, Jo cast about her, looking for Lance. He could move very fast when he wanted to, or move ever so slowly when he didn't. He really was an annoying little boy but she was strangely attracted to him, feeling that he was trying to communicate with her and that she was at fault for not understanding..
She looked where she thought she had left him but her view was obscured. She looked above and in front of her. Etched against the silver dusk sky she could see the remaining joist of the broken bridge. Sticking up from the long wooden timber Jo could see a little figure walking along as if the beam was three feet wide instead of six inches. Lance seemed to know no fear. He did not try to balance using his arms, or stare straight ahead. Instead he moved as if he was going for a stroll. Walking behind him slowly, one foot forward at a time was Tricksy.
Jo did not know what to do. If she called out she might make Lance fall. Her problem was solved by Lance turning to look down at her and waving. Jo waved back.
Her next task was to climb up to the roadway and hope that Lance would wait for her. It was dark by then. Although Jo could still see in the night, she stumbled and tripped and hurt her legs so much that they were both bleeding from a multitude of scratches.
Eventually she reached the road. She could see the river below and the blackness of the bank on the other side. The road she was on appeared to be twisted and full of lumps like an unmade bed but there were no crevasses.
"Lance?" she called. "Tricksy?"
There was no reply.
Jo tried again and again, knowing that even if Lance were only a few metres away, he would not answer.
"Bugger," she said, then heard her mother's voice in her head, reprimanding her. "I mean, blow."
There was no sign of Lance, nor of the dog. Jo walked back to the bridge. It looked even more intimidating from this side. Crossing the only remaining rail once was enough. Lance must have gone down the road towards the small township where he went to school. If Jo hurried she would catch up with him before he got to Te Kouka.
Jo was running out of energy. She had been trapped in the car earlier in the day. That had been exhausting. Then there had been the walk to the farm, Te Kouka Flats Farm and all the walking
and chores she had done. Then there was the fear that Mr Zinsli would try to harm them.
She had to get help but she had to rest first. She found long grass at the side of the road, crushed some down to make a bed, then curled up like a kitten to rest. The sun had set but the evening was warm. Jo felt drowsy; her eyes were heavy. She closed them to give them a rest. After a few minutes she fell asleep.
33.
Lance had not walked towards the village. He knew the village meant going to school. But it was getting dark soon so there would be nobody at the school because everyone went home after three o'clock. He had not realised that school was closed for the holidays because 'closed' was not a concept he understood for schools. One closed a gate, and closed the door, and a box but 'close' did not apply to a school. Jo had gone off and left him. There were animals to be fed. Lance looked at the bridge. It was easy for him but he knew Tricksy could easily fall. If Lance went across again, Tricksy would follow him. It would be better for Tricksy to cross the stream. Tricksy was good at that.
In many ways, Lance's brain worked differently to other people. He understood Tricksy and Tricksy understood Lance. He knew how he would get Tricksy across the river. Dogs did not use narrow pieces of wood, they walked and swam and jumped. Although Lance had difficulty bonding with people, he had bonded with Tricksy and as a result, he was beginning to bond with people who were significant in his life.
Tricksy just wanted to get Lance home. That's where 'safety' was. That was her job: 'Guard Lance'. If Lance went back across the bridge she would follow him but it would be better to show Lance that Jo's way was safer. "Come, Tricksy," she heard him say.
Tricksy set off in front of Lance, leading him to the opposite side of the bridge from the side Jo had taken, upstream instead of down, because Tricksy knew the current would carry her downstream. She might even meet Jo. Tricksy sniffed the air but could not locate Jo. Tricksy would have to get Lance back on the farm side on her own.
Down the bank beside the broken bridge she went with Lance following. Instead of going straight down, Tricksy scrambled across and down. The footing was slippery in places because the earth had broken open, like a ploughed field. Tricksy followed a furrow down the slope. Her four legs were useful in going like this. She wished Lance would hold the fur at the nape of her neck as he had done when he was younger. By using a crack in the land, the dog and the boy descended steadily until they reached the river. The furrow ended at a sheer drop fifteen feet above the water. Tricksy stared at the river. How could she get Lance down to the water?
Suddenly Lance slipped and fell. He was on his back, sliding past Tricksy. He grabbed desperately at the dog's front leg, missed and fell straight down into the water below. As Lance fell, Tricksy leapt after him, sailing through the air then crashing into the water below.
The stream was not deep. As Tricksy hit the bottom, her legs began to paddle her to the surface. Sometimes at the farm, in the pond, Greg had played a game with her, throwing her in the air and laughing as she came to the surface.
Then Greg taught her to walk or swim between Lance and the deeper part of the pond. Greg had put Lance's hand on Tricksy's ruff when he needed support. At first Lance was unthinking, screwing up his fist so tightly that it pulled at Tricksy's fur and hurt her.
Later Greg threw Lance in the air for the dog to chase Lance in a serious game of 'Fetch'. Lance loved the game. Greg was pleased with Tricksy. If Greg was pleased, Tricksy felt an inner pleasure, and a warmth at the trust Greg put in her.
Now her training took over. It was the 'Fetch' game with no Greg. Tricksy paddled frantically downstream. She knew about currents and let them lead her to the boy. With water in her nose she had temporarily lost her main means for 'finding.' She swivelled her ears as she heard a splash, the turned her head to see Lance thrashing the water ahead and off towards the centre of the stream. Greg would be able to stand up but neither Tricksy nor Lance could.
Greg felt Tricksy's furry body push against him. He grabbed hold of the ruff of hair around her neck. Tricksy paddled her legs and feet and pushed the boy sideways, out of the current and into the far bank. As they emerged from the water, Tricksy shook herself, throwing off the chilling water. She realised that Lance did not have fur and could not shake. She pushed against his body to warm him.
They had drifted in the current to a point just above where the bridge had fallen. There was a tangled mass of timbers holding back the water. Had they been caught up in the wreckage they might not have been able to escape from it. There was something like a path, a trail of harder trodden down earth, leading under the bridge. Lance was in 'mechanical mode' where he just kept going as if he was some mechanical toy. Tricksy knew she had to keep him moving. She knew that humans wore clothing for warmth and got cold very quickly when their bodies were wet or naked. She also knew instinctively to return home.
They came to where Jo had climbed down. Tricksy could smell her scent. She looked up to the place where Jo had fallen, then turned and found her way up the bank. The going was much easier when Tricksy reached where Jo had made a track. She followed it, with Lance holding her tail as he had when young. He was not young now and her tail hurt.
At the top of the bank Lance let Tricksy's tail go. He knew Tricksy was taking him home. He felt neither hot nor cold but was old enough to know that just like new born lambs, humans died if they were wet and cold so he plodded on after Tricksy, who was leading her boy puppy back to the farm house.
PART SIX: DEATH
34.
In Grantville on Monday, Philip was not a happy man. Things were happening too fast. He had to get the sequence of events right or he would be discovered. In the early hours of Monday morning Philip had managed to get both Greg and Ashleigh out of the house. They had been engaged so intensely in fighting the small fire that Philip had lit, he had been able to overcome them.
His plan had been to subdue them one by one then inject them with diazepam, as he had done to patients many times when working with Mental Health Services. He had planned to drag the bodies into the cottage then light up the fire so that they burned beyond recognition. He had been thwarted by a dog, of all things.
The German Shepherd had launched itself at him, hitting him fully on the chest and knocking him over as Philip pulled on Greg's legs. Every time he had tried to pull Greg into the cottage the dog had attacked him, getting between Philip and Greg, and slowly driving Philip backwards. The dog had been ferocious. Philip realised it would defend Greg to its death.
Philip knew dogs and how they thought. He knew the dog was defending its master from danger so he had pulled the woman towards the pick-up truck. The dog had watched, with hair bristling, ready to attack. The dog had followed the woman's body to the pick-up truck, where Philip heaved her body on to the tray. One down.
The dog had backed away as Philip went back for Greg. It seemed to understand that the truck meant 'help'. The dog had shadowed Philip as he pulled Greg's body away from the smouldering embers to the pick-up. As Philip had lifted Greg's body, the dog had launched at him, snarling and gripping his leg with its teeth. Greg's limp body had thumped down on the tray of the truck. Two down.
Philip had been angry. His leg had hurt. He was determined to shoot the dog with the rifle he carried in the pick-up. He had reached behind the back of the bench seat and drawn it out but when he turned round, the dog had gone.
Philip had thought of a way to get the boy to show himself. He had walked to the kennels and shot all three dogs. The dogs were chained. It was easy and it was noisy. That should have brought the boy.
It hadn't. Philip had waited but there was no sign of the boy. He had then searched around the house and outside the hen run. Philip had realised that it really didn't matter. Lance was helpless. He was autistic. He couldn't use the phone, he couldn't drive a truck. He would still be there in the morning. He couldn't tell anyone what had happened.
Philip had driven to his home and put the two limp bodies in
the portable freezer truck. This was a big unit with a freezer rather than a chiller mounted on its tray. Philip used it to freeze farm kills. 'Greg and Ashleigh are farm kills', he had chuckled as he connected the power supply to the freezer truck, turned the setting to as cold as it would go then padlocked the back doors of the truck.
His new plan had been to take Greg and Ashleigh back to Greg's house after going to Grantville. They should be deep frozen by then, dead with no signs of violence. He would catch the boy and then set fire to the house by placing an electric radiant heater in front of furniture. But first he had to go to Grantville to get Sally's will accepted by Sally's lawyer.
It was five o'clock in the morning before he finished up. He had no time to feed the dogs he was leaving behind. He threw some biscuits at the dogs on the back of the pick-up truck.
"Trust Sally to go the most difficult way about things," he thought as he approached Grantville. He had to wait until seven thirty before he could ask two friends, John Hopgood and Cyril the Squirrel, to witness Sally's will, and for Cyril the Squirrel to sell him some druggie stuff to make it look like they had been high following a drug session. Philip delivered parcels for John as he did his own delivery rounds. Philip did not use drugs and never asked what was in Hopgood's packages. The friends did not ask what the stuff was for but complained bitterly at being so rudely awakened.
Philip hoped that he did not get stopped by the police for any reason because they might find what he had purchased and conclude that he was a user or a courier. Philip did not want that.
Philip had time to fill. He drove down to the river and let the dogs romp. Such a holiday was unusual for them and they made the most of it. At nine o'clock Philip was at Sally's lawyer's office. The receptionist asked him to wait.
Farm Kill Page 17