by Millen, Dawn
Chapter 7
My quiet writing time is suddenly shattered by the sounds of an alarm from the landward tower. Ernie is banging on the metal "bell" and calling out to warn of the presence of strangers on the flood plain. "Raiders! Raiders! Coming fast across by the creek at Skittlers Bend." His voice bellows out over the village.
People start to run, picking up the small children and heading towards the school house, skirting the unfinished shelter. The elderly who are able are herding small children in front of them and the middle aged are pushing those in wheelchairs and aiding those who are unstable on their feet. The column quickly vanishes into the school house and the doors are closed. I hear the large metal bar on the inside of the door slam shut and turn away towards those who are able to fight.
Quickly we sort out who is to be stationed on what part of the wall and everyone quickly takes up their positions. Weapons are checked and all eyes turn to the watch tower and Ernie.
"What is happening out there?" I call out towards the tower.
"They are still headed in towards the village, two motorbikes, two 4 x 4 utes and a bloody Rolls Royce." Ernie s voice is rising with surprise as he identifies the last vehicle. "I can see our boys moving in towards the creek bend now and setting up in the ambush site. Gavin and Steve are both there."
"Thanks Ernie. Glad to know the boys have already spotted the problem and are coming across. I can’t believe that someone is driving a Roller out here. The roads are past taking one of those." I bellow back. "Keep us informed as the situation unfolds please."
"No worries, Jenn." Will keep an eye out and let you know what is happening."
"Okay, guys check your weapons and make sure that you have everything you need now. If this thing kicks off you won’t have time to go looking for what ever it is you don’t have now." I start the drill quickly and check my own bow and double check that I have plenty of arrows in my quiver. My pistol is in the holster on my hip and I pull it out and check that it is loaded and the safety is on. Grabbing a clay bottle of water I head towards the gate area.
"All ready here." Raymond calls out as he checks the people closest to him on his section of the wall.
"Everything right here." Paul’s voice comes from the seaward wall.
"Bonza here mate." Denis calls from the back of the cottages.
"Okay folks, eyes peeled and stay aware. I want to know the second you spot anything." I bellow again my voice echoing off the buildings and around the village.
Calls of "Roger that" come from all corners of the village and there is a rustling as everyone turns towards their posts and takes up their firing positions.
I hear the grating of wooden wheels and turn around to see Raymond and his boys pushing the trebucket out of the workshop. The bucket is down and trailing behind them is Kyle pushing a wheelbarrow full of large rocks. Once in position and anchored down rocks are used to fill the bucket and the chain is placed around the stem attached to the bucket. The chain is run back to the windlass and a loud creaking is heard as Raymond and the boys start to turn the handle to pull the bucket back over the top of the machine ready to launch the missiles. Once the trebucket is ready Raymond turns towards me and with a distorted grin on his face nods and turns back to the machine to take hold of the lever that will release the mechanism and launch the rocks.
With everything ready and prepared all I can do is turn back to the wall and start watching the path to the gate. Nothing is moving out on the path at the moment, but the ruins of the old houses that were demolished by the quakes and tsunami’s a year ago are great hiding places. Eyes squinted against the sun I continue to watch for movements that will give away the approach of a person or people. The quiet in the village aids the watchers as we can use both our eyes and our ears as the rubble is unstable and it is difficult to pass though the area without rattling something.
Things are quiet, too quiet. The birds are silent as we stand in the hot sun and watch. Eyes scanning the rubble piles and pathways over and over again. On the other side of the hill they will be scanning the bushland. Watching the shadows and making sure that they are not moving people. The stillness of a windless day will assist in that chore as the trees and bushes are still and movement will only be from humans or animals.
A gentle tap on my shoulder almost catapults me over the walls. Sandra has come along the line with a bucket of water and is refilling the clay water jars. The sound of trickling cool water immediately makes my mouth water and I raise the jar to my lips and sip slowly. My eyes never leave the area I am responsible for watching though. Sandra’s footsteps move on to the next watcher and again I hear the trickle of water as she fills the water jar.
From the corner of my eye I see a flicker of movement down by the creek at the base of the path to the gate. I stand taller and look towards where that flicker of movement came from. My ears pick up the sound of gunfire out on the river flats and the sounds of men shouting and dogs barking drifts on the still air. My eyes do not stray from that area , instead I crane my neck and peer through slitted eyes at the areas around where I saw the movement. Again I see a flicker of movement I whisper to Thomas on my right.
"Down by the bottom of the path, the old blue house, I can see movement. Get ready and pass it on."
I hear the hushed rumble as Thomas passes the words on to the person on his right. Movement again and this time I see a faded red shirt moving around in the shell of the house. The windows shattered by the quake and tsunami have given him no cover. I can track his movements now, as the internal walls are down and his shirt is like a beacon as he moves around. It is not one of the villagers caught in the drama and hiding out, it is unfamiliar and disturbing. The small hairs prickle on my arms as I reach over my shoulder and into the fletchings of the arrows in my quiver. Knocking an arrow I pull back on the bow string and wait. Sighting down the arrow to the area I suspect he will appear next I stand and wait.
"More there in the rubble ." Thomas’ whisper seems loud against the sudden quiet as the battle on the plain goes into a lull.
"Okay, your shot if you get a clear one. Just make sure that it is not one of our villagers and then go for it." I tell Thomas.
I hear the slight creak of his bow as he pulls back the string and then silence. My eyes are fixed on the area where I am waiting for red shirt to appear and have to trust that Thomas and the others are ready. This two pronged attack is just the reason why we are all prepared and armed in the village as well as out on the river flats.
There, the first in a row of three windows. The red shirt is like a beacon. I still my breath and tighten my pull on the bow string. Now, as he appears in the second window I release the string and my breath. The slight thrumming in the air marks the flight of the arrow as it flies straight and true. I hear the groan and see the fall of red shirt. There is a slight twang from my right and the thrumming sound is in the air again. I watch the flight of the arrow that Thomas has released and see it hit its mark in the chest of a man running across the space between two piles of rubble. Then another twang and thrumming as another arrow makes its almost silent way down the hill. Another hit and a body falls in the rubble. More arrows start to pour down the hill towards the rubble piles. I turn quickly to check the other side of the compound and see Raymond readying his hands on the lever of the trebucket. There are arrows flying from all around the inner walls of the village as we defend our home. This is the biggest gang to have tried to attack us so far and we are readier than they thought as is apparent from the number of hits we are getting on the men sneaking up the hill.
Gunfire is still rattling from the bend in the creek where Steve and Gavin have set up their ambush. Ernie shouts down to say that both the men are fine and that they have disabled the motorbikes and the 4 x 4, the Rolls Royce though is still coming up the road.
"Thanks Ernie." I call.
"He won’t get as far as the village," Raymond says, "he has no chance against this thing. I’ll dent crap out of the blo
ody Roller and fix it later. Always wanted a bloody Roller anyway."
I give the thumbs up sign and then turn back to my position again and soon have a target lined up in my sights. These blokes must have come across land as there are quite a few of them and we are still picking them off as they scamper through the rubble. Fewer movements are now being detected on the slope below us now as the arrows do their silent work.
The sound of a motor purring up the old road is getting louder as the Rolls Royce approaches the edge of the rubble area. Peering over the wall I see the silver car accelerating as it starts the climb. It is approaching the first of the markers Raymond has placed on the side of the road. The discreet blue rocks are placed to mark range points along the road. I hear the sound of the chain rumbling on the trebucket as the lever is released and the whir of the cogs as the long arm lifts its heavy load to the apex where the rocks start to fly from the bucket. The air whistles with the sound of rocks passing over head and I flinch and almost duck as they pass me. Impact! The sound of crumpling metal is louder than the motor and I watch as the vehicle comes to a stop and the doors open.
Pulling an arrow from the quiver I again knock my bow and stand ready. Out of the car tumble five men, pulling pistols from their sides they stagger from the wreckage and start to spread out over the hill.
"Mark your targets boys and girls. Make sure that you hit em fair and square." I instruct the people around me as I pull back the bow. "The blonde in the tartan shirt is mine."
"I’ve got the redhead in the blue." I hear from my left.
"Dark hair in the green." Thomas says quietly.
"Guy in the brown shirt." Raymond’s voice is grim and quiet.
"One in the black is mine." Kyles voice.
"On my count..... One, two, three. Release." I say and then hear the twangs and thrums as the arrows fly across the open space towards their targets.
The sound of falling bodies comes back to us on the still air and then silence. Not one person in the raiding party is left standing.
"Gavin and Steve are on their way up the hill now. They have injured in tow too. Not ours, theirs." Ernie bellows down from the tower. Jubilation in his voice.
"Someone go get Helen and the nurses please." I ask quietly and scan the group standing just inside the gate.
"Rhys, Paul, Raymond and Denis come with me please. Time to check the rubble and don’t forget to keep your pistols in your hands and your eyes open." Instructions given, I gulp down a couple of mouthfuls of water and head towards the gate. Thomas pulls it open and the group passes through. I hear the sound of the gate closing behind us and the bar being put back into place. It will be opened again when we have scoured the rubble and when Gavin and Steve return from the river flats with their injured prisoners.
Chapter 8
Although it is May it is quite warm today and the winter sun is harsh as the day progresses and the sun drops lower on the horizon. The glare is in my eyes as I head down the hill and walk towards the bodies scattered around the bent and battered Rolls Royce. There is still movement there as the man in the black shirt struggles to stand. His pistol is in his hand and his eyes are glazed with pain and anger. Pointing it towards Raymond he starts to pull back on the trigger. That finger never completes the movement though as Paul has already pulled back on the trigger of his pistol and the man in the black shirt drops in his tracks. A neat round hole in his forehead telling its own tale.
There is no more movement and we approach and swiftly remove weapons and check for signs of life. Paul stands guard as the rest of the party search. We are not taking chances of another one rising with a gun in his or her hand. Yes, the blonde that I shot was a woman, dressed in mens’ clothing and from a distance it was difficult to tell. I’m shocked that women are now becoming part of the raiding parties and in this case she looked to be the leader. She is dead and so are the other three men from the car. Black shirt was the only survivor and he is now dead because he tried to keep the fight going. By not putting down his gun he caused his own death.
We start searching through the rubble carefully looking at each person we come across and gathering up their weapons and ammunition in the process. Two are still alive, one barely, on the front side of the hill. What were once homes and streets are searched and the rubble combed to ensure that no one is left unfound. Once this side of the hill is completed we perform the same search on the other sides and find two more survivors. Both are injured, one severely and one lightly. The injured are made comfortable, stripped of their weapons and told that we will return for them shortly. One of the injured is a woman. Her wounds are light and she is afraid. Her bruised and emaciated body tells its own tale as she sits and cries in among the trees. She is able to walk and she is to accompany us as we complete the search.
Once the search is completed we return and assist the wounded back up the hill and into the village. Gavin and Steve have arrived with their wounded and the hospital tent has already been erected in the large grassed area in the centre of the village. The wounded are taken there and Helen takes over their care, but Paul and Raymond stand guard armed with pistols and cudgels to ensure that Doctor Helen and her nurses are safe.
The woman, Patsy, is quickly treated and is soon taken into our care and custody. Gavin, Steve and I take her to our cottage and are soon sitting down with a cup of our dwindling coffee supplies and Patsy is telling us her story.
"I’m from Penrith in Sydney and I’ve been with that mob since just after the first earthquake. My husband was running with them before the quakes and he was a right bastard. Used to beat me all the time and when he was killed a few months ago Maggs, (she was the boss), handed me on to Tim and he was just as bad as Gerry. Hidings all the time. I don’t think there was a day when I wasn’t beaten, raped or bashed by one or another of that gang." Patsy’s voice is soft and the tears are flowing down her face as she tells her story.
We’ve been attacking settlements for months now. Maggs wanted to get everything she could lay her hands on. Guns, food, women and anything else that she could find. We only ever took on the small places and more often than not we got what we were after. As long as Maggs got her guns, food and a man, the men could have the women that they caught. Me, I was passed around more often than not if there were not enough women and girls taken that day." Patsy’s sobbing increased to a point where understanding her was becoming difficult and Steve called a halt to the story for the time being.
A quiet break gives me time to reassess the day and although I feel sorrow at the loss of lives among the raiders, I don’t feel quite so bad about it now that Patsy has started to tell her story. The brutal life Patsy had been forced to live for the last year was a harrowing tale to listen to and my heart went out to her. Ill educated as she was, the awful things she had participated in were from circumstances beyond her control. No one should be forced to live like that and my gratitude for the life I have been given knows no bounds.
The sun is just a faint glow on the horizon now and the chill of a winters night starts to penetrate my bones. I shiver as I bring the logs in for the fire and draw water from the tank at the side of the house ready for morning.
"I’ll just pop over to Mum’s and check that she is okay to keep the twins for a little longer." I tell Gavin and Steve as I realise that it is almost time for the twins to eat their dinner and head off to bed.
"Bet your Mum has already fed them and has them tucked safely in bed by now. They will have had stories with Poppy and Granddad too, Alice and Bert will have had cuddles and helped feed them too." Steve grins across the room.
I am sure that Steve is right. Mum, Dad, James and the other elderly people that live in the house would have made a fuss of the children and would have had them settled into bed by now and they would have full intentions to keep them over night.
"You have children, twins?" Patsy asks wonder in her voice. "I always wanted kids, just never got the chance. My old man wouldn’t have kids as they would
take the attention away from him. Mongrel was always in everything for himself." Patsy’s voice turns bitter and a scowl forms across her pretty face. "Twins, how good is that!" Her face softens again as she thinks about babies.
I leave the cottage and head towards the house on the other side of the green and into the warm kitchen where the adults of the household are gathered around the wood burning stove. Warmth, penetrates my chilled hands even though the walk is a short one ,the damp chill of the coast soon settles into my bones.
"Hi everyone. From the lack of small people in this kitchen I presume that they have been fed, bathed, read stories and popped into bed." I grin at the elderly faces around the table.
"Presumptuous little thing isn’t she ?" James grins back through the creases of pain on his face.
"Pain bad tonight sweetie?" I ask as I lean forward to kiss his crepe like cheek.
"A little worse than usual darling, but I’ll be okay. Those kids of yours will keep me here just a little longer than expected." The crackly old voice replies.
"Jacqui and James both went right off to bed after story time. Content and happy too as they had their baths and full bellies and way too many cuddles from us all." Mum smiles around the table. "We have spoiled them rotten tonight and loved every minute of it."
"That’s great! I let you lot care for the kids and I get spoiled brats back again." I giggle and raise my eyebrows. "Thanks so much though for looking after them."
"You’re not taking them out in this cold either, they are staying the night. We can bring them back in the morning when it warms up." Dad’s voice is firm, but loving. He wants the twins to stay so that he can go pick them up when they wake in the morning. I know that they are taken into the warm bed with my parents and played with for a while before they are changed, fed and bathed yet again in the warmth of the kitchen. Aunty Alice will make them breakfast, Uncle Bert will pull funny faces as he helps dress them and Poppy James will hold which ever baby he can get his hands on. My children will be safe and warm for the night right where they are.