“Run Peter, run!” Joy screamed.
Peter did. He was aware that shots were being directed at him but he went fast sideways and hurled himself over a pile of dead logs beside the road. He sensed cloth tearing and knew he had bruised himself again but didn’t care.
Safe! For the moment anyway!
Graham’s voice came to him from further along: “Joy! Sir Miles! Pull back. We will cover you!”
Peter rolled over and scrambled into a fire position, gasping for breath and relieved that Graham and Gwen were apparently safe. Joy came back first. She stumbled and crashed through the bush at the base of the hill. Peter called to her and she swerved and ran over to him. Sir Miles followed.
By then Peter had checked the rifle and crouched to aim. He saw the flash of gunshots near the end of the footbridge and squeezed the trigger. To his intense satisfaction the rifle went off.
Blatt! Blatt!
The sharp cracks of the M16 firing were joy to his ears. The gun flashes stopped. More shots snapped in from out on the dam so he swung that way, clicked the safety down to auto and fired a burst.
That had the desired effect. The harsh rattle of automatic fire echoed around the valley and the shooting out on the dam stopped. Peter stared hard into the fog. He could not see anyone. He did not think he had hit anyone but hoped he had- an emotion which would later trouble his conscience.
“Keep going Joy! Get back!” he cried as she reached him.
“Oh Peter! You are safe! I was so worried!” she gasped.
“I’m OK. Get back to Graham. Go! We have to get clear before someone gets killed. Go!” he shouted.
Chapter 33
DON’T MOVE!
Joy stood up and started moving back towards where Graham was. Sir Miles followed. Peter then got up. As he did a shot was fired at him from the hill slope above the dam and only about twenty metres away. The bullet cracked past so close he felt the shockwave and heard it thunk into a log beside him. A wave of cold, then of hot, swept over him and he fired back twice at the place where the flash had showed. Then he bolted.
But not far. Five paces found him sprawling in the long grass as he tripped over a stump. It was just as well because half a dozen shots from at least three different weapons all slashed through the forest near him. Graham fired back, drawing more shots. Peter thought they were closer and glimpsed a black shape scuttle from one tree to another.
They are after us! he thought incredulously.
That got him up and going. On the edge of panic he dashed back through the ferns, only to trip again. This time Graham called to him: “There’s a log there!”
Peter was not amused at Graham’s levity. “I bloody well know that!”
Graham chuckled. “Keep going Pete. Go back to the road junction and cover us.”
“They’re following us up,” Peter gasped, scrambling to his feet. He was aware that his shins were smarting badly but did not have time to stop and rub them.
“I can see that,” Graham replied. “Gwen, go with Peter.”
Gwen rose and ran with him. Peter glanced around. “Where’s Joy?” he called.
“Here,” Joy cried from behind a nearby tree. “Keep going. I’m alright.”
Peter did, but slowed down when he crashed into another log hidden in the long grass. He found Sir Miles making his way back as well. Gwen caught him up. Peter glanced over his shoulder at her. “You OK Gwen?”
“Yes, just scared; and hungry,” Gwen replied.
“Hungry! Tell us about it!” Peter cried. He caught up with Sir Miles just as several more shots rang out behind them. Most were from the Devil Worshippers and were fired from at least a hundred metres back. Graham’s pistol cracked once and Peter heard him call to Joy and then there was the sound of them crashing through the ferns and bushes.
Peter reached a large log amid a clump of bushes and ferns. “This will do,” he called. Gwen and Sir Miles stopped and joined him. They jumped the log and crouched down facing back the way they had come. It was very dark in the forest and all they could see were the closest trees and a lightness out to their right where the lake was. The sound of Graham and Joy walking quickly through the long grass and ferns came clearly to them.
“Over here!” Peter called softly.
The sounds changed direction. There was a thud and muttered curses. Peter could not resist it: “There’s a log there Graham!”
“Bite your bum! Ouch! That bloody hurt,” Graham muttered as he stumbled again. Joy had the good sense to follow him, so avoided the worst of it. A few seconds later both she and Graham were crouched behind the log with them.
“We’d better keep moving,” Graham said. “I think some of them are making their way round our right flank along the edge of the lake.”
Peter stared into the blackness and strained his ears. There was no sound of anyone following them through the forest.
I don’t blame them, he thought. It would be a truly deadly thing to do.
“Do you think they are going to hunt us?” Joy asked.
Even as she did there were two loud gunshots fifty metres down to their right. A scream followed, then yells and more gunshots. A weapon which could only be a light machine gun let rip with a long burst.
“What the bloody hell!” Graham cried. “Who the hell is that?”
Even as they wondered more shots rang out and the firing intensified. Peter estimated that at least seven or eight people were firing in one direction at a group of perhaps three or four. Even as he wondered who it might be the answer was provided.
A very loud American voice rang out only twenty or so metres away, behind them. “What you got there Corporal Moss?”
Confederates!
The corporal down at the edge of the dam yelled back: “At least three of the suckers sir! We got at least one. They’se pullin’ back now.”
“Keep ‘em pinned down!” yelled the ‘sir’. He then bellowed in another direction: “Corporal Cole, you-all get your squad down here at the double. Sargent Pemberton! Get Squad Three up to this road junction and space out to the left along this here road.”
“Yessir!” came the replies.
Peter was so shocked by the turn of events that for a moment he could only gape. Then he hissed to the others: “Get on the other side of this log and get down. Do it quietly and then don’t move! There’s a whole platoon of Confederates deploying here.”
With that he jumped back over the log and lay flat in the ferns, dragging Joy with him. The others followed at once. Gwen pushed in against the log. Joy pressed against Peter. Graham lay next to them and Sir Miles went to ground a few paces away.
They heard the thud of running boots and a few curses as men stumbled in the dark. Then there were Confederate soldiers deploying only metres away on the other side of the log. Peter’s heart hammered in fear and his throat went dry with dread.
We must be right near the road junction, he deduced.
At that moment one of the Devil Worshippers in the forest fired. The sound of his shot had hardly died away when the Confederate officer yelled a fire order and the night erupted in a deafening barrage of small arms fire. A machine gun of some sort let rip from just the other side of the log. In the flickering light of its muzzle flashes Peter could clearly see Joy’s eyes, wide open and dilated from fear and surprise.
Later Peter tried to estimate how many rounds were fired in the minute or so the firing went on but decided that ‘hundreds’ was a fair estimate. The noise was shattering. Clouds of cordite smoke wafted over them and the reek of hot metal and burnt gun oil filled their nostrils.
A whistle shrilled and the shooting stopped. There was no reply from the Devil Worshipper. Peter smiled grimly.
I’ll bet that gave the bastard a shock! he thought gleefully. He was only just coming to terms with the irony of being saved by the ‘other lot’ of enemies. Talk about the frying pan and the fire!
But what to do? He nudged Graham who hissed: “Don’t move.”
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br /> It was quickly apparent that the Confederates did not suspect they were there as they set to work reloading their weapons. The corporal said to one of his men: “Hunter, you watch down that way with that night sight of your’n. Remember that Number One Squad is down the track on our right.”
Another Confederate said: “Lootenant Bragg sir, the Major wants to know what the shootin’ was all about.”
The lieutenant muttered, then called out: “Cpl Moss. What you got there?”
“We captured a guy all dressed in black sir. We reckon he’s one of them there Devil Worshippers.”
“He ain’t one of them damned army cadets we bin chasin’ all day?” Lt Bragg queried.
“Hell no Lootenenat. This guys thirty if he’s a day. He won’t say nothin’ and he’s loosin’ lots of blood.”
“Wait there. We’ll get a vehicle to collect him,” Lt Bragg called back.
There was then a lot of muttering and the radio operator started to transmit in clear. The cadets lay still, hardly daring to breathe as men moved about just the other side of the log. Peter heard a couple of men walk along the road to join the lieutenant. One of them was obviously the platoon sergeant as he said:
“Did I hear Cpl Moss right when he said he’d got a Devil Worshipper sir?”
“That’s right Sargent,” Lt Bragg replied.
“Then that will explain that poor son-of-a-bitch nailed to the tree back there,” Sgt Pemberton replied.
“Certainly could. It makes more sense than those kids doin’ it,” Lt Bragg replied.
The signaller spoke again. “Vehicle’s on its way sir, and the Major is comin’ too. He says to watch out for Five Platoon. They are movin’ up this road from the other direction to another road junction just down to the south a bit.”
There was more muttering and fidgeting. Peter clearly heard two of the privates on the other side of the log complaining. “We bin walkin’ all furken day and half the furken night and now we gonna fight a bunch of Devil Furken Worshippers in the furken dark!”
“Ah hope not,” his buddy replied. “Ah’m plumb tuckered out. That walk over that danged mountain through the jungle in the dark has sure worn me down.”
“Furken jungle. Worse then furken Panama. Ah hope ah never see another bit of furken jungle in ma whole furken life.”
The corporal hissed at them. “Stop that talkin’ you two. Galbraith, you face about and cover our rear up that hill. We don’t want to get caught from behind. Those Night Vision Goggles workin’ OK?”
“Yes corporal,”
There was more muttering and grumbles and the sound of men shifting position. Peter pondered the problem. Should they just call out and surrender? To try to move would be suicidal.
They have night vision sights; and they will blast anything that moves, he decided, vividly remembering the volume of fire a few minutes earlier. So what to do? In the short term he decided, they had no option but to lie where they were.
Now that the initial excitement was wearing off he felt himself starting to shake from shock and stress. The sweat cooled and his wet trouser legs added to his misery. Cold began to seep in. Discomfort replaced fear as the dominant emotion.
I don’t think they will shoot us if we surrender, he thought. They might by mistake, or in the heat of the moment. But it isn’t time yet to toss in the towel. We might scrape through; if they move on.
Ten minutes went by and then the sound of two vehicles came to them. These came driving along the road with dimmed headlights and stopped. There was the sound of slamming doors and then voices. One vehicle drove on down to the edge of the lake. It did a U-turn and stopped.
Major Johnston had obviously arrived. Peter clearly heard him say: “I want you to hold your position here Lieutenant Bragg. I got Five Platoon moving along another road which circles this hill in front of us. It leads to a dam just over here somewhere.”
“Cpl Moss has his squad on the edge of the lake now sir,” Lt Bragg said.
Major Johnston went on, obviously using a map: “Good, keep him there. He is the right flank of the company. I am moving Six Platoon up to join us. They should be here in an hour or so. The vehicles will then go back and get Seven Platoon. They are going to seal off the area with ambushes and send patrols across the other side of this river here, the Wild River.”
That was bad news to Peter. Seal of the area with ambushes! Trying to move out of the area could be fatal. He also made a deduction: This must be 8 Platoon.
Major Johnston then asked: “Tell me about this body you found.”
That chilled Peter to the core and he was glad he could only catch snippets of the description. Major Johnston listened then asked: “So what happened to those cadets?”
“Well sir, when we arrived there was some sort of a gun battle goin’ on forward there, down near the lake. It could only have been them cadets fighting the Devil Worshippers; unless it was the police or somebody,” Lt Bragg replied.
“Not the police. We just drove through Herberton and it was all peaceful there. The police don’t know anything. I think you might be right, the cadets have run into the Devil Worshippers.”
“Be the end of them then, poor kids,” Lt Bragg said.
Hearing that both cheered and offended Peter.
Bloody arrogant bugger! We aren’t that useless!
Lt Bragg then asked: “What we gunna do sir? Sweep forward and wipe these damned Devil Worshippers out?”
“Yes, but not till daylight. By then we will have cordoned the whole area with patrols and we can use the entire company,” Major Johnston replied.
Oh great! Peter thought.
It did not seem they had much chance of escaping, and that their only option for the present was to lie low in the ferns and hope. He heard the second vehicle come back and the Confederate officers examine and speak to the captured Devil Worshipper. As Peter expected the prisoner refused to answer any questions and was driven off. Major Johnston then also drove back the way he had come.
Nothing for it but to settle down, Peter thought.
Cautiously he wriggled into a more comfortable position, carefully removing dry twigs from under him as he did. Then he lay and tried to rest.
Half an hour later a distant burst of gunfire over towards the Old Dam on the far side of the hill made Peter twitch with fright. Joy trembled and he gently hugged her. Confirmation was made when they heard the signaller on the radio saying to Lt Bragg: “Five Platoon sir. They’ve had a contact with five Devil Worshippers over at a road junction somewhere near a place called The Old Dam. They got one of the suckers and the rest have run back towards the New Dam.”
Good! Peter thought. I hope they get the Black Monk.
Silence settled again. Peter tried to work out where the Devil Worshippers might be, and how they might escape from the cordon the Confederates were deploying. He wished he could remember the map better.
Cramp, cold and hunger became problems. So did the need to go to the toilet. This became more and more urgent and more painful. Joy snuggled closer and he put his arm around her. She responded by doing the same. In spite of the dirt, sweat, webbing, weapons and discomfort Peter found it wonderful and very special. It certainly helped keep them both warmer.
The cold was a problem for the others too. Gwen snuggled up against Peter’s back but Graham was on his own and several times Peter heard his teeth chattering. Twice his own stomach rumbled from hunger and that caused him to freeze in fright, lest the Confederates hear. They had settled down for the night but had a sentry post right near them, close enough to hear muttered conversation.
On one occasion, just after a sentry change, Peter heard a Confederate say: “See anything?”
His companion replied: “Nope. Nothin’ movin’ out there.”
That reminded Peter that the Confederates had night vision equipment. The knowledge kept him still. Graham put his head near theirs at one stage and whispered: “We gotta get out of here before it gets light.”
“Dunno. Some sort of animal maybe?” his companion replied.
Graham froze. The first Confederate said: “Sounded just the other side of this log. I hope it ain’t one of them snakes.”
“Snakes! Don’t talk about the suckers,” his friend replied. “I seen one yesterday that was a monster. Musta bin ten foot long. An’ they’se really deadly the Lootenant said.”
The two Confederates muttered on about snakes, causing Peter’s imagination to conjure up images of them sliding through the ferns towards him.
Time slid by. Once he fell asleep but Graham reached over and shook him. “Snoring,” he whispered.
Peter battled to stay awake, shivering with cold. He realized Joy was asleep so gently eased himself apart from her, opened his fly with surreptitious movements and took out his penis. He held it into a small hole he had scooped in the ground and did a long, slow pee.
I hope she doesn’t wake up now! he thought. She might get the wrong idea. Then another thought came to him. I hope I don’t get bitten on the ‘old fella’ by something!
His first thought was scorpions but then he thought of leeches. Before he put it away he carefully checked. Then he slowly checked himself over for leeches. To his surprise he found none.
Time dragged. The wind died down but the fog remained. It was very dark till about 3am when the moon rose over the mountains and a ghostly light filtered through the forest.
That makes it even harder to creep away! he thought.
Other thoughts crowded his mind: Speculation about where the Devil Worshippers were; regret that the Black Monk had the Scroll, but relief that Gwen was safe.
I’m glad we got her back. It was worth it. Then he wondered what had happened to Stephen and Megan. The ugly thought that they had been captured by the Confederates and talked kept returning. I wonder what Inspector Goldstein is doing? He must have been puzzled when we went missing. And poor old Captain Conkey! He will be beside himself with worry!
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