by John Marsden
'OK,' I called, and ran. But Corrie had already reached the budgie who was alive, but with just a little bit of mouldy water in its cage. We brought him fresh water, which he drank like Dad with his first beer after shearing.
'You've got a milker at home, haven't you?' I asked Corrie. 'Can you take over from Homer, out the back?'
'Sure,' she said, and went. We'd all started acting with unnatural calmness. I knew how frightened Corrie and the others must now be for their own families, but there was nothing we could do for them quite yet. I took the budgie into the kitchen, where Lee was putting down the phone. I raised my eyebrows at Lee; he shook his head. Homer came in a moment later.
'There's an RF radio in the office,' he said, without looking at anyone.
'What's an RF radio?' Fi asked. I hadn't noticed her, standing in the door of the pantry.
'Rural Firefighting,' Homer said briefly.
'Would it be safe?' Robyn asked.
'I don't know,' Homer said. 'Who knows anything?'
With desperate urgency, passionate to convince them, I said, 'This is ridiculous. I know what you're thinking, and it is completely absolutely impossible. Absolutely not possible. These things just don't happen, not here, not in this country.' Then, with sudden hope, I remembered something. 'Those fires! They'll be out fighting those fires. There must have been some bad ones, so bad they couldn't get back.'
Homer said, 'Ellie, they weren't that kind of fire. You know that. You know what a bad fire looks like.'
Lee said, 'I don't know much about these things, but shouldn't your RF radio be alive with voices, while those fires are burning?'
'Yes!' said Homer, turning in a hurry.
'But there's no power,' Fi said.
'They have back-up batteries,' I said. We rushed after Homer and crowded into the little office. Homer was turning the volume knob on the radio up to full, but there was no need. Endless monotonous static filled the room. 'Did you check the frequency?' I asked quietly. Homer nodded, his face full of misery. I wanted to hug him, looked for Fi to see if she might be going to, then went ahead when I realised she'd left the room again.
After a minute Homer said, 'Do you think we should send out a call on the radio?'
'What do you think Ellie?' Lee asked me.
I knew I had to admit all the possibilities now. I remembered how tense things had been before we left, all those politicians shouting and carrying on. Trying to think calmly I said, 'The only reason for calling up would be if we can get help for our families. If they're in trouble, or danger. But if they are, everyone must be in the same boat. And the authorities must know about it. So we wouldn't be helping our families by transmitting the call...'
'The only other reason for calling is because we're so desperate to find out. But OK, I admit we may create danger for ourselves...' I tried to keep my voice steady,'...if there's something bad happened ... if there's people out there...'
'So on balance?' Lee asked.
'I don't think we should call,' I said sadly.
'I agree,' Homer said.
'Me too,' Lee said.
'Then it's Corrie's turn,' Homer said. 'And Kevin's. I don't even know where Robyn lives.'
'Just outside town,' I said.
'Well, I guess geographically Corrie and Kevin come first.' He looked at Lee, who nodded without speaking. He'd already figured out who was last.
The seven of us came together in the kitchen, with almost perfect timing, Corrie carrying a bucket of milk. The milk stank. It looked like pale scrambled eggs. Kevin was with her. They were gripping each other's hands, hanging on tight. I poured some of the milk into a salad bowl and gave it to Millie, who at last started to show some enthusiasm. She sniffed it, then lapped it eagerly.
Kevin said to Homer, 'Do you mind if we go to our places? We'll go on our own if we can have a vehicle or...' he looked at me,'...the Landrover.'
'Dad said I was the only...' I started, then stopped, realising how weak it sounded. But I'd done enough logical thinking in the Yannos' office.
Robyn took over. 'We've got to think, guys. I know we all want to rush off, but this is one time we can't afford to give in to feelings. There could be a lot at stake here. Lives even. We've got to assume that something really bad is happening, something quite evil. If we're wrong, then we can laugh about it later, but we've got to assume that they're not down the pub or gone on a holiday.'
'Of course it's bad,' I yelled at her. 'Do you think my dad would leave his dogs to die like that? Do you think I'll be having a good laugh about that tomorrow?' I was screaming and crying at the same time. There was a pause, then suddenly everyone lost control. Robyn started crying, and yelling 'I didn't mean it that way Ellie, you know I didn't!'; Corrie was shouting 'Shut up! Everyone shut up!'; Kevin was rubbing his fingers through his hair, going 'Oh God, oh God, what's going on?'; Fi had her hand in her mouth and looked like she wanted to eat it. She was so white I thought she was about to faint. Suddenly Homer, madly, said, 'Fi, I've heard of biting your nails, but that's ridiculous'. We all looked at Fi and a moment later we were all laughing. Hysterical laughter, but it was laughter. Lee had had tears pouring down his face, but now he wiped them away and said quickly, 'Let's listen to Robyn. Come on everyone.'
'I'm sorry Robyn,' I said. 'I know you didn't mean...'
'I'm sorry too,' she said. 'It was a bad choice of words.' She took a deep breath and clenched her fists. You could see her calming herself, like she did at netball sometimes.
At last she continued. 'Look everyone, I didn't want to say much. Just that we've got to be careful. If we go rushing around the countryside, to seven different houses, well, it mightn't be such a bright thing to do, that's all. We should decide some things, like whether to stick together, or break into small groups, like Kevin and Corrie want to do. Whether we should use the vehicles. Whether we should go any further in daylight. It's almost dark now. For a start I suggest no one goes on from here until it is dark, and that when they do go they don't use lights.'
'What do you think's happened?' I asked. 'Do you think the same as Lee?'
'Well,' said Robyn. 'There's no sign of anyone leaving in a hurry, like in an emergency. They left some days ago. And they expected to come back some days ago. Now, what's something that everyone would have gone off to some days ago, expecting to come back? We all know the answer to that.'
'Commemoration Day,' said Corrie. 'The Show.'
'Exactly.'
'Homer,' I said, 'is there some way you can tell if your parents came back from the Show? I mean, if I'd thought of it before, I could have looked for a couple of our bulls that I know Dad was showing, that he wouldn't have sold for any price. And he wouldn't have come back from the Show without them. I mean, he would have kept those bulls in the bedroom if Mum had let him.'
Homer thought for a minute.
'Oh yes,' he said. 'Mum's needlepoint. She enters a new piece every year, then win lose or draw she brings it back and hangs it on her Honour Wall. She gets a big thrill putting it up there. Hang on a sec.'
He ran out, and we waited in silence. He was back a moment later. 'Nothing,' he said. 'It's not there.'
'OK,' Robyn said. 'Let's assume that a lot of people went to the Show and didn't come back. And let's assume that since Commem Day all power and phones have been cut, all radio stations are off the air, and there have been a number of fires. And the people who went to the Show wanted to come back but couldn't. Where does that get us?'
'And there's the other thing,' Lee said.
Robyn looked at him. 'Yes,' she said.
Lee continued. 'The night of the Show those hundreds of aircraft, maybe even more than hundreds, that came in over the coast, flying low and at high speed.'
'And without lights,' I added, realising that critical point for the first time.
'Without lights?' Kevin said. 'You didn't tell us that.'
'It didn't strike me,' I said. 'You know how you notice something, but not consciously? Tha
t's what it was like.'
'Let's assume something else,' Fi said. She sounded, and looked, angry. 'Let's assume that what you're saying is absolutely ridiculous.' She sounded like me, in this same room, not very many minutes earlier. Hadn't I said 'absolutely ridiculous'? But now I was starting to come round to Lee and Robyn's way of thinking. That little point about the lights had made a difference to me. No legitimate aircraft, no aircraft on a legitimate mission, would have been flying without lights. I should have registered it at the time, and I was annoyed at myself that I hadn't.
But Fi continued, 'There are dozens more likely theories. Dozens! I don't know why you won't consider them.'
'OK Fi, fire away,' said Kevin. 'But fire quickly.' The strain was really showing in Kevin's face.
'All right,' said Fi. 'Number one. They're sick. They went to the Show and got food poisoning or something. They're in hospital.'
'Then the neighbours would have been here, looking after the place,' Homer said.
'They got sick too,' said Fi.
'That doesn't explain why all the radio stations are off the air,' said Corrie.
'Everyone's sick then,' said Fi. 'There's a national problem, with some illness or disease.'
'That doesn't explain the planes,' Robyn said.
'They were just coming back from Commem Day, like we said.'
'Without lights? And so many of them? Fi, I don't know if we even have that many planes. I don't know if our Air Force is that big.'
'OK,' said Fi. 'There is some national emergency, and everyone's had to go and help.'
'And the planes?'
'It's the Air Force, going to help. And maybe other countries' air forces too, all helping.'
'Then why would they have no lights?' Robyn was shouting now, getting mad, like she did on the netball court.
'We don't know that for sure.' Fi was shouting too. Fi shouting? First time for everything, I thought. Fi continued, 'Ellie might have been wrong. It was the middle of the night. She would have been half asleep. I mean she only just thought to mention it now. She couldn't be that certain.'
'I saw them Fi,' I said. 'I'm certain. It didn't strike me at the time. My eyes were working. It's just that my brain wasn't. Anyway, Robyn saw them, and Lee. Ask them.'
'We didn't see them,' Robyn snapped. 'We only heard them.'
'Everyone calm down,' Homer interrupted. 'Stay calm, or we'll get nowhere. Come on Fi, what else?'
'I don't know,' she said. 'I just think they've rushed off somewhere to help. Maybe some whales got stranded.'
'So two lots of parents rush off without even leaving notes?' Kevin asked.
'But if you take out the planes,' said Fi, 'you haven't got nearly as much. Just some little local emergency.'
'Don't forget the radio stations,' Robyn said.
Lee spoke up. 'Fi, they're all valid theories. And I'm not saying you're wrong. You're probably right, and the planes are just a coincidence, and the radio can be explained away and so on. But the thing that scares the sweat out of me is there is one theory that does fit all the facts, and so bloody neatly it's perfect. Remember our conversation that morning in Hell? How Commemoration Day would be the ideal day to do it?'
Fi nodded dumbly, tears rolling down her face. We were all crying again now, even Lee, who kept talking as he wept.
'Maybe all my mother's stories made me think of it before you guys. And like Robyn said before, if we're wrong,' he was struggling to get the words out, his face twisting like someone having a stroke, 'if we're wrong you can laugh as long and loud as you want. But for now, for now, let's say it's true. Let's say we've been invaded. I think there might be a war.'
Chapter Seven
It was terrible waiting for it to get dark. We kept starting out, saying 'OK, that's enough, let's go', then someone would say 'No, wait, it's still too light'.
That's the trouble with summer, it's daylight for an awfully long time. But we'd made a decision to play it safe and we stuck to it.
The moon was thin and late to rise, so when we did get going it really was quite dark. We had a couple of torches that Homer had been able to find but we'd agreed not to use them unless absolutely necessary. We left Millie on a blanket in Homer's kitchen. She was too weak to move far. We walked along the road for about a k and a half, then branched across the last of the Yannos' paddocks, taking a short cut to the lane that led to Kevin's. I walked with Homer but we didn't talk much, except when I suddenly remembered I hadn't asked him about their dogs. 'We only had two left,' he said, 'and they weren't there. I'm not sure where they might have gone. I think Dad said something about taking them to the vet. They both had eczema badly. I can't remember if he said that or if I just imagined it.'
Once we were in the lane Kevin starting running. There were still about two k's to go but, without a word being exchanged, we all started running too, behind him. Kevin's a big guy, not built for sprinting, and he lumbered along like a draft horse, but for once we couldn't keep up with him. Except Robyn, who was always fit. After a while I couldn't see them ahead of us, but I could hear Kevin's heavy panting coming out of the darkness. As we grew closer to the house Lee called, 'Be careful when you get there Kev', but he got no reply.
He beat us there by two or three minutes I'd say, he and Robyn. But there wasn't much point. His house was the same as Homer's and mine. Three dead working dogs on chains, a dead cockatoo in a cage on the verandah, two dead poddy lambs by the verandah steps. But his old pet corgi had been locked in the house, with a bucket of food and a bucket of water in the laundry. She was alive but she'd chosen one of the bedrooms for a toilet, so the house smelt pretty foul. She was delirious with joy to see Kevin; when we got there she was still leaping at his face, crying pitifully, doing excited midair stunts and wetting herself with excitement.
Corrie, grim-faced, went past me with a mop and a handful of rags. I'd noticed when I'd stayed with Corrie that if things got too emotional she'd start cleaning up. It was a useful habit she had.
We had another quick conference. There seemed to be so many problems and so many choices. Robyn had the bright idea that bicycles were quick and silent—the perfect transport. Kevin had two little brothers, so we scored three bikes from their shed. Homer asked if we knew anyone who wouldn't have gone to the Show; he'd realised that finding someone who'd stayed home that day might be the solution to the whole mystery. Lee said he didn't think his parents would have gone: his sisters and brothers usually did, but not his parents. Kevin said he wanted to bring the corgi, Flip, along with us. He couldn't bear to leave her alone again after what she'd been through.
This was a tough one. We all felt sympathetic to the dog, who seemed to be attached to Kevin's heels by a metre of invisible lead, but we were starting to get more and more conscious of our own safety. We finally agreed to take her with us to Corrie's, and make another decision depending on what we found there.
'But Kevin,' warned Lee, 'we might have to make some ugly choices.'
Kevin just nodded. He knew.
Robyn, who'd thought of the bikes, ended up jogging most of the way to Corrie's. We could only get two on a bike, and she said she needed the exercise. Homer dinked Kevin, who nursed Flip in his arms. The little corgi spent the whole trip licking his face in an ecstasy of love and gratitude. It would have been funny, if we'd had any emotional energy left to laugh.
The image I'll always remember from Corrie's place is of Corrie standing alone in the middle of the sitting room, tears streaming down her face. Then Kevin came in from checking the bedrooms, saw her, and moving quickly to her took her in his arms and held her close. They just stood there for quite a few minutes. I liked Kevin a lot for that.
Under a lot of pressure from Robyn we agreed to try to eat before doing any more. She had been so logical all evening, and she was still being logical, even though it was her house that we would head for next. So she and I and Homer made sandwiches with stale bread and salami, and lettuce and tomatoes from Mrs Mackenzie's f
amous vegetable garden. We made tea and coffee too, using long-life milk and a little solid-fuel camping stove. It was hard to force the food down our dry and choked-up throats, but we nagged and nagged until everyone had eaten at least one sandwich, and it did make a difference to our energy and morale.
We decided as we ate that we would go to Robyn's, but we knew that we were heading into a whole new set of problems. Out here in the country, where most of us lived, where the air was free and the paddocks wide and empty, we had still been moving fairly confidently. Danger just didn't seem real. We knew that if there was trouble, if there was danger, it would be in town.
Robyn described, for the ones who hadn't been there, the layout of her house, and where it was in relation to Wirrawee. We figured that it should be safe to go in on Coachman's Lane, which was just a dirt track at the back of a few ten acre blocks, including Robyn's. From the hill behind Robyn's we could get a glimpse of the town, which might tell us something.
It was time to leave. Corrie was waiting for me at the front door. I'd been using the bathroom. I'd forgotten that the Mackenzies weren't on town water, and a pressure pump needs electricity to operate. So I'd had to go out to the bathtub in the vegetable garden, fill a bucket with water, and come back in to fill the cistern and flush the toilet. Corrie was getting impatient but I held her up a few moments longer. I was coming down the passageway, past their telephone, when I noticed a message on their fax. 'Corrie,' I called out, 'do you want to see this?' I held it out, adding as she came towards me, 'It's probably an old one but you never know'.
She took it and read it. As she went from line to line I saw her mouth slowly open. Her face seemed to become longer and thinner, with shock. She stared at me with big eyes, then pushed the message into my hands and stood there, shaking, as I read.
In a rough scrawl I saw these words, written by Mr Mackenzie:
Corrie, I'm in the Show Secretary's Office. Something's going on. People say it's just Army manoeuvres but I'm sending this anyway, then heading home to tear it up so no one'll know what an idiot I've been. But Corrie, if you do get this, go bush. Take great care. Don't come out till you know it's safe. Much love darling. Dad.