by John Marsden
'They probably thought you were looters,' Homer said. 'Like Mr Clement said, there must be a few around, so the patrols'd see them quite often. They wouldn't bother mounting a big operation just for that. And they wouldn't want to blow up Barker Street unnecessarily.'
'But they blew up Corrie's,' I said.
'Mmm,' Homer agreed. 'But the shops in Barker Street are still full of stuff. And maybe they found some way of connecting Corrie's with the lawnmower bomb. Or maybe it was just an easy low-risk target for them. Maybe they're wiping out all the farm houses.'
Robyn looked horrified and we had to explain what had happened at Corrie's. Eventually, though, she finished her story. She'd cut Lee's trousers off while he lay there making rude jokes, but he was cold and pale and she thought he was in shock. She'd stopped the bleeding with a pressure bandage, wrapped him up warmly, then somehow found the courage to go back to City and Country Insurance and wait there nearly an hour, for Mr Clement. When he arrived, with a couple of bags of food, she bullied him into coming to look at Lee.
'He wasn't keen,' she admitted, 'but in the end he was good. He went into his surgery and came back with all kinds of bits and pieces, including painkiller injections. He gave Lee a needle, then inspected the wound. He said it was clean, and the bullet had gone right through, and if we kept it clean he'd probably be OK, but it'd take a while to heal. He stitched it up, then he taught me how to give injections, and on condition I didn't bother him again he left some stuff with me—painkillers and disinfectant and a syringe and needles. I've given him two injections today. It was cool fun.'
'Robyn!' I nearly passed out myself, in amazement. 'You faint when people even mention injections!'
'Yes, I know,' she said, with her head on one side as though she were a botanist studying herself. 'It's funny, isn't it?'
'What's he like now?' Homer asked. 'Can he walk?'
'Not too much. Mr Clement said he's got to rest it till the stitches come out, in a week minimum. He showed me how to take them out.'
I just rolled my eyes. Robyn taking out stitches! There was no point even commenting.
'Was there any sign of Lee's family?'
'No. And the place was a mess. Windows broken, tables and chairs smashed. And the flat upstairs had been ransacked. It's hard to know whether there'd been a fight, or whether the soldiers did it for fun.'
'How's Lee reacting to all this?'
'He couldn't get upstairs, because of his leg, so I had to describe it to him. Then he'd think of something else that he wanted to know about, and I'd have to run up the stairs to look for it. I went up and down those stairs a lot of times. He was pretty upset though, about everything: his family, the flat, the restaurant, his leg. But he was a bit better tonight. Getting some colour in his face. That was about three hours ago. I've been sitting here a long time, waiting for you guys. I was getting slightly worried.'
'You were meant to wait on the hill behind the house,' I said.
'No I wasn't! It was here! That's what we said!"
'No! It was the hill!'
'Listen, we agreed we'd...'
It was crazy. We were having an argument. Homer said, in a tired voice, 'Belt up. Well just have to make better arrangements next time. Anyway Ellie, when we were talking about it before, you couldn't remember whether it was the house or the hill.'
There was a pause. Then Homer continued. 'We're going to have to get him out. They'll find him pretty quickly there. The more settled these people get, the more they'll organise themselves, and the more they'll start getting tighter control of everything. They might be tolerating guys like Mr Clement for now, but he won't last long. These people showed at Corrie's how serious they are.'
We sat there, in silent agreement, three minds working on one topic: how to get Lee away from Barker Street despite his wounded leg.
'One of the biggest problems is that Barker Street seems to crawl with soldiers, compared to the rest of town, anyway,' Homer added.
'We need a vehicle,' Robyn said helpfully.
'Well whoopiedoo,' I said, unhelpfully.
'What about a silent vehicle?' said Homer. 'It'd be hard to drive a car in there without us all getting shot up.'
'Let's brainstorm,' Robyn said.
'Great,' I said. 'I'll get the textas and butcher's paper.'
'Ellie!' Robyn said.
'Strike two,' Homer said to me. 'Three strikes and you're out.'
I don't know what was wrong with me. Just tired I guess. And I tend to get a bit sarcastic when I'm tired.
'Sorry,' I said. 'I'll get serious. What was the last nomination? Silent vehicles. OK. Golf carts. Shopping trollies. Wheelbarrows.'
I was quite impressed with myself, and the others were definitely impressed.
'Ellie!' Robyn said again, but in quite a different tone to the last time.
'Prams. Pushers,' said Homer.
The ideas started flying.
'Furniture on wheels.'
'Pedicabs.'
'Horse-drawn vehicles.'
'Toboggans. Skis. Sleighs. Forklift trucks.'
'Those things, what are they called, on wheels, that people served afternoon tea from in the old days.'
'Yeah, I know what you mean.'
'Billy carts.'
'Beds on wheels. Hospital beds.'
'Stretchers.'
'Wheelchairs.'
Like with the cap of the petrol tank on the ride-on mower we'd been ignoring the obvious all this time. Homer and I looked at Robyn. 'Could he ride in a wheelchair?'
She considered. 'I guess so. I think it'd hurt him, but if we could elevate his leg and make certain we didn't bump it ... And,' she added with eyes gleaming, 'I could give him another shot.'
'Robyn! You're dangerous!'
'What else was possible, from the things we said?'
'A wheelbarrow's possible, but again it'd have to hurt him. From our point of view it's easier than a lot of things. A stretcher would be good for Lee, but we're all pretty tired. I don't know how far we could carry him.'
'A forklift would be the most fun. I think they're easy to drive. And the bullets would just bounce off it.'
Something in Homer's last sentence flicked a switch in my brain.
'Maybe we're going about this the wrong way.'
'Yes?'
'Well, we're thinking of little quiet sneaky things. We could go to the other extreme. Rock up in something so indestructible that we didn't give a damn who saw or heard us.'
Robyn sat up. 'Such as?'
'I don't know, a bulldozer.'
'Oh!' Robyn said. 'One of those trucks with the shovel in front. We could use the shovel as a shield.'
Suddenly the three of us got very excited.
'All right,' said Homer. 'Let's look at this carefully. Problem one, driver. Ellie?'
'Yes, I think so. We've got the old Dodge at home, for taking hay round the paddocks and stuff. Driving that's just like driving a big car. It's got a two-speed diff but that's cool. I couldn't say for certain until I saw it, but it should be OK.'
'Problem two then. Where would we get it?'
Robyn interrupted. I'd forgotten she hadn't seen Homer in action at Corrie's.
'Homer, are you on something?'
'Sorry?'
'You keep going like this, you'll lose your reputation. Aren't you meant to be just a wild and crazy guy?'
He laughed, but then went straight back to being serious. Robyn made a face at me and I winked back.
'So, problem two?'
'Well, the Council Depot's the obvious place. It's what, three blocks from the restaurant. It's probably been broken open, but we should take bolt cutters in case. The keys to the vehicles would be in an office there somewhere, again assuming they haven't been looted.'
'All right. Sounds logical. Problem three. Suppose we pick Lee up. We can't drive to Ellie's in the truck, obviously. And Lee can't use a bike. How do we get him to Ellie's?'
This was the toughest one. No one
had any easy answers. We sat staring at each other, turning ideas over in our minds. Finally Homer spoke up.
'OK, let's come back to that one. Let's look at other details. The plan's basically a good one. It's got the big advantage of surprise, plus it puts us in a position of strength. If we had Lee in a wheelchair or a wheelbarrow and we were pushing him down the street and a patrol appeared, what could we do? Push harder? Dump Lee? We'd be in such a weak position. But if Robyn goes back to the restaurant, gets Lee ready, gets him close to the street, gives him acupuncture and whips his appendix out and anything else she feels like to fill in time, Ellie and I could get the truck, burn down the street, stop, throw you guys in, accelerate and go like hell. If we do it between three and four am, that should be when they're at their weakest.'
'That's when humans are always at their weakest,' I contributed. 'We did that in Human Dev. Three to four am, that's when most deaths occur in hospitals.'
'Well, thanks for that comforting thought,' Robyn said.
'We'll have to be at our strongest,' Homer said.
'Where do we actually put Lee?' I asked. It'll need to be such a quick pick-up. There won't be room in the cab, so well have to get him into the tray part somehow.'
Homer looked at me, eyes shining with joy. I realised the wild and crazy guy wasn't so far away. 'We pick him up in the shovel,' he said, and waited for our reactions.
Our first reactions didn't disappoint him, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. It all depended on us being able to operate the shovel part quickly and accurately. If we could do that, it was the best solution. If we couldn't, we had a disaster.
After we tossed the options around Robyn suggested some more of the plan. 'If we have a car waiting,' she said, 'in a place where it'd be hard for them to follow, or hard for them to use their guns, then we transfer to that ... And either head out to Ellie's, or hole up in town another night...'
I tried to think of some unusual place where we could swap vehicles. Somewhere special ... somewhere different ... my eyes closed and I had to sit up with a jerk and shake myself awake.
'The cemetery?' I said hopefully. 'Maybe they're superstitious?'
I don't think the other two knew what I was talking about.
Homer looked at his watch. 'We have to make some quick decisions,' he said.
'OK,' said Robyn, 'how about this? Ellie mentioned the cemetery. You know Three Pigs Lane? Past the Cemetery? That long narrow track across to Meldon Marsh Road? Here's what I think we should do.'
Ten minutes later she'd finished. It sounded OK to me. Not great, but OK.
Chapter Eleven
The time was 3.05 am. I had the shivers; not the shakes but the shivers. It was getting hard to tell the difference though. It was also getting hard to tell when one shiver ended and the next began.
Cold, fear, excitement. They were all contributing generously. But the greatest of these was fear. That rang a bell—a quote from somewhere. Yes, the Bible: and the greatest of these was love'. My fear came from love. Love for my friends. I didn't want to let them down. If I did, they would die.
I looked at my watch again. 3.08. We really had coordinated our watches, just like in the movies. I pulled my chinstrap a little tighter. I must have looked pretty silly, but the only useful things I'd found in the Council Depot, apart from ignition keys, were these safety helmets. I'd put one on and chucked six more in the truck. They probably wouldn't stop a bullet, but they might make the difference between death and just permanent brain damage. The shiver became a shudder. It was 3.10. I turned the ignition key.
The truck rumbled and shook. I reversed carefully, trying not to see soldiers under every tree, behind every vehicle. 'Never reverse an inch more than you have to.' That was Dad's voice. With him it applied to going forward too. And I wasn't just talking about driving. I grinned, put in the clutch again, and chose low second. Out with the clutch—and I stalled. Suddenly I was hot and sweaty instead of cold and lonely. That was one of the weaknesses of this plan: I had no time to get used to the vehicle, to practise.
Coming out of the gates I put the lights on as I turned into Sherlock Road. This was one of the things we'd argued most about. I still didn't think Homer and Robyn were right, but we'd agreed to do it, so I did it. Homer had said, 'It'll confuse them. They'll have to think it's one of their own. It might just give us another few seconds.' I'd said, 'It'll attract them. They might hear the noise a block or two away but they'll see the lights a k away.' So the argument had gone, backwards and forwards.
I came to Barker Street and began the turn. It was so awkward manoeuvring this big heavy slothful thing around a corner. I'd started working at it a hundred metres before the corner but even that wasn't enough and I went far too wide, nearly hitting the gutter on the opposite side of Barker Street. By the time I got it straightened and on the right side of the road I was nearly on top of Robyn and Lee.
And there they were. Lee, white-faced, leaning on a telegraph pole, staring at me like I was a ghost. Or was he the ghost? He had a big white bandage wrapped around his calf and the wounded leg was resting on a rubbish tin. And Robyn, standing beside him, not looking at me but peering with sharp eyes in every direction.
I'd already brought the shovel down as low as I could, as I drove along. Now I brought it down further and hit the brakes. I should have done it the other way round, the brakes then the shovel, because the shovel hit the ground with a burst of sparks, ploughing up bitumen for about twenty metres, till the truck came to a rocking halt and stalled again. I hadn't really needed to bring the shovel down any further, because Lee could have easily hopped into it, but I was trying to be smart, show off my skill and finesse. Now I had to start the engine, slam the truck into reverse and, as Lee came hopping painfully forward, bring the shovel up a bit and come in again.
Robyn helped him into the shovel. She was being so calm. I watched through the windscreen, too intent on their silent struggle to look anywhere else. A whistle was the first I realised anything was wrong. I looked up, startled. Lee had just got into the shovel and was lying down. Robyn, hearing the whistle and without even looking to see where it was from, came pelting round to the passenger door. I could see some soldiers at the end of the street, pointing and staring. Some were dropping to one knee and lifting their rifles. Perhaps the headlights had bought us a moment, for they hadn't fired yet. Although we'd worked out a route and agreed on it I decided I was no longer bound by majority vote: circumstances had changed. I tilted the shovel up then grabbed the gearstick. The truck rasped reluctantly into reverse again. 'Don't drop the clutch,' I begged myself. 'Don't stall,' I begged the truck. We started going backwards. 'Put a helmet on,' I yelled at Robyn. She actually laughed but she took a helmet. The first bullets hit. They rang on the steel of the truck like a giant with a sledgehammer was attacking it. Some of them hummed away again, out into the darkness, violent blind mosquitos, ricochets. I hoped they wouldn't hit anyone innocent. The windscreen collapsed in a waterfall of glass. 'Never reverse an inch more than you have to.' We're using metrics now Dad, in case you hadn't noticed. Inches went out with paddle steamers and black and white TV. Anyway, sometimes you have to go backwards before you can go forwards. Before you go anywhere. We were going backwards way too fast though. I wanted to take the corner in reverse, as there wouldn't be time to stop, change gears and go around it the right way. I started spinning the wheel, hoping that Lee was holding on tight. My poor driving was at least making it hard for the soldiers—we were an erratic target. We lurched over something, then I instinctively ducked as something else whipped over the top of the truck. It was a tree. I spun the wheel even more sharply and the wheels on the left hand side left the ground. Robyn lost her composure and screamed, then said 'Sorry'. I couldn't believe she'd said it. Somehow the truck didn't turn over; the wheels came down again and we rocked our way along a footpath, knocking down fences and shrubs. I was using the wing mirrors mostly; the tray and its sides blocked the view t
hrough the back window or in the rear vision mirror. I dragged hard on the wheel again, as hard as I dared. We'd either roll now or make the corner. One more bullet hit us as we went around; it flew so close to me that it made a breeze against my skin, then shattered the side window. We thumped back on to the road, out of sight of the patrol. In the wing mirror on my side I caught one glimpse of a small vehicle with lights on high beam. It was a jeep I think. There was no way we could miss it, and we didn't. We smashed into it bloody hard and ran right over the top of it. Both Robyn and I hit our heads on the roof of the truck, justifying the safety helmets. I gave a savage grin at that thought.
Running over the jeep was like running over a small hill at high speed. I wrenched on the wheel and the truck made a sharp 180-degree turn. Now at last we were facing in the right direction. Ahead of us was the car we'd hit. I could see bodies in it, but the car looked like a huge boulder had been dropped on top of it. Two or three soldiers were crawling away into the darkness, like slaters. I gunned the engine and we charged. We swerved around the jeep but still hit it a glancing blow, first with the shovel, then with the left-hand front side of the truck. I felt sorry for Lee: I'd forgotten to raise the shovel. We raced down Sherlock Road. It was hard to see a lot. I tried the lights on high beam but nothing happened: it seemed that we only had parking lights left. Then Robyn said 'There's blood absolutely pouring down your face', and I realised another reason I couldn't see too well. I'd thought it was sweat. 'Put your safety belt on,' I said. She laughed again but she buckled it on.
'Do you think Lee's all right?'
'I'm praying my ass off.'
At that moment came the happiest sight I'd ever seen. A thin hand appeared out of the shovel, made a V sign or a peace sign—it was hard to tell in the dimness—and disappeared again. We both laughed this time.
'Are you all right?' Robyn asked anxiously. 'Your face?'
'I think so. I don't even know what it is. It doesn't hurt, just stings.'
Cold wind was rushing into our faces as I accelerated. We got another block, past the High School, before Robyn, looking out of her side window, said 'They're coming'.