The Word of God (41 page)

Near the top, just before midnight he stumbled on a rock in the long grass. He fell and whacked his knee hard on another rock. The pain was excruciating and for a minute he feared he had broken something. He muttered and rubbed his knee.

As he did something large rustled and slithered in the grass close to his left hand. Fear froze Peter. Images of the Sniper having convulsions flooded his mind.

Snake?
his terrified imagination cried.

He couldn't tell. After a moment the noise stopped. Peter made himself move. Gulping with anxiety he stood and quickly hobbled on up the slope.

On the crest he found an area of relatively short grass under a tree. Deciding it was a good spot for a short rest he checked carefully then lowered himself to lean against the trunk. As he sat there he shivered with reaction and muttered with pain as he rubbed his sore knee.

I'd better have a bit of a rest,
he told himself. Only then did he realize that it had only been that morning that they had left Little Mulgrave.
Two mountain ranges in one day is a bit much,
he told himself.

Before he realized what was happening exhaustion took over and he slipped into a deep sleep.

Chapter 26

CONFEDERATES!

S
everal times during the night Peter woke. Cramps seized his leg muscles and he found he was shivering with overexertion and cold. Each time he had a drink, draining all the water bottles dry in the process. Each time he subsided back onto the ground and dropped back to sleep.

The sound of vehicle engines woke him. He opened his eyes and saw it was broad daylight. That was an unpleasant surprise as he had been planning to find a good hiding place before it got light. To add to his dismay the vehicles stopped close by and he heard doors opening and voices- American voices.

His whole being filling with alarm he rubbed his eyes and sat up.

Oh no! How did I manage to do that?
he thought.

Not fifty paces away were three vehicles: the truck he had been in last night and two 4WDs. One was white and the other a battered old green Land Rover. Climbing out of them were armed men in a wide variety of clothing: old army jackets, check pattern ‘Lumberjack' shirts, a variety of hats and caps, and an assortment of weapons. The one thing they had in common was that all wore grey trousers.

A man appeared from the front of the truck and Peter almost blinked and thought he was still dreaming. The man was middle aged and bearded. He wore a battered grey felt hat. But what attracted Peter's attention was the grey jacket. It had light blue cuffs and collar and on each sleeve a set of pale blue sergeant's chevrons. The man looked exactly like an ‘extra' from a movie about the American Civil War.

He sounded like one too. His voice was pure ‘Deep South'. And there was no doubt that he acted like a sergeant. He bawled: “You-all get lined up there; Number Four Squad on that side of the road and Number Five Squad this side. Git a move on Davis! We ain't got all day. We gotta find this son-of-bitch escapee fast, or we's got real big problems. Now move!”

They moved. Peter stared in horror as the men filed into the long grass on either side of the road. All had rifles or shotguns and carried them as though they knew how to use them.

At that moment another 4WD drove up from the west and stopped. Peter now saw that he was near a road junction on top of the range. An overgrown vehicle track ran off away from him along a ridge top. The 4WD pulled up and once again Peter goggled at the person who emerged from the passenger side.

He was an officer, no doubt about it. The man wore a well fitting and clean grey jacket and trousers. His boots were knee length and shiny black. On his head was a grey Confederate Kepi cap. Around his waist was a pale blue sash over which a black leather belt was buckled. On the belt was a polished black leather pistol holster. On each shoulder were gold rank bars.

That the sergeant saluted caused no further surprise to Peter. “All ready Lootenant Evans sir,” the sergeant reported.

Bloody Confederates! I don't believe this! Who are these people?
Peter wondered in amazement. That they were searching for him he had not the slightest doubt. He began looking around for the best place to hide.

The officer returned the salute. “Fine, Sgt Stone. Get ‘em moving. The major is right displeased with us so we'd better find this sucker fast. He wants us back as quick as we can make it to get on with the search.”

“Yes sir. Righto men, line out and start lookin'; and ifn you spot him and he won't stop when you says so then blast him. There's too much at stake to let him get away,” the sergeant called.

That sent a spasm of fear through Peter. One glance at the men convinced him they would certainly shoot if they had to. He lowered himself flat and began crawling into the ferns. As he did he heard the men walking almost directly towards him.

Peter had to stop crawling lest they hear him, or see the movement in the grass and ferns. He lay still, feeling horribly exposed and trembling from fear and overexertion. Into view came a man carrying a heavy calibre semi-automatic rifle, then one with a sub machine gun of some sort. Another followed with an automatic shotgun which glinted in the sunlight.

The men stopped only ten paces from him and spaced themselves across the slope. They were obviously going to sweep the ridge in extended line. Peter braced himself for discovery. He could plainly see one of the men. The man was chewing a piece of grass and looked a real mean customer.

The men suddenly all turned and face away from Peter. It took him a moment to take in what he was seeing and then he shuddered with relief and couldn't believe his luck. At the sergeant's word of command the men started searching, working down the ridge away from him.

Thank God for that!
he thought. A tremor ran through him and he lay there sucking in great gulps of air. But he knew he was in great danger.
I must have left tracks through that long grass like a bloody elephant!
he thought.
I'd better get out of here.

Cautiously Peter raised himself and looked, just in time to see the heads of the searchers vanish down the slope. He raised himself higher and saw that the lieutenant and another man were studying a map spread on the bonnet of the 4WD. The other man had a radio and notebook and was busy writing a message.

The direction to go, at least to begin with, was obvious. Peter turned and started crawling west through the grass. Fear of snakes returned. He tried to comfort himself by thinking it was winter, so most would be in hibernation.

Or at least a bit sluggish.

As soon as he was fifty metres over the crest of the hill Peter stood up and started moving cautiously from tree to tree. He was still shocked by the number of men he had seen. There had been seven in one squad and eight in the other.

And they weren't the men I saw last night. How many of these characters are there? And who are they? What are American Confederates doing wandering around the bush in Australia?

Off to his left he saw the road going up over another low wooded ridge. He went down through the head of a re-entrant, looking back frequently to ensure he didn't become visible to the men at the vehicles. On the other side of the road was rainforest and he eyed that, then rejected it.

I'll go into that only when I have to,
he decided.

Long experience told him it would greatly slow his progress, as well as complicate his navigation. As he went slowly up the slope he heard the distinctive buzz of an aero engine. A small, high wing monoplane flew into view from the South West. It was flying quite low, only a few hundred feet above the trees. As light aircraft were quiet common over North Queensland Peter merely glanced up as it passed over and then thought no more about it.

Five minutes later he was out of sight over the next hill. With every step he began to feel safer. He was also cheered by the presence of the truck.

That means the others have been unloaded somewhere nearby. Now where?

An image of Joy's face floated in the front of his mind and he decided he was in love, and that he would try to rescue her, come what may!

The country now changed to a mixture of rainforest and forest with an undergrowth of bushes, ferns and weeds. It became increasingly difficult to move quietly and he had to push through the long grass, heedless of whether there might be snakes there or not.

It was at that stage that he discovered the first leech. It was worming its way
up his right sleeve. He idly flicked it off, then paused to check for others. At once he discovered he was infested with them. Some were gorged and had already dropped off. Others had been feasting for quite a while and were repulsive bloated slugs. He plucked them off then moved to a small clearing and removed his jacket. Four were under his right armpit and he had bites all over his chest.

“Bloody hell! They must have been feasting on me all night!” he grumbled. He searched himself, even finding them inside his trousers, socks and boots. One was lodged behind his left ear and there were two in his hair. Annoyed and disgusted he pulled them off and flicked them away with a shudder. He knew they weren't really harmful but they were such slimy repulsive things he couldn't help being disgusted and repelled by them. It took a good ten minutes to divest himself of the last leech.

While he was engaged in this chore Peter heard the light plane again. It came into view flying low up the valley on his left.

He's flying low. I wonder why?
A suspicion formed:
Is it searching for something; or for me?

He watched it bank and fly low back down the valley out of sight. As he buttoned up his jacket Peter detected another leech crawling up his front. He flicked it off with his fingers. “Slimy little bugger! Clear off!” he muttered. It was obviously one of the local leeches moving in to try their luck. He shrugged and then checked the water bottles hopefully.

“No water. I'll be in trouble soon, particularly if it heats up like yesterday.” he told himself. Anxiously he licked dry lips and noted that he had been sweating. He was also uncomfortably aware that he was incredibly grimy, his skin grained with dirt and soot. He rubbed the stubble on his chin and wished he could clean up.

“I'd better find a creek,” he told himself. Then another thought came to him.

I wonder if Gwen has any food in her webbing?

A quick search of her webbing found a tin of fruit in the right pouch. Better still, in the left pouch was the Beretta. Peter took it out and gently turned it over, feeling the smoothness of the cold metal. It was a deadly looking little gun. Just holding it made him remember the saying he had read once to the effect that the mere possession of a weapon changed a man's attitude and personality.

And that is right,
he decided.

He suddenly felt more powerful and more able to cope. After checking that the pistol was cocked and on safe he slipped it back into the pouch. Then he sat and ate the tin of fruit, flicking off the occasional leech which tried to crawl onto him. As he did he glimpsed the light plane above the trees off to the South East.

Definitely searching; probably for me. Have these Confederates got a bloody air force as well? What is going on?
he wondered.

He checked his watch. “Seven O'clock. I'd better make a move,” he muttered. But which way? And to do what? Logic told him to get to the nearest phone and call the police. But which way was the nearest. He seemed to be on top of a mountain range. He had never been there before but thought it was the range of mountains which ran down the western side of the Atherton Tablelands. He could even see glimpses of open farmland out to the east. These looked to be a long way off and the searching ‘Confederates' were between him and there.

Peter decided to go on the way he was going.
The mountains are only ten or twenty kilometres across. If I keep going this way I should come out somewhere near Herberton,
he reasoned.

That settled he pushed on. The scrub got even thicker but he still avoided the road for fear of leaving boot prints. His thirst grew rapidly worse as the air heated up and he knew he would be in trouble in a few hours. He also had to wage a constant battle with the leeches. Once he glimpsed the tail of a black snake slide into a clump of grass and that made him sick with fear for a while. However he forced himself to push on. He felt very alone and frightened.

Soon after seeing the snake he came to the edge of a small clearing. The road changed direction, going downhill to the west. At that point there was an odd little hut made of semi-circular sheets of corrugated iron. Peter scouted carefully in case there were people there. The place appeared deserted but he gave it a wide berth anyway, skirting around well out in the forest.

After crossing an overgrown timber track he encountered rainforest. As he did not want to lose the road he shrugged with resignation and pushed into the jungle. Gwen had a pair of secateurs on her belt and he took these out and used them to snip away any tendrils of wait-a-while that snagged at him. The rainforest held no terrors for him and he slipped through it quietly at a slow walk. From time to time he checked his direction with his compass. It varied from North West to West.

The road led downhill so he moved parallel to it about twenty metres in. After a few hundred metres the road reached the bottom and abruptly turned to South West going uphill. Peter had been hoping to find a creek at the bottom and was quite disappointed. He licked dry lips and felt his skin. He had stopped sweating and he felt hot. His eyes felt gritty and blurred from time to time and he knew he was on the edge of heat exhaustion.

He began to contemplate heading off down the mountain in search of water
but feared it could be a long walk. Hoping to find some he continued on. The road went up for fifty metres, then turned right and skirted around the side of the slope.