The Word of God (43 page)

By then Joy had seen him. He met her eyes and grinned. Her eyes widened in surprised delight and her mouth opened, then shut. Peter scooped up the M14 and walked towards them. As he did the others saw him and their faces lit up. At any second Peter expected to be discovered but he reached them without being seen.

They all had their hands tied behind their back. Stephen was the closest so Peter crouched down beside him, placed the rifle down, then pulled out his pocket knife, clicked it open and sawed at the rope. A loud laugh made him look anxiously at the sentry but the man was still busy eating while the cook told him jokes. In a moment Peter had cut Stephen free. He handed him the rifle and began to cut Graham's bonds. As Peter worked he smiled at Joy. She was shaking her head in wonder and relief. As soon as Graham was free Peter handed him the knife and stood up, pistol in hand.

The captain and signaller were still busy writing. Peter walked over behind them. Neither paid any attention until he said: “Stop writing and put your hands up.”

The captain looked over his shoulder and goggled through his glasses. The signaller had to be nudged. The sentry spun round and cried: “Holy shit!” and was given a withering glare by the captain. The cook just stood and gaped.

Peter gestured with the pistol at the sentry and the cook. “Over here you two.” He was amazed at how calm he felt.

The sentry and the cook both put their hands up and moved over to stand near the captain and signaller. Stephen joined Peter, levelling the rifle and groaning at the pain in his hands and legs.

“Lie down beside the fence,” Peter instructed the prisoners. At that moment the radio began talking but it was some sort of code, just numbers, so Peter ignored it. The sig half turned but Peter shook his head and waved him away from the set. Reluctantly the sig joined the others. They lay in a line side by side.

“Cover them Steve. Graham, search them for weapons. Sir Miles, keep watch along the road. Megan collect all the papers here. How are you Joy?”

Joy had just been cut free. She cried out with relief and pain, then hobbled across and fell into Peter's arms. He hugged her and sighed with satisfaction.

Graham bent to frisk the sentry. “I'm fine thanks Pete. I'm glad you were so concerned,” he said sarcastically.

Peter laughed; “Sorry mate. But you aren't as pretty.”

Joy beamed up at him and flushed with embarrassment and pleasure. “Oh Peter! I'm so glad to see you. I've been so worried. We heard them say they were
putting a line of snipers along the edge of the open country to shoot you if you appeared. I've been so upset.”

Snipers!

Peter felt a wave of sickness deep in his stomach which made him swallow. “Well I'm safe,” he said, hugging her tighter. She responded and looked up at him, tears springing into her eyes.

“I'm so glad. I love you.”

Peter felt a wave of warmth engulf him. For a moment all else was forgotten in the sheer pleasure of the moment. Then they were really kissing, hot and eager.

After a moment Peter became aware that Stephen and Graham were still searching the captives and that Megan was massaging the ankles and wrists of the old man. Reluctantly Peter gently released Joy.

She asked: “What happened Peter? How did you find us?”

Peter stepped back, holding her at arms length and looking deep into her eyes. “Later. Let's get out of here fast. The place is crawling with half the Confederate Army.”

Graham indicated the prisoners. “What about these jokers?” he asked.

“Tie their hands behind them and take them with us,” Peter replied.

Megan frowned. “But we will go faster without them,” she said. She was looking very pale and wretched.

“We take them,” Peter said firmly. In the front of his mind was the notion that the disappearance of their headquarters would really confuse and disorganize the Confederates. “Keep them covered Steve. Joy, grab us all some food and find something to carry it in.”

He turned and strode over to the ‘Command Post'. There were two radios; one large one which would need a vehicle to carry it; and a smaller, man pack radio in a harness. Beside them was a map board with a map covered by clear plastic. Drawn on the plastic in blue and red were military symbols. Peter studied this and then bit his lip. There were groups of Confederates marked in more than a dozen places. There were also nicknames at various locations.

Megan held up a thick wad of papers and several books, including a Bible. “This is the lot. I'll just find a bag.”

“I don't think we need their Bible,” Peter said.

Joy vigorously shook her head. “Oh I think we do,” she called. “I've been watching them. They use it all the time to do their coding and decoding.”

“OK. Take it,” Peter agreed. He picked up the map board and studied it again. The map was the ATHERTON 1:50,000.

I wonder where we are?
he mused, his eyes scanning the symbols for clues.

Graham joined him carrying a revolver, an M16 and a huge bowie knife. He looked at the map. “Holy Mackerel, the buggers are everywhere!”

“Yes, there seem to be a lot,” Peter agreed. “I've been dodging the bastards all morning.”

“There were at least three platoons of them here this morning,” Graham agreed. “And their boss is a major.”

Peter nodded. “A company then. But what the hell are they doing here?”

Graham pointed over his shoulder. “Searching for the scroll. That is why Old Ned is here,” he replied.

That drew Peter's attention back to the old man, who he saw was probably about sixty. He went over. “My name is Peter Bronsky. You must be Old Ned.”

Old Ned gave a wry smile. “I'm Ned Durward, but I don't know about the old bit.”

“Sorry. That was what your neighbours called you,” Peter replied. “Can you walk?”

“I'll be OK,” Old Ned replied. “Let's get out of here before more of these buggers arrive. I don't fancy a gun fight and they look as though they do.”

“Do you know who these people are and what they want?” Peter asked as Old Ned was helped up.

“The scroll. I told your friends here about it.”

“Who are they do you know?” Peter asked.

Old Ned shook his head. “They didn't introduce themselves, just shoved a bloody gun up my nose and threatened me.”

“We could ask them,” Megan suggested, indicating the four prisoners, who now sat in a scowling line, tied together.

Peter shook his head. “Not now, later. Let's move,” he said.

“Just a moment,” Stephen replied. He walked quickly over to the fire and grabbed a steak. “I've been fairly dribbling at the mouth all morning while these buggers have been stuffing themselves,” he explained.

“You run off at the mouth all the time,” Peter replied with a laugh. But he also walked over and selected a well cooked piece of steak. Joy scooped the others into a bag and thrust it into a haversack, which she put on. Peter walked back to the Command Post and kicked the large radio very hard, then wrenched off the handset and antenna. Satisfied it would not work any more he swung the smaller one on to his back. “Might be useful,” he explained, remembering the Devil Worshippers.

The prisoners were stood up. They were unwilling but co-operated when Stephen threatened them. He was just tired and angry enough to have a foul temper and that put an edge in his voice.

Peter frowned and looked around. “What about Gwen? Where is she?” he asked.

The others shrugged or shook their heads. “No sign of her,” Joy replied sadly.

“These people might know?” Megan suggested.

“They might. We will ask them in a minute, but not here,” Peter replied. He was anxious to be gone before any more arrived. Turning he led the way to the gateway.

“Who are they?” Megan asked as she followed.

Graham answered. “Don't know. They didn't say. Yanks, obviously. This was on them.” He held out several cards taken from the men's wallets. One said: MEMBER of the SOUTHERN UNITED CHURCH OF THE GREAT CHRIST REBORN; Reverend Jesse J. Juniper, Jacksonville, Miss. The other was a membership card of the National Machine Gun Association.

Stephen scowled at the prisoners, the rifle held at the ready. “Not Yanks, Confederates,” he replied.

Peter again nodded. “Let's not debate it. Follow me. Steve, you and Graham come last with the prisoners. Has everyone got a gun?”

A quick check revealed that Graham had the M16, Stephen the M14, Joy had a shotgun, Sir Miles had the revolver and only Megan and Old Ned were unarmed. All had retrieved their webbing but not the weapons which had been in them.

Stephen motioned with the rifle for the prisoners to move. “What are we going to do?” he asked.

“You'll see,” Peter replied. In truth he wasn't quite sure himself, having only just formed the outline of his plan. With a last look around to ensure they weren't leaving anything of value he led them out the gate, motioning Sir Miles to join as he did.

Outside he turned right and went on along the road the way he had been going. The others followed, Joy walking close beside him.

“I'll take that radio if you like,” she offered.

“When we stop,” Peter agreed.

They walked down through another creek. This had a few muddy pools in it. For a moment Peter hesitated, considering filling water bottles. However he
decided to do this further from the yards and went on up the small rise beyond. The road curved left, heading south. On the right was bush, the road being lined by lantana. A hundred paces on, just as Peter was considering leaving the road, he found a vehicle track heading off on the right. It was not a proper formed road and judging by the painted signs fastened to a tree was some sort of trail bike circuit. He turned right along it.

As he walked Peter kept listening for any sound of the Confederates. His eyes scanned the ground for boot prints but saw none.

A vehicle has been along this track recently,
he decided.

As soon as they were around the bend from the main road Peter stopped. “Everyone turn right and make your own way into the bush for fifty paces. Try not to leave a track.”

The other cadets knew what he wanted. They turned and walked into the bush side by side and five paces apart. Only the four prisoners walked one behind the other and Graham made an effort to hide the point where they left the track. With every step into the cover of the trees Peter felt more relaxed. After a fifty paces he called them back into one line and led them on for another hundred.

Satisfied they were safe from immediate discovery he motioned them to stop in a small thicket of She Oaks. “Put the prisoners over there where we can see them but where they can't overhear us,” he instructed.

“What are we going to do?” Joy asked.

“Plan our next move,” Peter replied.

Stephen smiled. “And have some bloody breakfast,” he added.

That made them grin. The prisoners were seated in a sulky group and the rope tied to a tree. The group then seated themselves in the shelter of the trees. Graham appointed himself as sentry and stood looking back the way they had come. Stephen kept covering the prisoners.

Food was handed around; bread, steak and sausages mostly. Peter thankfully wolfed down a sausage, all the while studying the map and thinking hard. He said: “That place is marked on the map as their company HQ. Here.” He pointed at the map.

Joy leaned over to look. “All those blue marks indicate where these people are don't they?” she asked.

Peter nodded. “Yes they do.”

“There are an awful lot of them.”

Peter nodded again. “A company. And it has four platoons and a few detachments.”

Megan looked amazed. “But that's more than a hundred men! How on earth did that many armed men get into Australia?” she asked incredulously.

“By aeroplane I'd say,” Peter replied, remembering the aircraft he had seen earlier. He had now worked out the rough deployment of the Confederates and saw that the place where they were resting was nowhere near any of the patrols. The nearest appeared to be about a kilometre away on the other side of the road.

“What if they find us here?” Megan asked.

“We are outside any of the marked search areas,” Peter replied, running his finger along a black line marking a platoon boundary. “We are safe for the moment I think.” He held out his hand. “Give me those papers you collected please Megan. We need to know exactly who and what we are up against here if we are to get out safely.”

Megan handed over the bundle of papers. Peter quickly sorted them on the grass. Almost at once it was clear they were important.

Joy pointed. “A Radio Net Diagram!” she said. “Oh look at them all!”

The diagram had at least a dozen circles on it, all indicating a radio station. The headings answered many of the questions that had been plaguing Peter for the last twelve hours. The sheet said:

TOP SECRET
FREE ARMY OF AMERICA
Signal Operating Instructions
4th REGIMENT, MISSISSIPPI MILITIA

Stephen frowned. “Mississippi Militia? Never heard of them,” he said.

“Are they from the American army?” Megan asked.

Peter shook his head. “No. This is one of those private armies I'd say.” He studied the sheet. It had all the usual things: Date-Time groups, File Numbers, Frequencies, Codes and so on. It had lists of Nicknames. These were all Biblical places: Bethlehem, Tabor, Gaza, Jericho, and so on. Even the ‘Authenticate' Password was Biblical: Moses- Sampson.

“What does Signal Detachment Qumran mean I wonder?” Graham asked, pointing to where a circle with that name was interposed between the Regimental HQ circle at the top of the diagram and two, both called Coy B HQ and Numbered ‘2' as a Call Sign.

Sir Miles had been listening but now he spoke. “Qumran is the place near the Dead Sea where the Scrolls were found,” he explained.