Tomorrow When The War Began (12 page)

‘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
we’ll 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 eke. 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 through 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’.

I glanced in the wing mirror, and saw the
headlights. There seemed to be two vehicles.

‘How far to go?’

‘Two k’s. Maybe three.’

‘Start praying again.’

‘Did you think I’d stopped?’

I had my foot pressed so hard to the floor my
arch was hurting. But they were gaining so fast we might as well
have been standing still. Within another block they were fifty
metres behind us.

‘They’re firing,’ said Robyn. ‘I can see the
flashes.’

We roared through a stop sign, doing 95 k’s.
One of the cars was now right on our tail, the headlights glaring
into my mirror. Then the mirror disappeared. Even though I was
looking right at it I didn’t see it go. But it definitely went.

The stop sign didn’t give me the idea; I’d
already vaguely thought of it as a possible tactic. But the sign
seemed like an omen, appearing when it did. I decided to follow its
advice. I just hoped Lee would survive.

‘Hold on real tight!’ I yelled at Robyn, then
hit the brakes with everything I had. I used the handbrake as well
as the foot brake. The truck skidded, went sideways, nearly rolled.
It was still skidding when I heard the satisfying crump of the car
behind hitting us on our rear right side, then saw it spinning out
of control away into the darkness. Then it rolled. We came to a
stop and sat there, rocking heavily. The engine stalled again and
for a minute we were a perfect target. I furiously wrenched at the
key, so hard that the soft metal actually twisted in my grip. The
second car was braking and almost stationary, but about a hundred
metres away. The truck started. I rammed it into gear. More flashes
of gunfire came from the second car, and suddenly there were two
bangs from underneath me. I swung the truck onto the road and hit
the accelerator, but the truck was tilting and sluggish, wallowing
all over the road and bumping badly. ‘What’s wrong?’ Robyn said.
She looked scared, unusual for Robyn.

‘They’ve shot some tyres out.’ Robyn’s mirror
was still there and I glanced at that. The second car had started
again and was coming on fast. Robyn was looking through the little
rear window.

‘What’s in the back here?’

‘I don’t know. I didn’t look.’

‘Well there’s something there. How do you
operate the tipper?’

‘That blue lever I think.’ Robyn grabbed it
and heaved it down. The second car was now trying to pass us. I was
swerving all over the road to prevent him, a process made easier by
the punctured tyres. Then something did start pouring out of the
back, with a slow sliding noise. I still don’t know what it was,
gravel or mud or something. In Robyn’s mirror I saw the car brake
so hard it nearly stood on its head. A minute later we were at
Three Pigs Lane.

I slewed the wheel around and blocked the lane
with the truck as we’d agreed. For a moment I couldn’t see Homer. I
felt sick. All I wanted to do was fall on my knees in the dirt of
the lane and vomit. Robyn had total faith though. She was out of
the truck and running to the shovel, helping Lee to stand. Then I
saw Homer, backing dangerously fast, without lights, towards us. I
jumped out of the truck and ran at him as he brought the car to a
wobbling halt, just a few metres away from me and in the gutter.
Everyone seemed to be reversing tonight, and not very efficiently.
I heard a bang, and another bullet whirred past me, somewhere in
the darkness. Homer was out of the car. It was a station wagon, a
BMW, and he was opening the tailgate and helping Lee in. Robyn left
him to it and ran to the front passenger door, opening it, and the
back one for Homer. A bullet hit the car, smashing a hole in the
rear passenger door. Only one person seemed to be firing at us,
using a handgun. It was quite possible that there’d only been one
person in that second car. Homer had left the driver’s door open
and the engine running. I clambered in, out of the gutter, and
looked around. Lee was in, Homer was getting in, Robyn was in.
Close enough. I pushed it in gear, not adjusting well after the
truck, and using too much force on the clutch and the gearstick. We
kangaroo-hopped out of the gutter. There was a cry of pain from the
back of the BMW. I put the clutch back in and tried again, this
time getting a smoother takeoff, then lost yet another side window
and windscreen, to a bullet that must have angled past me.

We’d been lucky, but when anyone’s shooting at
a wildly moving target in the dark the luck should favour the
target. I knew that from hunting trips. Sometimes I’d have a shot
at a hare or rabbit that the dogs were chasing. It was a waste of
ammunition, and dangerous for the dogs, but fun. I only ever got
one, and that was a fluke. These guys had actually done pretty well
in their attempts at us. They weren’t to be underestimated Some of
them might be undertrained, like Mr Clement had said, but they’d
given us a hard time.

The BMW was flying. It was a dirt road, but
straight, and smoother than most. ‘Nice car,’ I said to Homer,
glancing at him in the rear vision mirror.

He gave an evil grin. ‘Thought I might as well
get a good one.’

‘Whose is it?’

‘I don’t know. One of those big houses by the
golf course.’

Robyn, beside me, turned and looked to the
rear of the car.

‘You OK, Lee?’

There was a pause, then Lee’s quiet voice,
which I felt like I hadn’t heard in a year. ‘Better than I was in
that bloody truck.’ We all laughed, loudly, like we had a lot of
nervous energy.

Robyn turned to me, took my helmet off and
started inspecting my forehead as I drove. ‘Don’t,’ I said. ‘Too
distracting.’

‘But there’s blood all over your face and
shoulders.’

‘I don’t think it’s anything.’ I certainly
hadn’t felt a thing. ‘It’s probably just a bit of glass. Head
wounds always bleed a lot.’