hardly had any bullets left anyway. It’s a feeling of lightness and relief when you take the last of them out of your pockets, because they weigh so much. It’s also a horrible feeling of panic, because once they’re used, you’re truly on your own.
CHAPTER 8
We were lucky that everybody was able to run. I’m not sure what the American troops on Okinawa did when they collapsed mentally. I’m guessing they fell down in little heaps and wept and could not move or speak any more. Or maybe they threw away their weapons and ran screaming at the enemy. Or maybe they dived in blind panic into the ocean, desperate to swim to Australia or Hawaii or California.
We were lucky that none of us was in that condition.
I realised when we were in the shadow of the first new wall that we were heading for a twin-cab ute. Somehow they’d stolen it and put it here ready for use. It had drums in the back that looked like fuel, which could be a bonus with the price of petrol these days. Homer grabbed the keys from off the front tyre and threw them to me, then went around to the other side. I took the driver’s seat. Jess and Lee both got in the back, from my side. When I noticed how badly they trembled I could only hope that dump bin syndrome didn’t last long.
Jeremy was in the front, shaking so much that he bounced on the seats. Homer didn’t seem much better.
I took off with a skidding slide that sent dust and gravel flying behind me. I was trembling pretty badly myself, but hanging on to the steering wheel helped. From the back seat Jess yelled at both of us, ‘Put your safety belts on,’ which was good advice, and a relief, because it showed she hadn’t completely shut down. I put mine on with one hand as I accelerated over the crest.
Accelerating over a crest is probably always a bad idea. Many a story I’d heard at Wirrawee B amp;S’s about people being wiped out in head-on collisions as they flew over crests. There were so many stories that I didn’t know if they could all be true. But as a general principle, I did see that accelerating over crests was in no-one’s best interest.
On this occasion I thought that it was in our best interest, but I wasn’t expecting to find a bulldozer. This building site was a mess, with materials and vehicles everywhere, so maybe it shouldn’t have been a surprise to find a bulldozer casually parked in the middle of the road. It was just a regular-sized bulldozer but to me it looked like a mechanical T-Rex. Jess screamed, and Jeremy made a noise that’s as close to a scream as a boy can get, and I spun the wheel. We went into a massive slide that made the first one look like a delicate piece of ballroom dancing. At every moment I fully expected the ute to roll. Somehow it didn’t. If Jeremy had been trembling a bit before, now he was registering a force-ten gale.
We took off again.
The track faded fast, as we got away from the building site. We were heading towards a paddock, which looked like it was being marked out for a housing estate. There were no gates, so at least we didn’t have that problem. We did have a lot of other problems though. In the middle of all of them I managed to remember the biggest one. ‘Have any of you seen Gavin?‘ I yelled.
Nothing but the thrum of the engine and the rushing of the wind through the windows. I felt despair. ‘No- one?’
‘There’s a couple of motorbikes coming after us,’ Lee said. I hated him when he was like this. At the same time I had to process the information. Motorbikes. They were more difficult to deal with than cars. They were so mobile, so hard to stop. It was like swatting mosquitoes. They could get into much more difficult country, use different tracks.
‘Did Gavin follow us?’ Jess asked. I loved her for this, as much as I hated Lee for his cold-heartedness.
‘How many bikes?’ I asked Lee. ‘Yes,’ I said to Jess.
‘Three,’ Lee said.
‘That’s terrible,’ Jess said. I loved her even more. Then I realised she was talking about the motorbikes.
‘How far behind are they?’ I asked.
‘Not far enough,’ said Homer.
‘About a hundred metres,’ said Lee.
I glanced at the wing mirror, and saw one of them. Objects may be closer than they appear, but this guy looked pretty close. Closer than a hundred metres. I groaned, but only to myself. Outwardly I just swore. Life these days seemed to be nothing but problems, and a lot of the time there seemed to be only one solution. Death. I had the horrible feeling that someone was going to die here. How else could we stop the mosquitoes on motorbikes? I gritted my teeth, put aside my doubts and memories, and decided that if there had to be fatalities it wasn’t going to be me or my friends.
But how to stop them? I couldn’t think and drive at the same time. If you think and drive you’re a bloody idiot. No, that wasn’t right. But already my brain was at maximum output. If they could breathalyse my brain for concentration I’d blow. 15. Here I was, at night, headlights on, weaving and dodging around rocks and ruts and fallen timber and ditches. The track was getting worse. Then I noticed we had a good lead suddenly. We’d opened up a break. It even looked like they’d stopped completely. Could we get that lucky? No, because soon they started to move again. But we had a good lead now. It wouldn’t last for long, but it was a welcome relief because it gave us a few more moments to be alive, and when you’re facing death moments become important. Like, if you were down to your last dollar, I guess you’d value every cent.
I nearly lost the track and had to swing sharply left hoping that the faint line I’d seen out of the corner of my eye was a road. Those bush tracks are so deceptive. They’ll run along like a regular road while you listen to the music and enjoy the view, and then for no obvious reason they start to degenerate, and before you know it there’s not much more than a choice of paths, decorated with kangaroo droppings and rabbit holes, and you can’t be sure they’ve got anything to do with humans even. They look more like animal routes to the tastier patches of grass. And then you can’t pick up any radio stations and you think, ‘OK, what happened to civilisation?’
Still, I thought I was on a man-made track. It seemed to be heading back towards a highway I could see in the distance, with regular traffic. We started going across the crest of a hill, but then the path turned again and went down the back of the hill. That’s when Lee called out, ‘Are those rocks up there?’
‘Yeah I think so.’
‘Hit the brakes when we get there. And stay ready. Don’t get out.’
He and Homer had been talking in the back seat from time to time, but I hadn’t heard what they were saying and I hadn’t tried. Too busy keeping us alive. But I knew from our experience in the war that when someone like Lee tells you to do something, if it’s a time of real danger, you’d better do what he says. Every other time you can ignore him, and you’re probably better off if you do.
As soon as we reached the rocks I stopped with a lurch. I knew now why he wanted to stop. It was because the motorbikes were out of sight for a minute. The three boys piled out. The vehicle rocked as someone got up on the tray. I heard the scraping of a drum across the metal floor.
‘What are they doing?’ Jess asked nervously.
I glanced back at her but didn’t answer. At least she’d stopped trembling, more or less. How should I know what they were doing? It involved the spare drums of fuel, that’s all I knew. The ute lurched again as the boys jumped off the back. It felt lighter now, somehow.
Lee’s face appeared at the window. ‘Get going,’ he said. ‘Stop up there somewhere after we’ve set it off
Set what off? Lee turned to the other two boys and said, ‘You two spread it and I’ll light it. That way I won’t get any on my clothes.’ By the end of his sentence we were gone.
We rocked and bumped on, going up a rise now. It was tough stuff. Smart of Lee to think of that detail. Otherwise he could have become a human torch. We turned right, still following a track. The motorbikes appeared again, coming pretty fast, making up the time and space they’d lost. I couldn’t see the boys. From one of the bikes came a familiar flash of flame. It was the mark of a gunshot. So they were still keen to kill us. And of course there could be no other outcome really. They couldn’t take us prisoner. They’d be too scared to try that in the middle of the night when we’d already proved how dangerous we were.
I didn’t really understand how Lee would stop them with a small petrol fire. After all, the bikes could be
