So was I, even though I didn’t know what we were ready for. I turned a little but the signals weren’t strong behind me. Something was in front of us, something that had those spiders tickling my skin so badly I wanted to scratch myself. The problem was to move forwards in a way that wouldn’t expose us too much and yet would give us a chance to go quietly. The further off the track and into the bush we were, the more we’d be walking on twigs and leaves and bark and noisy stuff. It was all about finding a middle way, as always. I shuffled a bit to the left and started to creep down the road. Across from me Lee was doing the same. We were coming into a little dip. Beyond that the road rose, then levelled and ran in a straight line for about fifty metres before coming to a cattle grid. This was the boundary between One Tree and Burnt Hut.
One Tree had probably been a paddock with only one tree a long time ago. Maybe when my great- grandfather was razing the place with crosscut saws and axes, and when my grandfather joined in with tractors and bulldozers. But then my father came along with his airy-fairy arty-farty greenie ideas and not only let the bush grow back in quite a few places but actually planted trees and restored the lagoon. And so One Tree didn’t really deserve that name any more, but was stuck with it anyway.
Burnt Hut was a nice paddock that at the moment was heavily stocked with Mr Young’s cattle, which I had on agistment. It was my eastern boundary. Next door was Colin McCann’s place. It was my only border with him and I didn’t see much of him but he was a decent bloke and a good neighbour.
I knew that to the left of the dip, on Lee’s side, ahead of us, was a bit of a gully that occasionally ran with water during a wet winter. I realised that if these guys were anywhere around here, this was the place they’d be camping.
I waved to Lee to get him to stay where he was, then I cut back through the bush and went quite a way forwards. I came out near the gate into Burnt Hut, on the other side of the dip, and looked back down the track to pick up Lee again. There he was, a thin dark figure in among the thin dark saplings. I pointed into the gully, to show him what I wanted to do, to have the two of us sneak in there and see what we could see. Then I squatted a little to peer through the trees.
At that moment my head was nearly blasted off my shoulders. My God there is nothing like a rifle shot fired at you from not far away to totally pulverise you, to turn you into mush. And I’m talking about the shots that miss you. Everything turns to liquid. I guess if it had hit me I would have shed quite a lot of liquid too, but either way it’s pretty effective. I froze in mid-crouch. At the same time I realised that the crouch had saved my life. I’d bent just as he fired.
At least my brain started working again, after that moment of paralysis. I dropped further and did a quick slithering crawl into some bracken and grass, hoping no snakes were waking up in the immediate vicinity. My heart was going like an empty jerry can in the back of a ute, a ute being driven on a dirt road at a hundred and twenty k’s. And when I say dirt road, I’m talking a fire trail. I didn’t know if my chest would be able to contain it. I wondered where Lee was, and if the gunman knew he was hanging around. A second shot slammed into a tree behind me, but missed by quite a way compared to the first one. I bolted deeper into the undergrowth then immediately started working my way around to the right in the hope that I’d get a shot at him or them.
I left my safety on because dragging the rifle along in the grass was just too dangerous. Someone started firing pretty much at random, but I thought there was at least a bit of a pattern in where the shots were going, which meant that I could flatten myself as they got closer. I was completely deaf by the time they got to me. One bullet went to my left and another to my right. I’d say the closer one was less than two metres away. By that time I was so flat that you could have put a spirit level on me and the bubble wouldn’t have gone anywhere. I did the echidna thing and writhed myself into the ground, trying to make a depression where no depression existed. But the moment the shots passed me I went at a speed no echidna has ever achieved, heading for the fence line into Burnt Hut.
I knew that the scrub was much lighter there and I’d have a better view. Of course they’d have a better view of me too, but I had to get a look at him or them and see what I was up against.
The shots stopped abruptly. As far as I could tell with my ringing ears there was a complete silence. I could bet that every bird for a couple of k’s would be keeping its beak shut and heading for the hills. The familiar thump thump thump of kangaroos moving at speed could not be heard. No moaning mooing cattle either. Chances were that it was just down to me and Lee and an unknown number of gunmen who wanted to kill us.
I tried to move as quietly as possible, considering that I wouldn’t have heard much noise I made anyway. If I’d screamed at the top of my voice while at the same time jumping up and down on large dead branches… well, I might have heard that, just. But, still on all fours, I wove a way through more bracken and grass, trying to ignore the blackberries I occasionally plonked my hand on, until at last I got to a position where I thought I could risk a peep.
I peeped but I didn’t see anything. I slowly swivelled my head and peeped some more, quite a lot more, still with no result. Again I wondered where Lee was. Then, suddenly, shockingly, as I peeped again, I got a good view of them. Two men, both young, both dressed in camouflage. They were moving slowly down the sides of the road, the exact way Lee and I had been doing. Guess we’d read the same handbook on guerrilla warfare. They had their rifles ready for action and they looked pretty professional. They peered as I peeped.
I carefully moved my rifle up to my shoulder, still trying to make no sound. It occurred to me that they might be pretty deaf themselves after the barrage. I lined them up, but didn’t know what I was going to do. Could I shoot them in cold blood? I didn’t have much compunction about that, seeing how hard they were trying to kill me, but I didn’t know if it was a good tactical move. Could I take them prisoner? I was scared to do that. I know it’s so easy in the movies when they take a prisoner, but in real life all I could see were problems. What if I told them to walk along the road in a certain direction and they just refused? Would I, could I, shoot them?
Damn Lee, where was he? I needed his advice. Someone’s advice, anyone’s advice, but I’d take Lee or Homer above most people, especially in a situation like this.
Then it seemed that they saw Lee, even if I couldn’t. While I was still trying to decide whether to pull the trigger, and if so which one I’d shoot first, they both suddenly tensed. One went a couple of steps to the left, the other to the right. Now they were both out of my sight. But they both fired, in such quick succession that it almost seemed like one shot. There was an answering blast from Lee. He must have had himself fairly well positioned, because he gave them a hot time. He fired again, then a couple more times. He must have reloaded. I could see branches whipping back with the force of shells hitting them. Leaves flew. He forced the men back, I think, because I could hear them well enough now, shouting to each other in their own language. It sounded like they were already twenty metres down the road, nearly at the gate.
I ran around to get a better position. I knew where I could get a view of the fence line. If I could catch them as they went across the cattle grid I’d have them off guard for a couple of moments. It’s difficult to get across those things, especially if you’re trying to concentrate on shooting people at the same time.
By the time I saw them again they were already across it though. That was pretty slick work. They were haring towards a small clump of trees, swerving a bit as they went. Yes, they were professionals all right. Lee came running down the road, panting like he’d just done ten k’s. I came down the fence line taking giant steps to get over logs and rocks and ditches. We met at the gate and without needing to speak raced across the cattle grid. Lee dropped to one knee and lined up a shot, but I could have told him he was wasting his time. When you’ve been running like that and it’s a hot day and you’re in a state of panic, you can’t get your gun steady, you can’t aim properly, sweat gets in your eyes and your hand trembles and the shot goes wide or high or short or whatever. Lee should have known.
It would have been pretty funny if he’d hit one of them after my saying that, but he didn’t. I couldn’t see where the shot went, even though I’d had to pause and wait for him while he took it. I wasn’t going to run on ahead while he amused himself with pot shots from behind me.
‘Come on,’ I said, and he got back to his feet and started out after me.
I realised we were running into a problem. When these guys got into the clump of trees — and nothing we could do was going to stop them — the tables would suddenly be reversed. We were in a big bare part of the paddock. Absolutely no cover. To my left, beyond a dozen very restless and unhappy-looking beasts, was more bush, but it was a long way from us. We would be exposed to withering fire from a couple of professional soldiers who’d be well hidden in good cover. To my right were more cattle and the crest of the hill, my boundary fence with Colin McCann running along the crest of it.
I glanced behind and if I hadn’t been sweating before I did some serious sweating now. Sheez, we’d come a long way. Too far. We were too fast for our own good. The PE department at Wirrawee High School would be proud
