‘Part of the emergency response strategy. People have to stay at their place of residence so we can keep account of everyone.’
‘So you can keep count of the people who have starved to death, you mean,’ I say.
He ignores me. ‘Residents only beyond this point.’
‘We’re residents,’ Lucy says.
‘I need to see ID and proof of address.’
‘Dude,’ I say. ‘We’ve been staying with friends in the mountains. We’re not exactly carrying passports.’
‘Driver’s licence?’
‘I don’t have a driver’s licence.’
‘Oh yeah, how’d yer get here?’ I feel like I’m ten and being interrogated by the babysitter.
‘Give us a break,’ says Lucy. ‘We drove. There is no food, there have been no instructions, you know that. Please just let us go home.’
‘Can’t let yez through without proper documentation.’
‘What the hell?’ I say. ‘Mate, where have you been the last three months? We don’t have documentation. What do you want us to do? Order birth certificates?’
‘We’re
‘Tell us where your parents are and I’ll get ’em to come and collect you. Otherwise, go back to where you came from.’
‘What are you going to do? Phone them?’
The army guy laughs. ‘We have access to enough back-up power to last us a year.’
‘Oh yeah? I think now’s the time to bring it out.’ Lucy steps out of the line-up as if to walk away. The guy grabs her arm and I lurch forward.
‘Don’t you touch her! Don’t you fucking touch her!’
‘Hands on yer head!’ He shoves Lucy back against the fence and in the same instant draws his weapon on us.
‘Fin, Luce, shut up.’ It’s the first time Noll has spoken. Without the light in our eyes we can see the army guy’s face and the slight quiver in his hands as he grips the weapon. Noll speaks to him like they are the only adults in the conversation.
‘Please, we don’t mean to be difficult. If you want proof, we’ll get it. Let us go back where we came from. Please.’
The officer weighs it up, then lowers the rifle. ‘If yez come back here without ID, all your food supplies and your vehicle will be confiscated.’
‘We don’t have any food,’ I reply.
‘Bull. I can tell just from looking at you.’
‘We won’t come back without ID,’ says Noll.
‘Don’t.’
We head back to the car, the spotlight on our backs.
‘Bit of advice,’ the guy calls after us. ‘Keep movin’, the people round here will smell your food. Yez won’t last five minutes.’
In the car we are quiet. I start the engine and we slide back into the night. After a while Noll asks Lucy for the map.
‘We were right,’ he says. ‘They’re trying to keep people contained and controlled. There’s limited resources for limited people.’
‘They’re feeding the people on that side of the barricade,’ Lucy says. ‘Keeping everyone else out. Which leaves us with a significant problem.’
‘We need a plan,’ says Noll.
‘What are we gonna do?’ asks Max.
‘We’re going to make a plan,’ I say.
‘So, the plan is to make a plan,’ Max says.
‘Yes, Max, that’s the plan.’
He laughs and I love him for it.
We drive slowly back in the direction we came from. Eventually we reach an exit and we creep into the back streets of suburbia, looking for a place we can stop and not be noticed.
My head is wedged in the small space between the side of the headrest and the driver’s side window. It is my attempt to find a comfy sleeping position; driver’s seats aren’t really designed to encourage sleep. There’s a reason for that, I guess. We have locked the doors and Lucy has made an attempt at ‘fixing’ the broken window by covering it in plastic and gaffer tape. As I slosh around in my semi-consciousness I am grateful for the gun in my back pocket.
My eyes snap open.
The gun.
‘Lucy,’ I whisper. She whimpers and in the dark I can’t tell if she’s awake or not.
‘Lucy?’
‘Yeah?’
I listen to hear if Noll has woken up, if he has, he isn’t making any noise.
‘Luce, I’ve left the, the, you know. I’ve left it behind.’
‘The
‘Yeah, I had to lose it before they got to us at the barricade. It’s under one of the cars.’
‘Oh crap.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Take Noll with you.’
‘There’s no way he’s going to want to go back to get a gun. He wouldn’t want us to have it in the first place.’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘There’s no time to talk him into it now, anyway. I have to get back before light or they’ll see me.’
‘Fin, no. It’s not safe.’
‘It’d be safer if I had the gun.’
‘I’ll come with you.’
‘No way. Stay here.’
She grips my hand. ‘We’ll wait for you.’
‘You bloody well better. Lock the door after me.’
She doesn’t say anything. I hear her swallow and she keeps hold of my hand for a minute. Then she lets it go and I step out of the car into the cold.
I keep the torchlight low at my feet when I can and I listen like I’ve never listened before, there is nothing but my footsteps, my breath and I swear I can hear my heartbeat. The snow isn’t deep underfoot, but walking is harder than it would be if I’d had a normal diet over the last three months. I find the freeway again and I follow the beam of the torch along it, into the black. My limbs feel weighted and I’m not dressed for this, even though I’m wearing five layers of clothing. I wonder if it is possible to freeze your arse off, literally. If it is, I’m a prime candidate. I try to move quicker.
I flash the torch up ahead, quickly so I don’t draw attention. It catches a flicker of a tail-light. I turn the torch off and head in what I hope is a straight line. A hint of morning has begun to show through the edges of the dark, I can just make out the shapes of the cars up ahead. I try to remember where we stopped the car when we got here, I retrace my footsteps, keeping low to the ground. Every move I make, every breath and heartbeat feels loud and clumsy. With another quick flash of the torch I catch a glimpse of the sign on the barrier and am able to orientate myself. I move through the cars. When I reach the spot where I think I stowed the gun I have to lie on my stomach to scan under the car with the torch. No gun. I check under the next car, and the next. Nothing. Maybe I came from the wrong angle.
I back up a little and then I feel a hand on my shoulder. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep or maybe it’s a lesson I
