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‘But if you take out the planes,’ said Fi, ‘you haven’t got nearly as much. Just some little local emergency.’
‘Don’t forget the radio stations,’ Robyn said.
Lee spoke up. ‘Fi, they’re all valid theories. And I’m not saying you’re wrong. You’re probably right, and the planes are just a coincidence, and the radio can be explained away and so on. But the thing that scares the sweat out of me is there is one theory that does fit all the facts, and so bloody neatly it’s perfect. Remember our conversation that morning in Hell? How Commemoration Day would be the ideal day to do it?’
Fi nodded dumbly, tears rolling down her face. We were all crying again now, even Lee, who kept talking as he wept.
‘Maybe all my mother’s stories made me think of it before you guys. And like Robyn said before, if we’re wrong,’ he was struggling to get the words out, his face twisting like someone having a stroke, ‘if we’re wrong you can laugh as long and loud as you want. But for now, for now, let’s say it’s true. Let’s say we’ve been invaded. I think there might be a war.’
Chapter Seven
It was terrible waiting for it to get dark. We kept starting out, saying ‘OK, that’s enough, let’s go’, then someone would say ‘No, wait, it’s still too light’.
That’s the trouble with summer, it’s daylight for an awfully long time. But we’d made a decision to play it safe and we stuck to it.
The moon was thin and late to rise, so when we did get going it really was quite dark. We had a couple of torches that Homer had been able to find but we’d agreed not to use them unless absolutely necessary. We left Millie on a blanket in Homer’s kitchen. She was too weak to move far. We walked along the road for about a k and a half, then branched across the last of the Ya
Once we were in the lane Kevin starting ru
He beat us there by two or three minutes I’d say, he and Robyn. But there wasn’t much point. His house was the same as Homer’s and mine. Three dead working dogs on chains, a dead cockatoo in a cage on the verandah, two dead poddy lambs by the verandah steps. But his old pet corgi had been locked in the house, with a bucket of food and a bucket of water in the laundry. She was alive but she’d chosen one of the bedrooms for a toilet, so the house smelt pretty foul. She was delirious with joy to see Kevin; when we got there she was still leaping at his face, crying pitifully, doing excited midair stunts and wetting herself with excitement.
Corrie, grim-faced, went past me with a mop and a handful of rags. I’d noticed when I’d stayed with Corrie that if things got too emotional she’d start cleaning up. It was a useful habit she had.
We had another quick conference. There seemed to be so many problems and so many choices. Robyn had the bright idea that bicycles were quick and silent – the perfect transport. Kevin had two little brothers, so we scored three bikes from their shed. Homer asked if we knew anyone who wouldn’t have gone to the Show; he’d realised that finding someone who’d stayed home that day might be the solution to the whole mystery. Lee said he didn’t think his parents would have gone: his sisters and brothers usually went, but not his parents. Kevin said he wanted to bring the corgi, Flip, along with us. He couldn’t bear to leave her alone again after what she’d been through.
This was a tough one. We all felt sympathetic to the dog, who seemed to be attached to Kevin’s heels by a metre of invisible lead, but we were starting to get more and more conscious of our own safety. We finally agreed to take her with us to Corrie’s, and make another decision depending on what we found there.
‘But Kevin,’ warned Lee, ‘we might have to make some ugly choices.’
Kevin just nodded. He knew.
Robyn, who’d thought of the bikes, ended up jogging most of the way to Corrie’s. We could only get two on a bike, and she said she needed the exercise. Homer dinked Kevin, who nursed Flip in his arms. The little corgi spent the whole trip licking his face in an ecstasy of love and gratitude. It would have been fu
The image I’ll always remember from Corrie’s place is of Corrie standing alone in the middle of the sitting room, tears streaming down her face. Then Kevin came in from checking the bedrooms, saw her, and moving quickly to her took her in his arms and held her close. They just stood there for quite a few minutes. I liked Kevin a lot for that.
Under a lot of pressure from Robyn we agreed to try to eat before doing any more. She had been so logical all evening, and she was still being logical, even though it was her house that we would head for next. So she and I and Homer made sandwiches with stale bread and salami, and lettuce and tomatoes from Mrs Mackenzie’s famous vegetable garden. We made tea and coffee too, using long-life milk and a little solid-fuel camping stove. It was hard to force the food down our dry and choked-up throats, but we nagged and nagged until everyone had eaten at least one sandwich, and it did make a difference to our energy and morale.
We decided as we ate that we would go to Robyn’s, but we knew that we were heading into a whole new set of problems. Out here in the country, where most of us lived, where the air was free and the paddocks wide and empty, we had still been moving fairly confidently. Danger just didn’t seem real. We knew that if there was trouble, if there was danger, it would be in town.
Robyn described, for the ones who hadn’t been there, the layout of her house, and where it was in relation to Wirrawee. We figured that it should be safe to go in on Coachman’s Lane, which was just a dirt track at the back of a few ten acre blocks, including Robyn’s. From the hill behind Robyn’s we could get a glimpse of the town, which might tell us something.
It was time to leave. Corrie was waiting for me at the front door. I’d been using the bathroom. I’d forgotten that the Mackenzies weren’t on town water, and a pressure pump needs electricity to operate. So I’d had to go out to the bathtub in the vegetable garden, fill a bucket with water, and come back in to fill the cistern and flush the toilet. Corrie was getting impatient but I held her up a few moments longer. I was coming down the passageway, past their telephone, when I noticed a message on their fax. ‘Corrie,’ I called out, ‘do you want to see this?’ I held it out, adding as she came towards me, ‘It’s probably an old one but you never know’.
She took it and read it. As she went from line to line I saw her mouth slowly open. Her face seemed to become longer and thi
In a rough scrawl I saw these words, written by Mr Mackenzie:
Corrie, I’m in the Show Secretary’s Office. Something’s going on. People say it’s just Army manoeuvres but I’m sending this anyway, then heading home to tear it up so no one’ll know what an idiot I’ve been. But Corrie, if you do get this, go bush. Take great care. Don’t come out till you know it’s safe. Much love darling. Dad.