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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 gri
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 i
Ru
‘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.