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As far as we could see it was all quiet on the Curr’s front. There were big wire gates, locked with a chain and padlock, and a high wire fence all the way around the depot, but we were prepared for that with the wirecutters. We’d brought bolt cutters as well but they were no match for the gate: the chain was just too big. Plan B was to use the truck to break through the gate.
We took a smoko for twenty minutes. We sat behind a tree opposite the depot, getting our breath back, while Fi tried to call up Homer and Lee on the walkie-talkie. Just as we were about to abandon the attempt and go for the tanker we heard Homer’s hoarse whisper coming from the receiver.
‘Yes, we can hear you Fi. Over.’
It was somehow vastly exciting, and a wild relief, to hear his voice. Fi’s eyes glistened.
‘How’s Lee?’
‘Fine.’
‘Where are you? Over.’
‘Where we said we’d be. How about you? Over.’
‘Yes, the same. We’re about to try to get in. It looks OK. They’ve got plenty of what we want. Over.’
‘OK, good. Call us back when you’re in business. Over.’
‘Bye,’ Fi whispered. ‘Love you.’
There was a pause, then the answer. ‘Yeah, I love you too Fi.’
For Homer to say that to anyone was pretty good; for him to say it with Lee and me listening was amazing. We switched the walkie-talkie off and moved cautiously over to the fence of the depot. There were big security lights along the wire fence, but the power seemed to be switched off to this part of town. I hoped that meant that any burglar alarms would be inoperative too. I took a deep breath and made the first cut. No bells rang, no lights flashed, no sirens howled. I cut again, and kept cutting until I’d made a hole about big enough for a hare.
‘We’ll never get through that,’ Fi muttered. As she was the size of a rabbit and I’m the size of a Shetland, it was obvious who she meant by ‘we’.
‘We’ll have to,’ I said. ‘It makes me nervous standing here. It’s too exposed. Come on.’
Fi put one leg through, then gracefully twisted her body after it and followed with her other leg. All those ballet lessons were good for something, I thought enviously. It was obvious that the hole had to be bigger, so I cut some more, but even when I did get through I ripped my T-shirt and scratched my leg.
We scurried across the yard to where the trucks were parked. I tried the doors of a couple but they were locked. We went over to the office and peered through the grimy window. On the opposite wall was a board hung with keys.
‘That’s our target,’ I said. I turned and found a rock, picked it up and came back to the window.
‘Wait,’ Fi said.
‘What?’
‘Can I do it? I’ve always wanted to break a window.’
‘You should have joined Homer’s Greek Roulette gang,’ I said, but I handed over the rock. She giggled and drew back her arm and smashed the rock hard into the window, then jumped back as glass showered over us both. It took us a few moments to shake it out of our clothes and hair. Then I leaned in and opened the door from the inside.
The keys were neatly marked with the registration numbers of the trucks, so we took a handful and went back to the yard. I chose the oldest, dirtiest semitrailer, because the newer smarter ones seemed to shine too much in the moonlight. It was a flat-fronted International Acco. The first thing we did was to go to the back of the trailer and climb up the thin steel ladder to the top, walking along the curved surface to inspect the storage compartments. It turned out that there were four lids, spaced at equal intervals along the top. I twisted one of the lids and took it off. It was much like the lids of the milk cans that we still had in our old dairy. It came away easily, even though it was quite heavy. I tried to see if there was any petrol inside but it was impossible to tell. I searched my memory. When the truck came to our place each month, what was it the driver did? ‘Hold this,’ I whispered urgently to Fi, giving her the lid, then shi
We replaced the lid and checked the other three. Two of them were full; we didn’t need to dip them. The last one was nearly empty, but it didn’t matter. We had enough to cause a bigger explosion than Krakatoa. We screwed the lids back on and hurried down the ladder.
I went round to the driver’s door, unlocked it, got in, and opened the passenger door for Fi, then began inspecting the controls. It looked OK but when I switched on the ignition a continuous beep began sounding, and a red warning brake light started flashing. I waited for it to go off, but it didn’t.
‘There’s something wrong with the brakes,’ I said to Fi. ‘We’d better try another one.’
We spent ten minutes going along the row of trucks, trying each one, but always with the same result. I began to regret the time spent on our rest break. We might end up getting to the bridge too late.
It’s no good,’ I said at last. ‘We’ll just have to take the first one and risk it with no brakes. I’ll use the gears as much as I can.’
We jumped back into the Acco, and started the engine, which throbbed into immediate life. To my astonishment the warning beep and the flashing light stopped within seconds.
‘Air brakes,’ I said to Fi, a
I had more trouble finding first, having to pump the clutch a few times to get it. I was sweating heavily and Fi was trembling. The engine sounded so loud in the quiet night air. Then I eased the clutch out. The prime mover jerked, took up the strain of the trailer, and crept forward. I brought it well out into the yard, clear of the other vehicles, so I had plenty of room to make my turn. Then I swung it round and aimed at the gates.
It’s really quite frightening to crash a vehicle directly and deliberately into something. At the last moment my nerve failed me and I slowed right down, bumping too gently into the gate to do any damage. I was really a
‘Ellie!’ she said. ‘It’s petrol in the back, not water!’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘Sorry.’
This time I rolled it smoothly and firmly into the gates, which strained for a moment, then sprang open like a bursting dam. I gave Fi a quick grin, and made another wide turn to get into the street without hitting anything. The trailer followed beautifully. To keep the noise down I put the gearstick into neutral and coasted down to a clump of trees, parking under them. Fi was already trying to call the boys on the walkie-talkie, but there was too much interference from the truck engine.
‘I’ll go down to the corner and check that it’s clear,’ she said, ‘and call them from there.’
‘OK.’
She slipped out of the cab and set off for the corner. I watched her through the windscreen I always admired so much about Fi, but now it was her courage I was admiring, instead of her grace and beauty. She looked like a breeze would blow her over, but here she was going alone through the deserted streets of a town in a war zone. Not many people would do it; still fewer people who’d had the sheltered life she’d had. I saw her get to the corner, take a long careful look in each direction, give me a thumbs up and then start talking into her transmitter. After a few minutes she waved me forward; I hit reverse again, but then found first, and rolled the truck down to pick her up.