‘It could have been,’ Homer admitted.
‘What?’ said Corrie, laughing.
‘Well it got a bit boring,’ Homer explained. ‘Even more boring than usual. So I thought I’d leave. The window was closer than the door, so when she turned to write on the whiteboard I went over the windowsill and down the drainpipe.’
‘And then Ms Maxwell came along,’ I chipped in.
‘And said, “What are you doing?”.’
‘Quite a fair question really,’ I said.
‘So I told her I was inspecting the plumbing,’ Homer finished, hanging his head as if he remembered the storm that followed. We were laughing so much we had trouble keeping our grip on the branches.
‘I’ve heard of people being out of their trees,’ Corrie said, ‘and you nearly are.’
A familiar sound interrupted us. We stopped talking and craned our necks, searching the sky. ‘There it is,’ said Corrie, pointing. A jet screamed across the hills, so low that we could see the markings. ‘One of ours!’ Homer yelled excitedly. ‘We’re still in business!’ The jet lifted a little to clear the range and turned to the left, belting away into the distance towards Stratton. ‘Look!’ Corrie called. Three more jets, dark and ominous, were in hot pursuit. They were flying a little higher but following the same course. The noise was piercing, splitting the peaceful sky and land, like a long Velcro tear. Homer sank back to his position in the bole of the tree. ‘Three against one,’ he said. ‘I hope he makes it.’
‘He or she,’ I muttered, absent-mindedly.
The long day wore on. When everyone was awake we had a late lunch and talked endlessly of Lee and Robyn, of where they might be, of what could have happened. After a while we realised we were going round in tired circles. Homer had been silent for ten minutes or so, and as our voices trailed off we found ourselves looking at him. Maybe that always happens when someone’s been quiet for a while. Maybe it happened because we were starting to recognise Homer’s leadership. He didn’t seem to notice, just began talking naturally, as though he had it all worked out.
‘How about this?’ he said. ‘You know how I feel about everyone sticking together. It might be nice for our feelings but it’s ultimately stupid. We’ve got to toughen up, and fast. Just because we like being together, that’s not important any more. You know what I’m saying? So, what I suggest is two of us go into Wirrawee to look for Lee and Robyn. If no one’s turned up by midnight say, they make their way to Lee’s place, and see if they’re holed up there, injured maybe.’
‘I thought you didn’t believe in friendship any more,’ Kevin said. ‘Seems a hell of a risk to go to Lee’s, if we’re so worried about saving ourselves.’
Homer looked at him coldly and even Corrie rolled her eyes.
‘I’m not doing it just for friendship,’ Homer said. ‘It’s a calculated risk. Seven people are better than five, so we take a risk to try to build up our numbers to seven again.’
‘And we could end up with three.’
‘We could end up with none. Everything’s a risk from now on Kev. We’re not going to be safe anywhere, any time, until this thing is over. All we can do is to keep calculating the odds. And if it goes on long enough we’ll be caught. But if we do nothing we’ll get caught even sooner. The biggest risk is to take no risk. Or to take crazy risks. We’ve got to be somewhere between one and the other. Obviously whoever goes looking for Lee and Robyn has to be incredibly careful. But I’m sure they can work that out for themselves.’
‘So what do the other three do?’ Kevin asked. ‘Sit back here and eat and sleep? Shame there’s nothing on TV.’
‘No,’ said Homer. He leaned forward. ‘Here’s what I suggest. They load Corrie’s Toyota with everything useful they can find. Then they go to Kevin’s and do the same. And to my place and Ellie’s if there’s time. They pick up the Landrover at my place and fill it too. I’m talking food, clothes, petrol, rifles, tools, everything. By dawn we want to have two vehicles fuelled up, packed to their roofs, and ready to go.’
‘To go where?’ Kevin asked.
‘To Hell,’ Homer answered.
That was Homer’s genius. He combined action with thought, and he planned ahead. He sensed, I think, that inaction was our enemy. Anyone seeing us at that moment wouldn’t have thought that we were in the most desperate positions of our lives. We were all sitting up excitedly, faces flushed and eyes gleaming. We had things to do, positive definite things. It suddenly seemed so obvious that if we had a future, it would be in Hell. And we began to realise that there might still be a life for us.
‘We’ll make lists,’ Fi said. ‘We need pens and paper, Corrie.’
Our lists took nearly an hour to compile. They included all kinds of things, such as where the keys to petrol tanks were kept, how to find a foot pump for car tyres, what grade oil to put in the Landrover, and which of my teddies I wanted to have – Alvin. For food we went mainly for rice, noodles, cans, plus tea, coffee, jams, Vegemite, biscuits and cheese. Kevin looked a bit depressed when he realised what a vegetarian he was about to become. But there were sure to be heaps of eggs, in kitchens and chook sheds. Clothing was just all the obvious stuff, but with an emphasis on warmth, in case the weather broke or we were in the bush for a long time – and with an emphasis on dull colours, too, that would camouflage successfully. But it was the extras that took the time. A lot of the stuff was still in the Landrover from our five days in Hell, but it would need to be checked. And we kept thinking of new things, or things that needed topping up. Soap, dishwashing brushes and liquid, shampoo, toothpaste and toothbrushes, firestarters, pens, paper, maps of the district, compasses, books to read, transistor radio – in case a station came back on the air – and batteries, torches, insect repellent, first-aid kits, razors, tampons, packs of cards, chess set, matches, candles, sun cream, binoculars, Kevin’s guitar, toilet paper, alarm clock, cameras and film, family photos. Homer didn’t comment on the family photos but when that encouraged other family treasures being added to the list he spoke up.
‘We can’t take things like that,’ he said, when Corrie nominated her mother’s diaries.
‘Why not? They’re so important to her. She’s always said that if the house was burning they’d be the first things she’d save.’
‘Corrie, this isn’t a picnic we’re going on. We’ve got to start thinking of ourselves as guerillas. We’re already taking teddy bears and guitars. I think that’s enough.’
‘If we can take family photos we can take my mother’s diaries,’ Corrie said obstinately.
‘That’s exactly what’ll end up happening,’ Homer said. ‘You’ll say, “Well if the photos can go, the diaries can”, and then someone else’ll say, “Well if her diaries can go then my father’s football trophies can go”, and before we know it we’ll need a couple of trailers.’
It was just one of many arguments we seemed to have that afternoon. We were tired and nervous and scared for Lee and Robyn and our families. That particular fight was resolved by Fi, who made one of those suggestions that immediately seem so obvious you wonder why it took so long for anyone to think of it.
‘Why don’t you pack up all the valuables in the house,’ she said to Corrie. ‘Your mother’s jewellery and everything. Then hide them somewhere. Bury them in the vegetable garden.’
It was such a good idea that I hoped there would be time later for me to do the same thing.
Meanwhile Kevin kept trying to sneak extra things onto the list, the most important of which seemed to be condoms. As fast as he wrote them down Corrie crossed them off, till the paper had as many erasures as items. But when we came to firearms he got serious. ‘We’ve got a couple of rifles and a shotgun. One rifle’s only a .22 but the other’s a .222. The shotgun’s a beauty, a twelve-gauge. Plenty of ammo for the rifles, not so much for the shotgun. Unless Dad got some more while we were away, which I doubt. He was talking about it, but I don’t think he was going into town except for Commem Day, when the sports store’d be shut.’