‘That’s when humans are always at their weakest,’ I contributed. ‘We did that in Human Dev. Three to four am, that’s when most deaths occur in hospitals.’
‘Well, thanks for that comforting thought,’ Robyn said.
‘We’ll have to be at our strongest,’ Homer said.
‘Where do we actually put Lee?’ I asked ‘It’ll need to be such a quick pick-up. There won’t be room in the cab, so we’ll have to get him into the tray part somehow.’
Homer looked at me, eyes shining with joy. I realised the wild and crazy guy wasn’t so far away. ‘We pick him up in the shovel,’ he said, and waited for our reactions.
Our first reactions didn’t disappoint him, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. It all depended on us being able to operate the shovel part quickly and accurately. If we could do that, it was the best solution. If we couldn’t, we had a disaster.
After we tossed the options around Robyn suggested some more of the plan. ‘If we have a car waiting,’ she said, ‘in a place where it’d be hard for them to follow, or hard for them to use their guns, then we transfer to that ... And either head out to Ellie’s, or hole up in town another night ...’
I tried to think of some unusual place where we could swap vehicles. Somewhere special ... somewhere different ... my eyes closed and I had to sit up with a jerk and shake myself awake.
‘The cemetery?’ I said hopefully. ‘Maybe they’re superstitious?’
I don’t think the other two knew what I was talking about.
Homer looked at his watch. ‘We have to make some quick decisions,’ he said.
‘OK,’ said Robyn, ‘how about this? Ellie mentioned the cemetery. You know Three Pigs Lane? Past the Cemetery? That long narrow track across to Meldon Marsh Road? Here’s what I think we should do.’
Ten minutes later she’d finished. It sounded OK to me. Not great, but OK.
Chapter Eleven
The time was 3.05 am. I had the shivers; not the shakes but the shivers. It was getting hard to tell the difference though. It was also getting hard to tell when one shiver ended and the next began.
Cold, fear, excitement. They were all contributing generously. But the greatest of these was fear. That rang a bell – a quote from somewhere. Yes, the Bible: ‘and the greatest of these was love’. My fear came from love. Love for my friends. I didn’t want to let them down. If I did, they would die.
I looked at my watch again. 3.08. We really had coordinated our watches, just like in the movies. I pulled my chinstrap a little tighter. I must have looked pretty silly, but the only useful things I’d found in the Council Depot, apart from ignition keys, were these safety helmets. I’d put one on and chucked six more in the truck. They probably wouldn’t stop a bullet, but they might make the difference between death and just permanent brain damage. The shiver became a shudder. It was 3.10. I turned the ignition key.
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 grinned, put in the clutch again, and chose low second. Out with the clutch – and I stalled. Suddenly I was hot and sweaty instead of cold and lonely. That was one of the weaknesses of this plan: I had no time to get used to the vehicle, to practise.
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 innocent. The windscreen collapsed in a waterfall of glass. ‘Never reverse an inch more than you have to.’ We’re using metrics now Dad, in case you hadn’t noticed. Inches went out with paddle steamers and black and white TV. Anyway, sometimes you have to go backwards before you can go forwards. Before you go anywhere. We were going backwards way too fast though. I wanted to take the corner in reverse, as there wouldn’t be time to stop, change gears and go around it the right way. I started spinning the wheel, hoping that Lee was holding on tight. My poor driving was at least making it hard for the soldiers – we were an erratic target. We lurched over something, then I instinctively ducked as something else whipped over the top of the truck. It was a tree. I spun the wheel even more sharply and the wheels on the left hand side left the ground. Robyn lost her composure and screamed, then said ‘Sorry’. I couldn’t believe she’d said it. Somehow the truck didn’t turn over; the wheels came down again and we rocked our way along a footpath, knocking down fences and shrubs. I was using the wing mirrors mostly; the tray and its sides blocked the view through the back window or in the rear vision mirror. I dragged hard on the wheel again, as hard as I dared. We’d either roll now or make the corner. One more bullet hit us as we went around; it flew so close to me that it made a breeze against my skin, then shattered the side window. We thumped back on to the road, out of sight of the patrol. In the wing mirror on my side I caught one glimpse of a small vehicle with lights on high beam. It was a jeep I think. There was no way we could miss it, and we didn’t. We smashed into it bloody hard and ran right over the top of it. Both Robyn and I hit our heads on the roof of the truck, justifying the safety helmets. I gave a savage grin at that thought.