Running over the jeep was like running over a small hill at high speed. I wrenched on the wheel and the truck made a sharp 180-degree turn. Now at last we were facing in the right direction. Ahead of us was the car we’d hit. I could see bodies in it, but the car looked like a huge boulder had been dropped on top of it. Two or three soldiers were crawling away into the darkness, like slaters. I gunned the engine and we charged. We swerved around the jeep but still hit it a glancing blow, first with the shovel, then with the left-hand front side of the truck. I felt sorry for Lee: I’d forgotten to raise the shovel. We raced down Sherlock Road. It was hard to see a lot. I tried the lights on high beam but nothing happened: it seemed that we only had parking lights left. Then Robyn said ‘There’s blood absolutely pouring down your face’, and I realised another reason I couldn’t see too well. I’d thought it was sweat. ‘Put your safety belt on,’ I said. She laughed again but she buckled it on.
‘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.
‘Hold on real tight!’ I yelled at Robyn, then hit the brakes with everything I had. I used the handbrake as well as the foot brake. The truck skidded, went sideways, nearly rolled. It was still skidding when I heard the satisfying crump of the car behind hitting us on our rear right side, then saw it spinning out of control away into the darkness. Then it rolled. We came to a stop and sat there, rocking heavily. The engine stalled again and for a minute we were a perfect target. I furiously wrenched at the key, so hard that the soft metal actually twisted in my grip. The second car was braking and almost stationary, but about a hundred metres away. The truck started. I rammed it into gear. More flashes of gunfire came from the second car, and suddenly there were two bangs from underneath me. I swung the truck onto the road and hit the accelerator, but the truck was tilting and sluggish, wallowing all over the road and bumping badly. ‘What’s wrong?’ Robyn said. She looked scared, unusual for Robyn.
‘They’ve shot some tyres out.’ Robyn’s mirror was still there and I glanced at that. The second car had started again and was coming on fast. Robyn was looking through the little rear window.
‘What’s in the back here?’
‘I don’t know. I didn’t look.’
‘Well there’s something there. How do you operate the tipper?’
‘That blue lever I think.’ Robyn grabbed it and heaved it down. The second car was now trying to pass us. I was swerving all over the road to prevent him, a process made easier by the punctured tyres. Then something did start pouring out of the back, with a slow sliding noise. I still don’t know what it was, gravel or mud or something. In Robyn’s mirror I saw the car brake so hard it nearly stood on its head. A minute later we were at Three Pigs Lane.
I slewed the wheel around and blocked the lane with the truck as we’d agreed. For a moment I couldn’t see Homer. I felt sick. All I wanted to do was fall on my knees in the dirt of the lane and vomit. Robyn had total faith though. She was out of the truck and running to the shovel, helping Lee to stand. Then I saw Homer, backing dangerously fast, without lights, towards us. I jumped out of the truck and ran at him as he brought the car to a wobbling halt, just a few metres away from me and in the gutter. Everyone seemed to be reversing tonight, and not very efficiently. I heard a bang, and another bullet whirred past me, somewhere in the darkness. Homer was out of the car. It was a station wagon, a BMW, and he was opening the tailgate and helping Lee in. Robyn left him to it and ran to the front passenger door, opening it, and the back one for Homer. A bullet hit the car, smashing a hole in the rear passenger door. Only one person seemed to be firing at us, using a handgun. It was quite possible that there’d only been one person in that second car. Homer had left the driver’s door open and the engine running. I clambered in, out of the gutter, and looked around. Lee was in, Homer was getting in, Robyn was in. Close enough. I pushed it in gear, not adjusting well after the truck, and using too much force on the clutch and the gearstick. We kangaroo-hopped out of the gutter. There was a cry of pain from the back of the BMW. I put the clutch back in and tried again, this time getting a smoother takeoff, then lost yet another side window and windscreen, to a bullet that must have angled past me.
We’d been lucky, but when anyone’s shooting at a wildly moving target in the dark the luck should favour the target. I knew that from hunting trips. Sometimes I’d have a shot at a hare or rabbit that the dogs were chasing. It was a waste of ammunition, and dangerous for the dogs, but fun. I only ever got one, and that was a fluke. These guys had actually done pretty well in their attempts at us. They weren’t to be underestimated Some of them might be undertrained, like Mr Clement had said, but they’d given us a hard time.
The BMW was flying. It was a dirt road, but straight, and smoother than most. ‘Nice car,’ I said to Homer, glancing at him in the rear vision mirror.
He gave an evil grin. ‘Thought I might as well get a good one.’
‘Whose is it?’
‘I don’t know. One of those big houses by the golf course.’
Robyn, beside me, turned and looked to the rear of the car.
‘You OK, Lee?’
There was a pause, then Lee’s quiet voice, which I felt like I hadn’t heard in a year. ‘Better than I was in that bloody truck.’ We all laughed, loudly, like we had a lot of nervous energy.
Robyn turned to me, took my helmet off and started inspecting my forehead as I drove. ‘Don’t,’ I said. ‘Too distracting.’
‘But there’s blood all over your face and shoulders.’