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I said to Robyn, ‘Good book?’

She said, ‘Yeah, it’s OK. We’ve got to read it for English.’

We still hadn’t adjusted to the fact that the world had changed, that school wasn’t going to start on the normal day. I suppose we should have been delighted at the thought of not going to school, but we weren’t. I was starting to want to use my brain again; to wrestle with new ideas and difficult theories. I decided then that I’d follow Robyn’s example and read some of the harder books we’d brought with us. There was one called The Scarlet Letter that looked like a good tough one.

‘Well,’ Homer began, ‘we’ve got to make more decisions guys. I’ve been looking up at the sky every five minutes, waiting for the American troops to drop down in their big green choppers, but there’s no sign of them yet. And Corrie hasn’t heard any news flashes yet, to tell us that help is on its way. So we might just have to do it on our own for a bit longer.

‘The way I see it, these are our choices, now that we know a bit more about the deal. One, we can sit tight and do nothing. And there’s nothing chicken about that. It’s got a lot to recommend it. We’re not trained for this stuff, and it’s important for ourselves, and for our families, and for that matter even our country, that we stay alive. Two, we can have a go at getting our families and maybe other people out of the Showground. That’s a tough one, probably way beyond our reach. I mean, we’ve got rifles and shotguns but they’d be popguns compared to what these turkeys are using. Three, we can do something else to help the good guys. That’s us, I might add, in case anyone’s confused.’ He grinned at Robyn. ‘We could involve ourselves in some way that would help us win this war and get our country back. There’s other things we could do too of course, other options, like moving somewhere else, or surrendering, but they’re so remote I don’t think they’re worth discussing, although we will if anyone wants to of course.

‘So, that’s the deal, that’s for real, that’s what I feel. Three choices, and I think it’s time we made one and stuck to it.’ He leaned back and crossed his arms and put his feet in the water again.

There was quite a silence, then Robyn took up the invitation.

‘I’m still not sure what’s right or wrong in this whole setup,’ she said. ‘But I don’t think I could sit around here for months, not doing anything. It’s just an emotional thing – I couldn’t do it. I agree with Homer that the Showground’s beyond our reach, but I feel we’ve got to get out and have a go at something. On the other hand I don’t want us to go around killing a lot of people. I’ve read those Vietnam books like Fallen Angels, where the woman hid a mine in her own kid’s clothes and gave it to a soldier to hold, then blew them both up. I still have nightmares about that. I’m already having nightmares about those people we ran down in the truck. But I guess my nightmares are small suffering compared to what some people have had. My nightmares are just the price I have to pay, I know that. Despite what these people say about a “clean” invasion, I think all wars are filthy and foul and rotten. There was nothing clean about them blowing up Corrie’s house, or killing the Francis family. I know this might sound a bit different from what I said before, but I don’t think it is. I can understand why these people have invaded but I don’t like what they’re doing and I don’t think there’s anything very moral about them. This war’s been forced on us, and I haven’t got the guts to be a conscientious objector. I just hope we can avoid doing too much that’s filthy and foul and rotten.’

No one else had much to add for a while. Then Fi, who was looking white and miserable, said, ‘I know logically we should do this and we should do that. But all I know is that the thought of doing anything makes my nose bleed. All I really want to do is to go down to the Hermit’s hut and hide under his mouldy old bed till this is over. I’m really fighting myself to stop from doing that. I suppose when the time comes I’ll probably do whatever I have to do, but the main reason I’ll do it is because I feel the pressure of keeping up with you guys. I don’t want to let you down. I’d feel so ashamed if I couldn’t match you in whatever it is we decide to do. I don’t think there’s any way we can help our families right now, so not losing face with you all has become my biggest thing. And what worries me is that I can’t guarantee I won’t pack up under pressure. The trouble is, I’m so full of fear now, that anything could happen. I’m scared that I might just stand there and scream.’

‘Peer group pressure,’ said Lee, but with a sympathetic smile at Fi. He was using one of Mrs Gilchrist, our Principal’s, favourite phrases.

‘Well, of course you’re the only one who feels that way,’ Homer said. ‘The rest of us don’t know the word “fear”. Kevin can’t even spell it. We know no feelings. We’re androids, terminators, robocops. We’re on a mission from God. We’re Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman.’ He went on more seriously. ‘No, it’s a big problem. None of us knows how we’ll react when the fan gets hit. I know what it’s been like for me so far, just doing little things, like waiting in that car in Three Pigs Lane. My teeth were chattering so bad I had to hold my mouth shut to keep them in. I don’t know how I didn’t vomit. I was absolutely convinced I was going to die.’

We kept talking on, over, under and around the topic. Apart from Fi, the ones who were least keen were Chris and, strangely enough, Kevin. I could understand it a bit with Chris. He just lived in his own world most of the time, his parents were overseas, he didn’t have many friends. In fact I don’t think he liked people all that much. He probably could have lived in the Hermit’s hut quite happily, unlike Fi, who would have gone crazy in half a day. But I got the impression that, like Fi, Chris’d go along with whatever we decided; in his case because he didn’t have the energy or initiative to stand out against the group. Kevin was more of a puzzle, changing his attitude from one day to the next. There were times when he seemed bloodthirsty and times when he seemed chicken. I wondered if it depended on how long it had been since he’d been close to danger. Maybe when he’d had some action recently he went a bit quiet, dived for cover. But when things had been safe for a while he started getting his aggression back.

As for me, I was a mess of different feelings. I wanted to be able to make calm, logical decisions, to put points for and against on opposite sides of a piece of paper, but I couldn’t get my feelings out of the road enough to do it. When I thought about those bullets, and the ride-on mower, and the truck ride, I shook and felt sick and wanted to scream. Just like Fi and Homer and everyone else. I didn’t know how I’d handle it if and when it all happened again. Maybe it’d be easier. Maybe it’d be harder.

Nevertheless, I think we all felt that we should do something, if only because the idea of doing nothing seemed so appalling that we couldn’t even contemplate it. So we started tossing a few ideas around. Gradually we found ourselves talking more and more about the road from Cobbler’s Bay. It seemed like that was where the most important action was. We decided that when Homer and Fi and Lee and I went out, the following night, we’d concentrate our attentions there.

I walked away from our meeting, leaving everyone, even Lee, and went back up the track quite a way. I ended up sitting on one of Satan’s Steps, in the last of the hot afternoon. I could hear the creek churning away over a pile of rocks below me. I’d been there about ten minutes when a dragonfly landed near my feet. By then I must have become part of the landscape, because he seemed to ignore me. When I looked at him I realised he had something in his mouth. Whatever it was, it was still wriggling and flitting its little wings. I bent forward slowly and looked more closely. The dragonfly kept ignoring me. I could see now that it was a mosquito that he had, and he was eating it alive. Bit by bit the mosquito, still struggling wildly, was munched up. I watched, fascinated, until it was completely gone. The dragonfly perched there for another minute or so, then suddenly flew away.