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, annoyed with myself for not having thought of it earlier. ‘They have to build up pressure or something. I’ve never driven anything with air brakes before.’
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 annoyed with myself. With my typical arrogance I’d been worried about Fi’s nerves, but I should have been more worried about my own. I cursed, nearly destroyed the gearbox trying to find reverse, found it, and was startled by the loud warning beeps that immediately began at the back of the vehicle. Seemed like this truck beeped at any excuse. In my impatience I then backed up too fast. The trailer slewed and hit a stanchion, nearly jackknifing. Fi went white and grabbed the back of the seat.
‘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.
‘Did you get through?’
‘Yes. They’re fine. A couple of patrols have been past, but no convoys. Oh Ellie,’ she said, turning suddenly to me, ‘do you really think we can do this?’
I tried to give her a confident grin. ‘I don’t know, Fi I think maybe we can. I hope we can.’
She nodded and faced forward again. We drove towards the next corner. ‘I’ll walk from here on,’ she said, ‘and call you from each corner. It’ll be just as quick. Turn the engine off while you’re waiting each time though, do you think? It’s pretty noisy.’
‘OK.’
We made two blocks that way, but at the next I saw her take one look down the street to the right then draw back and come sprinting towards me. I jumped down from the truck and ran to meet her. She gasped just one word: ‘Patrol’, and together we went over a low fence into someone’s front garden. There was a huge old gum tree right in front of us. I was so nervous that it seemed to be the only thing I could see. My eyes and mind focused entirely on it; nothing else existed for me at that moment. I climbed it like a possum, scratching my hands but not feeling any pain. Fi followed. I got about three metres up before I heard voices from the corner, which slowed me down, made me quieter, more cautious. I inched out along a branch to take a look. I didn’t know if getting up here had been a mistake or not. I remembered Dad, one day when he’d put a big ugly patch on a hole in the eaves that possums had made, saying ‘The human eye doesn’t look above its own height’. At this moment in my life I sure hoped he was right. The trouble was that if they did see us we’d be, not like possums up a tree, but like rats up a drainpipe. There was no escape from here.
We waited and watched. The voices continued for a while, then we heard them grow in volume as they turned towards us. I felt intense disappointment. This marked the end of our Grand Plan. It could mark the end of us, too, because once they saw the tanker their first reaction would be to seal off the area and search it. I was surprised they hadn’t seen it already. They’d stopped talking now, but I could hear the scuffle of their boots. My mind was racing; too many thoughts going through it too quickly. I tried to grab one of them to see if it might be any use in suggesting a way out of here, but I was panicking too much to get a grip on it, on anything except the tree. Fi, I slowly realised from the steady pain in my left leg, was gripping onto me as though she were a possum on an insecure branch. She had her talons dug in so hard that I was sure I’d end up with bruises. I saw a movement now, through the foliage, and a couple of moments later the soldiers slowly came into view. There were five of them, three men and two women. One of the men was quite old, at least forty, but the other two looked about sixteen. The women were maybe twenty. They were dawdling along, two on the footpath and three on the road itself. They’d stopped talking to each other and were just gazing around as they walked, or looking down at the ground. They didn’t look very military. I guessed they were conscripts. The tanker was on the other side of the road, about fifty metres from them. I couldn’t believe they hadn’t seen it yet, and braced myself for the sudden cry of discovery. Fi’s fingers had now cut off the circulation in my leg; it was only a matter of time before my whole limb, from the shin down, dropped off into the garden below. I wondered how the soldiers would react if they heard it drop, and almost let out an hysterical giggle. The patrol kept walking.
And they kept walking. They went right on past the truck as though it didn’t exist. It wasn’t until they were a hundred metres past and Fi and I were out of our tree and peering at their distant dark backs that we allowed ourselves to believe that we were safe. We looked at each other in surprise and relief. I was so happy that I didn’t even mention the bruises on my leg. I shook my head.
‘They must have just thought it was another parked vehicle,’ I said.
‘I guess if they hadn’t been along this particular street before ...’ Fi said. ‘I’d better call Homer.’
She did so, and I heard his soft reply quite quickly.