Early Warning (Book 1): Martial Law

by McLean, Angus

  Steve was still bumbling about when the other two cops came running down the hall. I quickly lowered the Ruger when I realised it was them.

  ‘Where are the others?’ I asked.

  ‘That fuckin’ idiot’s out there trading shots with them like it’s the fuckin’ Alamo,’ one of them said, pushing past me to get into the exhibits store. I moved out of the way as they clearly had the same idea as me, and when I emerged into the main office I could hear glass breaking out at the front counter.

  ‘Hurry up Steve,’ I called over my shoulder. ‘They’re coming in the front.’

  ‘We’ll sort them out,’ the same cop said, pushing past me again.

  Both of them drew boxy yellow Tasers from their belts and headed towards the Watchouse as I gave Steve the hurry-up for some ammo. He finally came up with a box of birdshot and I broke open the Nikko to load it. He’d found himself a side by side 12-gauge and a handful of shells and was busy loading it, muttering to himself as he fumbled with the rounds. The twin barrels of his shotgun had been cut down to about 18 inches, but the walnut stock was fully intact.

  I heard a great crash from the front followed by shouting and running feet.

  ‘Taser 50,000 volts, stop there! Put it down!’

  ‘Fuck youse!’

  ‘Taser, Taser, Taser!’

  There was the boom of a shot in confined quarters, a scream, and all hell broke loose. A Taser zapped and crackled, shouts came, another boom, more screaming, another zap.

  I hurried forward, shoving the box of ammo into my back pocket, the Nikko at the ready. Going through the internal door to the hallway that led to the front counter – where I’d been kicked out the side door earlier – I could hear a wet gurgling sound from just round the corner and the crunch of broken glass a few metres away.

  Glancing round the doorframe I saw the cop who’d helped me out of the cells, sprawled on his side just inside the Watchouse. His Taser was discarded nearby and the front of his stab vest was turning dark red as blood bubbled out of a hole in his chest. Blood was frothing at his mouth and running down his chin.

  The other Taser zapped again from somewhere this side of the front counter, then I saw a guy jump up on the other side and unleash a wild shot from a rifle. It was loud and frightening at such close range, and the guy was yelling like a madman.

  As I was turning away he dropped back out of sight, and at the same time someone else booted in the door that led from the front foyer into the hallway just a few metres in front of me. The door crashed open, splinters of wood flying, and the handle flew off. A guy in a red and black checked Swandri stepped across the threshold, a machete in his hand. I brought the Nikko up and presented it at him.

  ‘Get back!’ Staring at the wrong end of a double-barrelled shotgun is not a good place to be, but this guy didn’t bat an eyelid. Either he was retarded or he was on meth, or maybe both.

  ‘Agghhhh!’ He raised the machete and charged at me.

  I squeezed the trigger and the shotgun kicked hard against my shoulder. The shot was deafening and the pellets took him in the gut, knocking him flat on his back in the doorway. The guy with the rifle appeared behind him, peering round the doorframe, and I unleashed the second barrel at him. He disappeared from sight and I ruined the paintwork of the foyer wall instead. Scrambling backwards and drawing the Ruger at the same time, I bumped into Steve and knocked him into the wall.

  ‘Watch out,’ he mumbled, looking at me rather than the open doorway beyond us.

  The guy with the rifle appeared again and I shoved Steve aside, getting the Ruger up and squeezing off a shot. The rifle boomed a nano-second later and a round punched into the wall beside Steve. He jumped with fright and squeezed the first trigger of his shotgun, blasting a hole in the ceiling. Plaster dust showered us as we got back round the corner out of sight.

  ‘Sorry,’ Steve was muttering, ‘sorry, sorry. Oh fuck, sorry, sorry.’

  He was clearly going into shock and I doubted he’d be of any use to me. I handed the Nikko off to Steve and took the sawn-off from him. It was a Webley and Scott with a walnut stock and tarnished metal work. It would be much easier to wield in confined spaces than the Nikko. I quickly broke it open, reloaded, and snapped it shut again. Keeping an eye on the hallway, I handed the box of ammo to Steve and re-holstered the GP100.

  ‘Reload,’ I said, ‘take a few extra shells and go cover the windows by the driveway. Stay down and if you see bad guys with guns, shoot them.’

  ‘What’re you going to do?’

  ‘Get the guys from the Watchouse,’ I said. I took the ammo back from him, shook the spare rounds loose into my jacket pocket and tossed the box aside. ‘Go, and stay low.’

  He moved off and I checked the internal hallway. The guy in the Swandri wasn’t moving and I could hear slow movement beyond him.

  ‘Put your weapon down,’ I called out, ‘come out with your hands up and nobody will get hurt.’

  ‘Fuck youse,’ the guy shouted back. ‘I can see you, pigshit. I’ll fuckin’ kill you!’

  ‘Put your weapon down,’ I repeated. The shotgun was at my shoulder, ready to go.

  He unleashed another volley of abuse and I saw a shadow moving on the tiled floor. He was coming closer, getting ready to make a move.

  I reached slowly and carefully behind me with my left hand, found the wastepaper bin I’d seen, and picked it up. With the shotgun still ready, I tossed the bin through the doorway and it hit the floor with a loud clatter.

  There was the sound of a shot as I was up and moving, and I leaped over the guy in the Swandri, slipping on some broken glass as I landed and went down sideways. The front counter was to my right and the guy was crouched down in the middle of the floor, working the bolt of the rifle in his hands.

  He looked up as I appeared, and his eyes locked onto mine. He worked the bolt forward, chambering a new round.

  I hit the floor on my backside and fired as I went down, squeezing the first trigger and blasting him in the chest. He flopped over backwards with a scream and I sat up, my ears ringing again.

  ‘Watch out!’ The voice sounded far away but I knew it came from the Watchouse.

  I swivelled on my butt towards the broken front doors, seeing another couple of guys starting to come in. One had a rifle or shotgun in his hands and the other had a length of timber. I fired the second barrel at them, blowing out some more glass and sending them scurrying back into cover.

  I scrambled to my feet, broke the shotgun open and reloaded as fast as I could. My hands were trembling but I felt surprisingly calm inside. I backed over to the second guy I’d shot and checked him. The chest of his cheap hoody was very wet and he was staring at the ceiling with open eyes. I felt no remorse at killing him. He was a cop-killer and would happily have killed us too.

  I picked up the rifle he’d dropped and backed over to the counter. The other cop appeared and took the gun with bloodied hands. The two Watchouse ladies were huddled beneath a desk and I could hear one of them crying.

  I heard the boom of a shotgun and the sound of running feet from Steve’s direction.

  Thirty-Four

  Darroch appeared with his Glock drawn. ‘The bastards are coming in the back,’ he cried. His eyes were wild and he was breathing hard. I saw that the slide on his pistol was locked open.

  ‘Reload,’ I said to him.

  He ignored me and looked around, seeing the shot cop at his feet. ‘What’s wrong with him?’

  The other cop scowled. ‘He’s fuckin’ dead! That shithead shot him.’

  It seemed a random conversation but I took it as a sign that Darroch was in shock. Steve’s shotgun boomed again and I heard glass smashing. Shouts were coming and Steve was shouting back.

  ‘Right,’ Darroch said, ‘we need a plan.’

  ‘No shit. My plan is to get the fuck out of here,’ I said, still watching the front doors.

  ‘We need to defend this station,’ Darroch continued. ‘We cannot let ourselves be ov
errun.’

  ‘Can you get hold of your patrols?’ I asked.

  ‘No, but I’m hoping they’ll turn up.’

  ‘Hope isn’t a great plan.’

  He scowled. ‘They’ll hear the shooting and come back in.’

  ‘Unless they don’t hear the shooting,’ I said, ‘or they’re tied up with something else. Or they’ve gone home to look after their families.’

  He scowled harder. ‘In that case they’re cowards and I’ll have them arrested.’

  I almost laughed. ‘Don’t be a fuckin’ idiot, Dodger. I’m outta here. I suggest you guys do the same.’

  I heard Steve’s shotgun boom twice in quick succession and I moved in his direction. Getting into the main office I could see him crouched behind a desk, reloading.

  ‘They’re down at the meal room,’ he called out, ‘and I’ve got no more ammo.’ I was pleased to note that he seemed calmer now, his earlier panic gone.

  ‘Come to me,’ I said, covering him as he ran across the hallway and got behind me. Together we backed up to the Watchouse. I saw a head poke around the doorframe of the meal room and duck back. I held my fire and joined the others.

  ‘Here’s where I leave you,’ I said. ‘Here.’ I kept two spare shells in my pocket and handed the rest to Steve. I glanced at the cop with the rifle. ‘You might want to check that guy’s pockets for ammo, and I suggest you guys get to the other guns in the exhibit room before they do, if you plan on sticking around.’

  Darroch opened his mouth to speak but I cut him off. ‘And you probably want to reload, like I told you.’

  He looked at his Glock and his cheeks flushed.

  ‘Good luck everybody, I wish you well.’

  With that I moved across the front foyer away from the doors. The foyer was encased in floor to ceiling glass and one of the lower panes on the far side had been cracked, probably by shotgun pellets. I hammered it with the butt of the Webley and knocked the glass out, allowing me to squeeze through into a narrow bark garden between the station and the car dealership.

  I could hear shouts over the other side of the building but nothing close to me. There was nobody in sight around me, although a few cars were still going past, seemingly oblivious to the carnage in the police station. The truck was across the road and I wasted no time in getting there. I heard a shot behind me and ignored it, just focussed on getting the hell out of there, and within seconds I was in the truck and peeling away from the kerb.

  I changed up, working the engine hard, and got my seatbelt buckled with one hand. As I got past the commercial area and started heading out of town, I realised my heart was racing and my hands were trembling.

  The after effects of the adrenaline were taking hold, but the good thing was that I felt strangely calm. I had just killed three men and been engaged in both a gunfight and a hand to hand fight, and yet my breathing was coming back to normal and I didn’t feel like hurling my guts out.

  The trip home was via back roads, circumventing Tuakau town and cutting round the back way through Pukekawa then across the river at Mercer. As I took the motorway overbridge at Mercer I could see a long chain of cars snaking their way south on the highway, moving slowly.

  The service centre at Mercer was busy with massive queues of vehicles at the gas station. I saw a brawl on the side of the highway where several cars had collided. One car was spewing steam and another was on its side. Men and women alike were piling into each other, the affray spilling across the highway. As I watched I saw two men grappling together, staggering and swinging fists until one stepped out too far and was clipped by a car crawling past. The driver kept going. I think I would have done too.

  The northbound lanes weren’t as full but still busy. None of this made me feel any more comfortable.

  Looking north as I crossed the motorway overbridge, I could see clouds of smoke in the distance. It looked like Auckland was on fire. I could only hope that Gemma was clear of it already.

  Nothing appeared to be amiss when I turned into our road, and as I started up the driveway, I saw the motorhome parked beside the house. I felt my spirits lift immediately, knowing that another part of our family had made it to safety.

  Archie came running out when I pulled up and leaped on me, giving me a great big hug that was the best hug in the world and just what I needed. I held him tight, breathed him in and kissed his soft cheek. Jethro came and bumped my legs.

  ‘I missed you, Dad,’ Archie said, his skinny arms wrapped around my neck. ‘And guess what?’

  ‘What, buddy?’

  ‘Nana and Poppa are here.’

  ‘I bet you’re glad to see them.’

  He wriggled down and I followed him to the door, where Gemma’s parents were waiting. I hugged Sandy and shook hands with Rob. He held onto my hand, scrutinizing me.

  ‘Archie,’ he said, ‘you take Nana inside for a moment, okay?’

  They did so and he released my grip.

  ‘You okay?’ he asked, watching me carefully.

  I felt a sudden surge of emotion and told him what had happened, trying to keep it as brief as possible. He listened silently but I could tell from his expression that he was shocked. I understood. It wasn’t your average day.

  When I was finished I took a deep breath and looked at him.

  ‘I’m glad you’re safe,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s better that you’re home with all of us, and I think we probably need to stay put for a while.’ His eyes softened. ‘And wait for Gemma to get home.’

  An unspoken fear passed between us and I hugged him. Rob wasn’t a huggy person but we both needed it right then, and it was good to know I had another reliable man beside me.

  It had been a shit day so far and I had the feeling that things weren’t going to get any easier.

  Thirty-Five

  Activity on the streets was on the up and none of it was good.

  Sirens wailed constantly and emergency service vehicles of all three types were frequently racing past. Ellerslie moulded into the fringes of Mt Wellington and Gemma made the decision to follow the main road south. The Ellerslie-Panmure Highway would expose them more, but she reasoned that it was also faster.

  It felt risky as hell trying to balance their safety with the need for speed, but while she debated the pros and cons with Alex, it occurred to her that there were only two options. Neither of them was great, so it was actually a simple decision to make.

  If they stayed on the main drag there was probably a higher chance of coming across trouble. If they came across trouble in a back street, there was probably less chance of someone intervening to help them. With the memory of the cop-killing thugs so fresh, Gemma determined that she would not hesitate to defend herself again.

  They made good time to the next suburb, Panmure, and as they approached it Gemma caught the distinct smell of burning. Straight ahead of them was the Panmure roundabout, a major junction with five roads off it, three of them accessing different suburbs. Left was Glen Innes and ahead was the Panmure town centre. At two o’clock was the road to Pakuranga, which was where she wanted to go.

  The smell of burning got stronger as they came level with the roundabout. It took her a moment to pinpoint the origin, a Vietnamese takeaway store in the town centre with a car crashed through the front of it.

  The store was on fire inside and smoke was starting to billow out. The car sounded like it was still revving. People were gathering outside and she could see others carrying goods from an electronics store across the road.

  Still a hundred metres or so away, she could tell that trouble was going to erupt properly any minute. An Asian man, presumably from the takeaway store, was on the footpath screaming at the people gathered outside. The smaller group across the road were too busy carrying out TVs and sound systems to be bothered. God only knew what they were planning to do with them right now.

  ‘We need to go around,’ Gemma said, pausing to reconsider their options. Alex pulled up beside her, watching the people ahead of
them.

  ‘I think there’s going to be a fight,’ he said.

  No sooner had the words left his mouth than a woman from the group stepped out and hit the Asian man with a haymaker. He was knocked on his back, rolled and came up fighting. The woman found herself on her arse and it triggered the rest of the group to pile in on him, fists and feet swinging.

  A younger Asian guy and an older woman came from nowhere and jumped in, trying to defend the man.

  ‘We need to get outta here,’ Gemma said.

  She steered Alex off the footpath into the forecourt of a car yard, ducking down between the vehicles. The Glock was digging into her stomach. They heard smashing glass from the direction of the brawl, accompanied by screaming and shouting.

  The car yard was on the corner of a side street and the highway. She could see activity down on Lagoon Drive, the main road that crossed the Panmure Basin on its way to Pakuranga and the nicer suburbs. She knew she would feel safer when she got a bit further south, but the bridge across the water looked like it was blocked by a crash.

  Cars were stopped in both directions, horns were honking and people were out on the road. She could hear shouting. More noise was coming from the direction of the brawl outside the shop, and although she could no longer see it, she could hear smashing glass and angry shouts. They needed to get away from that, but she was also wary of the growing incident ahead of them at the bridge.

  ‘This way,’ Gemma said.

  She led Alex down the side street, away from the roundabout. A set of stone steps led from the houses down to the car park of the leisure centre below, perched on the shore of the lagoon and adjacent to the bridge road.

  The car park was still partially full, with a few huddles of people dotted about. Gemma wondered if they had stayed there the night, or come back to collect cars they’d abandoned yesterday. Some watched her and Alex as they crossed the car park, but nobody spoke until they were nearly at the far side, closest to the bridge.