Early Warning (Book 1): Martial Law

by McLean, Angus

  He cursed again but got behind the wheel of the Subaru and slammed the door. He leaned out the window as the car started to move off.

  ‘This ain’t over, cunt,’ he called out.

  I punched a shot through the open window into his windscreen. Someone screamed and both cars took off.

  We waited a few moments to be sure they’d gone.

  ‘You okay?’ Rob called out.

  ‘Yep, you?’

  ‘Yep.’

  I joined him at the fence.

  ‘Think they’ll be back?’ he said.

  I reached down and scratched Jethro’s head. ‘I hope not. But we’ve got plenty of ammo if they do.’

  Looking down the road where I’d last seen them, I caught the slightest glimpse of movement in the darkness. Wishing again that I had some NVGs, I squinted for a better look. It was on the shoulder of the road outside Bevan’s house, a good way down, and it was just a shift of darkness within the shadows. Like a person moving back from the road towards their house.

  ‘Bevan,’ I whispered to myself. I could picture him down there in the dark with his rifle in his hands, ready to go.

  It wasn’t a comforting thought.

  Forty-Four

  Dawn was breaking when Gemma got up. She’d had a fitful sleep in the spare room, the strange surroundings adding to the stress of the day before.

  They had been late to bed the night before. Alex had skinned his elbow and knee when he’d fallen earlier, and Gemma had cleaned and patched his grazes. They had found lasagne in the fridge, leftover from dinner three nights ago. They had shared it, eating ravenously, neither having realised how hungry they were.

  They had sat in the darkened lounge and talked, processing the events of the last couple of days and planning ahead as best they could. Alex wasn’t sure whether to hunker down at home and wait for his mum, or to go with Gemma.

  ‘That’s a decision for you,’ she had told him. ‘You’re welcome to come with me if you like, but I understand.’

  It clearly bothered him that she had killed a man, probably two, and he queried her on it.

  ‘How did it feel?’ he had asked. ‘Were you…scared?’

  It was a fair question, even though it felt raw. Gemma had taken some time to consider her response.

  ‘I was shitting myself both times,’ she said honestly. ‘Especially the first, with the cops…they would have killed us.’ She had felt a surge of emotion as she spoke, a wave of anger at the thugs who had attacked them. It was so strong that she felt her hands tremble. ‘I had to. I had no choice.’

  Alex nodded slowly in the darkness, and his next words caught her by surprise.

  ‘Thank you,’ said quietly. ‘I’m glad you were there.’

  She had dreamed again of killing people, but this time the snatches she could remember were accompanied by a feeling of power. She had saved their lives again, of that she had no doubt. Firstly with the mob down by the lagoon, then again with the family of boguns and their mongrel dog.

  Shaking off the tiredness, she had dressed quickly – the same clothes she’d been wearing since hitting the road – and got down on the floor for some stretches. The constant walking and running and carrying a bag, along with sleeping on the ground the night before, had given her legs and shoulders in particular a hammering. Her joints groaned and clicked but after some stretching and deep breathing, she felt looser and ready to go.

  Gemma had slept with the Glock beside her and she checked it again, despite having checked it last night. She had removed the partially spent magazine, which now had eleven rounds, and replaced it with a full one of seventeen. She knew that twenty-eight rounds wouldn’t last long if things really went bad, but it was all she had. Hopefully she wouldn’t need a single round before she got home, let alone all twenty-eight.

  She packed her gear and padded to the kitchen. Even though the power was off the fridge had remained cool, and she found milk and yoghurt in there. She found a can of peaches in the pantry. She poured herself a bowl of bran and sultana cereal, added the peaches and dairy and stepped into the dining room.

  Alex sat at the table with a sandwich on a plate in front of him, staring out the window. Gemma jumped when she saw him sitting in the darkness.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘couldn’t sleep. I’ve been up since four.’

  Gemma sat and started on her breakfast. ‘How’re you feeling?’

  He shrugged. ‘I dunno really.’ He pushed a piece of paper across to her. ‘I’m gunna leave this for my mum.’

  Gemma read the note as she ate. He was telling his mother that he was going with his workmate to her house and that he hoped she would be safe. He told her he would be in contact as soon as he could, but he didn’t feel safe staying at home to wait for her.

  ‘Is that okay?’ Alex’s eyes were tired but hopeful.

  ‘Of course.’ Gemma finished her mouthful. ‘I’d feel safer having you with me.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Seriously.’

  He nodded and almost smiled. She could see the relief in his face.

  ‘We need to get going though,’ Gemma said. ‘We can eat, clean up a bit and see if there’s any food or anything here that we could use. It’d be great if we could get a car or some bikes, but it may not happen.’

  They finished their breakfast in silence before going through the kitchen cupboards. The problem they had was space – they didn’t have enough room to take too much. Gemma had hoped to find proper packs, but Alex and his mother had nothing in the way of camping gear. She chose to not use the carry bags they did have – yesterday had driven home the need to keep her hands free. They would have to make do with what they had.

  ‘Eat up,’ Gemma said. ‘We eat as much as we can now and we take some with us. With any luck we’ll be home today. If we get a car we could be home in about an hour.’

  They topped up their bags with high-energy food – muesli bars, biscuits, chocolate, and dried fruit. They each downed a couple of small bottles of water flavoured with orange and mango, the sugar giving them an instant hit. Gemma crammed the rest of the bag of bran and sultana cereal into her bag and Alex took some matches, a tin of baked beans and some peanut butter sandwiches wrapped in clingfilm.

  While Alex went and sorted out his clothes, Gemma took the opportunity to use the toilet with actual toilet paper. The toilet flushed once and didn’t refill, but the relief was immense. It was almost like being normal again.

  Alex appeared in the lounge with his bag, dressed now in cotton cargo pants, his own sneakers and a comfortable shirt. He hefted his bag onto his back.

  ‘I hope she’ll be okay,’ he said.

  ‘I’m sure she will.’ Gemma tried to sound upbeat, but she really just wanted to get going. ‘Come on, before everyone’s up and about.’

  Forty-Five

  As the sun came up, I sat on the deck with a cup of steaming coffee in my hand.

  I was warm in my jacket, jeans and boots. I wore a beanie and a three-day growth. Jethro sat beside me and I idly scratched his head. The Rossi leaned against the deck railing and Pepper sat on the top rail above it, surveying her kingdom.

  I had cleaned up the bullet casings and broken plastic from the driveway. Archie had somehow slept through the whole thing, but we had had a late night with the ladies, talking through what had happened. They were understandably concerned, so Rob and Sandy had come in from the motorhome and taken our room. Rob and I had cracked a bottle of Glenfiddich and shared a decent dram.

  I had spent the rest of the night on the couch with one eye open.

  Light footsteps sounded behind me and Archie appeared, greeting the day with a smile. He’d always been an early riser. He wore Batman slippers and rocket ship pyjamas, no dressing gown despite the early chill. He came to me for a cuddle and I kissed his soft cheek.

  ‘Morning, Dad.’

  ‘Morning, wee man.’

  He climbed onto my lap and snuggled in against the cold of the mornin
g. I held him and watched the dawn light slowly spread across the horizon. The clouds were clear and it was shaping up to be a decent day.

  Forty-eight hours had passed since the national state of emergency had been declared. Considering what had happened in that short space of time, things weren’t going to improve in the short term. My suspicions were confirmed a moment later when Rob stepped out onto the deck. He had bare feet and a sweater hastily thrown on over his pyjamas.

  His transistor radio was in his hand and I could hear an announcer’s voice.

  I looked at him quizzically. His eyes were wide and his lips were tight.

  ‘What is it?’

  He held the radio up as he came over.

  ‘…so that’s just in from the Beehive, the Prime Minister has declared a state of martial law, effective immediately. A formal statement will follow shortly, but the breaking news is that martial law is now in effect in New Zealand for the first time in history…’

  I locked eyes with Rob, a jolt of cold electricity running through my body. An unspoken fear passed between us.

  I wrapped my arm across Archie’s small frame and held him close. Things were about to get worse and we needed to be ready for it.

  The third day was just beginning.

  THE END

  Message from the Author

  Thanks for taking the time to read my book.

  Please take the time to leave me a review at your favourite retailer.

  If you’d like to know about new releases and receive a free book, sign up to McLean’s Hitlist at www.writerangusmclean.com or email me at writerangusmclean@gmail.com.

  Cheers,

  Angus McLean

  About the Author

  Angus McLean is a South Auckland Police officer.

  His experience as a cop and a private investigator gives his writing a touch of realism. He believes reading should be escapist entertainment and is inspired by the TV shows he watched as a youngster.

  His real identity remains a secret.

  www.writerangusmclean.com

  Discover My Other Titles

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