by Matt J. Pike
As I watched, the last of the flares was lit and thrown by the others. Another round of gunfire – from multiple sources – shot out into the night. I knew it would’ve taken a freak piece of bad luck to hit Kelly or Ye-Jun though... at least that’s what I told myself.
Then I turned my attention to getting free.
The sludgy ash worked like a suction machine, holding my foot under. I swore when I realised it required more than a muscle flex to get out of the trap.
Around me, the gunfire was on in earnest. While it wasn’t aimed at me, it was all the encouragement I needed to get out of my plight, complete my mission and get back over the wall to safety.
I swivelled my body around and pulled my leg up as best I could from a number of angles. It didn’t get me free but gave me a good sense on the path of least resistance out. I got the best grip I could on the tree trunk, got my free leg on the most solid part of ash surface within reach and let rip. I wrestled and wriggled for a good 30 seconds before I reclaimed my limb.
I sat, leaning against the log for a minute, and collected my breath and my thoughts. I did a count of the flares to make sure I hadn’t lost any. Then I cast my eye over no-man’s land, looking for any detail I could use at that moment or take back to the others when I returned. I was facing homeward initially and the only clue I got from that was how well upright objects silhouetted against the flare light behind them. I knew perfectly well that would be me at some level as soon as I made my move on the ash sweeper.
Then I turned to face the enemy line. The ash sweeper grew louder. It was close in the darkness – it’s engine complaining about the task it faced. Some of the flare light reflected off objects here and there, but my eyes were still adjusting from looking straight at the flares seconds earlier. Beyond the immediate landscape, I had no hope of seeing what was happening on their front.
Then I saw it. As my eyes became accustomed to the view out east, I caught a glimmer of reflection too smooth and square-shaped to be natural. I stared on until I was convinced I had the ash sweeper in my sights. It was about 40m east of me and a little to the south. So close, so gettable. Then I made my plan – I calculated the risks, the opportunity and the conditions... I took a couple of deep breaths and went for it.
I started running east, hoping to keep any silhouette I might cast hidden in the silhouette of the trees. It must’ve worked to some degree because no bullets came at me – even when I’d reached as far east as the ash sweeper itself. I had the first flare ready to go when I got there and I launched it as far as I could. Before the first one had hit the ground I’d sent another one in a similar direction, slightly further south.
The gunfire started coming in as I let go of the second flare. I had no idea if they could see me or not. I just made a crouching run for the back end of the ash sweeper. I survived the dash in one piece and hoped my plan had worked. Those first two flares were meant to blind the enemy from anything west of them – most importantly at that moment, me and the ash sweeper.
I lit the next flare. I was going to climb onto the side of the truck and plant it on the roof of the cabin somewhere, until I saw the driver’s side window had cracks through it and part of it shattered out altogether. It was the perfect target and it was calling me.
I made a move for the window, got to within a metre and shot the thing like a dart through the gap and into the cabin.
Bullseye.
Oh, that’s right, just as I was committed to the move, I heard the truck’s radio come to life. The guy at the other end said, “Olly, you’ve got at least one more bogey out there, stay alert.”
It was right as the voice was saying “stay alert” that I slotted the shot. And the voice at the other end was one I won’t forget in a hurry – it was the Fat Man.
A whole new wave of emotion flowed through me, but not one of them was fear. There was plenty enough of that when I threw the first two flares, as well as when I headed for the truck. But in the moment when I let loose, within a metre of the driver’s side door, well, not a thing.
Absolutely no fear.
The glow in the cabin was bright. I could hear the driver start to scream. I think he was trying to release his seat belt – was failing and panicking. Meanwhile the Fat Man was starting to get alarmed that he hadn’t gotten an immediate response from his driver – you could hear it in his voice over the receiver.
I had two flares left. I jumped onto the side of the ash sweeper and planted the next one outside the back of the cabin. That sucker got wedged hard into a spot between the cabin roof and the exhaust pipe. Then I reached around and slid the crossbow from my back and aimed it with the remaining flare resting along the barrel in my aiming hand.
My next move would depend on the driver’s next one. I jumped back down to ash level just as the cabin door opened. I turned to see the driver get out in a panic and start patting himself down like he thought he was on fire.
Fat Man was having a minor meltdown on the other end of the radio. Then he started barking out instructions to those around him to go in. I was on borrowed time, but I knew that anyway.
The driver was now rolling in the ash – he didn’t look like he was on fire, but he clearly thought he was. I knew this was my moment to get gone. I didn’t know if I should shoot him or escape around him while he was distracted. I remember all these plans and outcomes flashing through my mind in instants. I was weighing up my shoot options and my path back options as he writhed when, without warning, a bowling ball pounded straight into the side of his face.
It didn’t just do that. It buried his head into the ash, and made a decent crater of the nearby landscape. It was so fast, unexpected and violent. My god, it didn’t just hit his head, I wasn’t sure if it was even attached any more. The thing I remember is his feet – it’s the single part of the moment that hits me as much now as it did then. They flew up into the air from the force of the impact. His whole body was rag-dolled from the strike. Oh, and the thud, the shattering thud. I don’t know if it was the bowling ball disintegrating or his skull.
What I’m saying, very badly, is that shit shook me up.
I didn’t get too long to analyse it either. A split-second later I was showered in a wall of ash debris from the impact. Damn ash, right into my eyes. It stung like all hell. Suddenly the world had gone black and this gritty and textured grossness tortured my eyes. It was utterly disorienting. My freaking eyes! I lost all sense of everything beyond my eyes.
This was seriously bad.
I tried not to panic, and just focused on blinking as much of the gunk out as possible so I could see again. But I knew it wasn’t the kind of thing that would magic itself clean in a moment or two. In fact, at the time it felt like I may never be able to see again.
I can’t even put words to the horror of that moment. I was standing at point of interest No.1 for the enemy and No.1 target of my own side’s fire. Gunfire whisked around me and I was blinded after just witnessing a man right in front of me get erased with absolute brutal violence.
I just kept blinking. Every now and then I’d stop to try to force my eyes open. They were not playing ball. They refused the one thing I needed them to do. Stupid eyes. I know it’s a preservation thing, but there was a bigger preservation issue happening out of their jurisdiction and I couldn’t even override their not-opening stance on the matter. Surely humans need an override in such circumstances – c’mon evolution – not good enough!
So, I continued to blink.
Then I heard something fssk past me – loud and fast. I knew it was a spear from the ballista. I didn’t even hear it land over the gunfire. It didn’t matter, the noise it made was truly fearsome. I dropped to my knees in the hope I’d make a smaller target to the various lethal objects pelting around. I blinked and blinked and blinked... tried unsuccessfully to open again, then blinked some more.
I heard the thud somewhere not far on the other side of the ash sweeper. I knew it was another bowling ball, presumably from the o
ther trebuchet.
I wanted to leg it but I still couldn’t open my eyes – even for a second.
If the thought of ending up on the wrong end of a friendly fire incident wasn’t enough motivation to haul arse, I heard the sound of Norwood people yelling in the distance. Not yelling as such, they were calling out to each other – on foot, no doubt – and headed towards the ash sweeper.
Another round of blinking still didn’t fix my problems, but I knew it was time to get gone regardless. I made a move to my feet again and started heading west. While I couldn’t see a damn thing, I could make out the glow of the flares ahead of me. The flare in the ash sweeper’s cabin gave me the perfect orientation start point. Beyond that, the others glowed to me like a blurry zigzagging runway, pointing in the general direction of home.
I made sure my tempo was slow and controlled as I began. I eased between the ash sweeper and the spot where I thought the driver’s body and surrounding crater lay.
Behind me I could hear enemies approaching. I wasn’t sure on numbers, but it was definitely more than I could handle, blind and with only a crossbow. Whatever the unknown number, it was definitely double figures at the very least, judging by the commotion.
Once I was sure I was past corpse crater, I maintained my pace. As much as I would’ve loved to push it as fast as I could, I knew one false move in the ash and I was probably a goner.
Just to add to it, another spear hulked through the air above me. The noise alone was enough to give me shivers. After getting an up close and personal look at what a bowling ball could do to a man when travelling at speed, I didn’t want a spear hitting me at probably double the pace.
I blinked, shuffled and prayed to any deity who would take enough interest to listen. Surely gods are a lot less busy these days, given the sharp drop in demand for their services since rock night? Whatever the case, none of them seemed interested in answering. Anyway, I could see the glow of the next flare still a fair way off. I knew if I could make it to the far side of that without being seen, I’d be all-but safe.
The voices behind grew louder again. Then the tone of their cries changed. It went from barking communications in the darkness, to action and orders. They had reached the ash sweeper, there was no doubt. I heard another bowling ball fly over me, followed a few seconds later by another. I hoped for the sound of a gushy, human-ending touchdown, but was left disappointed with just a couple of bass-shattering thuds. But they must’ve landed close by the enemy – I could hear the resultant panic in their voices. That panic also gave
my chances of going undetected a little boost – but it was really my foolish wish more than real hope.
I still had about 20m of ground to cover when the inevitable happened. I heard someone yell. “There’s one!”
Soon after, I heard the sound of gunfire whipping around me. I hit the deck and stayed low and motionless. I was still well short of the next flare.
Meanwhile, my blinking had allowed me a good two seconds of somewhat open eyes before they’d forced themselves shut. I knew decent vision was getting closer and blinked and squinted some more.
I could hear Norwood organising behind me. A woman – the one who sounded like she was calling the shots – was ordering some of her squad forward to find me. I knew I was in a world of hurt if that happened. I stayed prone, crossbow at the ready. I was tossing up between defending my position or army crawling to the nearest flare when another spear sizzled past me.
This time it struck someone. The flesh ripping, gushing sound was horrific. It was followed a second or two later by screams and panic from the others. I pumped my first and thanked Asha – she had elevated herself to deity status for that moment.
I knew the enemy must’ve been shitting themselves after seeing the impact of the two bowling balls then the carnage of the ballista spear. It was my moment to make a move. I turned and army rolled the remaining metres to the flare.
It took the best part of a minute to reach my mark. By the time I’d gotten there, I’d started to win the battle with my eyes. I had to strain to keep them open, but I could, for longer and longer each time. They were uncontrollably watery and my vision was slightly blurry, but it was enough to keep me oriented.
I knew I was in good enough condition to stand and shuffle back to the lookout. But, before I went I decided one more layer of panic for the enemy wouldn’t do my survival chances any harm.
I backed away from the flare far enough to get a good sighter on the group. While my vision still wasn’t the best, it was enough for me to single out the best shot. I could see two shadowy shapes in the cabin, dealing with the flare and whatever fire it may have started. I knew this was my target. Even if I missed, I was confident enough I’d hit the cabin. They’d see my arrow, and that would be win enough.
I wriggled into a comfortable spot, making sure my connection with the ground was strong. I tried to calm my breathing and then focused all my concentration on the shot. I could make out the head shape of the guy on the left. That was my bullseye. I breathed in heavily, out slowly; then fired.
I hit him. Direct hit. He slumped down and the other guy in the car screamed. That had a domino effect on the others, but I didn’t stay around to watch what they did. I reloaded the crossbow, turned, got to my feet and began the shuffle back to safety.
*
Joyce reached the South Tce wall and passed on the update – already outdated, but at least handy. It was the first contact they’d had from the outside for several minutes. She told Jonesy about our plans to go out into no-man’s land and light the place up with flares so we could bring the siege engines back into play.
Jonesy sent Dianne, David and Michael over the top to do the same, then sent Joyce to the relay point to update the oval and us out east.
*
This is where it all gets confusing. Joyce could make the zigzagging trip in Thunderbird 3 in just under two minutes. Then she had to climb the lookout to get the reception she needed to get on the comms grid. After she’d update base with her news and get an update from Lana, she’d climb back down to the car and zigzag down south again to relay it all to Jonesy. It was about a six-minute round trip – depending on the length of the communications.
Also, the ash cloud had to travel further west from the Norwood-owned territory, until it had an impact on the lookouts along South Tce. It meant the ash cloud covered us out east first. In fact, everything happened to us first. The enemy moved on us first and, the way things were shaping up, whatever was happening to us east would soon be happening to Jonesy’s crew south.
We weren’t assuming but we all knew it was 99% likely the Norwood plan. They had a play and they had the capability to execute it at two locations, knowing it would spread us thin. If they didn’t break us east, they’d break us south.
It was as cunning as it was scary – but it did give us some advantage. If Joyce could keep the comms coming in at regular intervals, we could keep giving Jonesy’s team a heads up as to what they would be facing next, and what worked in combatting it.
It wasn’t much of an advantage in the scheme of things, but you take what you can get.
Anyway, three minutes after Dianne, David and Michael went over the top, Joyce was on comms letting the rest of us know. And she went back to the southern front with an update on our early successes with the siege engines against the ash sweeper.
*
Apart from the comms delays, the south had other problems. The enemy had already cut a trench into the ash from the battle a few nights previously. They’d made it to within 200m of the wall. It likely meant when the ash sweeper did make its move forward, it would cover a lot of ground quickly. Even if we had filled a lot of the channel again, freshly laid ash wouldn’t fight like the stuff that’d been layered and weathered for months – even with the rain it had seen.
The battle would be right on their doorstep in a big hurry. It made the move with the flares even more valuable out there than it was out east.
*
Back out east, Ye-jun and Kelly made it back over the wall within a couple of minutes of each other. They headed to Shane in the lookout and that’s where they saw all hell breaking loose in no-man’s land. By that time we had started our siege weapon fightback now that we had eyes on the ash sweeper. For that we needed the numbers to operate everything we had. Shane had seen this developing in advance, with Lana’s help from the oval. They’d already called Eliza and Nate back from the old RAH site overlooking the Botanic Gardens as it was all clear. He’d also called back John, Jenny and Jan from the Wakefield St lookout, which had seen no sign of action to that moment.
It gave us the numbers to man the two trebuchets (with a far better reload time), ballista and rifles in the heart of the action. That’s where we needed numbers most, but left us totally exposed on the potential flanking locations. It was risky, but we didn’t have the headcount to cover everything we needed to. We just had to hope like hell things would play out as they were shaping up. It was a big call for Shane and Lana to make, but in the circumstances probably the only call.
The only thing stopping us from being flanked north now lay in the boobytraps Jonesy had set-up. We still had two people at Pirie St to cover movements from our southern side, but really, the whole thing was a house of cards we couldn’t afford to think too hard about.
*
In the North Tce lookout they could see the window of opportunity we’d created in no-man’s land. Everyone knew they had to neutralise the ash sweeper before it got too close for our trebuchets to be effective.
