“Easy, Pen. You’re okay.”
Darren opened the back door and climbed inside beside Penny. He lifted her chin as he examined the pupils of her eyes.
“They’re equal in size. That means she shouldn’t be suffering any concussion!” He said gently and parted her hair. “She’s lucky.”
“Hey!” Penny cried out as Darren continued his search for the wound.
“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”
He rummaged in the back of the compartment to find what he needed inside the paramedic kit, then scrambled back to Penny and set to cleaning the wound.
“Is she okay?” Cameron asked as he stood outside the back of the ambulance, a look of concern on his face.
“Hit her head when we braked,” Storm told him.
“That is going to need a stitch,” Darren told her.
“No, really—I’m okay,” she mumbled.
Darren had already ripped open a plastic envelope. He shook the contents, a needle and suture, into the palm of his hand.
“Don’t worry this won’t hurt her!” He informed her.
“How many times have you done this?” Storm asked.
Darren ignored the question and sprayed the wound with a can of antiseptic he had found in the kit. He paused when Penny yelped, then with one swift move pushed the point of the needle into her scalp and pulled the suture through. In minutes, he was finished.
“I’ve seen them do this at the hospital so many times—it was a piece of cake,” Darren informed them as he admired the stitch.
The corporal nodded his approval. “Good work!” He gazed at Penny. “You are lucky it wasn’t a broken nose or a cheekbone.”
“Yes. I am! Why did we stop like that?”
Cameron pointed his finger. “There’s a problem up front.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll watch her,” Darren told Storm as Cameron walked back to the Bushmaster. “Go and check out what kind of problem we have.”
As Storm approached the back of the carrier and saw Aunty Wanganeen and Franchette watching him from the back.
“Penny hit her head,” he told her mother. “She’s okay. It’s only a small cut, but you might want to take a look at her.”
Franchette got to her feet and clambered over the bags on the deck.
“Help me down from this thing,” she told Storm.
They gathered around the gaping rupture that stretched from one side of the road to the other. Keech, a young gunner inched forward on his stomach and peered into the crevice. He followed the beam of his flashlight until he had found the bottom.
“It’s not as deep as it looks, Corporal. Three and a half feet at most. We could try filling it.”
Cameron stared at the edges of the torn road. Watching it closely he could see it still moved.
“It’s getting deeper. We’ll have to dig out the bank and drive around it.”
“You want shovels, Corporal?” Keech asked.
“What do you think?” Cameron asked sarcastically.
He glanced at Storm, Matthew, and Michael looking on behind his men.
“You lot can help as well. The sooner we get back on the road the better. I’m sure you agree.”
The earth continued to move while they filled it and by the time the corporal was ready to call it quits most of the dirt they had shoveled in had disappeared. The Bushmaster could make it across, but they needed another solution for the ambulance with its smaller tires. They decided to dig out the bank, gambling that the sides of the ever-growing crevice would collapse into the hole, allowing the tires on at least one side to roll over the gap. A plank was produced from the back of the Bushmaster to serve as a bridge for the tires on the crevice side.
Storm inched the ambulance forward, staring ahead in order to keep to a straight line. He swore as the side mirror of the ambulance tore off against the rocky bank.
“Be careful with her,” Darren exclaimed.
“You watch your side, and I’ll worry about mine!” Storm snapped. “A broken axle can’t be repaired.”
“Not much can be anymore,” Darren muttered and stuck his head back out the window.
Inside the Bushmaster cab, Taylor sat behind the steering wheel watching Storm’s progress in the rear vision mirror. He held his breath when he saw the side of the ambulance run off the board and bump into the crevice, and watched with grim fascination as he waited for the inevitable.
But that didn’t happen.
Instead he saw the ambulance lurch forward and Storm’s arm appear out the side window to give him an okay sign.
As they moved off, Taylor felt himself relax a little. Not so much because of the look of the sky, he hated the look of the sky, but because he dreaded the return trip and was only too happy to avoid it completely. If the civvies knew of a safe place, then he wanted to join them there. If that meant spending days deep underground in a cave until whatever was above them passed by, he was fine with that. He dropped down a gear and floored the accelerator, making the big diesel roar.
They slowed as they approached the bridge. There was no sign of movement at the checkpoint. Taylor crept the Bushmaster up to the barrier arm and brought the truck to a stop.
“Looks like no one’s around, Corporal,” Taylor said squinting through the dusty windshield.
“We’re stopping at a roadblock on the entry to Gilgandra Bridge,” Cameron said into the mic on his helmet. “You lot stay cozy tight while I do a recon.”
A single barrier blocked the road; a police wagon parked in front of it. He tried the door of the patrol car and finding it locked, wiped the side window and pressed his face to the glass. There was nothing and no one to see in the cab. He walked to the end of the bridge and satisfied all was just as it appeared, he walked back to the truck.
Storm watched the Bushmaster brush the barrier aside as easily as a wave tossed flotsam onto a beach. He waited until the carrier reached the other side of the river before he set off. The bridge had been badly damaged in the quake, but the larger vehicle proved it was still solid enough. He kept it slow and easy, looking for the first sign of the bridge about to give way under them. The twisted structure held together, and they followed Taylor onto the bypass road that took them to the highway and away from the town center.
There was no loss missing out on seeing Main Street, Storm thought.
“That town would have been deader than Coona,” he told Darren.
“Some of the locals might have hidden inside their homes,” Darren replied, trying without success to hide his disappointment.
There would have been stuff to find in those shops and houses that might have proven useful, Darren thought. It was a pity they were in such a hurry.
Storm watched the turnoff disappear in the rear vision mirror. He imagined how it would have been if they had driven through the town.
“They wouldn’t have shown themselves to an Army carrier in camouflage colors with a machine gun on the roof,” he said in an effort to cheer up Darren.
“Very true,” Darren replied, and he gave a dry chuckle.
Darren was indeed cheered that he and Storm were getting on so well together. Happy too, that Storm seemed to share his sardonic sense of humor. Not many people in the old world had appreciated his kind of dry wit, he thought. That was a pity. Possibly it reflected the average level of sophistication, or to be precise the lack of it. It was a new world soon, and if he played his cards right, he would make a place for himself in it. And others would respect him for who he really was and for what he was worth. He couldn’t wait.
It was close to three o’clock and still a good hour from Wingari when the first large green meteor they had seen since the sky rolled back into place passed overhead. The bolloid disappeared over the horizon with a rumble, on a track that would take it over the Blue Mountains if it didn’t drop to the earth first. Minutes later, another passed on the same trajectory as if both had been fired from the same cannon.
“It’s starting again,”
Darren said glumly.
“Looks like it,” Storm replied. Despondency began to crawl inside his gut like a cold dark lizard looking for its home. He glanced into the mirror. Franchette was resting on the stretcher, her eyes closed. Penny stared back at him. She looked exhausted, but she gave him a smile.
“Pen. You alright?”
“Yeah, I’m good,” she said attempting a smile. She pulled her hair back from her face, happy to have his attention even if it was just a brief few seconds.
He smiled at her.
She didn’t sound as if she was good. Storm saw Penny’s hand was resting on her mother’s wrist.
“Is Franchette sleeping?”
Penny gave him a nod and turned back to her mother. She was sure her mom had more color in her cheeks. Perhaps she would return to her old self once she had rested. Penny smiled at Franchette and stroked the sleeping woman’s head.
The ambulance made slow progress over the narrow, potholed road they traveled along. Above them ran a long escarpment. Clusters of thick scrub clung to the base of the hill. The bush thinned into patches along the cliff top, clumping around old trees that had somehow escaped past bushfires. The dome of the hill, though, was as bare as a monk’s hairless pate.
More than twenty minutes had passed since they had left the highway. The last manmade structure sighted was an empty water tank surrounded by a few skittery wallabies that bounded away as the two vehicles rattled past.
Behind Storm’s seat, the radio crackled into life.
Penny picked up the headset.
“What?” She asked whoever it was on the other end. “I see. Okay.”
“What’s the corporal saying?” Darren asked.
“We’re getting close to a network of caves. He said we ought to be careful. He told us not to stop. He says Aunty Wanganeen tells him we will arrive at our destination soon.”
“Why d’you think he told us not to stop?” Storm asked Darren.
“Could be something to do with that lot up there,” Darren said pointing at the hill above them.
Storm craned his head forward to get a better view.
Darren frowned when he saw Storm take his eyes off the road. The last thing they needed to do now was hit a tree.
“I saw a couple of figures bent over and running like they were trying to keep up with us.”
“When?” Storm asked.
“A few minutes before he radioed.”
Storm pulled the ambulance in close behind the Bushmaster. They passed by an expanse of sandy earth imprinted with the footprints of countless feet. The entrances to the public caves would be found back from the road. In better days, curious tourists would have walked the trails and marveled at the geology and the cave paintings.
They heard a loud clang followed by another.
Storm glanced around the cab. Must have been rocks falling from the hill, he thought.
Darren turned to look back and saw that Penny was white-faced and staring back at him.
Storm was startled to see particles of paint puff off the side of the Bushmaster on the side facing the escarpment. There was a loud twang then a thump in the front of the ambulance. There had been no rocks that he could see.
“They’re shooting at us!” Storm yelled.
“You don’t say!” Darren shouted in reply. He turned to look over his shoulder once more.
“Penny, call the… Penny?”
“What’s going on?” Storm yelled.
He turned in his seat, and as he did the ambulance crept closer to the back end of the carrier vehicle.
“No!” Darren cried out. “Not so close!”
“I’ve got it! I’m not going to bump into them.”
“Back off, Storm!” Darren yelled, red-faced.
“What are you talking about?” Storm asked in bewilderment.
“They are shooting at the Bushmaster!” Darren yelled. “Look!”
Another bullet ricocheted off the back of the carrier and thumped into the body of the ambulance.
“Fuck! Fuck!” Storm hollered over the racket.
Darren grabbed his arm.
“Leave it!” Storm shook off Darren’s hand. “I’ve got this.”
“No, we have to stop right now!” Darren yelled. “Franchette’s hit!”
“What?” Storm yelled. He looked up in the mirror and almost drove off the road. The image fixed in his head as clear as a photo for him to gaze upon, even as he fought to straighten the ambulance.
Franchette lay on the stretcher completely still. It was her eyes. Her eyes! The pupils wide, black and staring.
Penny held her mother’s hands high in the air as if she was urging her to sit up. Pen’s mouth open in a silent scream. Bright red spotted her face. Her hands wet with her mother’s blood.
Inside the cab, Cameron watched the laptop display in front of him, working the optics attached to the cannon. He zoomed in on the hill, looking for the shooters and he found them.
They crouched low in the grass on the top of the hill.
He fired two rounds at them but the figures stayed put. They were not intimidated and the fire from their weapons lit up his display.
“Good thing they’re bad shots,” Taylor muttered through the headset.
“Maybe they’re only aiming to scare us away,” Cameron replied.
Storm’s voice came over the radio, telling them a bullet had pierced the skin of the ambulance and struck Franchette.
Cameron switched his display to the rear camera. The ambulance had stopped in the hollow behind them.
“Don’t stop there!” Cameron shouted to Storm as the Bushmaster stopped on the rise.
Keech’s voice came over the headset. “I’m right beside the turret, Corporal. I’ll take them out.”
“No, you fucking won’t! Kwong will!” Cameron shouted over the intercom.
“On the way, Corporal,” Kwong replied.
“Muzzle flash on the peak!” Cameron barked into his mic.
“Got it!” Kwong replied.
The heavy thumps of cannon fire reverberated inside the vehicle.
“Shooter on the lower ridge!” Cameron yelled.
“Roger that!” Kwong growled.
Cameron watched the display as Kwong fired three more rounds.
“Shooter—down,” Cameron reported into the mic.
The cannon fired again,
“All shooters taken down!” Kwong’s voice said over the headset. “That’s what you get when you take on a .50 caliber automatic AMR,” he muttered. “You shit heads!”
“Keep an eye open for more of the bastards,” Cameron told him.
Minutes of silence followed, but they stayed where they were, waiting for Kwong to confirm the all clear.
“Corporal, got a runner coming off the peak. He’s in the scrub above the big tree. You see him?”
It took Cameron several seconds before he found the target. “Yeah, I’ve got him on the screen,” Cameron replied.
It might have been a woman or a man, it was difficult to tell. The figure was slightly built and moving fast. scrambling down the steep slope.
There had to be a cave entrance behind the grove of trees below the escarpment, Cameron thought. Otherwise, why on earth would a shooter be heading toward the Bushmaster?
“Corporal, you want me to take him out?”
“Leave it. He’s not carrying anything.”
“Roger that,” Kwong replied flatly, not bothering to hide his disappointment.
“Storm,” Cameron said, speaking into the headset. “You still there.”
“I’m here.”
“How’s Mrs. Boulos?”
“Is Michael listening?”
“No, he hasn’t got a helmet.”
“It’s all messed up in here,” Storm said.
Cameron heard the tremor in the boy’s voice. “You okay?”
“Yeah—ah—not really.”
“Keep it together. We should get going.”
“Let’s do i
t,” Storm echoed.
“Hey, Bud,” Cameron said. “How about one of my team take over driving the ambulance? You hop in the back of the Bushy.”
Storm’s reply was curt. “How about we just get going!”
Taylor watched the ambulance move up behind the Bushmaster. He exchanged a glance with the Corporal.
“Let’s go,” Cameron said.
“You are not thinking of heading back to base tonight are you, Corporal?” Taylor asked, flicking off his helmet mic before he spoke.
“Ah—we’ll be staying the night in the cave,” Cameron announced to the rest of the truck. “We’ll head back to base at first light. After we make sure this lot are safe and settled.”
Cameron flicked off his mic and grinned at Taylor.
“Happy now?”
Taylor took a deep breath. “Couldn’t have said it better myself, Sean,” he said.
Graves And Caverns
Boyd was determined to ignore Aunty Wanganeen’s persistent requests for him to give up his seat to her. He pretended not to be able to hear her over the noise of the truck. When she leaned across to ask him yet again, he turned his head the other way, or he simply closed his eyes.
By the time she had caught her first glimpse of the familiar line of hills and scrub through the side window, she was all out of patience. She slapped the private hard on his thigh.
Boyd opened his eyes and stared at her defiantly.
“Come on, Boyd,” Keech yelled. “Just swap seats. What’s the big deal?”
“I can’t get what she’s saying,” Boyd replied, and took off his helmet. “Now—I can’t hear any of you lot either.”
He sat back with a smug smile and closed his eyes.
The old woman pressed a hand on Boyd’s thigh, and leaning on him for support, rose unsteadily to her feet. Then she thrust a finger into the startled soldier’s chest.
“How do you expect to get there if I can’t show them-up-front the way?”
Kwong leaned toward Boyd and laughed. “Watch out for the pointy finger of death.”
“That’s when they point a bone, ya moron,” Boyd snapped back, the pinched features of his face reddening.
Jubilee Year: A Science Fiction Thriller (Erelong Book 1) Page 24
