The Other Side of Dawn

by John Marsden

  Fi and Lee and Kevin were stressing out big-time at us for being away so long. Kevin started it, which was just like his style. ‘Where the hell have you three been?’ It was like being nagged by your parents. ‘You’ve been hours. No-one had a clue where you were.’

  All he needed to add was ‘Your mother and I have been worried sick about you’, and I would have felt right back at home.

  But the other two were equally annoyed. ‘Honestly,’ Fi said, ‘as if we weren’t stressed enough already. How were we supposed to guess where you were? For all we knew you could have been caught.’

  The one I hated hearing it from most was Lee. I didn’t want Lee telling me I’d done something dumb. I wanted him telling me, ‘Good one, El, you’re a legend’. Instead he said: ‘We can’t afford this kind of goofing off. We’ve got to be disciplined twenty-four hours a day.’

  That was a bit rich coming from him. But it was true, we had been away a long time. We hadn’t told them which direction we were going, which was slack.

  They were so worked up about the attack on the truck stop that they were half off their heads. They would have been stressing about a broken shoelace, let alone us going missing for most of the afternoon. So we had to stand there feeling guilty while they got stuck into us.

  Once they’d got that out of their systems we told them about the train line. They were interested, and even impressed, but they were so focused on the truck stop that they immediately forced us back to that. The best I could get was a lot of mumbles about how ‘We can have a look at it after this, if we get a chance’.

  We went over the plan of attack again and again, working out all kinds of possibilities. If they did this, we’d do that; if this happened, we’d make that happen; if they went this way we’d go that way.

  The trouble was we had too much detail, too many plans. We could have done with three weeks to memorise them, instead of a couple of hours.

  The other trouble was that we didn’t give much thought to escape routes. The only plan Lee and Kevin and Fi had was to race back to our packs and get the hell out of the place. But we made them agree that after the petrol station we’d head to the railway, and use any remaining charges on the bridge and the tracks. It was another enemy centre of gravity.

  As people started to get mentally tired the energy levels dropped. Without much more talk they started drifting away to have a rest, or get something to eat.

  Lee and I sat down and made some charges for the bridge. We were getting quite good at it. With each new one we took less time. By the end our hands smelt like old cheddar, and felt cheesy too. I don’t know what plastic explosive is made from—plastic, I guess—but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was from something they’d found in the basement of a Kraft factory.

  We used most of Ryan’s precious explosives, but we had a good little arsenal, and I felt confident that we’d do some damage before the night was out.

  I went for a walk to clear my brain. I had a headache from the tension of working on the charges. Kevin was doing lookout and at least this time I told him the general direction I was going. I mooched along feeling suddenly depressed. I hated the way these moods crept up on me with no warning. Of course it was no great surprise that I’d be depressed, when we were about to start a night of violence that might end in our deaths. It’d be a bit strange if I was feeling hysterically happy. But I don’t know if my feelings were really to do with what lay ahead. I wasn’t actually thinking about the servo or the train tracks. I was thinking about other stuff: the days before the war, where my parents were now and what they might be doing, the horrible awful empty way I missed Corrie and Robyn.

  The last news I’d had of my parents was when Lee told me my father was still under guard in a pavilion at the Wirrawee Showground, and my mother was working as a servant in the Holloway area somewhere. That was such a long time ago. They could be anywhere now. And even if they were at Wirrawee and Holloway, I couldn’t be further away, fifty kilometres or more from Cavendish. It was in totally the wrong direction.

  I was walking pretty slowly and I’d gone up the hill only a short way when I came across a sight that stopped me in my tracks. Funny, I don’t know why it took me so completely by surprise. After all, Homer and Fi had been interested in each other since the first day of this war, even a few days before that. They’d started quite passionately, then cooled off as we got more absorbed by the battle to stay alive and found ourselves with less time or energy for relationships.

  But something had set it flaring again now. Flaring? They’d poured a tank of petrol on it then chucked in a detonator. It was bigger than the fire at Wirrawee Airfield.

  They were sitting—half lying—on a soft green slope, kissing so hard they were in danger of reincarnating as leeches. They still had their clothes on, but it was kind of like they didn’t. Homer’s hands were all over Fi, and I could see the whites of her knuckles as she pulled him further and further into her. For a moment I was so fascinated I couldn’t turn away. Then I came to my senses and quickly went off to the left, down a steep gully. I was embarrassed it had taken me that long. I felt like a voyeur.

  But embarrassment was only one of a whole lot of feelings squeezing my insides. I shouldn’t have been so disturbed but I was. I felt hot and giddy. I didn’t know which emotion to have, which one to let out first. I picked up a stick and started bashing the trees, not caring how much noise I made. My face burned. I just hoped I didn’t meet the others. I didn’t want them to see me like this; didn’t want to have to talk to Lee or anyone else.

  I sat on a rock and stared dumbly at a big tree trunk that had grown through a hole in a rock overhang. Why was I feeling such a mess? Or to go back to basics, what was I feeling anyway? Come on, Ellie, get a grip, what the hell is this electric blender in your stomach, churning up your intestines? You haven’t actually been ruptured, so what is going on? Think about it. Work it out. List your emotions in order of importance from one to ten. Attach an extra sheet if insufficient paper is provided.

  OK, there was jealousy. No, not jealousy, envy. Well, maybe halfway between the two. I was pretty sure I didn’t love Homer, not in that way, but I liked him in truckfuls. I certainly didn’t want to share him, not even with Fi. And to make things worse, I didn’t want to share Fi either. Especially with a boy. I liked the way it had always been: me getting involved big-time with Steve then Lee, plus a couple of other minor crushes along the way, and Fi liking boys from a distance. That way I could go and tell her all the stuff I was doing and she could tell me what I should do, and who she was rapt in, and we didn’t get in each other’s way. That suited me fine, and I didn’t want it to change.

  Gradually I started to realise that envy accounted for most of what I was feeling. The rest of it was called loneliness. I was a bit obsessed with Lee, like Fi had said, but we still didn’t have the kind of relationship I wanted. There were great moments, moments of real friendship, moments of sex, moments of caring and looking out for each other. But it wasn’t on a full-time enough basis for me. We kissed occasionally, we held hands, we went for walks and talked about our lives, we’d even had sex the night before last, but we didn’t have the intensity of those days when we were hiding in Robyn’s music teacher’s house. So often I longed to be hugged by a guy, to feel strong bony arms holding me, to feel rough skin on my face, to smell that guy smell. At most of those times Lee was nowhere to be found, or he was in one of those moods when you knew it wasn’t a good idea to approach him.

  Seeing Homer and Fi brought it home to me that I was missing something, something I never wanted to be without. I like guys and I like being around them. I feel more complete if I’m with someone. I wanted a relationship that was closer to a hundred per cent than forty per cent.

  When they drag me off to the nursing home I’m going to demand a twin room, in the co-ed wing.

  I didn’t bother to search for any other emotions; the ones I’d identified already were more than enough. I trudged back to
the place where we’d dumped our stuff. Lee and Gavin were on sentry, watching the road. Kevin was asleep, snoring like a steamroller.

  I told Lee and Gavin that I’d do sentry. It suited my mood. I still didn’t want to talk to anyone—especially Lee—but I didn’t want to sit around feeling sorry for myself. Watching the road took full concentration, because there was so much happening, and we were so dangerously close to it. If one soldier decided to walk up the hill to take a crap, we’d have to react fast, and withdraw silently towards the train tracks.

  The trouble was that I couldn’t concentrate. I sat there wondering about Homer and Fi. Was this the first time? Had they been kissing like that for days or weeks or months? How come they hadn’t told me about it? Didn’t they trust me? Did Fi enjoy it? Would we still be friends? And the big question, that I guess you always wonder about until your friends tell you, how far had they gone?

  All in all I wasn’t much good as a sentry.

  The other thing distracting me, apart from my own stirred-up thoughts and feelings, was the occasional rumble in the direction of the coast. It kind of echoed Kevin’s snoring. Whatever was going on over there, it was big. Gradually a line of black seeped along the horizon, like God had taken a big Texta and tried to draw a straight line along the edge, only he was a bit old and doddery and the pen kept wobbling.

  I just hoped the New Zealanders were blowing stuff up, and I hoped they were winning.

  I was worried that the convoys would eventually stop using the road, that the enemy commanders would have moved all the soldiers they wanted, and our attack would come too late. And there were times when the road got very quiet. At one stage there was no movement for half an hour. But right on dusk another long line of trucks came past, this time with a couple of tanks. We hadn’t seen many tanks in this war. They looked like crocodiles, not in their shape, but in their tough hides and the slow nasty way they rolled along. Behind me, Lee, whom I hadn’t even heard approach, said: ‘I hope they don’t have some rule that the convoys after dark get tanks.’

  I hadn’t thought of that. It gave me a shock. Made my tummy rumble for about two minutes.

  Fi and Homer came back, walking way apart, as though they hardly knew each other. In my envy even that annoyed me. I felt they were pretending about their relationship, instead of talking to me about it, sharing it with me, like in the past. I was cranky and unpleasant to them both, and even to Lee. In fact the only ones I was nice to were Kevin, which must have surprised him, and Gavin.

  Unlike other attacks we couldn’t wait till three or four am to make our move. Now that the big battles were on we couldn’t afford luxuries like that. We had to go as soon as it got dark. That doubled the danger: not just doubled it, trebled, quadrupled, whatever the next one is. Quintupled. But for all our good intentions it was nine o’clock before we started. It was probably dark enough before then, but we kept hesitating, putting it off, imagining we could still see a bit of light along the horizon. It reminded me of being with Iain and Ursula on Tailor’s Stitch, ages ago.

  Finally the moment came. ‘Let’s do it,’ said Homer, picking up his daypack. Like kids on a school excursion we grabbed our stuff and followed him down the hill. I was suddenly too tired to resent the fact that Homer was telling us what to do yet again.

  At least we didn’t have heavy loads; we’d hidden our main packs, to collect after the attack.

  I found myself side by side with Lee and suddenly felt an urgent desire to connect with him, to weld myself to him. It was the complete opposite of the way I’d been a couple of hours before. I grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight. And when I say tight, I mean I drew blood. Well, nearly.

  I was surprised at my feelings but I don’t think Lee was. He just made a face at me. He didn’t actually say, ‘Are you in a state of total terror?’ but he knew what was going on. My insides were liquid from the neck down. I could almost hear them sloshing around.

  I kept my grip on Lee’s hand until we were fifty metres from the road. Then I let go, wondering when I would get to hold it again. And if I ever did, would it be warm and comforting, like now? Or would it be cold and clammy, lying lifeless in mine?

  We said goodbye to Kevin. This was one part of our plan that made me incredibly nervous. The others seemed too willing to forgive and forget. I was happy to forgive. But forgetting, that was the hard part. As long as our plans involved Kevin I was going to keep seeing in my mind’s eye the blubbering wreck at the airfield. When we needed five people that day, we only had four. No, worse, we only had three, or two, because Kevin wasn’t just a zero back then, he was a minus number.

  Maybe that’s too harsh, but that’s the way I felt, and to me Kevin had to prove himself again. Just being more involved and friendly wasn’t any kind of proof that in an emergency he’d stand tall and straight and strong. I thought we were a bit mad to put our trust in him.

  Anyway, it was too late to say or do anything. I kissed him, same as Fi, but feeling like a hypocrite, giving a Judas kiss. And I waved as he hurried away. At least he looked focused. I had to hope that was enough.

  We paralleled the road for a bit, till we could cross at a point we’d chosen earlier, between a bend to the right and a bend to the left. One by one we scuttled over the bitumen. I felt very exposed. We should be safe: we should hear any convoy or patrol as it approached, but I still three-quarters expected a bullet between my shoulder blades.

  There was no bullet, for me or anyone else. When we were safely in the bush again we set off in single file, keeping a good distance apart. We were now only a k at the most from the servo. My nerves were screwed up, like a Sumo wrestler had taken a wrench and put all his strength into tightening them. The trees got thinner as we approached the outbuildings. We spread out to find cover. It was safer that way. Made it harder for a soldier with an automatic weapon to kill all of us at once.

  Carefully we picked our way through the ghost gums. They were well named. There was something eerie about the way their white trunks shone at night-time. Never more than this night. My heart throbbed painfully as I saw the dark outlines of the main buildings. They had lights on inside, but like most places they had heavy curtains to stop those pesky New Zealand Air Force bombers seeing the lights and dropping little Valentines down their chimneys.

  Well, heavy curtains weren’t going to stop us.

  We were coming in towards the back corner of the service station. I saw and smelt a Dumpmaster. There was the usual collection of litter you find round the back of those places. A couple of 44s, a derelict car, a few rusting engines, and an overhead tank that had been abandoned a long time ago.

  Unfortunately the toilets were there too. I could see a shabby fibro building with a battered white door. Someone had left the door slightly open, and the light on inside. It wasn’t much light, probably only forty watts, but enough to see the little black man on the door with his top hat and walking stick.

  Kind of weird when you think about it: a guy looking so elegant and dressed up, on the door of such a cruddy building.

  We got a couple of steps closer, then stopped and crouched low as a bloke came round the corner and disappeared into the dunny.

  I knew there was no danger from him so I huddled down and hugged myself while we waited. ‘No-one else is going to hug me,’ I thought, being a bit pathetic, but remembering again Fi and Homer passionately kissing each other. To stop myself getting too gloomy I went over the plans again. It seemed neat enough, the way we’d worked it out. Trouble was, it didn’t allow for things like soldiers acting unpredictably: doing their jobs extra well for example, or going for a bushwalk. It certainly didn’t allow for one of us failing.

  The bloke finished in the toilet and went back to the main building. Without needing a signal we started moving again.

  We were closer to the servo than I would have liked, but there was no choice. The bush behind the place was too thick and the hill too steep. It would have taken ages to get up there and down again.
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  Just after ten o’clock we arrived, at the other back corner.

  Stretching away beyond us was the carpark, which looked like it had been extended since the start of the war. Guess these convoys were keeping them busy. They might have been a regular event. We should have paid this place a visit a long time ago. To my right was a billboard advertising KFC, but it looked tattered and weatherbeaten now. The bowsers were around the corner, out of my sight.

  After the tension I’d been through to reach this point, it would have been a relief to go straight into action. No such luck. If it took all night we had to wait for a convoy. There wasn’t much value attacking an empty truck stop.

  Homer and Fi and Gavin said goodbye. Somehow here, so close to the danger, it didn’t seem appropriate to embrace or kiss or whisper nice comments to each other. I patted Gavin on the head and mouthed at him: ‘Be careful. Take care.’ He just shrugged and made a face. I don’t know if he even understood what I’d said. They moved away so quickly that I got a shock at how fast they disappeared. They went into darkness, like it was a kind of death. They were swallowed up.

  I looked at Lee. He seemed affected too. Maybe we were both wondering if we’d see them again in this life. He touched my elbow and we moved further down the slope. We found a hollow where we could see the bowsers. I crouched behind a bottlebrush, shoved my hands into my armpits and waited. My rifle was on the ground beside me and my daypack of explosives on the other side. For this little effort I was useless without these weapons. In fact I was only needed here as the means to activate them. Tonight I had no real value as a human being.

  I amused myself by trying to remember the Pimlott Principles that Ryan had raved on about. We were certainly using surprise. And if we could go on and get the railway line, that would be momentum: keeping the enemy off-balance. And both were centres of gravity.