The Third Day, The Frost (16 page)

After ten minutes of watching Homer spinning
the knob backwards and forwards, Robyn asked: ‘How long are we
going to risk doing this?’

Without looking up, Homer said: ‘Ask Lee how
it looks outside.’

I went out the back window and found Lee, who
was keeping watch from the top of the water tank where he was
almost completely hidden by ivy.

‘How’s it looking?’ I asked.

‘Nothing to see. What’s happening with the
radio?’

‘Just static.’

‘Let’s give it another fifteen minutes,’ Homer
said, when I reported back.

‘That’s nearly half an hour all together,’
Robyn said. ‘That’s a long time if they have tracking equipment
zeroing in on us.’

No one seemed willing to make a decision. We
stood watching Homer as he continued to try, with his head on one
side, listening intendy.

At twenty-one minutes we hit something, a
couple of words in English. Homer frantically backtracked, trying
to bring the voice into focus. It took him a couple of goes,
crossing backwards and forwards above the voice, then suddenly he
had it quite clearly. We all leaned forward.

‘... but a foxskin has to be perfect,’ a man
said. ‘Prices are that low, it’s not worth your trouble. There’s
too many of the buggers. Over.’

We couldn’t hear the reply, but after a few
moments of static Homer made his move. He pressed the transmission
button and said, ‘Hello. Can you hear me?’ He said it three times,
then released the button again.

The reply was immediate. The man said, ‘Hang
on, Hank. I missed the last bit. There’s a gatecrasher around.
Mate, get off the air would you? Learn some manners.’

I whispered to Homer, ‘Say “mayday”.’

I knew it was a powerful word to use. And it
sure was. Homer said it three times. Suddenly we had an ally.

‘Hank, I’ve got a mayday. Call you tomorrow.
Go ahead, mayday. What’s your problem?’

‘Are you in New Zealand?’ Homer asked.

‘10-4, over.’

We were all leaning forward, crowding around
the microphone, as though we were trying to get inside the
transmitter.

Homer started. ‘There’s six of us, trapped in
the Cobbler’s Bay area, near Stratton. We’ve managed to stay free
since the invasion but it’s getting really hard. We’re hoping to
get some help to get out of here, before they catch us. It’s pretty
hot for us at the moment. Um, over.’

The man’s voice came back straight away, quiet
but confident. ‘OK, got all that. First thing, don’t give any more
details about your location. You don’t know who might be listening.
Second thing, don’t stay on the air long. You can be traced. Now
mate, as you can imagine, you’re not the first Aussies to call for
help. All I can do is record your details and pass them on to the
military. I’ve got to tell you, I don’t think there’s much we can
do for you. That’s been the story with the others I’ve talked to.
But if you call me back in two hours, by then I’ll have had a wee
chat to military intelligence and I’ll tell you what they say.
Over.’

‘Where are you?’ Homer asked.

‘South Island. Thirty-six k’s out of
Christchurch. Now are there any details you want to tell me about
yourselves? But be careful, ay. Over.’

‘We’re just a bunch of teenagers,’ Homer said.
‘We’ve done the best we can but I don’t know how much longer we can
keep going.’

Homer sounded tired and defeated, almost like
he was going to cry. I was shocked. I didn’t think Homer would ever
sound like that. Robyn grabbed the microphone.

‘When you talk to the military,’ she said,
‘tell them we’re the ones who blew up Cobbler’s Bay. Over.’

‘Cobbler’s Bay, OK. I’ll tell them. Anything
else? Over.’

‘No,’ Robyn said. ‘I guess that’s all. We’ll
call you back in two hours. Over and out.’

‘Good luck, kids,’ the man said. ‘Take care
over there. We’re with you a hundred per cent, you know that. Over
and out.’

Chapter
Twenty

The two hours took forever. All of us had been
through the same emotions, I think. We’d started pinning a lot on
our call to New Zealand, though we didn’t know exactly how they
could help us. It had been so exciting when the man responded to
our mayday. But it hadn’t taken him long to curdle our little cup
of hope. Our reactions after that were about what you’d expect. We
wandered off in different directions – the four of us not on
sentry, that is – no one wanting to talk to anyone else. The thing
was, now I couldn’t see any hope at all. What could we do? Where
could we go? The only option was to return to Hell, but I couldn’t
stomach that idea at the moment. I thought I’d go mad in that
claustrophobic cauldron of rocks and trees. I never wanted to see
it again. I wanted to see escalators and traffic lights and
skyscrapers and crowded crowded streets. I wanted to mix with
millions of people, in the world’s biggest city. I was sick of our
lifestyle and the five people I had to share it with.

I landed in the room with the electronics gear
fifteen minutes before we were due to call back. I thought it was
getting dangerous. Anything in the bright daylight scared me now.
We should not be out in the light. I told Homer to keep it quick if
we did manage to re-establish the contact. But Homer just got
offended and said he’d worked that out for himself, he wasn’t
stupid. I sighed and sat there, gazing at my watch, then going out
every couple of minutes and looking anxiously at the road. Robyn
and Fi were our sentries but they couldn’t bear to get too far
away, which meant in fact that they were practically in the room
with us.

With two minutes to go Kevin got the generator
running and as soon as the output reached 240 again he rushed in to
listen. Homer had left the transmitter on the right frequency and
he began to broadcast. To our relief, and excitement, he got an
answer almost straight away. There was more static this time, but
we could hear the man quite clearly.

‘OK, I’m receiving you,’ he said. ‘I’ve got
someone here who wants to talk to you. Whatever you people did at
this Cobbler’s Bay seems to have stirred up some interest. I got
the quickest response from the military that I’ve ever had. Stand
by now.’

Almost immediately another voice came on.
Quiet but crisp and forceful. I have to admit he did put me off a
bit by managing to sound like Major Harvey. Maybe anyone with
military training sounds like that.

‘I’m Lieutenant-Colonel Finley from New
Zealand Army Intelligence. We’re aware of recent damage to enemy
installations at Cobbler’s Bay and we understand you’re claiming
responsibility. I’d like whatever information you have, but bear in
mind that enemy intelligence might be monitoring this conversation.
So is there anything you can tell me? Over.’

Homer took a deep breath, sat up straighter
and began.

‘We’ve been free since the invasion,’ he said
carefully. ‘I won’t say how many of us there are, or who we are, or
give our ages. But it’s true that we were able to get into
Cobbler’s Bay and do a lot of damage. We used nearly two tonnes of
anfo and sank a container ship. The explosion also damaged two
cranes, blew a helicopter out of the sky, and set fire to the
wharf. This is the fourth attack we’ve done since the invasion, but
we’re now on the run and we need help. We’re getting hemmed in and
we haven’t got much future. We need to get out, and we want to know
if you can help us. Over.’

Colonel Finley came on again straight
away.

‘What is your assessment of the present
operating capacity of Cobbler’s Bay? Over.’

Homer struggled for words. Finally, all he
could say was, ‘What do you mean?’

‘Is the wharf still able to function? If so,
to what extent? Over.’

Homer looked at us helplessly. I grabbed the
microphone. ‘We can’t tell that. We’re not experts. It looks a
mess, that’s all we can say. Most of the wharf was destroyed, so
it’ll be very hard for them to load or unload till they rebuild
that. Over.’

‘Do you know the name of the container ship
you sank?’

‘No.’

‘Do you know its nationality?’

‘No.’

‘Do you know what its cargo was?’

‘No. Just empty containers we think.’

‘Is there any chance of you going back in
there to have a look at a few things for me? If I give you a list
of questions, things we need investigated?’

My blood boiled. ‘No! No way! We’re not
heavily into suicide. Over.’

‘All right, I quite understand. You’ve
obviously done very well, and I congratulate you. Keep up the good
work. Now, hang on a moment and I’ll put you back to Laurie.
Over.’

‘Wait!’ I yelled. ‘Wait!’ I tried to find the
words. ‘What are you going to ... I mean, can’t you get us out of
here?’

‘Regrettably, no. We just don’t have the
resources. We’re at full stretch as it is, as I’m sure you’d
appreciate. You sound as though you’re looking after yourselves
very well, though. I’m sure things’ll change in a few months, but
until then we can’t help you. Keep in touch with Laurie, and
anything else you can do to help the war effort will be much
appreciated, believe me.’

I didn’t say any more, and in a moment Laurie
came back on and wound up the conversation. He said he’d keep
listening at 8 pm, their time, every night, in case we needed to
get in touch. And that was all anyone could do for us. We were on
our own again. We’d had our hopes raised so much for that short
time, then, just as suddenly, nothing.

There was silence in the room. No one seemed
able to speak. We were all too depressed. I was way overdue for
some sentry duty; so was Homer, but he looked too devastated to
think about it. I went out to take over from Robyn, not because I’m
a martyr but because I wanted to be on my own for a while, and
going on sentry was as good a way as any to do it.

I found a possie on the top of a wrecked
pantech that I reached by climbing a tree and dropping onto it. The
light branches of the tree draped over the pan-tech and hid me well
enough. The van looked like it had rolled: not only was it bent and
crushed all along the passenger side but also the roof was creased
and crumpled. Grass was growing in the roof; a little dirt was
lodged there, probably from when it had rolled, and weeds were
growing happily from it. I wasn’t in a good position to alert the
others if enemy troops suddenly appeared, but I thought I’d worry
about that if and when it happened. I sat there hugging my knees,
wondering what we should do next. Maybe hijack a jet and fly to New
Zealand. I gazed at my arms and hands. They looked pretty rough.
There were scratches and scars everywhere. The knuckles on my left
hand were swollen from where I’d been bashed into the rocks by the
tidal wave at Cobbler’s Bay. I tried to work out how long ago that
was, but had to give up. It felt like weeks, but I knew it wasn’t.
Probably only a few days.

There was a scar on the right thumb that went
way back to the time we’d got Lee out of Wirrawee, using a
front-end loading truck. On the inside of the right arm was a long
scar that I’d picked up blundering through the bush, the night of
the Harvey’s Heroes’ massacre. I don’t know how I hurt my arm; I
was too upset at the time to notice. Just a stick, I guess.

On the tip of my left elbow was a mosquito
bite, on the back of the hand a bruise that I’d picked up when I’d
tripped in the dark. My fingernails were a manicurist’s nightmare,
ripped, bitten, cut, torn. There wasn’t one that was undamaged. I
seemed to bleed easily around the fingernails these days. Maybe
lack of vitamins, I don’t know. I’ve never been much into skin
care, but I’d had the usual collection of moisturisers and creams
and lotions and I used them on special occasions, like going to
socials. I didn’t use them much on school days. I never had time
anyway: I was too busy in the mornings. But what I would have done
now for my little line-up of jars and tubes! I’d love to have
rubbed the soft white fragrant cream slowly into my skin, making it
supple and smooth, bringing it back to life. Such a little luxury,
but I longed for it.

Somehow Lee tracked me to the pantech. I don’t
know how. He must have had the nose of a border collie. But he saw
me there and started climbing the tree to come up with me. He
didn’t say anything, just climbed slowly to the truck roof, then
crawled along the deformed metal.

‘Hello,’ I said.

‘Hello.’

‘Looks like we’re not going to New Zealand,
hey.’

‘Looks that way.’

‘I was hoping so much ...’

‘I didn’t know if it’d be good or bad. I never
thought they’d pick us up anyway, and I don’t know about walking
out on my family.’

‘Yeah, that was what I was worried about. But
there doesn’t seem to be anything we can do for them. Not yet.’

‘You don’t like me any more, do you?’

He’d caught me by surprise. I knew it was
coming, but not like that.

‘Yes, of course I like you.’

‘But not the way it was.’

‘No, I guess not.’

‘Why?’

‘Dunno. It just happened.’

‘What, you mean that one minute you liked me
and a millisecond later you didn’t?’

‘More or less, yeah.’

‘That doesn’t sound very likely.’

‘I don’t care what it sounds like, that’s the
way it was.’

‘Did Fi say anything against me?’

‘Fi? No, why would she?’

‘I don’t know, but you’re always talking to
her and you take so much notice of what she says.’

‘I don’t know about that, but she didn’t say
anything to put me off you. She’s not a backstabber, not like me.’
I grinned, but Lee wasn’t into laughs today.

‘Is it something I said?’

‘No, no, really. Nothing dramatic happened, I
swear. Maybe we’d just seen enough of each other for a while. I
mean, God, we’re only young, we’re not meant to be getting married,
you know. At our age we’re meant to have lots of romances.’

‘My father was seventeen when he was
married.’

‘Well, whoopiedoo, I’m very happy for him, but
I’ve got no plans yet, believe me.’

‘Are you having it off with Homer?’

I lifted my arm fast, to hit him, then changed
my mind. But I don’t know how I didn’t push him straight off the
roof. He had such a hide, saying that. I know he was only saying it
because he was upset, but that didn’t make it all right. What a
dickhead. It made me really pleased that I’d dropped him, because
at that moment I didn’t care if I never saw him again, and I had no
interest in continuing the conversation. So we sat there in silence
for a couple of minutes.

He knew he’d gone too far – I mean, you didn’t
have to be a Nobel Prize winner to work that out.

I could feel him getting ready to apologise.
There wasn’t much else he could do. But I wasn’t going to make it
easy for him. He could stew for a while yet, as far as I was
concerned. Eventually though, after he’d cleared his throat a
couple of times, he managed to struggle through it, taking about
five minutes.

‘OK, OK,’ I said at last, ‘don’t worry about
it. But honestly, Lee, nothing special’s happened. I just want some
time and some space. Let’s not make a whole big issue of it,
please. We’ve got on pretty well so far – we haven’t had too many
fights. But I’ve got the feeling that our toughest times are still
ahead. I think we’re in for a really rough stretch now, because
there’s no obvious path for us to take, and I think it could get
seriously depressing. So we’ve got to keep cheerful and not get too
hung up about stuff like this.’

He didn’t answer and the two of us kept
sitting there for a long time, until it started raining.

‘Come on,’ I said at last, ‘let’s get down.
I’ll have to find somewhere else to watch for the bad guys.’