Arms Race (21 page)

Come on, fellas, Euchie called. Don't be shy.

The five men carried their cartons of beer down to the beach. It was hard to tell
them apart in the dark. The smooth voice was Sean and the deep voice was Nessi. They
had city accents: young men from the suburbs come north to test their nerve. They
settled into the sand around the girls.

What are you all doing here? Euchie asked.

Strictly classified, said the one called Sean.

Whatever, Euchie replied. Are there going to be more mass arrivals?

When the next boats arrive, Sean intoned in the voice from the TV, the citizen militias
will blah blah blah.

One of the other men did the chant:
We're armed! And willing! And read-dy to fight!

Nah, bro, another said. Armed and willing and ready to
fuck.

There was snorted laughter, and the crack and foam of beers.

Anyway, who cares about arrivals, came Nessi's deep voice. When's the last time a
boat got past the batteries? The militia's a waste of fucking time.

True that, someone said. The militia should be wasted and fucking—all the time.

The men lapsed back into thin laughter. They hadn't
answered Euchie's question. They
drank hard and talked mostly among themselves.

Off to the north the sky lit up, and a fraction later the
thump
of the big gun pounded
through them. One of the militiamen started to weep.

Euchie sat up sharply. Hey, she said. Is he—?

Fuck, Sean said. Get him out of here.

Two figures rose and dragged the third sobbing down the beach.

I won't, you can't make me
, he ranted.

Might as well tell them, bro, Nessi said. If we're gonna expose them.

Expose us to what? Marama asked in a small voice.

The two men stayed quiet.

You've got it, haven't you, Euchie said. You're all infected.

The churn of waves rushed in to fill the silence, then fled back out. Euchie knew
she should keep her mouth shut. But she felt sorry for the men.

Us too, she said softly. We got it too.

The men exhaled, and Euchie felt a dangerous intimacy close around them all.

We couldn't hide it any longer, Nessi said. We stole a truck and just bailed, before
the sergeant found out.

How bad? Euchie asked.

Bad enough. Some of us are still holding up, but Jem's done.

Down the beach the man called Jem was silhouetted faintly against the breakers, catatonic.
Euchie had never seen someone that far gone.

What about you? Sean asked.

We're okay, for now, Euchie said. Our families don't know. What are you going to
do?

Dunno, Sean said. Maybe try to get home.

Auckland?

Yeah.

It looks pretty bad on the news.

It's worse, Sean said. It's like
this
.

Euchie felt a sharp horse bite on her knee. She squealed and lunged across the sand,
laughing and hitting, and he grabbed and held her hands.

Fran sat at the radar console, fanning herself with the volunteer roster. The door
to the gun emplacement stood open in the heat. Her shift partner was Jessica Davis,
a retired judge who lived on the other side of the bay.

And how old's your Euchie's now? Jessica was saying.

She's—hang on, Fran said. Got one here. Are you ready?

All right, Jessica said. Go ahead.

Fran read the co-ordinate string off the radar. Jessica punched the details into
the targeting computer, one finger at a time. Fran saw a faint gleam through the
window as the big gun rotated.

Mind your ears now, Jessica said. The two women slipped on earmuffs, and Jessica
opened the firing control panel and hit the button. The gun bucked. Fran felt the
pressure wave punch through her chest, and a blast of scorched air blew into the
room. The radar blip disappeared. She removed her earmuffs.

—were saying, Jessica said. Your Euchie's how old now?

Fifteen, Fran said.

Hard at that age. They think they're grown up but they're just kids, really. She's
still got the world ahead of her.

Still got sadness ahead of her, Fran said, then wished she hadn't. Jessica was looking
at her.

What kind of sadness? Jessica asked.

The women's eyes met, and Fran had to look away.

You mean ordinary sadness, Jessica said gently.

Yes, Fran said. Ordinary sadness. Getting her heart broken by boys.

Jessica laughed. That's the cruel, cruel world, my dear. No one can save their kids
from that.

Fran smiled and nodded at the gun. Isn't that what we're trying to do?

Jessica laughed even louder. I suppose so. She rose and shuffled out the door to
reload. Back soon.

Make it quick, please, Fran called. There's a flotilla coming in from the north-west.

She crossed to the night-vision scope at the window. Beyond the raised earthen lip
of the old
pa
fortifications, the flat black sea turned spectral blue. She could
see the boats riding in on the tide like a pod of rusted whales. That was a lot of
sadness on the way.

She was turning back to the radar when two short, sharp cracks pierced the air.

Small-arms fire. Behind her. From the town.

Jessica's voice. What on earth was—

Thump
.

The Ahipara battery opening up along the coast.

Then a terrible scraping crash from down in the bay, and a rising wail that turned
to screams.

Fran's thoughts fled to Euchie, there on the beach. She swept the scope over the
town. Some kind of metal craft pulled up on the sand. People moving. The scope flagged
weapons, blinking and blinking in red.

Oh, god, Fran moaned.

Jessica was at her side. What is it?

Something got through. Beached at the esplanade. Gunfire.

Fran moved to the console and took the radio with shaking hands. She'd been expecting
this day. Expecting it for years.

All stations, this is battery Tasman-Six-Twenty. Code One. Entry with force, shots
fired—

She dropped the radio. She could feel the sadness
rising in herself. There wasn't
long.

I'm going, she said. Euchie's down there. I told her to—

You can't go, Jessica said. There's more coming. I can't operate this by myself.

I have to. I couldn't bear it if—

No! Jessica grasped at her arm.

Fran pulled away, and the woman's distinguished face caved in with grief. So, her
too.

Fran took a torch and ran.

Sean kept pulling Euchie into his lap. She didn't mind. It was good there in the
snug of him, drinking his beer with her head against his chest. It was too dark to
see his face, but he had an intoxicating musky reek.

They would totally take over, one of the militiamen was saying. There are a shitload
more of them than us.

And they're different from us, another said. Even their accents. They're so fucked
up you'd never understand a word.

I don't know, Marama said cautiously. Are they really that different?

Yes, Allie said. They're all infected. I heard you get it just seeing their faces.

They reckon it's in the tears, Nessi said. They told us in training.

So how'd we all get it, then? Euchie said. It's not like we've been drinking their
tears.

I have, Sean said. Six pack a day.

You must be real sad, Euchie said.

I'm the saddest mofo in the country.

The others laughed, but Euchie leaned back into him. What's it like, for you? she
murmured.

I dunno, Sean said uncomfortably.

You can tell me.

Sean was quiet. It's like…you're filling up with water. Or something's growing inside
you. It's dumb.

The others were talking about tear contamination. Euchie tilted her head, and could
just make out the line of Sean's jaw against the stars. Like there's something growing?
she said.

Yeah.

Same.

For real? Like how?

She reached back and hooked an arm awkwardly round his neck. Don't laugh, she said,
but it's like—the bush at night. It goes forever, in all directions. Only they're
not normal trees. They're black with black flowers, and they're growing like they're
in fast-forward. That's the sadness.

Hmm, Sean said, and Euchie felt the soft vibration through his chest.

And there are these machines, like harvesters, you
know? Only tiny. They're just
these little lights moving in the dark, trying to harvest the sadness and keep it
at bay. But they can't keep up—

Euchie tailed off, feeling stupid.

And up it comes, Sean said. I know. His arm encircled her and pulled her close.

Euchie closed her eyes.

After a few minutes Sean shifted slightly, and his hand grazed her breast. She thought
it was an accident. It happened again.

I heard this helps, he whispered.

With what?

The sadness.

His hand slid rough and warm down the front of her dress, searching out a nipple,
and she was flooded with queasy, annihilating heat. She giggled to cover her shock.
A moment later his other hand lighted on her thigh, just above the sagging knee of
her stockings. She jerked herself into a sitting position, Sean's hand tearing a
strap on her dress, and the impulse carried her all the way to her feet. She felt
riotous.

What's wrong? Sean said.

Euchie looked past the surf to the open water of the bay. She said the first thing
that came into her head. There's a boat.

Huh? Sean said. What?

That's huge, she said, her voice growing firm. Is
that one of ours?

What are you talking about?

There's a boat in the bay.

The bodies sprawled in the sand around her began to stir.

Where? Nessi said.

There. She pointed roughly towards the heads. Marama, can you see it?

Um—

She gave Marama a kick.

Oh, wait, Marama said. There. Holy shit.

It hasn't got any lights on, Euchie said. I don't reckon that's one of ours.

They were all on their feet now.

I can't see it, Nessi said. My eyesight's shit. Where?

Right there, Euchie said. Damn. How'd that get past the battery?

They stood straining their eyes for so long that Euchie could almost imagine a boat,
ghosting on the tide with its engines cut.

Wait, Sean said. I see it. I think.

Euchie felt Marama squeeze her hand. She stifled a giggle.

Where? Nessi said.

There, bro, Sean said. I can see something. Right there. Oh, shit.

Wait, Nessi said. Me too. There. I see it too.

Fuck, Sean said. What do we do? Does
that mean we—

Thump.
The coastal battery roared out across the water.

Christ, Nessi said, suddenly shaky. We have to…you know. There's guns in the truck.

Euchie heard a faint flumping sound behind her. Another of the militiamen dropped
into the sand and began to sob. There was a rushing sound, and then a splash as Nessi
hurled his bottle into the surf.

Fuck it all, he said. This is what we trained for. Let's go. He stumbled up the beach.

Euchie felt hands on her shoulders. It was Sean, close to tears.

If we don't return, he said, farewell.

You'll be okay, Euchie said.

They might have guns.

Guns?

If we survive, I'll come back for you.

His beery breath was on her face and then his mouth was stuck to hers, his tongue
was her tongue, and she was brimming with laughter. She choked it off, and it sounded
like a sob.

When the men were in the truck, weaving up the esplanade with their headlights off,
Euchie took the gun from her bag. She stepped away from Marama and Allie and trained
it out to sea. She grinned.

Block your ears, guys.

She pulled the trigger. Twice.

Flame lit the beach from end to end, and the prone shape of Jem was there in the
muzzle flash, weeping on the tide line. Sound flooded back with Allie's and Marama's
screams. Euchie turned to see the truck veer from the road. The dark mass leaned
into space, then tipped and rolled down the bank with a grinding smash.

She put a hand to her mouth and gave a fearful, excited squeal. There were shouts
from the truck. An incoherent moaning. Allie was yelling at her. Euchie thrust the
pistol into her handbag and bolted down the beach.

When she reached the truck she could just make out the men huddled beside its metal
carcass. One was curled in a ball. Most of them were weeping.

Are you okay? Euchie said.

Jesus, Nessi said. Jesus. They opened fire. We're hit. Sean's hurt.

Oh no—

Guilt splashed through her. She dug a lighter from her bag. The darkness flared into
a ring of scared and raw-scrubbed faces. They were just boys, barely older than her.
Sean's forehead was oily with blood.

Put that out, Nessi hissed. We're sitting ducks.

Euchie swallowed. She had to tell them. There's no boat, she said.

What?

There's no boat. It was me.

Shut up. Listen.

There's no—

Shh!

A thin moon had emerged above the headlands, and the curve of the bay stretched away
in silver and blue. The faint red light from the gun emplacement glimmered across
the waves. Sean whimpered quietly. From down the coast came the thundering of the
Ahipara battery.

Then Euchie heard it: a gentle splashing, somewhere just beyond the shore. Waves
against a hull. A soft chorus of weeping, and faint voices, accents sharp as knives.
It was impossible—she'd made it up.

Christ, Nessi said. They're coming in. We have to get away from the water. Help me.

They dragged Sean up the bank, crying, slipping in loose sand. The other strap on
Euchie's sundress snapped. The night licked at her skin. It was so hot, the monsoon
close to breaking.