Circle of Flight (22 page)

‘You’re just paid to do the driving,’ I said. ‘So shut up and drive.’

He took me at my word and off we went. He drove straight up over the footpath and into the park, following a concrete path that I guess was designed for council vehicles. He accelerated as soon as we were on it, and within seconds we were flying through the park at a speed that would have been dangerous on a freeway. I glanced out the back window and saw people piling into two other vehicles back outside the house. One of them looked like Lee, but it was getting difficult to see. A moment later the first of the cars started following us. I assumed they were on our side, because Homer seemed quite relaxed, and the words ‘The area’s secured, Pimple,’ had been reassuring for me.

We got to the other side of the park without hitting any fountains, stray dogs or joggers, although joggers wouldn’t have been a big risk at this time of night. But Homer came blasting out of the other side of the park at such a speed that when we tried to take the jump from the footpath to the road, we bottomed out pretty badly. I think the Volvo was kind of low-slung. It didn’t put Homer off one little bit. He did a full racing turn, rocking the thing on its springs so much that I wondered if we might get seasick, but the car did stick to the road well, even if it left most of its rubber on the bitumen. He hit the accelerator again, and the turbo charger kicked in, and away we went, but something was badly wrong underneath, and a horrible clattering, banging, scraping noise had even Gavin looking at me with a puzzled face. I leant across in front of him to see out his window, as the noise seemed to be coming more from his side of the car, and was slightly alarmed to see sparks flying as we raced along at a hundred and something k’s an hour. ‘Homer!’ I yelled, ‘I think you’ve broken something.’

‘I think so too,’ he agreed. He hit the brakes with about as much force as he’d been using on the accelerator. Neither Gavin nor I were wearing safety belts, and we had to grab at the seats in front to avoid going through the windscreen. ‘Let’s abandon this one and hitch a ride,’ Homer suggested, opening his door. We didn’t need a second invitation, but piled out after him and ran back to the next car, which had also stopped. It was a dark blue Holden station wagon. Again Gavin and I got in the back seat, this time with Homer sliding in from the other side. Lee was in the front passenger seat, and who should be driving but my old friend Toddy. That was yet another shock, but only a little one, compared to the sudden appearances of Lee, Homer and, most importantly, Bronte.

‘Hi Ellie,’ Toddy said in a good-natured way, as though we were just passing in the street one Saturday morning as we did our shopping.

‘Hi Toddy,’ I replied, trying to keep the same tone.

Off we went again, and for once I felt more secure with Toddy than I had with Homer. He drove quickly and cleverly, but not outrageously or recklessly. I started to feel a little safer. It would be a long time before I could relax, but I did get the impression that Gavin and I were in pretty good hands. ‘So Bronte’s the Scarlet Pimpernel?’ I asked Homer and Lee.

‘Whatever gave you that idea?’ Homer asked, but Lee just laughed.

I was still in shock about it. ‘But she’s so quiet,’ I said, knowing even as I said it that it was a completely stupid remark.

Homer, who shows no mercy, and takes no prisoners, except when it’s Gavin and me locked in an attic, said, ‘Yes, of course you have to be loud and over the top to be a leader.’

‘How does she do it?’ I asked, which wasn’t much more intelligent than my previous comment.

‘She just wakes up in the morning and there she is,’ Homer said.

This was an old joke of ours that we’d been laughing about for ten years. It was from one of Dad’s books, and it went something like this: A lady asked the General ‘How do you find yourself these cold winter mornings?’

The General replied, ‘I just wake up in the mornings, throw back the sheets, and there I am.’

I know it’s not really all that funny, but for some reason Homer and I found it hilarious and we often dragged it into a conversation.

‘How did you find Gavin and me?’ I asked next, then, to pre-empt Homer, added, ‘I know, I know, you just threw back the sheets and there we were.’

‘Toddy and Bronte are old mates,’ Homer said.

Toddy turned for a moment and flashed a grin over his left shoulder. ‘My father always tells me I should marry Bronte,’ he said.

‘Thanks for finding us,’ I said to Toddy, realising that he must have been a key player in this whole thing.

He gave a little shrug. ‘I watch that house, and I watch and I watch, after you go in, and you never come out!’

I shook my head. Toddy had been so adamant that he wouldn’t have the slightest thing to do with me once I left him at the drop-off point, so many days ago.

We sped on through the city. I didn’t plague them with questions, because I knew that there were other things to worry about, and I really wanted Toddy to concentrate on his driving. Like, I really really wanted Toddy to concentrate on his driving.

On we went. Through the city, through the night. Homer handed me a plastic container. I opened it and found half-a-dozen California rolls. I resisted the temptation to say, ‘Oh no, not more rice’, thinking about the starving prisoners at the end of World War II who within forty-eight hours of getting their freedom were complaining that there was no tomato sauce or that they didn’t like cucumber in their salad sandwiches. Instead I thought how amazing it was that they had remembered a detail like a picnic box in the middle of all the other preparing that they must have done.

Gavin grabbed one greedily. To him, any food was good food, and I have to say I closed my mouth gratefully on one myself. I recognised the slight glugginess and asked Lee, ‘Did you make these?’ Lee was on a quest, in search of the perfect sushi. He wasn’t quite there yet, but I was always happy to sample his latest attempt. I kept telling him to use an electric rice cooker, but he was such a purist that he wouldn’t touch them, even though his parents had used them in the restaurant.

He just nodded in reply.

‘Thanks,’ I said gratefully.

‘Hey, you going to hog all those yourself?’ Homer asked.

‘How long is it since your last good meal?’ I asked him.

‘What are you saying? You been on a diet?’

‘Yeah. Figured it was time I shed a few kilos. Here, you wanna take food out of the mouths of starving babies? I hope you choke on it.’ I handed him a roll. He immediately started eating it, without the slightest sign of guilt.

The energy flowed back into my body as I progressed through the California roll. God, food is good. I should say grace more often. Food is one of God’s better inventions. But remind me to speak to Him about blowflies, mosquitoes and leeches. Not to mention cockroaches.

I looked out the window of the car. I couldn’t believe how secure I felt, when you consider that we were travelling at high speed through a hostile city, and could have been attacked at any moment. But although I hadn’t been taking a lot of notice, I had the feeling that Toddy had taken us on a pretty circuitous route. Right now we seemed to be in a boring street in a boring suburb, going over judder bars every fifty metres or so. I had the feeling that I was looking at my future. At least Toddy slowed down for the judder bars. He seemed like a more responsible, more mature Toddy, now that he was in a group. I know a lot of boys like that. They don’t have confidence when they’re on their own, but they draw it from the group.

We hit a main road about twenty minutes later. By then we were beyond the city limits, and the whiff of freedom was becoming a strong stench. Roll on freedom, I say. Better than food. But my sense of excitement was a bit premature. I don’t know if the roadblock was for the benefit of us or somebody else, or whether it was just a permanent fixture, but I doubt if it was permanent, because it gave Toddy a hell of a fright, and his local knowledge seemed pretty good.

Maybe they were checking people for .05.

Anyway, suddenly there it was, lighting up the night sky like one of those huge service stations and truck stops combined. That’s what I thought it was at first. But flashing blue and white lights are a bit of a giveaway, in most countries probably. I gripped the back of the seat in front of me and screeched, ‘Toddy!’

He was already slowing. I looked around anxiously, trying to figure out the best escape route, or, if there wasn’t one, the best plan of attack. As I did, Toddy continued to slow. I couldn’t work out why. Then two cars flashed up, one on either side of us. I tensed, thinking it was part of an attack. But one of the passengers was Bronte, and she was easing the barrel of a very large gun out of the window. She didn’t see me. I was amazed to see her in a role that was so different to making scones or sitting under the tree at school.

The two cars converged in front of us. Toddy accelerated again to keep up with them. The lights through our back window made me look around, to see another car behind us. Homer had seen it too, but I assumed from his calmness that this fourth car must be on our side as well. It was nice to be looked after for a change, both nice and unusual. These people seemed so professional. It was embarrassing to think of how clumsily we had operated during the war, compared to this. But we had done OK. Maybe there was still a place for the amateurs.

We were in a two, one, one formation. But suddenly, as though the four cars were dancers and they had a really good choreographer, the two leaders split, one to the left and one to the right; Toddy slowed again, faded left, and the vehicle behind came powering through, like an elephant at the Olympics. I didn’t know what it was but it was military, it was big, it was strong, and it probably should have been drug tested. We other three cars all fell into formation behind it, and I watched with awe as the military-type vehicle smashed everything.

Pieces of the roadblock, including pieces of two cars that were meant to be part of the roadblock, were still flying through the air as we raced through the gap. At high speed we crunched and bumped and lurched and thumped over the debris. I grabbed the car with one hand and Gavin with the other. On my left I saw two guys running away, and two others aiming and firing. I didn’t have time to look out the right-hand side.

Bullets hammered into our car. Some noises are ambiguous. A rifle shot in the distance can sound like a guy chopping wood. Bullets hammering into a car make a sound that can’t be forgotten. The car becomes a little echo chamber, and you feel as though a giant with a sledgehammer is bashing it. You can’t believe that a tiny bullet can do such a thing. The car filled with screams, some of which I have to admit were mine. But then I saw one of the guys who was firing get felled like a giant had just hammered him. I didn’t see what happened next, as already we were fleeing the roadblock at a speed that should have seen Toddy lose his licence for decades into the future.

‘I
CAN’T BELIEVE
you’re the Scarlet Pimple,’ I said.

‘Believe it, she’s the Scarlet Pimple,’ Homer said. ‘Why am I getting déjà vu?’

‘Because it’s the fourth time she’s said it?’ said Jess.

That really got up my nose. Partly because Homer’s joke really didn’t need an interpreter, but with Jess everything has to be spelt out. Forget subtlety when she’s around. She’d make an RG–31 going through a roadblock look subtle.

But also because Jess had known about Bronte being the Scarlet Pimple and I hadn’t. Fair enough, Jess had joined Liberation and I hadn’t. But there were plenty of people in Liberation who didn’t know the identity of the Scarlet Pimple. Anyway, whether it was fair or not didn’t matter. I just felt violently jealous.

I’d learned quite a lot in the last twenty-four hours, including the name of the vehicle that had rammed the roadblock with such frightening force. Gavin was already nagging me to buy an RG–31, and I could see that it would have a thousand and one uses, but even so it wasn’t high on my shopping list. They cost a cool half million or thereabouts, but for that you get a vehicle that can drive over two landmines and live to tell the story.

That piece of information wasn’t all that crucial to me. But some of the other stuff . . . like the number of off-duty soldiers who had come with the Scarlet Pimple and the others on the raid across the border to get Gavin and me back. The inner workings of Liberation were being laid bare to me. No way in the world could the government or the Army condone or bless what Liberation did, but gee, the amount of unofficial help they gave was pretty spectacular. As Homer said, since the war ended a lot of Army medics had treated a lot of fresh combat wounds, which was funny considering there was meant to be no combat going on. Sometimes soldiers would come back very late from leave and instead of getting into major trouble, like they normally did, they’d just get a nod from their commanding officer, and he might even make the soldier a cup of tea. Rifles and ammo were strictly guarded, but sometimes a door was left open and later a few hundred rounds of ammo would be written off as having been fired on the practice range. A damaged RG–31 with many little dents all over it must have been caught in a hailstorm. Funny kind of storm though, where the hailstones came from the side instead of from above. But nothing was said, and it was just taken quietly into an Army workshop for repairs.

And so it went on. I was living in a country with two levels of government, so it seemed. The stuff we saw on TV and read about in the newspapers, that was one level, and it was all most people ever saw or heard, but on another level was a group of high-powered people who were doing what they thought was best for the rest of us. It made me uneasy. I thought we were meant to be a democracy. Who elected these people? What gave them the right to decide foreign policy for the rest of us? If they read the situation wrongly, if they stuffed everything up, then we would have to wear the consequences, even though we didn’t know they’d been doing it in the first place! Had this happened before the war too? Surely not. But maybe it had?