The Night Is for Hunting (3 page)

Until I saw a shadow flitting across the nature strip. I only got a glimpse, before it disappeared around the corner. I couldn’t see for sure, but I’d swear it was a male and I’d swear it was an adult. Then he was gone and I was left with my thoughts and fears and imaginings.

And I did a lot of all of those. In some ways a patrol of soldiers, in uniform and armed, was easier to deal with. You knew where you were with them. You knew what they wanted. But one dark spying figure, skulking around in the undergrowth: I didn’t have a clue what that was about. It stirred me up, stirred me deeply. Scared me deeply, to be honest. I couldn’t think who he might be or what he might want.

I waited another ten minutes, as my mind got more and more scrambled with the possibilities. When I got back to my grandmother’s I rushed to find Homer. Fi and Lee joined in as Kevin listened silently. We were all very disturbed. We felt a bit helpless to know what we could or should do about it. The feral kids didn’t want to know us, but on the other hand there was no good reason for an adult to be hanging around them, so maybe we should protect them, whether they liked it or not.

Being the middle of the night, the others didn’t really want to do anything. Sure, it was partly because we couldn’t think of anything to do. To be honest though, I think the main reason was that everyone was tired. They were going to bed when I got there, and it’s hard to change your mind-set when you’re thinking sleep.

I suppose because I’d seen the man – and smelt his cigarette – I was more involved, more convinced of danger, more anxious. I felt a sense of urgency that was on a different level to the others’. Homer just spread his hands helplessly and said, ‘Honestly Ellie, what can we do? We can try approaching them to warn them, but they’re more likely to shoot us. We can chuck a message into their shop or something. But it’s the same problem. If they see us coming towards the place they’ll go for us. We have to wait for morning.’

‘I thought you felt sorry for them,’ I snapped.

‘I do, of course I do. But it’s not like some TV programme where they show a kid with cancer going to Disneyland and he’s a total angel and you’re meant to sit there with the Kleenex. OK so these kids are war orphans or whatever you want to call them, and if they were on TV you’d be ordering tissues by the truckload. But it’s not quite like that, is it? These cute little orphans will kill us if we’re not careful. We just can’t go in at night.’

A few weeks back Homer was all for helping the kids. Now, when I felt it was time to act, he dug in his heels. And the others more or less agreed with him. They said we should try to get a message to them in the morning. ‘They’re not going to come rushing down the street with tanks just for a bunch of kids,’ Lee said. ‘They’ve probably known for ages that they’re there,’ Fi said. ‘How do you know it was a soldier spying on them?’ Kevin asked. ‘It could have been someone like us.’

I ended up angry and frustrated. I sat there sulking like a little kid for a while. Then, like a little kid, I said, ‘Well, if no-one else’ll come I’ll go on my own.’

This was breaking all our rules. We had been acting more independently since coming to Stratton, but not if it meant danger. Only Lee had broken that rule, with terrible results. I knew we had to stick together, but I couldn’t help myself. Maybe I was as tired as everyone else. That’s my excuse anyway. That’s always my excuse. The others just looked at me, totally exasperated. Finally Lee, of all people, said, ‘I’ll go with you.’

‘It’s not that easy,’ Homer said. ‘This affects all of us. How exactly do you plan to do it? Bowl up to their front door and ask for a few moments of their valuable time?’

‘They’re paranoid,’ Fi said. ‘They think we’re their enemies too. They don’t trust anyone.’

That was no news to me. But I admit I hadn’t thought it through. I had some vague idea that I could go to them with a big stupid grin on my face and they’d throw down their weapons and embrace me and ask me to adopt them as their big sister or their mother. The moment when Casey clung to me in the playroom of the big house in Castlefield Street, that affected me pretty strongly. It triggered deep feelings in me. If I were honest, I think that was another reason I was acting differently now to the others. But I also hoped the kids would give me a better reception than they might Homer or Lee. If the girls from Castlefield Street saw me, I thought they’d be slower to pull their triggers.

On the other hand, as the war went on we’d been forced to improvise, and these days we did it quite well. It had become a way of life. I was starting to rely on it, spending less time planning, as if planning wasn’t necessary. That was a big change.

So even though we sat round for twenty minutes trying to figure out a way of handling the situation, at the end of it, all Lee could say was, ‘Well, we’ll just have to play it by ear.’

By now the others were more co-operative. My bloody-minded threat, to go on my own, had worked a bit. And no-one had been unkind enough to mention that I was meant to be doing sentry.

All the time we talked I was getting more nervous, thinking that something could be happening already at the milk bar. I was keen to go. Kevin mumbled that he’d do sentry duty for me. I had a few reservations about that, but I needed him too much for me to make any waves. I also wasn’t very happy about going off alone with Lee, not after the way he’d sold me out with his black-haired girlfriend. I knew though, that I’d run out of choices. So with Lee by my side I slipped away into the darkness and headed straight to the shop.

We got there six or seven minutes before the soldiers. I shudder to think what would have happened if we’d spent another five minutes arguing around the kitchen table at Grandma’s. But we came sneaking towards the milk bar, being shadows among the trees, something else we’d become quite good at. We stood behind a pine tree, silently watching. The shop was completely still. If you hadn’t known they were there, you’d never have picked it. But I was sure they were inside, and confident they’d have a security system. The previous experience I’d had with them, near the old stables where they’d been hiding, taught me that. They’d had a cute little booby trap there, a net of pots and pans that made almost as much noise as the airfield blowing up. So I scanned the street and the front of the building.

After about four minutes I pinched Lee’s arm and whispered, ‘See that dark patch along there?’

I was pointing to a part of the footpath about fifty metres from the shop.

‘What about it?’

‘There’s something shiny.’

I strained my eyes, squinting, trying to work it out. It was such a dark night, and the area I was looking at was one of the darkest parts of the path, shadowed by an overhanging awning from another deserted shop. I thought Lee wasn’t interested because he didn’t seem to be looking at the place, but I was wrong, because after a moment he said, ‘There’s another one over there,’ pointing down the street in the opposite direction.

I moved to get a better view, and it worked. Straightaway I could see what the shine was. Those cunning little rats, they’d put big sheets of galvanised iron in various places along the footpath, mainly around the front of the shop. It meant you couldn’t get to the shop without walking on the iron, or, if you wanted to be smart, without lifting it up and moving it Either way you’d make an awful noise, and they’d be warned you were coming. They’d only need one sentry to cover all the approaches to the shop. And they’d have an escape route too, no risk.

But just as I figured the strategy I heard a faint humming noise, like a pump. We weren’t used to mechanical noises these days, so it stood out pretty strongly. I moved back next to Lee. I didn’t have to say anything: he obviously heard it too, because he turned his head towards it and listened with full attention.

As it got louder I realised what it was: some kind of heavy truck, a diesel engine, but driven at low speed. Funny, because it didn’t sound heavily loaded. It wasn’t one of those grinding straining noises that you get from an engine having to work its big end off. I started getting really uneasy. This shouldn’t be happening here, in this suburb, at this time of night. If a truck can sound sneaky, this truck sounded sneaky.

‘What do you think?’ I said to Lee, urgently.

‘I don’t like it,’ he said, looking around a little wildly. ‘They might be coming here. Or to your grandmother’s.’

I was horrified at the second half of what he said. It never occurred to me that they might be after us.

But before I could do much with this new idea the truck suddenly sounded louder and closer. I lost any doubt that it was heading this way, and I’d underestimated how close it was. It still sounded sneaky, but it could have been just two blocks down the street.

We peered anxiously through the darkness. Just as I thought I was going to see the truck itself, it stopped. One moment there was the quiet rumble of the engine, the next we were surrounded again by the silence of the night air.

‘What are we going to do?’ I whispered to Lee. He didn’t answer and I realised he had as little idea as me.

‘You try to warn the kids,’ I said. ‘I’ll go and check out the truck.’

Again he didn’t answer but an instant later he had gone. He could move so quickly, Lee. I caught a glimpse of him three trees away, then the shadows swallowed him.

I tiptoed as fast as I could in the opposite direction. I’d gone nearly the whole block, keeping in the row of trees, when I saw them coming. A line of soldiers on the other side of the street, then a second line on my side. I faded back into the park like I was a shadow myself. As they drew level with me I saw that they all carried rifles. My heart thumped painfully, and bile filled my mouth. I hoped desperately that Lee was successful in his mission. I hoped the kids didn’t attack him.

There was no time and no point in my going back towards the milk bar. I couldn’t get between the soldiers and the shop. Instead I figured I had to do something that would distract them. As soon as the last soldier was past me I raced to find the truck.

That was easy enough. I got to the end of the park. Next to it was a bombsite: a house, or a shop, that had been reduced to a wreck. Two walls still stood, but nothing else did. The chimney was splayed across the footpath. I stole into the ruins, trying not to turn my ankle on a broken brick. The truck was sitting opposite the wrecked house, by the side of the road, under an elm tree. I could see only one soldier, a man, standing beside it, watching intently down the street. Obviously he wanted to see how his mates were getting on. But I thought as I watched him that there was more to it than that. He seemed to be standing ready to jump back in the cab. He wasn’t just watching in a passive way; he was holding the truck door and watching like a man with a mission.

The truck was one of those solid single-axle army ones with a canopy over the back. It was very like the one we’d been put in for the drive to Stratton Prison. It might have been the same one. And I realised suddenly what this man’s mission was. He was waiting for a signal from the others. When he got it he would drive down the street and pick up the prisoners – or the bodies.

I tried to think coldly and calmly. In my mind I ran through any number of possibilities and rejected most of them. I was left with only two that seemed workable. One was to disable the truck; the other was somehow to take it over. I preferred the second one. The trouble with the first possibility was that it wouldn’t save the kids at the milk bar. The trouble with both of them was that I’d have to deal with the soldier standing across from me.

I didn’t have a weapon. But I thought if I was fast enough and brutal enough I should be able to get the advantage. I decided to be ambidextrous. I picked up a piece of broken pipe. Part of a hot water service probably. It was copper, but solid enough. I took that in my left hand and got half a brick in my right. I closed my eyes for a second, as I was moving, and bit my lip. I’d like to have said a prayer but there was no room in my mind for it. I headed around to the back of the truck. On the bitumen it wasn’t too difficult to tread lightly. And the guy did seem to be concentrating hard on what might be happening down the road.

I’d figured out what I wanted. There must be a signal, and I needed to know what it was. That meant he had to speak English, but there was a fair chance he would. My idea was that if I jammed the pipe in his back and hit him hard with the brick at the same time he’d be so off-balance, so shocked and dazed, that he’d tell me what I wanted before he had time to think of doing anything else.

He heard me when I was still three steps away. I realised when I saw him start to turn. I covered those three steps in a rush and did what I’d been mentally rehearsing, shoved the pipe so hard into him I’m surprised it didn’t come out the other side and brought the brick down firmly – not too hard – on his head. I started saying, ‘Drop your gun’ but before I could even finish the second word he’d fallen to the ground. I was astonished. I was sure I hadn’t hit him that hard. I think maybe he might have fainted or something. I honestly slowed the force of the brick as it reached him, because I got scared that maybe I would do him too much damage. Next thing I know he’s lying on the ground not moving.

I bent over him, not sure what to do, and even a bit nervous that he might be faking, that at any moment he’d jump up and strangle me. I remembered Kevin talking about a spot on the head where a slight tap could kill someone. I shuddered with disgust and fear. But a moment later I had something else to think about. There was a whistle from down the road, and a torch flashed at me three times.

I didn’t need to ask the soldier what the signal was any more. They might as well have set off a fireworks display.

It was time to improvise. I grabbed the cap of the unconscious man from where it had fallen and jammed it on my head, then jumped in the cab of the truck. The keys were in it, thank God. It was a diesel engine but it started quickly. It would have still been warm. There was a horrible grinding noise as I put it in gear, like a chain rattling inside a grain bin. I hoped the soldiers down the road wouldn’t hear the bad change, and I hoped it wouldn’t wake the man lying on the road. But I drove straight towards the milk bar, putting the lights on high beam as I did so. It was probably breaking all their rules but I had to take the risk; I had to blind them as much as possible so they wouldn’t see my face.