‘Can’t let yez through without proper documentation.’
‘What the hell?’ I say. ‘Mate, where have you been the last three months? We don’t have documentation. What do you want us to do? Order birth certificates?’
‘We’re children and you have to let us get back to our parents,’ Lucy says.
‘Tell us where your parents are and I’ll get ’em to come and collect you. Otherwise, go back to where you came from.’
‘What are you going to do? Phone them?’
The army guy laughs. ‘We have access to enough back-up power to last us a year.’
‘Oh yeah? I think now’s the time to bring it out.’ Lucy steps out of the line-up as if to walk away. The guy grabs her arm and I lurch forward.
‘Don’t you touch her! Don’t you fucking touch her!’
‘Hands on yer head!’ He shoves Lucy back against the fence and in the same instant draws his weapon on us.
‘Fin, Luce, shut up.’ It’s the first time Noll has spoken. Without the light in our eyes we can see the army guy’s face and the slight quiver in his hands as he grips the weapon. Noll speaks to him like they are the only adults in the conversation.
‘Please, we don’t mean to be difficult. If you want proof, we’ll get it. Let us go back where we came from. Please.’
The officer weighs it up, then lowers the rifle. ‘If yez come back here without ID, all your food supplies and your vehicle will be confiscated.’
‘We don’t have any food,’ I reply.
‘Bull. I can tell just from looking at you.’
‘We won’t come back without ID,’ says Noll.
‘Don’t.’
We head back to the car, the spotlight on our backs.
‘Bit of advice,’ the guy calls after us. ‘Keep movin’, the people round here will smell your food. Yez won’t last five minutes.’
In the car we are quiet. I start the engine and we slide back into the night. After a while Noll asks Lucy for the map.
‘We were right,’ he says. ‘They’re trying to keep people contained and controlled. There’s limited resources for limited people.’
‘They’re feeding the people on that side of the barricade,’ Lucy says. ‘Keeping everyone else out. Which leaves us with a significant problem.’
‘We need a plan,’ says Noll.
‘What are we gonna do?’ asks Max.
‘We’re going to make a plan,’ I say.
‘So, the plan is to make a plan,’ Max says.
‘Yes, Max, that’s the plan.’
He laughs and I love him for it.
We drive slowly back in the direction we came from. Eventually we reach an exit and we creep into the back streets of suburbia, looking for a place we can stop and not be noticed.
My head is wedged in the small space between the side of the headrest and the driver’s side window. It is my attempt to find a comfy sleeping position; driver’s seats aren’t really designed to encourage sleep. There’s a reason for that, I guess. We have locked the doors and Lucy has made an attempt at ‘fixing’ the broken window by covering it in plastic and gaffer tape. As I slosh around in my semi-consciousness I am grateful for the gun in my back pocket.
My eyes snap open.
The gun.
‘Lucy,’ I whisper. She whimpers and in the dark I can’t tell if she’s awake or not.
‘Lucy?’
‘Yeah?’
I listen to hear if Noll has woken up, if he has, he isn’t making any noise.
‘Luce, I’ve left the, the, you know. I’ve left it behind.’
‘The gun?’
‘Yeah, I had to lose it before they got to us at the barricade. It’s under one of the cars.’
‘Oh crap.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Take Noll with you.’
‘There’s no way he’s going to want to go back to get a gun. He wouldn’t want us to have it in the first place.’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘There’s no time to talk him into it now, anyway. I have to get back before light or they’ll see me.’
‘Fin, no. It’s not safe.’
‘It’d be safer if I had the gun.’
‘I’ll come with you.’
‘No way. Stay here.’
She grips my hand. ‘We’ll wait for you.’
‘You bloody well better. Lock the door after me.’
She doesn’t say anything. I hear her swallow and she keeps hold of my hand for a minute. Then she lets it go and I step out of the car into the cold.
I keep the torchlight low at my feet when I can and I listen like I’ve never listened before, there is nothing but my footsteps, my breath and I swear I can hear my heartbeat. The snow isn’t deep underfoot, but walking is harder than it would be if I’d had a normal diet over the last three months. I find the freeway again and I follow the beam of the torch along it, into the black. My limbs feel weighted and I’m not dressed for this, even though I’m wearing five layers of clothing. I wonder if it is possible to freeze your arse off, literally. If it is, I’m a prime candidate. I try to move quicker.
I flash the torch up ahead, quickly so I don’t draw attention. It catches a flicker of a tail-light. I turn the torch off and head in what I hope is a straight line. A hint of morning has begun to show through the edges of the dark, I can just make out the shapes of the cars up ahead. I try to remember where we stopped the car when we got here, I retrace my footsteps, keeping low to the ground. Every move I make, every breath and heartbeat feels loud and clumsy. With another quick flash of the torch I catch a glimpse of the sign on the barrier and am able to orientate myself. I move through the cars. When I reach the spot where I think I stowed the gun I have to lie on my stomach to scan under the car with the torch. No gun. I check under the next car, and the next. Nothing. Maybe I came from the wrong angle.
I back up a little and then I feel a hand on my shoulder. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep or maybe it’s a lesson I learnt from my encounter with Starvos, but I don’t flinch or startle, instead I turn and throw a punch into the dark and my knuckles connect with a jaw. Its owner lets out an ‘ooof’ sort of noise and in the second when I’m deciding which direction to sprint, he rushes at me and tackles me onto the ice. I try to shove him off, I take another swing but I can’t see what I’m aiming at, we tumble around and I manage to grab hold of his ear. I yank his head back and try to get him off me. It works. I scramble to my feet but he grabs me by the ankle and pulls me down, my head hits the ice via a car bonnet. And then he’s on my back.
‘Put your hands behind yer head!’ he yells. I can’t shift him as he has me pinned. I do as he tells me. He brings my hands down behind my back and cuffs my wrists with plastic tape – the same stuff they use to anchor toys in their packaging. He yanks me to my feet and flicks a torchlight on. I turn to look at him and recognise him as the same guy from before.
‘What are you doing?’ I ask. ‘You can’t arrest me, man.’
‘I told yer not to come back here. I tried to fucking tell yer.’ He starts to march me back to the barrier. We reach the embankment next to the road and I stop moving my feet, I let myself drop and he has to try to keep me upright. He’s shorter than me and can’t quite manage it.
‘Walk!’
‘No, I think I’ll just rest for a bit.’
‘Walk!’
‘What’s your name?’ I ask, like we’re sharing a bus seat or something.
‘Walk!’
‘I’m Fin. Oh, you already know that, hey? I have a younger brother, he’s twelve. Haven’t seen my parents for almost four months, so I’m pretty sure they’re dead.’
‘Shut up. Get on yer feet.’
‘I’m supposed to be halfway through year twelve. How old are you? How long you been in the army?’
‘Shut up.’ He tries to get me to stand up but I throw myself to the ground and roll onto my back. In one swift movement he drops the torch into the snow, takes the rifle from his shoulder and points it in my face. Twice in two days, that’s really something.