

Barbed Wire

And

Daisies

TERESA SCHULZ
This novel is a work of fiction, and any similarity of characters in this novel to actual people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

First Published by Blue Phoenix Publishers, NZ, 2014

This book is copyright. Except for the purpose of fair review, no part may be stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including recording or storage in any information retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Author.

Copyright © 2014 Teresa Schulz

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-0-473-31013-4
CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter 1 The Butterfly Effect

Chapter 2 Ten Years Earlier

Chapter 3 Magpie Mafia

Chapter 4 Farmers' Market Day

Chapter 5 Lovesick Cowboy

Chapter 6 Ostentatious Visitor

Chapter 7 Hot Blooded

Chapter 8 Storm's Brewing

Chapter 9 Trouble in Town

Chapter 10 Taking Stock

Chapter 11 A Bit Pear-Shaped

Chapter 12 Bearer of Bad Tidings

Chapter 13 For Love of Food

Chapter 14 A Scout is About

Chapter 15 Things Get Personal

Chapter 16 Don't Mess With Mama

Chapter 17 Gallant Deeds

Chapter 18 The Devil's Advocate

Chapter 19 A Dram to Dull the Pain

Chapter 20 Healing

Chapter 21 Puppy Love

Chapter 22 Family Ties

Chapter 23 Scythe Justice

Chapter 24 The Last Straw

Chapter 25 On Your Bike

Chapter 26 Uninvited Guests

Chapter 27 Said the Spider to the Fly

Chapter 28 Watch Your Backs

Chapter 29 Bulletproof

Chapter 30 Like My Food Fresh

Chapter 31 Philosophical Son

Chapter 32 Calm Before the Storm

Chapter 33 Fiery Torch

Chapter 34 Edge of the Abyss

Chapter 35 Orchestrated Chaos

Chapter 36 Very Bad Men

Chapter 37 One For the Road

Chapter 38 Last Casualty

Chapter 39 Nurse Allie's Caveman

Chapter 40 Shake it Off

Chapter 41 And Then... We Just Live With It

Chapter 42 Home Sweet Home

EPILOGUE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

OFFER FOR READERS

DEDICATION

To my Mother

Who always encouraged me to read,

And better yet, to write.

Thanks for always believing in me.

FOR MY FICTION READERS, I OFFER THIS

FREE DOWNLOAD

Psychological Thriller Novella

Unwilling to Break

Get your free copy of Unwilling to Break

When you sign up to the Author's VIP mailing list

Get started here: https://teresaschulz.com/free-book/

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Thanks to my children for the colourful, humorous and wonderfully unique characters they are which gave me ample artist's scope for raw material to use in my story.

Thank you also, to Jasmine, for the great suggestion of Disturbed's song, 'Just another way to die,' as our theme song.

Thanks also, although they've now passed on, to my father and his father — for their interesting lives — also a rich source of funny material.

Lastly and most importantly to Lyn Fattorini, my wonderful editor, for all the hours and devotion she put into helping me chisel this sculpture to a more magical piece of art.
PROLOGUE

The indulgence of our lives has cast a shadow on our world.  
Our devotion to our appetites betrayed us all.  
An apocalyptic plight.  
More destruction will unfold.  
Mother Earth will show her darker side and take her toll.

It's just another way to die...

"Another way to die": Disturbed, Asylum Album, 2010

Mother always told me this would happen;

We must be ready.

They laughed, and thought she was mad.

They're not laughing now.
1

The Butterfly Effect

Northern Sea Route, Murmansk

Russian Sea Port, Midnight, 13 April 2030

'Jesus! If this boat had a brass monkey, its balls would've frozen off by now and the crew would be playin' marbles with them.' Lieutenant William Steel tried to blow on his gloveless fingers to warm them but his white, steamy breath seemed to condense and freeze before even reaching his sluggish blood supply. 'Ah, bugger it,' he grumbled to himself, clumsily pulling his gloves back on.

He looked out over the endless glistening blue-black sea, surveying for any defect in its near-tranquil surface. It was so peaceful, so serene, with the half-moon casting its meagre glow on the small, rippling waves.

He had expected to be in for an easy, quiet shift tonight. But now he couldn't escape an annoying prickling sensation he kept feeling, like a spider creeping up his neck and barely disturbing the fine hairs there.

Bloody hallucinating, cock; nothing a good night's sleep wouldn't fix. William hadn't had a decent night's sleep in weeks though. Ever since leaving Murmansk they had all been on full alert. Extremists had seen to the destruction of other tankers; whether from jealousy ─ a childish if we can't have it, why the hell should anyone else mentality or perhaps simply greed ─ provocation leads to war, always a good money spinner. It had become like an amusement park game, where tankers were ducks being picked off randomly. The cargo they carried was just too precious, to become complacent. He suspected they were the one remaining oil tanker in service. If only the money wasn't so good — but it was, so here they were.

He pulled out his thermos, removed the cap and with great pleasure inhaled the alluring scent of roasted coffee beans. As he began to pour out a hot mugful, he caught a flash of light out of the corner of his eye. Turning back, he saw moonlight reflecting off a small, shiny object along the horizon.

He stood staring and puzzled, until the hot coffee overflowing from the cup in his hand, seeped through his glove and snapped him back to his senses. When he looked back to the sea, it was gone. The prickling on his neck grew worse. The spider was back, and she had company.

Swearing at the burn and his own stupidity, he hastily wiped his hand on his icy overalls. The skin began to stick painfully to the ice, almost tearing a layer of skin off in getting free. William grabbed his binoculars for a better look at the horizon – still nothing he could make out.

With a growing sense of unease, he picked up his hand radio. 'Captain? Lieutenant Steel here. I don't know if I've been awake too long ... maybe it's nothing ... but I thought I saw something along the horizon off the port side Sir. I think you should try the radio lines and see if there's someone out there; maybe they need help. Over.'

'Roger that, Steel. Look lively then. Out,' replied a mature, gravelly voice.

Lieutenant Steel heard a whooshing sound below him and suddenly the deck shook violently, knocking him off his feet. He looked up from the icy deck and all around him was chaos. A series of massive explosions rocked the tanker, and sirens wailed superfluously. Crewmen appeared on the deck. Some were smouldering and screaming in agony. Others were jumping overboard, in panic.

Steel grabbed the side rail and looked out onto the sea. Yet another strange v-shaped wave was racing towards them. He clung on to the icy bars to brace himself for the impact this time. He knew he had to get off fast – they'd drilled emergency evacuations and simulated attack, but hoped never to have to put the training to the test. Fuel, explosions and fire were an unforgiving mix

Lifeboats were hastily being dumped over the sides — the crew knew they didn't have time to muck about lowering them properly.

With heart pounding, he climbed, slipping and banging his shins on the rails. Balanced on the edge and feeling nauseated with vertigo, Steel took a deep breath and... As he dived the ships bowels were ripped asunder in a crescendo of explosions thrusting him forward into the smoke-filled darkness below. The cold water slammed into his chest, forcing the air from his lungs. Gasping for breath, and coughing up seawater, he fought his way up to the surface and broke through a slimy, black soup. Around him were burning bodies thrashing, and a highpitched ringing in his head threatened to burst his eardrums.

New Zealand, South Pacific

Arrow Valley, 14 April 2030

The huge dust cloud lingering behind obscured the beautiful valley vista as the old, grey Chrysler rumbled up the driveway, scattering chickens madly in all directions.

'Wonder what she's got ya this time?' Allie snickered, jabbing her brother in the ribs.

Kyle pulled his black beanie down over the tips of his reddening ears. 'Shut up,' he mumbled to his porridge.

'Come on you two; respect your Nana, eh?' I chided them while dragging the brush through a stubborn knot in Olivia's sleep-tangled blonde hair. She broke loose from my clutches to press her nose up to the glass of the front door, breathing a big circle of steam in which she proceeded to draw a wee heart and initials O R M with her fingertip.

Kyle paused from shovelling his porridge in quickly so he wouldn't be late for school. 'Yeah Allie, it's not her fault she's a bit batty. Probably got no money left so she's giving away some of Granddad's old stuff.'

'What's she got? Let me see.' Olivia jostled her big sister aside, eager to get the first glimpse of Nana's mysterious gift.

The car had pulled up outside the front porch of the old farmhouse. A small, yet sturdy woman with buttery-white hair smiled up at the waiting children as she climbed laboriously up the wooden stairs, clutching the handrail with care. I opened the kitchen door in welcome. 'Hi Mum, back already?'

Puffing a little, she stopped a moment catching her breath; then beamed a huge, mischievous smile. 'Hi love. Where's my birthday boy? I've got a surprise for him,' she said, angling to look into the kitchen for Kyle as she hugged Olivia and Allie.

With an inward groan, Kyle downed the last of his porridge and obediently trudged out to his Nana for a hug. He smiled grimly — he just knew her odd present would be the source of weeks of teasing from his sisters. Still, he loved his Nana very much and wouldn't dream of hurting her feelings.

'Hi Nan.' He stooped to hug her. She was a little over five foot tall and he was almost six foot now.

'Oooh, seventeen eh? Happy birthday love. Come with me, I think you're really going to like this one.' Kyle glanced back at me over his shoulder and raised his eyebrows as if to say Sure, I'll like it Nan, cos I'll get my butt kicked by Mum if I don't.

I walked outside behind Kyle. The valley was a beautiful place surrounded by soft rolling hills of green, varying from shades of emerald to almost navy blue in the shadows. It was dotted with trees; mostly evergreen pines with the odd eucalyptus here and there, but also some deciduous trees – poplar, willow, maple and even walnut – amongst them. The leaves ranged from yellow, orange and red, to deep purple; and were currently growing naked as the autumn chill set in.

It was home to an abundance of bird and wildlife, with a noticeable absence of traffic, sirens, airplanes and crowds of tired, rushing, irritable people.

Heather reached into the large boot of the car and came up slowly, grinning from ear to ear. She looked like a disturbing cross between a Cheshire cat and the Grim Reaper, for in her right hand she held the long wooden handle of a very menacing-looking scythe. The sun glistened off the shiny blade and disturbed a flock of yellow-crested cockatoos, which exploded from the trees across the paddock, screeching and shattering the silence.

'Wow, cool Nan!' Kyle exclaimed with complete sincerity and face transformed, as he almost tripped down the steps in his haste to get his hands on the gruesome-looking gift. For once, his dear old Nana had given him something he actually thought was awesome. I, on the other hand was a little more reserved given a brother's tendency to use his sisters as target practice, whether from frustration at being provoked, or simply mere boredom.

'Where on earth did you find that, Mum?'

'Oh, just a little old antique shop I found one day while taking a Sunday drive through the gorge.' Apart from her garden, op-shop trawling was Heather's favourite pastime.

In the past, his Nana had given Kyle a rather unorthodox repertoire of gifts, including saws, drills, an old hand-powered radio, an even-older Scottish claymore (actually, he had really liked that gift too), a hunting knife, a compass and fishing gear. One year they'd all received bullet-proof vests; Lord knew where Heather had got those from, but he really liked wearing his because it made him feel a little like he was Batman. He was always being given strict instructions from his Nana to take good care of all the paraphernalia she gave him.

He usually found it difficult to look pleased at the time when all he had really wanted was computer games like his friends. But, seeing Heather's sweet smile on her tired, wrinkled face, he never had the heart to complain and would thank her graciously.

The strangest item she ever came home with was a windmill that could generate power for the house. Heather had brought the kitset home on the back of Granddad Dave's old ute, and enlisted my husband Nate to help her take it up the hill a bit and assemble it.

Kyle had been a bit peeved at his Nana because when she tried the windmill out, it shut down half the house's power supply. He lost a game he'd been playing on the computer for hours, without saving it!

Sister Allie had received a number of Nana's special presents as well. Over the last few birthdays, she had been given a type of Swiss Army knife, a flint fire-starter, a small camp-cooker with gas cylinders, an extensive first-aid kit including thermal blankets and a crossbow that came with lessons, which Allie excelled in. When she received a slug-gun and rifle range practice, her accuracy was dangerous – as Kyle found out one summer's day when he annoyed her and ended up with a pellet in his ear lobe. But best of all, the three children had all been given GPS-phone earpieces. I could track them down, much to their disgust, and call them wherever they were as long as they wore them. Often they didn't.

The children wondered why their Nana seemed to be preparing them for the end of the world, but they had been brought up to respect their elders. So they humoured her and thanked her politely, no matter what they thought of their gift. My dear old Pa, when he was alive, had lovingly called her his survival crackpot.

Olivia, for her eleventh birthday, received an old set of binoculars that Nana had used at rock concerts in her younger days.

On his way in from the workshop one day, Nate spotted Olivia absorbed in watching something over at the neighbours.

'What's up, Livy?' he inquired casually. She nearly jumped out of her skin and hastily hid the binoculars behind her back. Her face became an alarming red shade and she began to fidget – definite signs she was up to no good. Nate asked firmly for the binoculars and after a short hesitation, Olivia reluctantly surrendered them.

Nate peered through them in the general direction she had been looking. Almost immediately, the neighbours' bedroom came into view complete with occupants in a compromising position and state of undress.

'Ahem.' He coughed to clear his throat and hide his embarrassment. He made a mental note to plant some bushy trees in front of the neighbours' bedroom, on our side of the fence.

'Olivia Rose MacGregor! You should be ashamed of yourself.' She looked down at her feet, and he knew she was on the verge of tears. He handed the binoculars back to her. 'How about you leave Kate and John to their...um...to their...ahh...origami and find some other wildlife to observe,

hmm? Otherwise Dad may have to put those,' he tapped the item of disgrace lightly, 'away until you turn sixteen, at least.'

Olivia was relieved to get off so lightly. She'd been sure she was in for a much worse punishment; she wasn't really sure what she had observed, but figured it was in the forbidden category. And, it wasn't origami! She thanked her father, took the binoculars and scampered towards the opposite side of the farm in search of bunnies, birds or some other benign, but boring, creature.

Once she was a short distance away Nate buried his face in his hands, shaking his head and chuckling to himself. 'Lord, save me from daughters.'

Nathaniel appeared at the front door, casually resting his forearms up above on the doorframe. He had been busy in his workshop, and had a small black smudge across his forehead. Ruggedly handsome – though certainly no Pretty Boy, Nate was six foot four in height, with wavy, sandy-blonde hair almost to his shoulders and a twinkle of Irish mischief in his light-blue eyes.

'Hi Heather, spoiling your grandkids again I see.' He loped down the stairs, two at a time, and cuffed Kyle playfully across the top of his head. 'Come on lad; go put that away someplace safe. We better get cracking if you want to get there on time.'

Kyle shot back up the steps, mindful that the long scythe didn't hit the top of the door. He reappeared shortly after with his schoolbag slung over one shoulder.

'Thanks Nan! It's awesome.' He hugged her goodbye on his way to the car.

'You're welcome hun; just don't let me catch you using it on your sisters, hmm?'

'Ha! Would I do that?' he answered, munching on what looked suspiciously like my toast.

'Yeah, he would do that,' said Allie and Olivia together, their identical pale-blonde heads nodding in unison.

'See you soon,' Nate bent to kiss me goodbye, taking time to rub his scratchy, short stubble back and forth across my cheek deliberately to irritate me. Then he kissed me, lingering just a second to bury his nose in my thick tresses of auburn hair, 'You've been baking scones again, yum! Save me some for when I get back, I'm famished.' He smiled, smacked me smartly on the bum and followed his lanky son to the car.

'Bottomless pits, the pair of them,' I joked, shaking my head. 'Allie, you and Olivia get started on your schoolwork now that all the excitement's over, ok?'

'Awwww, Mummmm,' Olivia whined.

'Come on,' Allie gently steered her sister's shoulders towards the bedroom while giving me a tolerant older-sister look, 'I'll help you.'

The girls were homeschooled these days because of the price of petrol skyrocketing over the last five years. We only took Kyle in to school three days a week now, and wouldn't be doing that except he loved his engineering classes. The teenage girls at the school also held a certain motivation, not that he would admit that to anyone.

'Cup of tea, Mum?' I asked, raising the teapot.

Spontaneous avian chatter resonated from our old extractor fan. 'I swear they're going to wind up going poof in a big ball of feathers one of these days,' I mumbled to myself as I gave the casing a thump to try and scare off the inhabitants who had stopped for a brief moment. Being used to this type of communication from me, they ignored it and took up their incessant chattering once more.

Heather settled herself in a comfy armchair and stretched her legs closer to the slowly burning log fire. 'That'd be nice, dear.' I assumed she meant the tea and not the concept of exploding baby birds in the extractor fan.

Our smoky-grey cat Bob immediately took up residence in her lap, asserting his proprietary rights to the armchair. He turned around two or three times and plucked her legs a bit before settling for the duration. Heather looked at him with mock astonishment. 'Ooooh, and would you jump into me grave just as fast?' she asked him. His eyes became slits and he proceeded to purr. Ever the animal lover, Heather melted, gave him a warm grin and a scratch under the chin.

With her grin fading, she asked in a more serious tone, 'Now tell me love, have you got your supplies in the cave organised?'

'Yes Mum, and I've checked and rechecked at least a dozen times,' I assured her, a little impatient as I carried the tray of tea into the lounge, split scones with cream and homemade strawberry jam - its homely, familiar scent wafting happily up my nostrils. 'Though I can't really believe we'll ever need ...'

'Believe it!' Heather snapped at me, rising suddenly to her feet. Bob was abruptly deposited on the floor. He scrambled sideways for a second, piling the edge of the mat into a wave before gaining traction and exiting the room in a hiss and a huff.

Placing the tray on the coffee table, I looked away a little hurt and surprised at her reaction. She came up beside me and put her arm round me, 'I'm sorry love. But you know why I feel it's so important. My family is everything to me. I need to know you will all be safe when ...'

'If ...' I interrupted cautiously, as though approaching a ticking time bomb.

'When,' she replied firmly but softly, '... when the time comes.' She wandered over to the window, which looked out across the front drive to the beautiful view of hills and trees, and in the distance, tiny neighbouring farms reduced to the size of matchboxes.

'You've seen the price of petrol go through the roof.' She came back over to me, a look of calculated determination on her face. 'There have been people queuing for hours, sometimes overnight to get their gas. Then there are those greedy sods that have started stockpiling it, so it runs out all the time.' Like me, Heather thought with more than a little pang of guilt. We both reached for our cups of tea; a temporary truce whilst we mustered our thoughts.

'Ok, yes, I guess you're right. But the Government says that the tankers are coming; that there's plenty more on the way. It shouldn't run out for years yet, and by then technology will be more widespread and we should be fine,' I pleaded, desperate to believe my own words. 'Won't we?' I added weakly.

Behind me, the radio on the serving cabinet had been playing unobtrusively in the background, but now – in the uncomfortable silence that crept in between us – something the news announcer was saying caught my attention.

'... last oil tanker in use worldwide has been targeted off the north-east coast of Russia ... static interrupted ... in a mass of explosion and flames. This is speculated to be the action of terrorists or pirates, who have methodically targeted tankers using this route in recent years. Apart from the environmental impact, which in itself ...'

'Gen, listen to this,' Heather erupted from her seat again with agility defying her years, to turn up the volume on the radio.

'... considerable delay in getting supplies out to world markets. It means potential disaster for an already-strained world economy.

Civil Defence advises households will need to be prepared for...' The report broke up into static again.

'My God. It's happening.' Heather shot me a look that chilled me to the bone.
2

Ten Years Earlier

Arrow Valley, 31 December 2020

Normally Heather slept like the dead, but tonight it just wasn't happening. It was muggy and humid, like taking a sauna in a snowsuit; the sheets stuck to her thighs and her thighs stuck to each other. She tossed and turned, seeking a cool place on the pillow where her face hadn't warmed it or her sweat soaked it.

In the distance she heard then felt, a very faint rumble. She waited in slightly anxious anticipation to see whether it was the steam train whose tracks ran a couple of miles from the house along the borders of the neighbouring farm — or more frighteningly — an earthquake. The whistle blew, one long then two short toots, and the clickety-clickety-clack noise of the wheels on the tracks grew louder then softer, louder and softer, till it passed and grew gradually quieter again, fading into the night. She relaxed and tried to drift off again.

Maybe it was the satay chicken she had for dinner that was the cause of her insomnia? But her belly didn't ache with cramps.

She wasn't one for drinking a lot of coffee, and after working out in her garden in the fresh country air, she usually had no problem at all; falling asleep almost the instant her head hit the pillow. However tonight catching sleep was like grasping a weasel in a henhouse, appearing in short spurts before disappearing down a rabbit hole. In those short spurts came chilling, disturbing dreams.

The first time she woke trembling, in a cold sweat. She recalled dreaming of flames on the sea, against a black sky. The water glistened with a shiny film. Something very large had been burning.

The room felt muffled and thick – as though she were a child, waking in distress, panicked and fearing suffocation from the piles of blankets she'd inadvertently wriggled under and become trapped beneath.

She curled into a foetal position, and lay facing the pillow where her husband Dave used to sleep. I miss you, you big ox; never had bad dreams when you were around.

Eventually she drifted off; but again not for long. She sat bolt upright with fear, ripped from sleep, expecting to still see the evil face in front of her. Some man with a gun aimed at a Highland cow – hers possibly? Horror gripped her heart, and squeezed till she couldn't breathe. She could smell her perspiration, and the faint taste of blood. She ran her tongue around the inside of her mouth, and found a tender spot in her right cheek; she must have bitten herself when she jumped.

Seriously rattled, she got out of bed and wrapped her dressing gown round her still-trembling body. Despite the very warm night, she shook and her fingers were icy as she tried to do up buttons. Maybe some chamomile tea, generously laced with brandy, could help her get to sleep.

She made the tea and sat beside the window in the dark dining room. She pulled aside the net curtains so she could gaze out into the night. She could hear the lonely cry of moreporks calling out to each other in the bush, and watched the moon dance with the clouds for a while.

But even the beautiful starlit night couldn't shake the lingering feeling of foreboding. After giving up on the tea in favour of a glass or two of brandy, sleep beckoned and a very weary and pleasantly numbed Heather climbed back into bed alone in the big, dark, empty farmhouse and tried to think happy thoughts.

Some time later in the grey of predawn, she dreamed again. There were people, hundreds of them. They were very dirty and appeared desperately angry, as they swarmed up a country road. It could be any valley, but she realised with alarm ... although she couldn't pinpoint why ... it felt disturbingly like her valley.

Heather had no idea what they wanted, or why — but she knew it wasn't going to be pleasant.

'We have to stop them,' she cried out in her sleep. 'Hide the children, we have to stop them.' She buried her face in the pillow and began to weep. The wet pillow eventually woke her up, but she recalled the dream so vividly, the lingering sense of dread so strong, that she had to get out of bed. She peeked out into the dawn light, face pressed to the cool glass pane to reassure herself there were no spots of fire approaching on the valley road before climbing exhausted back into bed.

Later that morning and feeling completely shattered, she phoned her daughter Genevieve in town and invited her out to the farm. She told her daughter of her dreams, and asked her — pleaded with her — to bring her family to come live with her out in the valley.

It wasn't for selfish reasons that Heather wanted her daughter to come; for she wasn't at all a cowardly woman. It was so she could better protect them – prepare them – these dreams were too vivid, not to mean something.

Heather had always been a maverick compared to other locals in the village. She was Pagan, grew and used medicinal herbs, and now ... this. More than that though, she was blessed, or cursed depending on how you looked at it, with the occasional gift of foresight. She really wished she hadn't been because more often than not, her dreams weren't pleasant.

One such premonition still haunted her some nights. She dreamed of a riverbank collapsing, and warned the villagers to keep their kids away from them. They just scoffed at her ... and then a few weeks later a bank collapsed, burying a girl and her cousin. They couldn't get them out in time.

This time she knew that danger was coming, and she had pieced together enough dreams over the last few years to decipher the form of that danger.

Genevieve thought her mother was just a little lonely, or on bad days, perhaps a little mentally unbalanced since the death of her father. She knew her mother didn't really need her help – because the woman had balls of solid rock and was fiercely independent – always had been. She sort of believed her mother from some ingrained sense of a daughter's loyalty, but had her doubts and didn't want to alarm the kids, so she and Nate decided to keep Heather's beliefs secret from them for as long as possible.

Heather insisted they prepare: arm the whole family as much as possible, even without the children knowing why; the old tools, weapons, the martial arts lessons, the rifle-range target practice, archery, sword fighting and first-aid courses – just in case. If they didn't need those skills, well hey it's good for kids to have some outside physical activities, so no harm done. But, if they did need those skills, then it's survival of the fittest, right?

Nathaniel was an engineer by trade, contracting himself out to various local businesses, fitting jobs around the days he took Kyle into school. He also did pro-bono work for villagers who usually paid him in goods they produced. He was the perfectly positioned when a Search and Rescue coordinator was needed in this isolated part of the country, to monitor the CB radio and marshal outside help in emergencies. Kyle was joining the ranks, and enjoyed the hero status of rescuing people.

Nate had set up a reasonably modern workshop on the farm, in which he was forever working on inventions in his spare time, determined he was going to help the world find an alternative transport design not so reliant on fossil fuels. He was also able to help Heather with improvements to her old Chrysler, so that it had a little advantage over the standard domestic vehicle ... should they ever need it.
3

Magpie Mafia

17 April 2030

'James ... or Mark?' Allie wondered aloud to herself as she lay in bed late on the Sunday morning with the sun streaming through her slightly gaping curtains. The sunshine had woken her up, but ─ typical teenager ─ instead of getting out of bed to close it properly, she simply shuffled sideways until the golden ray lay across her duvet and no longer blinded her. 'James is very popular; Mark has nice biceps. James is intelligent; Mark has nice biceps. James has a motorbike; Mark has a tattoo and very nice biceps ... hmmm? What to do, what to do?'

She stretched one long calf out the side of her quilt, pointed her toes and made a mental note that her legs needed a shave. Suddenly a loud cackling coming from the direction of the chicken coop interrupted her thoughts. 'Those bloody magpies are at Mum's chooks again!'

Grabbing her crossbow from the corner of the room, she ran to the back porch in her PJs, shoved her sizeable feet in her boots and stalked over to the garden fence. She quickly positioned the bow on the fence post, skilfully lined up her scope on one of the band of magpies that regularly harassed the chickens making their morning passage across the paddock to the house for breakfast. The cocky black-and-white bird strutted around the paddock like he owned it.

The Magpie Mafia, her mother called them. She'd even seen a couple of the bullies harassing a harrier as it soared the horizon for prey one morning. They were ducking and diving, circling then coming down to slam hard into the lone raptor from above; they tag-teamed it — a couple of pro-wrestlers. If a fearsome-looking bird of prey like a harrier stood little chance against them, Mum's frightened, defenceless little bantams were well and truly buggered. Needless to say, Allie had no qualms with helping to even up the odds a bit.

With her right eye, she peered through the scope lying cold beside her nose, the silence almost deafening. She slowed her breathing and focused her mind, waiting for the perfect moment, and then – holding her breath – she ever-so-gently squeezed the trigger.

The arrow whirred to meet its target, right through the chest and knocking the bird sideways. It rolled to a stop a few metres from where it was hit, with feathers flying about in final death throws. Allie knew that if the shot hadn't killed the bird outright, that she couldn't let it suffer and would have to finish it off, but she was such a good shot it was rarely necessary to break birds' necks afterwards.

The bantams had scattered to the four winds with the fear of imminent death. Allie plodded out into the paddock, dodging fresh cowpats, wading through longer patches of ryegrass and luscious clover. She noticed the moisture creep through her PJs at the rims of her gumboots as she went to check the bird.

Sure enough, it was deathly still; its glassy black eye staring like a tiny marble of jet, reflecting a small window of sunlight. She removed the arrow and looked out across the field of grass in search of the resident carnivore. She spied him making his way across the paddock, presumably fresh from a nice snooze in the old red barn.

'Bob!' Allie called, waving the dead magpie at the huge grey cat. Bob began to trot, then bound, the sometimes knee-high grass, eager to receive this unexpected treat. 'There you are matey, bit of breakfast for you,' and she dropped the dead bird at Bob's feet.

She pondered the wisdom of this not long afterwards as she was enjoying breakfast. Olivia squealed as their little hairy black-and-tan dog Cocoa ran through the house like her tail was on fire, leaving a muddy trail — one stolen magpie in her mouth and a cat hard on her heels.
4

Farmers' Market Day

1 May 2030

The village farmers' market, held at the old school grounds in the valley, was a wonderful assault on the senses. Local well-loved gypsies played Celtic sounds on guitars and flutes — their melodious tunes jovially filling the air; mouthwatering scents of baked bread and freshly brewed coffee floated on the gentle autumn breeze. The market place bustled with villagers going about their shopping, stopping to chat and catch up on gossip, laugh and barter with friends and neighbours.

This was a stark contrast to shopping in the city. Here the experience was a relaxed and friendly affair, whereas in the city it was a heart-racing, claustrophobic and stressful ordeal.

The air held a refreshing crispness that hinted winter was on its way. The sky was the pastel baby-blue of birds' eggs. You could feel the happy, alive vibe coming off the other townsfolk — one of those precious moments, all too few, that you stop and savour being able to, forget the woes and worries of the world at large, and just enjoy ... being here, now.

The market had something for everyone; evocative scents changing like sands in the desert. There were locally-produced beeswax candles, honey, pretty jars of home-made jams and preserves of various sorts, breads and pizza oozing with garlic, oregano and cheese.

Soaps of great variety included lavender, chamomile, oatmeal, cranberry, mint and olive. They had lotions, shampoos and bath bombs – pink, blue, yellow and orange, with dried flowers trapped within like pretty fossils. And seedlings of all sorts... I was to add to our supplies in the cave to keep my overprotective mother happy.

The cave was an old concrete storage-shed that was built half into the hillside — probably originally as stock accommodation. It was almost invisible, with the door hidden from view by overgrown vines and manuka bush.

For years, Heather had been squirreling away a good supply of everything possible she thought the family might need in the event of some sort of disaster. She had water bottles (although we had a decent stream running through our farm straight off the hilltops and watertanks filled regularly from the roof), non-perishable food items (tinned and freeze-dried) and a mill for grinding grain for both humans and stock. She had also stored fertiliser; although this puzzled me as she was into sustainable living and extremely organic with her gardening practises. We had a good supply of medicines, enough fuel for emergencies, weapons including a few guns for hunting and protection with a good supply of ammunition, and lines and nets for fishing.

There were blankets, boots, clothes, matches and flint fire-starters, kerosene and candles by the box full. Fortunately, power from the grid was not sorely missed in the valley. Due to our remoteness and the trees causing regular outages in storms with traditional lines, it was more practical for us to find a better solution. We had had renewable alternatives such as wind, solar and even hydro in suitable places for years.

The hills all along the edge of the valley as far as the eye could see were dotted with windmills, these mammoth structures, like strange aliens up there slowly waving to us in their monotonous way every day. They'd been there so many years now it was like they simply always had been there.

I was pulled from my musing by a delicious scent of garlic on the breeze; sausages and salami from Mr MacGillivray's robust wooden stand. He had a small trailer packed with frozen meat of various sorts on a bed of ice.

He also had a large audience of the canine variety of various shapes, sizes and colours gathered about his stand, tongues drooling. The odd brave one would try to make off with a sausage and usually received a large leather boot up his backside for his troubles.

Further on there was a makeshift bar serving homebrewed beer, wine and fresh apple cider. This was a favourite spot with the elderly (and some not-so-elderly) gents who offered to taste test the varieties available, avoiding wives and the tedium of shopping, while sitting around a large rustic picnic table with a sun sail overhead. The valley was a beautiful backdrop, promoting serenity, relaxation and loads of heart-warming smiles.

There were free-range eggs and masses of homemade baking. Crocheted dolls for the little ones, knitted jerseys, scarves and gloves, hats and slippers, and the warmest socks you would ever own of rabbit, possum fur and merino wool. Most of the mothers and their children flocked to these stands, chattering, giggling and bartering amiably.

I was drawn to some metal lanterns with holes cut at strategic places to cast a magical pattern on the wall and ceiling when lit. I purchased one of these and tucked it carefully away in my huge shoulder bag that by the end of the day would be bulging alarmingly with various seeds, soaps, fudges and other goodies not to be missed.

The girls were enjoying toffee apples with their friends under a gigantic maple tree that draped umbrella-like over the quaint, white church. The maple leaves were just beginning to turn the beautiful shade of purple they'd eventually become before dropping to carpet the ground beneath.

Olivia was gazing round, looking slightly bored – until suddenly something caught her attention. She got up and wandered towards it.

Curious, I watched as she stood staring at a sign on a fruit stand that read GRANNYS 50 cents, and could envisage the image ticking over in her brain of her Nana – a bit put out – being sold for such a pathetic sum.

She turned and look at me, a little confused with the question on the tip of her tongue, and I shook my head, smiling and called out, 'No love, they're not selling grandmothers, it's green apples,' pointing at the barrel on the grass next to her. She looked down and the penny dropped. She shrugged and blushed the shade of the red toffee apples, before running back to join her sister under the maple tree.

Still giggling to myself, I lazily wandered along perusing the enticing assortment of artistic corrugated-iron cows, roosters and pukeko. I was almost given a heart attack when Kyle jumped out from behind one of the bigger corrugated cows and shouted a not-so-original 'Boo!' in my face. Quite satisfied with my alarmed reaction — pulse racing, rapid breathing and my hand clutched to my heaving bosom — he burst out laughing with his long slender arms wrapped round his stomach until his Dad came up behind him unnoticed and dropped something small down the back of his jeans.

'Hey, you ...' Realising his father was the culprit cut short Kyle's retaliative abuse. He proceeded to hop and jiggle about like a gangly puppet on a string. The object was obviously discomforting for twenty-odd seconds until he finally dislodged it with an irritable shake of his right leg. A semi-melted ice-cube plopped to the dirt at his feet.

'Leave off annoying your mother and go make yourself useful.' Nate smiled and gently tossed another ice cube at the boy and gave his errant offspring a friendly cuff across the top of the head. 'Angus is sorting the bulls and he could use a hand.'

Kyle smiled genially and gave me a playful, soft punch in the upper arm before heading over to the rodeo area.

'Where did you get that from?' I laughed, as Nate put his arm round my waist. From behind his back, he retrieved a rather long, dark, garlic-and-spice salami.

'Oh, MacGillivray's trailer, he gave it to me in trade; I said I'd look at his generator next weekend.'

I laughed at the salami and clarified, 'Actually I was talking about the ice-cube but you've answered the question anyhow.' He grinned down at me, giving me an affectionate squeeze. He looked to be enjoying the fine weather and the break from the never-ending list of chores needing doing on the farm.

As we passed another table covered with pottery, ceramic dishes and local landscape paintings of the valley, I added inclining my head at the salami, 'Well I can just imagine the mileage that cheeky son of yours is going to get out of waving that around this evening.'

Just then, Nate lifted his nose and sniffed the breeze. I too, noticed the enticing scent of hot, freshly cooked pork and various other meats. I also detected the unmistakable scent of chicken and sweet kumara wafting around as the hangi was opened and several steaming, leaf-covered baskets were lifted out.

A group of local men had gotten up at dawn and burnt the massive stack of logs to heat the stones for the hangi pit, which had been dug the previous day.

About five hundred metres from the food stalls, there was a fenced-off area with some stock for sale and another ring set up for entertainment. A rodeo was due to start shortly and a small, covered stage where the gypsies had previously been performing now hosted a pretty, local girl singing old folk songs.

We took our place in line and, with plates stacked with succulent, steaming food and a jug of cool beer to share, we made our way to find a shaded spot on the grass to enjoy the music and watch the entertainment.
5

Lovesick Cowboy

The minute the buzzer sounded, the powerful chestnut bunched her thigh muscles and sprang into action. The calf was let loose at the same time. It ran bellowing, looking for escape and zigzagging erratically with its tail raised. The quarter horse anticipated the calf's every move, so no steering was required from its rider; this was instinctive.

Soon they came close enough for the cowboy to toss his rope and hook it expertly round the calf's rear leg, causing it to stumble and lie on its side helplessly in the dirt of the ring.

The cowboy jumped off the horse, leaving the rope tied to his saddle. The horse stepped back a couple of paces so as not to let the rope slacken. Before the calf could get upright, the cowboy quickly wrapped the rope round both legs, and the animal was hogtied. He raised his hands. The clock was stopped. It was an excellent time and the crowd applauded enthusiastically.

He lent forward and released the calf, even going so far as to help it up on its wobbly legs again, relatively unscathed by the experience. It wasted no time escaping back through the gate to the security of its own kind.

The gypsy band played music during the short break while the next competitors got into place.

The crowd had gathered in excited anticipation, to watch the rodeo from rows of wooden stands whipped up by a few handy lads last weekend. I could smell someone's hot chips, and cigar smoke floated on the air from some place unseen. The crowd chatter was noisy but dropped to a quiet hum when the organiser stood on the platform to announce the first competitor in the bull-riding event.

In the bucking chute stood an agitated tonne of rippling muscle and fired-up testosterone, snorting and pawing the dust beneath his hooves. He was anxious to be out of his claustrophobic enclosure and to rid himself of both his foolhardy rider and the flank strap round his rear quarters.

Atop the fearsome beast sat a cowboy, who looked like a mass of trembling jelly – and I couldn't blame him one bit.

A man in a brown cowboy hat paused to open the latch and the crowd fell silent. The gate burst open and a black bull with a huge white head exploded out into the arena, bucking and bellowing for all he was worth, as the determined, brave lad on his back was tossed back and forth like a rag doll. This hair-raising event must have felt a lot longer for the cowboy on top, but in fact only lasted around five seconds before he lost his grip and was thrown into the dirt, landing so hard on his butt I think we all felt the impact in our own bottoms, in sympathy.

Knowing he was in imminent danger, the rider struggled to get to his feet quickly, but he was still obviously dazed, disoriented and sore. Before he was fully up, the massive creature came up behind him, thrust its head under his rump and threw him about six feet in the air.

He landed with a rib-crushing crunch, on his chest. We later heard he'd broken several ribs and his wrist. The clowns distracted the confused bull out of the ring so the medics could help the poor fellow and assess his injuries.

'Well it is one of the most dangerous sports in the world – that's the thrill of risking it I guess,' Nate said.

'Idiots,' Allie said, completely unsympathetic. 'What do they expect?'

The show must go on though. The next young man, riding a large grey bull, clung on for a short time before trying to dismount. But unable to get his hand free from the holding strap, he was dragged around until the clowns on the other side of the pen jumped in to try to help him.

Crazy Angus waited for the bull to be distracted by a clown up by its head before stealthily creeping up beside the bull and cutting the strap loose with his large hunting knife. Before the bull could change target to the fallen rider, Angus cheekily slapped him on the nose and ran like the clappers. With horns very close to his rear, he dove into a barrel they had lying around the ring for that purpose, giving rescuers ample time to get the injured rider to safety.

Determined to get Angus out, the bull tossed the barrel roughly around the ring, before eventually running out of steam, snorting and trotting off in search of an easier target to maim.

It took a bit of careful manoeuvring by the clowns to get Angus back out of the barrel. He was quite a sizeable lad and it was a little like trying to get the last of the sauce out of the bottom of the bottle. He bowed to the mad applause of the pleased crowd and vaulted the fence to take his turn.

Without hesitation, Angus climbed on his bull, came flying out into the ring when the gate released and did his eight seconds of being dangerously tossed to-and-fro, until the finish buzzer sounded.

Ever the showman, he dismounted by somersaulting rather impressively mid-bounce, landed remarkably on his feet and smiled in Allie's direction; but sadly, the flattering gesture went right over her head. As the clowns teased and cajoled the bull safely out a side gate, Angus bowed to the delighted crowd, dusted off his cowboy hat on his knee and wandered out of the ring, to receive congratulatory pats on the back and a well-earned beer.

Everyone watched the singers for a while, lying or sitting on rugs on the huge lawn in front of the stage, drinking wine or beer and singing along. Tired children were scattered about like kittens in a barn, asleep over shoulders, or in laps. Older children ran round making themselves a general nuisance, but parents were too merry to be really bothered by it much.

A familiar, friendly face approached us where we sat towards the back of the crowd. 'Oh look, here comes Dennis.' I waved to the lean, white-haired gent.

'Evening Gen, Nate, have you enjoyed the festivities?' he enquired.

'We have, thanks Dennis.' Nate's voice was deep and smooth, probably due to the fine quality of beverages he had been sampling this afternoon. 'Care to join us?' he gestured to a broad tree stump nearby in lieu of a seat. Dennis settled slowly with a popping of knees. 'And how have you got on this afternoon? I see your fine horses put on an impressive display,' Nate said, leaving an opening for Dennis to expand, which he did enthusiastically.

'Can spin 'em on a dime you can. Catch strays better 'n' on a bike. And fast as greased lightening from zero to ninety k, like that.' He snapped his fingers and smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

'They are lovely creatures, Dennis, I'll give you that.'

'I want you to take them,' Dennis said, looking Nate directly in the eyes, with complete seriousness.

'What?' Nate's cool demeanour was gone, replaced by disbelief. 'Whatever for man‽'

Dennis leaned closer so he could whisper and not let the children, or anyone else for that matter, hear what he had to say. 'The oil. It's all going to pot soon, and when town has run out of supplies and sent most of 'em to the devil, the ugly that's left's going to come crawling out like maggots lookin' for fresh meat. I don't mean my beauties to be windin' up on no low-life's BBQ!' He spat, away from the group, as though ridding his mouth of some foul-tasting substance.

Neither Nate nor I knew what to say to this. Nate lowered his head, thinking on the matter. He looked up at Dennis. 'Ok old friend,' he replied. Dennis relaxed his shoulders and let out the breath he'd been holding. 'But ...' Dennis raised his head puzzled, 'If it comes to that, you and Debbie come to us you hear? You'll be safer with friends if that's the way of things down the line.'

'Well if there's enough warning and time, Nate, we'll be sure to do that. But,' his face turned angry and threatening, 'if there isn't, I'm not going quietly. Listen for the shots, 'cause I'll be letting off a few.'

The sun had dropped behind the hills and dusk was setting fast by the time Nate caught up to me, face creased in thoughtfulness.

'That was a bit intense, wasn't it?' I looped my arm through his. It was growing colder and he was a pleasant source of warmth no matter how cold the weather turned.

The children dawdled slowly up ahead of us, Kyle kicking stones and giving Olivia the occasional unexpected shove purely for a brother's joy in seeing her get wound up and feisty, like a bantam rooster. 'I saw that Kyle; that's one,' Nate said, raising his voice just a fraction. Kyle smiled sheepishly and ducked his head in shame. Nate returned his attention to me. 'Well, he may have a point hun? I hate to admit it, but things are getting a bit desperate in the city since that tanker went down.'

'Yes, I've been talking about that with Mum.' I looked up thinking of poor Dennis' sad face when he asked Nate to take his precious quarter horses. 'Where are the horses by the way?'

'Angus is bringing them round tomorrow for me, he's got room in his shed for the night while I do some rearranging of our stock to fit them in.'

I spied Kyle – slow learner that he was – picking up a handful of dried grass to stuff down Allie's back in retaliation for her jibes at him being told off earlier.

'KYLE,' Nate raised his voice sternly. Kyle looked back at Nate who was holding up two fingers and raised eyebrows.

'He might be overreacting a bit but ... better to be pro-active than caught with your pants down, so to speak.'

'Best defence being a good offence?' I contributed.

Kyle didn't deliberately plan to annoy his father again, but he kicked a stone, which ricocheted off a tree and hit Allie's forearm. The resulting yelp of pain from Allie earned Kyle a holler from Nate, 'Strike three – you're going to be paying for that when we get home lad.'

Kyle lifted his head to protest his innocence. Knowing the fractious mood Nate was currently working into, I thought it diplomatic to play United Nations and intervene before Kyle promoted himself from death row to the electric chair.

'That was rather brave of Angus, wasn't it?' I chirped cheerily, changing the subject completely to one filled with testosterone, sure to get Kyle's attention. We were nearing the last stretch of the tree-lined road towards home.

'Yes, he was very brave wasn't he Mum.' Olivia sounded full of girlish admiration for her new hero.

'They were very stupid!' said Allie, rubbing her sore arm, unimpressed and thinking the whole event was a bit barbaric in the first place. She couldn't understand why men had to risk getting themselves gored or trampled to prove they were manly. She muttered something uncomplimentary about men and testosterone to herself, and expressing sympathy for the poor bulls.

'The dude's got some big kahunas,' stated Kyle bluntly, bad mood all but forgotten.

'Kyle,' I said warning him with an utterly mother's look.

'Yep, it takes some serious balls to get in that ring.' Nate added, ignoring the look he knew I'd be giving him, but he caught the wide grin from his son. The boys had to stick together. They were outnumbered in the household of women.

It was around dusk when the homestead finally came into view. We could see one of the cats at the end of the drive and the other cat stalking a safe distance behind it. When we got closer we could see Missy with a wild baby bunny clamped in her jaws, with its feet sticking out of her teeth. It looked kind of funny in a gruesome way.

Olivia screamed and Kyle laughed, until I ordered him to go make sure the poor little creature was actually dead. The cats were good at torturing their prey to death for sheer amusement value.

Then I saw Sophie, one of Heather's Highland cows, over in the neighbour's paddock; grass sticking out of her mouth and munching for all she was worth. 'Oh no, she must have slipped through the floodgates again. John will have a fit!'

'Allie, can you go see to your sister while I help Mum get that stupid cow back home?'

'Sure Dad.' She was already hugging her little sister and steering her towards the porch, well clear of the cats.

It took an exasperating hour or so for Nate and I to chase the huge, shaggy, brown Highland cow round the paddock, through the creek and back in the front gate, wet and muddied to the ears.

'I'll put that solar electric fence unit up tomorrow,' Nate stated, as we puffed and panted behind the disgruntled cow who was hopping about tossing her horns and flicking up her back legs in agitation.

Back at the bullring, Angus talked with his buddy Simon, one of the other rodeo clowns, as he brushed down the horses and gave them water. 'Did she see me?'

'Who?' Simon sat, chewing on a piece of hay, perched on an upturned barrel watching Angus work.

'Allie – you dick! Did she see me in the ring, nearly getting gored by that bull?' He rubbed his thigh where he knew one of several impressive bruises was forming. His head was particularly tender at the back when he touched it, so he avoided doing so.

'Oh, yeah, I'm pretty sure she was watching,' his mate said insincerely, jumping off the barrel to brush dry dirt and horse dung from his pants.

'Was she impressed?' Angus continued impatiently, as he wiped the sweat off his forehead with a towel.

'Oh. Ahh ... yeah,' hedged Simon and gave Angus a cuff across the back of the head. Angus winced and returned a playful but strong punch to the solar plexus. Simon was fairly certain Allie was completely unimpressed but knowing his mate had a crush on her, he wanted to spare Angus' feelings – once he'd gotten his breath back, that is. 'She had tears in her eyes and everything, it was touching, really,' he wheezed.

Up till that point Angus almost believed him, but he wasn't the fool most people thought he was. He knew what Simon was up to. Crestfallen, his smile dropped. He turned away and threw the towel at the fence. 'Come on, I need a beer.'

Nate and I finally got inside after chasing the cow around, both of us wet and muddy from jumping creeks and fences. My long red hair, also soaking wet was now hanging in snakes round the curved tops of my breasts, and my jeans clung to me like a second skin. The saturated pale-green t-shirt left little to the imagination and to top it off my gumboots were covered in mud. Judging from my husband's heated stare, he found the image most appealing.

'Headlights are on,' he grinned. I was puzzled until I followed the direction of his heated gaze to find my nipples standing out like cherries on a couple of cream buns. I looked up slightly amused and took in his appearance – sweaty, soaked, shirt sticking to his body as he peeled it off. He dropped his muddy jeans to the floor with a sticky plop, displaying muscular thighs and a glistening well-developed torso.

'Come on, a hot shower is in order. I'll warm them up for you.' His sly grin spoke volumes at what that might entail.

'Couple of horny teenagers,' Heather laughed, as she passed us in the hallway with a basket of vegetables picked fresh from her garden.
6

Ostentatious Visitor

Neil

Neil was a brilliant scientist; slightly socially awkward but an all-round good guy, if a bit of a nerd. He had received an urgent memo the previous afternoon, with instructions to come in to the Lab earlier today. Apparently, they were expecting a visit from their ostentatious sponsor, Reginald Parker III. Mr Parker's visit had been arranged for today to coincide with another surprise, of a more scientific sort.

Neil parked his bicycle in the racks downstairs, and walked three flights to the top level of the University Science building, then down the white corridor to where he had to slide his security card to gain entry. The sharp chemical smell of the place, distasteful to some, was home to him. He spent more time here than he did at home.

A group of his colleagues, along with Mr Parker, gathered around a central table, absorbed in something there. He heard the words 'melting glaciers' muttered from one of them and then he saw it.

A giant bird, over a metre long, with huge wings that were not currently spread but he knew would span more than a metre wide, each with dark reddish-brown feathers, black near the tips, down to a cream colour underneath. It had a large vulture-like beak, sort of a banana skin yellow with a black tip, and those talons ─ like a tiger's!

The eyes had perished of course, but still a fully-grown Eagle ─ native to NZ if he was correct. Harpagornis moorei if he was not mistaken, and by the looks of things, almost entirely intact. It had the slight stink of a recently dead animal, somewhat redolent of old socks, but not of rot.

What a magnificent bird she was; for he had heard someone else saying it was female.

What a pity it was, that through over hunting of its main source of food ─ the Moa, which was also now extinct ─ this wonderful bird was lost to our country as a result. Wouldn't it be magnificent Neil thought, if ─ as with the Mammoth they had been working on overseas ─ they could bring some of these marvellously gigantic creatures back?

He overheard something that grabbed his attention. 'What? What was that you were saying Gerald?'

Gerald was one of Neil's senior co-workers, as suggested by his balding crown and white bushy eyebrows. He adjusted his spectacles, and peered at Neil like one of his specimens on a glass-slide.

'Morning Neil. I was just telling Brian here, that this female is also carrying eggs, and by the size of them, I'd say they're mature and likely fertilised ...'

'Oh,' Neil replied, struggling to hold back the grin of unadulterated delight which threatened to break out all over his face, 'why, how marvellous.'
7

Hot Blooded

'I know it's coming, but it doesn't quite feel real yet.' I gazed at a family photo on my dresser. Wisps of the conversation between Nate and Kyle on the evening of the rodeo kept coming back to haunt me.

Kyle had overheard Dennis talking about his horses and the evil coming, and of course he expected to be there, in the front lines. It's a son's duty to defend the family beside his father and the rest of the men from the village he'd claimed to us both. I hadn't said anything at the time, but in my mind, I was screaming objections.

Nate knew how protective I was of our family and that I'd be worrying myself into a state over what could be coming; for our children and in particular, our headstrong son.

'Well, I promise I will keep a close eye on him,' Nate said softly.

I jerked my head up from the drawer I'd begun to rummage through. 'What?' Then I realised he meant Kyle. 'You won't have to,' I replied defiantly and he looked up puzzled.

'What do you mean?' He replied yanking off a stubbornly stuck boot.

'You know damn well what I bloody mean. You, taking my son out there ... to likely get killed! Over my dead body, is what I mean!' I pulled my nightshirt roughly over my head and tugged the hem tight; then climbed abruptly into bed heaving the covers up over my ears.

'You don't object too strongly to my going out there to die,' he argued sarcastically, throwing his boots at the wall to bounce off with a satisfying thud, one at a time.

I sat up angrily like a jack-in-the-box throwing the sheets open. 'Don't have a lot of faith in your survival skills do you?' Just as quickly, I popped back down again, fuming fit to kill. Before long though, I had to own up to being worried for him too.

Not moving anything but my hand to pull the cover to my chin, 'Of course I'm worried for you too, but ...' I began, in a softer, more empathetic tone.

'Look Gen, he's a grown lad and ...' Nate's sentence collided with mine.

'He's only a boy. A seventeen-year-old boy and ...' I argued to the wall, blood pressure rising rapidly again, too angry to face him lest he see the tears begin to pool in my eyes.

'He's a seventeen-year-old man, and he's been training up with Angus. He's already told me he's got my back so I'm sorry hun, but I won't humiliate him.' He pulled back the sheet to climb in and lifted one leg to sit on the edge; but a subterranean growl from the bed halted him, leg still ridiculously half-raised.

'Don't you sorry hun me ...' I said in a sinister, quiet tone. 'If you're planning to sleep in this bed tonight, you better keep one eye open mate.'

Slowly unfolding his leg, he straightened and stood staring at the back of the smouldering hump of his imminently explosive wife and considered options. He eventually decided, in view of his own self-preservation, that it would be diplomatic to keep the peace and sleep elsewhere tonight.

Muttering angrily to himself on the way to the couch with his hastily snatched pillow and a spare blanket, 'Sexy red-head, he said. A rare beauty, he said. What did I expect? German bloody Viking blood!' He looked to the heavens, addressing his long-dead friend Mike who had first introduced them.

'You could have bloody told me I would be bedding a Molotov cocktail when I married the wench!'
8

Storm's Brewing

Arrow Valley – mid May

'Mind the stones there lovey.'

Heather was in her herb garden teaching Allie and Olivia some of her useful knowledge of healing plants. Olivia was just mucking about picking random flowers because they smelt pretty. She was close to the miniature henge of stones Heather had constructed for some of her Pagan rituals, and Heather knew how clumsy she could be; old enough to almost become a woman, but still young enough to be a hare-brained little girl.

They noticed me going past, heavily laden with covers for my horse. Heather and Allie shot each other small furtive smiles in the garden, as this was my third attempt to try to cover Storm because it was getting cold.

My breath turned to a small convoy of vaporous clouds before my eyes as I huffed childlike, pretending I was a steam train. Definitely a sign that winter was on its way. Well, who's to say it's only boys that love trains anyway? I thought defiantly.

I wondered if that cantankerous beast of a horse would let me cover him now. I'd tried several times over the last month or so, only to have him canter full speed to the other side of the farm — a little powertrip mind game he liked to play with me.

The old boy was getting on a bit now though and his bones would be starting to ache with the cold. I knew that in the early hours when the frost began to settle, whether he felt it was prissy or not, he would appreciate the extra warmth of a nice thick cover – even if it was purple and emasculating.

Trying my best not to drop something, with hands full of brushes and bulky covers, I headed for the ancient wooden gate down the back for the sparring match. A pale watery sun was disappearing over the edge of the hills, its last rays reflecting in the slowly trickling waters of the creek and poking its golden fingers between the leaves of the poplars and drooping branches of the willows that hung almost to the ground.

After a short climb up a grassy hillock, I spied my nemesis; seventeen hands of black, gnarly-assed gelding. Ever alert, he eyed me warily, waiting for me to get closer. I dropped the covers on the ground but just as I lifted the brush to his coat, off he ponced with his snooty nose in the air – complete open defiance.

I sighed, fuming. My eyes scorched daggers at his huge, evil, arrogant rump. Let the games begin then, I thought to myself. Again, I scooped up the heavy covers and trudged over to where he had stopped to graze. He ignored me until I was really close before raising his head a little, still chewing, to study my progress so he could time exactly when to be a smart ass again. Just as I was about to brush his flank again, he put his ears back and moved off, again.

Back in the herb garden, Heather and the girls stood leaning on the fence, openly watching the drama unfold; gardening completely forgotten in favour of the entertainment taking place up in the paddock.

Well, I was not that patient, and after yesterday's tumultuous evening, Storm had already pushed me past the point of playing nice guy.

'Ok then,' I stated sternly to his rear end. He stopped and turned to look at me. 'Fine, you stubborn shit.' I tossed the brush at the ground. Curiosity, I suppose, made him listen. Hands on my hips, I said to him, 'It's getting bloody cold at night you old bugger, but if you want to keep being a smart ass, I'm not chasing you anymore. If you don't stand still and let me put these covers on your mangy old hide, you can just bloody-well freeze!'

Still watching me attentively, he seemed to mull this over for a few seconds. Then he paused, snorted, and to my amazement made an about-turn and reluctantly approached, stopping right in front of my unwavering face. Our noses almost touched, and he snorted a breath of resignation in my face ruffling my fringe a little.

'That's what I thought,' I gently reprimanded him, stroking his nose affectionately. I proceeded cautiously to brush his shaggy bearlike winter coat, so he wouldn't have any foreign bodies under the covers to rub and cause sores. Putting down the brush, I half-expected him to make a dash for it, but he seemed to have enough sense to know that pride wasn't worth more than a snugly warm blanket on a freezing night in the valley. He had asserted his general place in the hierarchy quite adequately for now, after all.

I covered him warmly and released him from his ordeal with a dismissive pat. He trudged off like a child scorned and I grinned to myself; I knew he really loved me.

Heather, Olivia and Allie had been watching with great amusement from the herb garden. 'Finally got it on him then?' Heather grinned.

'Man he sure is stubborn, isn't he Mum?' Olivia said.

'Lucky I'm used to dealing with the stubborn males in this household then. Isn't it ...' I replied wryly.

Later on that same evening

Finally in bed, I was reading my book, trying unsuccessfully to escape and live in a strange place of wonder and excitement for a bit. My fears, of starving hoards causing mayhem, wouldn't leave me in peace. I had barely spoken a word to Nate at all today and part of me wanted to tell him of my win with Storm and the covers — but I still felt a little cross with him about last night.

Before long, Nate came into the room and stopped by the bed. He had his hands in his pockets and spoke quietly and casually. 'So, what do you think the chances are of my getting disembowelled, if I sleep in here tonight?'

Without looking up from my book, I answered equally casually, 'I'd think we have a little more to worry about than me being a slightly cranky wife ...'

'Hmph!Slightly?' He said sarcastically. 'That's like saying that having a bleeding leg in shark-infested waters is slightly hazardous to your health.'

I sat in my silky, cream nightgown with my cute little reading glasses on. My hair, piled up in a messy bun at the top of my head, left my long, pale neck exposed; I continued to ignore him.

Unfortunately for him, this was becoming very arousing.

He pursed his lips, took a deep breath and sighed. Then he began to fluff around preparing for bed, occasionally peeking at me out of the corner of his eye, probably to make sure I wasn't preparing to hurl something at the back of his head. The idea had some merit, but, he was rather amusing when trying to get back into my good books.

Seized by impulse he flicked on some music from the small sound system on his dresser and the sweet sultry sounds of a favourite R & B mix began to play in the background quietly.

He spun on his heel to face me, with his head lowered, eyes up towards me and a sexy, mischievous grin. He began slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

I pretended not to notice but he caught me stealing a quick glance to see what my twit of a husband was doing. As he reached the bottom button, he roughly tore it apart dramatically to bare his nicely toned chest covered in a fine layer of dark blond hair. He seductively fondled his nipples, but I stayed resolutely unmoved.

He ran his hands slowly down to the front of his jeans to just inside the waistband, teasing. I snorted, stifling a laugh and tried to pull a stern face, concentrating fiercely on the page in front of me.

He knew he was cracking through my armour-plated shell and so continued. He slid closer to my side of the bed, then turned and began to slowly gyrate his rear in an erotic manner. He stopped and thrust his backside sharply towards me as he bent to take off his socks.

I was sorely tempted to slap it hard, but resisted – not wanting to appear encouraging. He peeked back in time to see the edge of my mouth quirk and quiver as I tried to control it; time to go in for the kill.

He stood, stretching to his full height and pausing to flex his muscular back and torso. Unbuckling his belt, he ever so slowly withdrew it until it was almost free.

He had done rather well up until this stage, I thought. But as he whipped the belt out quickly ... it flicked over his shoulder and gave him an impressive crack on the arse.

Of course, he cried out in pain at this sudden and unexpected turn of events. I finally dissolved in hysterical mirth and had to stuff my face into the pillow.

At least it lightened the mood considerably, enough so that marital relations could, and in fact did, resume. Once, that is, he'd waited patiently for me to stop laughing at him.
9

Trouble in Town

21 May 2030

Dawn, while the rest of the house still slumbered, and sunset were my absolute favourite times of the day. I stretched and yawned, plodding to the front porch in my dressing gown and fluffy slippers, with a steaming aromatic cup of Irish coffee in one hand and a plate of jam toast in the other. I liked to sit on the deck and eat my breakfast in peace before the usual onslaught of children and husband took away my serenity. The sun was just warm enough to counter the early morning chill, but still crisp enough to make sure you were truly alert and awake.

Nate had taken Kyle to school in the city a little earlier this morning; bless him for allowing me the extra sleep. I really wasn't a morning person and he was always up at sparrow's fart, so he didn't mind. The girls were still in bed. I guess they took after their mum in that regard.

I gazed towards the cherry tree that sat not far from me on the driveway, and sure enough, there sat my little feathered friend; a beautiful kingfisher Nate and I had rescued one morning.

We had been driving down the main road of Arrow Valley when I spied this little guy sitting stunned in the middle of the road. We drove right past him, and he didn't move a muscle.

'He must be hurt. Pull over,' I told Nate. I jumped out of the car and approached the little bird. He made no effort at all to escape me, which was a disturbing sign from a wild bird. I bent to pick him up. Still there was no effort to flee; but when I held him close to my chest, he began to protest by nipping at my breast with his large awkward-looking beak.

'Huh, well that's gratitude for you. Isn't it?' I said to the feisty wee bird. Though I was pleased he was finally showing some signs of wanting to survive.

'Oi,' Nate chastised the bird. 'That's my property mate! No touching the merchandise. Capisce?'

We took him home and put him in an empty rabbit hutch. I gave him some water and made Nate sacrifice a tin of his kippers, which he did almost willingly. The next morning when I checked on him, he seemed somewhat livelier so we decided to see if he could fly.

His first attempt went awry and he landed on the bonnet of the ute. But when I picked him up again and I gave him a gentle upward push, he got the idea, and soared across to the neighbour's trees. I smiled at Nate and he smiled back. It was a wonderful lift to the spirits to help save a wild creature and then set it free again.

Every so often since, when sitting on the front porch to think about things, I would get a visit from my little kingfisher friend. He would watch me intelligently and cock his head to one side as I asked him advice and shared my troubles. He could never answer me of course, but he always seemed happy to listen and offer me his company, for whatever help and comfort that might bring.

And so it was this morning. I pondered the troubles ahead and our future, to my little friend, who listened attentively as usual but offered no useful advice. Then I jumped, spilling my coffee in my lap when Heather came up behind me and put her hands on my shoulders in silent question.

She knew me better than I knew myself. I loved this valley, and the life we led out here. The thought of having it taken away by outside influences was something I constantly pushed to the back of my mind, like one does when they have a sick animal that needs putting out of its misery – even though it's being cruel to be kind.

Heather had mentioned in past months that there would come a time when sending Kyle to school in town would become increasingly difficult, if not impossible. The vibes from her silent hands on my shoulders were transmitting a message of loving support. Heather sighed, and squeezed firmly then let go. It made me feel as though she were holding me, keeping me safe, encouraging me to steel myself and to step with care ─ like a doe when she deliberately stands in front of her fawn, placing herself in harm's way when she detects danger on the wind.

'So, no more school then?' I said, gazing out at the hills of our beautiful valley. The trees were mostly bare now, but a few were still covered in autumn leaves of gold and purple, drifting gently on the breeze to spiral down and blanket the grass. The clouds were settling on the hilltops like dirty balls of cotton wool.

The sound of a shot next-door abruptly shattered peace of the moment. John was firing at the yellow crested cockatoos that enjoyed rummaging in his walnut tree. They attacked it in a selfish and destructive manner. Not content with just eating the nuts, they were ruthlessly breaking small branches willy-nilly as they went. John was trying to frighten them off.

'It's too dangerous love. It's all going to turn to custard very soon,' Heather said continuing our conversation. 'I know he loves his technology work, but he'll just have to learn it from his Dad for a while.' She gazed at me with sympathetic eyes.

As if in warning, the temperature suddenly seemed to plummet; the beautiful morning was rapidly transforming with threatening black clouds gathering on the horizon towards the city. I could smell a hint of ozone in the air, and the breeze whipped strands of my hair and batted them about my cheeks.

'Go get my grandson. I've got a bad feeling today that I just can't shake. And Gen,' she added causing me to turn back as I headed for the bedroom to change out of my nightclothes, 'be very careful in town, won't you.'

'Mum, you're worrying too much,' I told her, wondering if she wasn't really as nuts as those up the tree next-door.

'Well you should start worrying a bit more, my dear. What have I been trying to tell you all this time?' Heather tossed me the keys to her Chrysler. 'Take my car. Remember how to operate the extras I showed you?'

I did. Now she was beginning to freak me out a bit.

Nate had made some modifications to Mum's car at her request, and now it was no little old lady's wagon. A clever combination hybrid of electrical and petrol power; she never let anyone drive it, except Nate or me ─ and that was only to make sure I knew how to work all her fancy little extras.

I was dressed within minutes and bidding Heather goodbye from the Chrysler. My heart rate was beginning to race and my stomach churned like a belly full of snakes as I turned up the road that led out of our valley. I had gone from a peaceful calm, to feeling almost completely overwhelmed by an escalating urgency to get to Kyle's school.

I decided to use an old gravel road to shortcut to the main highway, and was fair flying along when up ahead I spotted a small flock of sparrows or some other small birds, that were leaving it a bit late to take flight. As I got closer, I realised with shock they were ducklings.

'Shit!' I cursed, slamming on the brakes. I couldn't live with myself if I became one of those despicable people who carelessly run over a mother and ducklings crossing the road.

As if in slow motion, the back end of the car began to skid sideways straight towards the group of ducklings and their mother. I tensed in horror, helpless. I couldn't control the skid any more than if we had been on a pool of ice. All I could do was shut my eyes and wait in dread of the carnage.

Bracing myself to be strong, I waited for the car to come to rest. I slowly opened my eyes a crack ... only to see a whole lot of tiny fluffy ducklings waddling madly off into the grass and under a wire fence on the opposite side of the road.

Oh thank Christ for that. I finally let out the breath I'd been holding and waited. Where was the mother? Dread flooded my thoughts anew. I plucked up the courage to look back at the road I'd just skidded across, but thankfully it was carcass free.

Oh hell! I've probably killed their mother; they'll be orphans, the poor wee things. I opened the car door, got out and squatted down to peak beneath the car. But to my great relief, the mother duck came waddling out from beside the tyre, stopped, shook her tail in indignation, and continued on her disgruntled way after her little balls of fluff.

I chuckled softly to myself, shaking my head in disbelief. Looking at the black skid marks on the gravel ─ and the deep trench the tyres had made in the grass verge ─ the little family had been so lucky. I climbed back in the car and proceeded to drive carefully off.

I still had my own little family to rescue after all.

The hills rose and dipped in a disturbingly nauseating manner and the snakes in my belly writhed as if they were on fire. Somewhere in the back of my mind I heard Nate's voice, 'Damn woman, you should be on a racetrack — you drive it like you stole it.'

I slowed for the small town of Scottsville. The main street through the town was only about three kilometres long, but by the end of it I was doing a high speed again. Fortunately, due to the lack of cars on the road these days, came a lack of police patrolling for law breakers. The needle on the dash crept to the right ... 120, 130, 140 kph. Careful girl, you can't pick up your boy if you arrive in a box, my conscience warned. Reluctantly, I lifted my foot off the accelerator a fraction.

Finally, after fifteen minutes of hills, trees, cows, sheep and occasional houses — as well as taking out a lanky brown hare I couldn't avoid when it sprang out from behind a shrub along the way — the city came into view.

It had been some time since I had come into the city myself. Recently it had been Nate dropping off Kyle, as he had other errands and it was on the way. The city had an eerie feeling about it ─ almost like the old cowboy movies; a lone rider coming into town with the streets deserted except for a few desolate tumbleweeds rolling aimlessly around. Cars were as absent as the tumbleweeds though. Not even a bus or taxi in sight.

Last time I came into the city there had been one or two vehicles parked on the side of the streets or outside shops.

Now, however, many houses had one or two cars parked up their driveway, covered in dust and spider-webs. Either people couldn't afford the gas and had to use public transport, or they were reduced to only using them once a fortnight to get essentials, instead of popping out every day for something they had forgotten to grab at the store. You couldn't just zip about in something that took almost a week's salary to run.

It was seriously peculiar and it made me even more determined to get to Kyle's school to make sure he was still ok. I knew I was being neurotic; if anything was wrong the school would phone me, surely? But, I just couldn't shake the feeling.

Then I discovered the reason for the city looking so deserted. As I approached the first set of traffic lights, I saw the longest traffic jam I'd ever seen. Something wasn't right.

It took a few seconds to realise the cars were all sitting empty. I pulled out and slowly drove down the wrong side of the street, past the queue. Further on I could see the drivers gathered around the petrol station about a kilometre down the street. They were yelling and waving their fists, and police were protecting the garage employees.

As I discreetly detoured to avoid the angry crowd I saw a couple of men ─ more like vultures picking at the bones of the dead and dying ─ siphoning the pitiful amounts of gas from parked cars; taking advantage of the fact that they sat unattended. One looked up guiltily as I drove past and I couldn't help giving him a dirty look.

Zigzagging the empty streets as quickly as I could, I made my way to the school. I picked up my phone to call Kyle and belatedly saw an Urgent Closure text message the school had sent me. I rang his earphone to make sure he was waiting outside. I sure as hell didn't want to hang round town the way tensions were brewing.

'Mum, are you alright?' Kyle's relief was palpable.

Thank God, I thought. 'Yes, are you?'

'I was worried about you. Town is going nuts, and a few of the parents didn't get here to pick up their kids because they got mobbed on the way. I was hoping you weren't one of them.'

'I'm not far away. Be waiting in the usual place.'

'Is it true Mum?' His voice came quietly over the GPS.

'Is what true?'

'There's no petrol left ... there's no tankers coming ... they've been lying to us?'

I delayed answering him as I reached his school. He was standing among a small group of his friends, looking more than a little anxious. I pulled up alongside him and threw open the door on the passenger side. He stowed his bag in the back seat and scrambled in quickly. I thought I could smell smoke on the breeze that came in with Kyle, of something objectionable like burning rubber.

'It's true, matey.' Several very worried-looking students looked at me, like abandoned kittens at the animal shelter, and for a brief moment I had that same crazy urge to take them all home with me.

Kyle sat silently mulling over the situation and the possible consequences.

I tried to take streets without gas stations near them. Unfortunately this soon led us to a bad part of town. We came across a sinister-looking group of men who were crowded round some old wreck of a car that was burning alight.

I stopped the car, intending to reverse and make a quick exit, but it was too late. The group encircled us like sharks about four metres from the car, blocking any attempt to move.

One of the men directly in front of the grill grinned, threateningly close enough for us to see his dirty brown stained teeth ─ some missing ─ and tapped a bat across his palm, gesturing with his head for me to get out of the car. That would have been suicide for both of us, had I considered doing it. I didn't.

As I went to flick the switch to the car's loudspeaker, I paused and turned to Kyle. 'If he comes any closer, get down fast!' He looked as scared as I felt, but I tried not to show it. Bad dogs smelled fear. I flicked the speaker on.

'Move out of the way. All of you!' my amplified voice commanded through the loudspeaker. I eyeballed the one with the bat. The men laughed ignoring me and closed in a bit more.

'Move or else!' I threatened. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of my cheek, along my neck and down between my breasts. I could smell my own fear, a musky feral scent, but instead of making me more afraid, it merely heightened the mama bear in me. 'I won't say it again!'

They were within swinging distance now and many were raising their weapons to do just that.

'What are we going to do Mum?' I heard Kyle say beside me, but I didn't take my eyes off the crowd.

'Get down,' I said firmly, feeling strangely calm.

I planted my foot. The tyres squealed on the spot for a fraction of a second and I had just enough time to see the look of surprised shock on their faces before the powerful car thrust forward straight up and over the two men in front of it. A couple of sickening bumps jostled us about in our seats and blood sprayed up the window on my side. I could hear screaming and it felt as though the car was dragging something. Then the sound suddenly stopped as the body came free. I didn't want to look but couldn't stop myself. In the rearview mirror I saw several bloody body pieces tumbling down the road, and further back another body lay on the ground.

The furious men chased us, yelling abuse. Hurled objects – perhaps a crow-bar and hammer ─ smashed into the rear window. We both flinched. Kyle instinctively covered his head with his arms, while I uttered a silent prayer of thanks to my mother. If Heather hadn't had bulletproof glass put in, the window would have shattered.

Kyle cautiously sat back up. 'Fucking hell!' he stated unnecessarily, looking over his shoulder at the enraged men still futilely trying to chase our car. 'You probably killed those guys Ma.'

'Well, God damn it! I warned the bastards didn't I?' He nodded, in shock.

My heart was pounding, fit to burst through my chest and in my eardrums. I gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles were white. I was shaking; more now with anger than fear. I didn't take kindly to anyone threatening my family.

'Look Kyle, things are going to get pretty nasty, pretty fast now. We need to have a big talk about things at home. There's going to be a lot of changes that need to happen; preparations to make.' I was surprised at how calm and organised my mind seemed, totally in contrast to my body. I tried to keep my voice calm, although I was freaking out just as much as he was.

'Mum?' Kyle asked, almost scared of this crazy stranger sitting next to him. 'Do you think we could slow down a bit now?' My driving was becoming faster and faster unintentionally, as though my subconscious was still in flight mode.

We were silent for the rest of the trip home and luckily avoided any more confrontations. We did see police escorting the garage workers away from the now rioting crowd outside the garage. I put my left hand out to Kyle, who grasped it like a lifeline.

This shit was getting real, and this was just the beginning.
10

Taking Stock

'I should have gone in to get him; if anything had happened to you two I'd never ...' Nate paced the kitchen agitated. His cell phone had gone flat while he was out picking up engineering equipment in a neighbouring town. As I had taken the gravel shortcut to town, we'd completely missed each other when he was returning.

Not having anything to direct his anger at, he viciously ran his fingers through his hair making it stick up like a hedgehog.

He paused and noticed me trembling with tears welling up in my eyes, as I tried desperately to hold it together. He pulled me into a loving embrace and I finally broke down and let it all out. Kyle came over to hug me. He was still as white as a sheet from the shock. Nate's big hug also enveloped our lanky son, and our foreheads touched in the middle for support.

'We meant to tell you kids earlier, but just could never find the right time.' I explained between sniffs. I stopped to blow my nose; a loud gurgling sound like a strangled goose. Olivia, sitting at the table with a cup of cocoa in her hands, laughed. I smiled at her trying to mask my worry. 'That's why ... all the weird presents from your Nana.'

'Oh! Now it all makes sense. Well ... that's great Nan.' Kyle said. 'We thought you were a bit bonkers but you're just ...' his expression changed from delight to gloom, '... a bit depressing.' He finished lamely.

'Oh, it's ok love,' Heather lowered her voice just a little, 'I am a bit bonkers really. Normal people are boring, I believe.' She smiled and planted a quick kiss on his cheek.

I smiled and gave Nate a quick, firm hug to show him I was alright, so he could calm down a bit.

'Well, I don't know about everyone else,' Heather stated cheerily, 'and it's maybe a bit early in the day, but I think we all need a bit of a drink.' She winked at Allie, who smiled but still looked a little bamboozled about recent events. 'To calm the nerves ... medicinal purposes, don't you think?' She looked at me then Nate, with raised eyebrows.

'I agree,' said Nate. He was not a heavy drinker, but definitely needed something to help calm down.

'Beer, wine or other?' Kyle said on the way to the liquor cabinet.

'Other,' we all said in unison, and then had to laugh. It had been a scary day.

'Am I allowed a beer Mum?' Kyle asked me, knowing I didn't approve of him drinking.

'After the ride home we just had? You can have a nip of whiskey if you want; it might burn the hairs of your nose though.'

Olivia was about to open her mouth. 'And no Olivia, you may not.' Olivia shut her mouth, sullen and disappointed. Seeing this, I was tempted to give her some whiskey just for the satisfaction of watching her gasp at the shock of it.

Later that evening, we sat scattered round the lounge eating steak and cheese pie with golden pastry and creamy, soft mashed potato. Candlelight provided a soft muted glow to help relax everyone ─ as did the sharing of some excellent aged brandy.

'She gets that temper from your granddad you know?' Heather whispered loudly but confidently, as an aside to the girls sitting on the rug in front of the couch that their parents currently occupied. The girls giggled at the resultant expression on their mother's face at this comment.

Heather's face was taking on a pink flush and her speech was slurring slightly from the alcohol ─ which she wasn't used to in any large amounts.

'Oh,' I exclaimed smiling, 'Really? Is that so?' I had my legs across Nate's as we sat at opposite ends of the couch.

Heather laughed from the armchair in the corner, knowing full well she herself was capable of losing her temper on occasion.

She talked about Granddad Dave and when they had lived in Woolley Creek, across from a big old pub that looked like a whorehouse in an old Western. 'Some of those rascals, with tattoos,' ... Allie lowered her eyes, feeling naughty for liking Mark with the tattoos ... 'who wore leather or denim jackets. Dope-smokers with long greasy hair ... drinking beer, revving bikes at all hours ─ often used to sneak across the railway lines some nights and steal his pigs.'

'Being a bad-tempered old German, he put the word out to the local ammunition store that if he caught anyone stealing his pigs, he'd blow their kneecaps off!

'The local policeman told him that if he caught someone stealing, to fire a warning shot first, and if no compliance, as an absolute last resort — then shoot them in the legs.

'Well good old Granddad decided he'd shoot them in the legs first and then fire the warning shots. He had his own rules for justice; rugged old bugger that he was.

'"Besides", he'd claimed a little smugly in his own defence, "how are they to know which shot was fired first?"

'Lord, he gave me most of my grey hairs your grandfather did,' Heather said aside to Olivia, who giggled. She found it incredibly amusing that her grandmother was a little tiddly.

Heather continued to relate how one night Granddad Dave, with his shotgun loaded, sat waiting not far from the piggeries. He had perched on the lip of the railway line underpass tunnel; a track for the cows to return to their paddocks. Poor Heather was nervously waiting at home.

After about two hours and no sign of the pig thieves, Granddad got a bit frustrated at not being able to punish those bastard thieves, so in part-anger, part-boredom, he fired a shot up in the sky.

Back at the homestead, Heather had paced nervously round the kitchen for a while, before making a cup of tea to calm her nerves and sitting at the square red Formica-topped table. With cup halfway to her lips the sudden boom! of the first shot almost made her crap herself with fright, and she spilt her tea down the front of her apron. A few seconds later came a second boom!

Hastily, she put down the teacup. 'What do I do? What do I do?' she'd muttered as she resumed fast-pacing round the kitchen, dabbing a tea-towel absently at the stain, then clutching it to her breast like a lifesaver. 'Call the cops? No I can't do that ... Go and help him?' She envisioned the grizzly scene. 'No, I don't really want to do that.'

Across the road, the house where the suspects lived and partied, had been all lit up and thrumming with bass like a heartbeat. After the shots, all the lights and loud music over the railway crossing went out ─ and they no doubt sat in silent terror waiting for the crazy German to come seeking his vengeance.

'So what happened then?' Kyle asked from the other armchair by the fire, utterly enthralled.

'Well as you can imagine it was rather an anticlimax when your Grandfather burst grim-faced into the kitchen, holding up a handful of dead rabbits and slapped them on the bench for skinning.' She grinned mischievously then leaned forward to whisper to the girls. 'But I tell you what. We never did lose another one of our pigs, ha-ha-ha.'
11

A Bit Pear-Shaped

Neil

It had not taken too much in the way of persuasion to convince his superiors that they would be fools not to take this opportunity, thrust before their noses, to try to clone this Haast Eagle. Neil had been an instrumental part of the team working on ten host eggs, i.e. Ostrich egg surrogates with Haast Eagle nuclei, lovingly implanted within.

It had been a bit of trial and error, this cloning venture. They had lost all but three remaining eggs, but Neil was beginning to see signs of success now, thankfully, and had come in to check on them this morning as he did at least once, if not more often, each day.

As he headed to the cafeteria for lunch, his brown paper bag tucked neatly under his arm, he was close to a room near his office when he overheard his name mentioned. He paused just short of the door, unsure whether to interrupt.

'Neil? Ha, ha, he's a bit of a funny one, ay. Never see him with a woman do you?' One of the younger scientists, whose name Neil couldn't recall just now, was absorbed in dissecting something biological in nature, as he gossiped to a colleague.

His friend assisting, answered, 'They should put him in a re-make, the 60 year old virgin.' The pair laughed heartily. Then the same person said, 'Hey your sister's single isn't she?'

'She is. I thought you didn't like my sister?'

'I don't. She'd be perfect for Neil though. They've both got that pinched, costive look on their faces all the time.'

'He's probably gay...'

Neil had just about heard enough of this derogatory banter.

Well Neil, he thought to himself, there is two more you can cross off your Christmas card list. He was about to change direction unnoticed, feeling terribly awkward, when they mentioned his project with the Eagle eggs.

'When are they going to tell him?' the first guy said.

'Friday I think. Reggie's cut the funding due to the whole oil thing. They're going to can it; we're probably not going to have the Lab open at all, in a few weeks.'

Neil's heart stopped. They couldn't. Simply could not cancel his project when he was so close to success. However, he knew in his heart they could, and in fact most assuredly, would cancel it, without giving a second's concern to his feelings.

With his heart hammering in double-time; both from the knowledge of what he was about to do, as well as to make up for stopping after overhearing such a shocking revelation, he wandered into the incubation suite and looked at the three vulnerable eggs, snug in their warm enclosures. Eeny, meeny, miney, mo.

He tucked his lunch bag in his large white pocket, picked up mo and took its case and lamp to his office. He set it up in the closet, and came out locking the door behind him.

'If anyone asks, that one went rotten and I threw it out. Yes, that's what happened!' He said to himself on the way to the cafeteria, patting his pocket and not overly excited about his lunch of bean sprouts and crackers.
12

Bearer of Bad Tidings

Arrow Valley Village Hall

25 May 2030

The aroma of almost a century's worth of linseed polish, beeswax and tobacco smoke emanated from the dark hall with its beautiful old exposed wooden beams. The small village hall thrummed with suppressed excitement and low voices rumbling over top of each other as people discussed the mysterious need for such an urgent meeting.

'Whisht,' Nate's deep voice urged the crowd to be quiet.

'Whisht! We have important matters to discuss.' The hall fell silent, except for the occasional grizzle of a tired baby somewhere in the crowd.

I stood up front on a small platform, trying hard not to tremble. I'd never felt comfortable with public speaking, but now was no time for an attack of the nerves. I looked over to Nate who leaned casually against the wall. He smiled and gave me an encouraging nod.

'Thank you all for coming here tonight at such short notice.' A few of the crowd nodded in acquiescence. 'I'm not sure how many of you have heard, but my son and I almost ran into a whole lot of trouble a few days ago when I went into town, and picked him up from school.'

'Almost?' Kyle, sitting in a wooden seat next to his father, sarcastically muttered, thinking of the men I'd run over. I gave him a stern look, and his father nudged his foot with his own. Kyle promptly shut up and folded his arms across his chest.

'The same thing happened to my Daniel,' a woman's voice called out and all heads turned. It was Maggie Davis, an elderly woman from the village.

I continued, 'The reason for this is people are starting to panic. The petrol supply, it appears — judging by recent events in the city,' I didn't want to mention Heather's premonitions, 'has all but dried up. It's a sad and shocking fact ... and I'm afraid we are in for tough times.' I paused to add dramatic effect, although it wasn't an act. 'If this village is to survive ...'

'But the Government says there are more tankers on their way, we just have to be patient!' interrupted a tall middle-aged, dark-haired man from towards the back.

'They are lying to you, to all of us.' I looked around the room as a nervous whisper began to pass through the crowd like a current. 'They know how ugly things are going to get once we realise the truth; they are just trying to delay the chaos that comes with a breakdown in a country's infrastructure. I'm sorry, I know it's frightening, but we have to be prepared. We can't just bury our heads in the sand and wait for it to go away.' People looked anxiously at one another. Although Nate was standing back, he was watchful for trouble. He knew I could handle myself most of the time; but that didn't stop him from wanting to take the occasional idiot out back and give him a couple of good ones in the stomach.

'Oh you're just as batty as your mother!' shouted some curly-haired codger who always stubbornly refused changes.

Nate stood up off the wall he'd been leaning on, planted his feet deliberately, crossed his arms in annoyance and gave the grumpy guy a stare that warned him to shut his trap and stop being rude – which, given Nate's size, youth and protective nature, he promptly did.

I quickly carried on, trying to prevent things getting out of hand.

'We will have to try to live locally. That means going back to the old barter system. We are very lucky to be in such a valley and we have mostly everything that we will need. Most of us now have solar, wind or hydro sources for power, our own rain-water collection systems plus the river supply, good land for growing crops and veggies, orchards ... and meat from our herds. A few of us have other talents that will be useful.

'Heather and I have nursing experience, and Maggie over there was a midwife. Money will be of little or no use to us for now. If we don't pool together our supplies and skills, we are going to struggle to survive.'

Relieved, the curly-haired man called out again, 'Well that's alright then isn't it? So what's all this fuss about?' He looked around for confirmation from his fellow villagers. 'No need to be panicking everyone like this then is there,' he accused me, his irritation obvious.

'God will take care of us,' Harold, a local evangelist-nutter, called out. I sighed loudly, rapidly losing patience.

Diplomacy be damned, Nate preferred to say what was on his mind. 'Yes, and Aladdin might fly out your ass on his magic carpet and take you for a spin too.'

'Why you blasphemous young lout ...' The veins in Harold's large red nose were beginning to stand out; he was revving up rapidly.

'Look, no offence Harold, but if you want to sit in your wee hovel waiting for God to come save your soul, you may as well lie naked in the middle of the road, douse yourself with olive oil and hand the buggers the salt when they show up.'

Well, thank you darling for ripping the band-aid off quickly, I thought a little anxiously.

Harold lost the ability of speech. He spluttered and coughed, making noises like a lawn mower that needs a tune-up.

'We may be alright, for a while,' I tried to keep my voice calm, soldiering on, 'but we won't have access to hospitals or medical supplies like we used to.' I looked directly at Harold, hoping he heeded the warning and didn't continue on his quest to annoy my husband.

'Heather has herbal medicines which can be of use in a lot of situations.' I smiled at my mum seated with a few of her elderly friends in the front row, and got some emotional support back. 'But there will be some illnesses herbs won't be able to fix. And that's not the worst of it.' People had started to chatter quietly and nervously amongst themselves, but now stopped to listen.

'We may survive. Like I said, we are lucky to have the resources available that we do. But many of those in the cities will not. I advise everyone to avoid the city from now on, at all costs.'

There was a collective grumble in protest from the crowd.

I continued to explain, 'Society has relied on petrol too heavily, for too long. The food chain has become increasingly stagnant these past weeks. And, with the transport and farm machinery halted, the food supplies will rapidly dry up. People will stockpile and supplies will dwindle even faster when the panic sets in.

'History has demonstrated this. There will be looting and violence. If people can't find food, they will turn on each other to survive. Crime will escalate. We will be at the mercy of the ugly side of human nature.

'When they can't get any more food, what will be left for them to eat? They will eat pets; dogs, cats, rats, anything. I know it's horrid to say such things, but eventually probably even,' I paused for a deep breath and my voice dropped to almost a whisper, 'each other ...'

Many in the crowd gasped in horror. Children started to cry in fear, and mothers and fathers looked at me angrily. But I was angry at them too; I had warned those with young children to leave them at home, but they were obviously too interested in finding out the gossip.

'Stop this scare-mongering. You're scaring the babies,' one of the mothers said.

'You were asked to keep the babies home tonight!' Nate's loud, deep voice spoke up in my defence.

Hurrying it along to diffuse the tension, I replied, 'I'm not scare-mongering. History has shown the tragic effect of upheavals similar to this in the past. Remember back in the 1970s when there was a massive fuel shortage? That was merely ... inconvenient. But what do you think will happen if it's going to be long term?' I answered.

'We need to prepare, there is no time for sugar-coating this situation. I've discussed these things with someone who has experience in armed conflicts,' I shot Angus a quick glance, 'and he assures me that those with guns will rule. If we aren't prepared when they come looking for food, we will be cut down in their path. And they won't lose any sleep over killing children if they get in their way either.' I eyeballed the crowd, daring them to challenge me again.

'Then what do you suggest we do Gen?' Mary, a mother who was a friend of Heather's, asked; understanding this wasn't a time for blame, but a time for action, and she was going to protect her brood of six if it meant her life.

I sighed in relief; finally an extended olive branch. 'Thank you Mary.'

We, as a family, had sat up until the small hours of the morning discussing all the 'what ifs?'

'If you have basements, prepare them with survival items: food, water, buckets, plastic bags, torches; a place to hide your children and beloved pets, if a warning signal goes out, until the danger is past. Allow enough for two or three days. If we don't beat them in that time,' I lowered my voice, frightened for my friends and family, 'we're probably not going to. If we know all is lost, a continuous siren will be sounded. If you hear that ... take your loved ones, head for the hills and run for your lives.'

I looked across to Nate and then down to Heather, drawing courage from their support. We needed to be strong; the villagers needed to be emboldened. I raised my head and went on with more volume and conviction.

'Those of you with guns, be prepared to use them when the time comes, at the mouth of the valley. If you have enough weapons, train your wife or partner to use them as well, as a back up.'

'What if we have no guns?' practical Mary, asked with concern.

I knew this question would come up. I climbed down from the platform and Nate passed me a pitchfork. The people looked doubtful. Wrapping a rag round the pitchfork, I poured some kerosene from Heather's precious stores on it and poked it into the flames of the potbelly fireplace. I brandished the flaming pitchfork in the general direction of the biggest man in the front row, who promptly moved backwards and fell off his seat. The crowd gasped, surprised. A few of them laughed a little.

I gazed around the room with the makeshift torch now safely out of harm's way. 'Who would have the balls to keep coming towards one of these?'

The man on the floor looked thoroughly disgruntled but impressed nonetheless. 'Not bloody-well me at any rate,' he laughed. The looks on their faces were very satisfying. Finally the message seemed to be sinking in. 'Use whatever you have; anything can become a weapon if you need it to.'

Some people seemed impressed, some less satisfied, but we had no choice ─ we had to make the best of what we had. I added to finish, 'If nothing else, pray, if it helps.'

Kind elderly ladies provided a light supper of small cakes, biscuits and savouries. People milled around, cups of tea in hand, talking about the meeting.

I was in the kitchen sipping on a brandy-laced tea with Nate, untangling my nest of nerves, which had frayed like an old rug, when a quiet, balding middle-aged man with glasses appeared in the doorway. It was Jeff, the local inventor and helicopter pilot, from up on the top of the hill.

'Can I have a word with you Gen?' he said quietly. 'I've a suggestion that may be of some help.'

'Sure come in Jeff, we should be able to talk privately in here.' Nate raised one eyebrow at me, and I waved him away with an It's ok, don't worry gesture, in the unspoken language married couples use.

Everyone had left, almost. Angus was having a friendly conversation with a petite dark-haired girl wearing army camouflage gear. I hadn't seen her round the valley before. He saw me coming over and introduced us.

'Gen, this is Danni, she's an ex-army buddy of mine; no-one better with a sniper rifle. She's at a bit of a loose end these days, so I asked her if she could help us out.'

'Pleased to meet you Danni, and yes, your help will most certainly be welcome. Have you got somewhere to stay in the valley?' She was a tiny wee thing, pretty with short dark hair cut in a tidy bob around her chin. Something about her suggested she was French, although she had no accent. Beneath her small stature, I sensed an intelligence and strength that was deceiving ─ after all a scorpion's sting is not deterred by the size of its foe.

'Yes thanks, I'm renting the old Simpsons' place over the ridge. I like my peace and quiet; this is a beautiful place to live,' she replied with warmth and confidence.

We chatted briefly of general things revolving round life out here before she bid us good evening and left.

I had been waiting to get Angus alone, and he appeared a little apprehensive about the occurrence when I discreetly said, 'Angus, my fine young man.' I smiled charmingly. Now he knew something was up, for certain. 'You wouldn't know how to build a bomb by any chance would you?'

He looked around sheepishly, 'Is this a trick question?'

I sighed impatiently, 'You're not going to get in trouble Angus.'

His shoulders dropped and he grinned wolfishly, 'Well in that case ... doesn't everyone?'
13

For Love of Food

Mid June

'Aww Mum, not noodles again!' Olivia whined.

'I'm sorry hun, that's all we've got till the supply train comes through. Hopefully Phil does those sheep for us soon,' I replied, rubbing my aching temples round and round, with my thumbs.

Elderly villagers were suffering with their medications for heart and blood pressure issues lacking; a couple probably wouldn't make it through the month. We were desperately in need of the supplies on board the steam train travelling from several hundred kilometres upcountry. Mac, a search and rescue mate of Nate's, was driving. Being an avid train enthusiast, he volunteered for the job when the rail company wouldn't risk any more hijackings. It was scheduled to stop in Scottsville before heading through to the next town. These were likely to be the last supplies we'd be getting for the foreseeable future and we would have to rely solely on what we could produce ourselves after that ran out.

In an effort to distract her sister from laying more guilt on me, Allie asked Kyle, 'What food do you miss the most?'

'Burgers, chips and coke,' he replied immediately with a dreamy smile.

'Donuts,' I surprisingly blurted out.

'Chocolate and pizza,' Nate said, then added an afterthought, 'not together of course.'

'Cookies-and-cream ice-cream,' Angus contributed — eliciting a giggle from Olivia.

'Lollies, lollies, lollies,' Olivia chimed in.

Allie laughed. 'All of the above.'

The CB radio on the shelf in the kitchen piped up with Mac's voice, strangely subdued. Almost whispering, as though he didn't wish to be overheard he said, 'Nate, you there mate?'

Kyle jumped on the receiver. 'Yeah Mac, it's Kyle. How far off are you? We're going to be drowning in our own drool if we don't get some real food soon.' There was a brief pause then the radio hissed into life again.

'Sorry bud, we've got a bit of a problem with that...'

Kyle looked at the others gathered round the kitchen, puzzled.

'Some dickheads boarded the train at Watershed Road and they're planning to switch tracks and divert it off the main line before Scottsville, for themselves. Can anyone out that way help us out at all?'

Kyle turned to Angus, 'So much for our pies and cakes. They'll take the lot!'

'Like hell they will,' Angus retorted. Good bugger to have on your side in a bar-room brawl, was our Angus.

Nate took the receiver from his son. 'How far are you from the switch Mac?'

'Bout half an hour I'd say. We're low on coal, so she's only crawling along at the moment. Think you can do it?' he asked dubiously.

'We'll have to give it a try mate. Hang in there.'

'Take the bikes?' Kyle suggested to Nate.

'Nah, I've got a better idea.'

Allie and I saddled up Angus' horse Gypsy and the two quarter horses, while the men held a concentrated discussion by the backdoor step; co-ordinating their plan of attack, punctuated with plenty of hand movements.

The trio headed across country, galloping on the flats, climbing up and down through shortcuts, Nate and Angus headed in one direction to intercept the train from behind, while Kyle split off at a tangent towards the switch.

Nate spotted the rear of the steam-train up ahead, as planned. Once aboard, he planned to hijack it back. Riding hell-for-leather, he and Angus closed in.

Riding as close as they dared on either side of the moving train, they reined in their horses and jumped off. Together, fuelled by adrenaline, they sprinted to catch the slow-moving train and managed to grab hold of the side of a small platform at the rear. The horses veered off and dithered briefly with confusion, before wandering down to the grassy fields.

The two men entered the end carriage and headed towards the next. Reaching the door, Nate pushed Angus forward, and received a glare that plainly said Angus felt he'd drawn the short-straw. Nonetheless, Angus took a deep breath, bunched his thighs and jumped the coupling, to grab the handrail to the next carriage. Pushing his leg muscles to their limit, he swung and pivoted around into the stairwell.

He paused for a minute catching his breath, letting his adrenaline slow a little and gestured back to Nate to hurry up and jump, before grabbing the door handle and entering.

Angus wasted no time in dealing with the first hijacker he encountered. The guy had been dozing between boxes of supplies and stirred at hearing Angus' movements. Angus swiftly landed a short, frantic punch to the nose. The hijackers eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he crumpled to the floor.

Nate's shadow blocked the light in the doorway just prior to the punch landing. 'Nice,' Nate commented approvingly, as he moved past. They both made their way to the other end.

Before they stepped onto the gangway the door to the next carriage swung open, and a guy, heading down through the train checking the state of their pirated supplies, stood there. He must have been temporarily blinded by the sudden shock of the bright sunlight after emerging from the much darker cabin, or else he'd have caught a glimpse of Nate and Angus before they leapt out of view. With no sense of caution the man walked out onto the gangway, pausing to spit through a large flapping tear in the canvas walls.

Seizing the moment, Nate rushed out onto the gangway. He grabbed the man's shoulders, brought his knee up to the surprised man's backside and shoved hard, propelling him through the ripped canvas. Angus quickly leaned out, holding the doorframe and grabbed Nate's shirt to anchor him least Nate was carried through with the momentum.

In the meantime, the beating of Kyle's heart had matched his horse's rapid breathing as he galloped towards the smoke-spewing, iron-clad train that was growing ever larger up ahead.

He could see a scruffy guy on the side of the track, working at shifting the switch to divert the train and their desperately needed supplies, and spurred the horse on towards him.

The noise from the train on the tracks obscured the hoof-beats, allowing Kyle to get close. By the time the man heard and looked up, Kyle was launching himself, catching his subject off guard and leaving him no chance to defend himself. His head hit the hard-packed dirt with a merciless thud as Kyle tackled him, landing hard. But the impact also left Kyle, himself, substantially winded.

Kyle heaved the body of the dead-weight scum to one side. Out of breath, slightly dizzy and seeing stars floating before his eyes, he crawled to the switch. Using every ounce of strength left, he shoved the lever forward just before the train caught up to them.

He lay down in the grass wheezing as the pain in his chest ebbed. Gusts of dusty wind, smelling of oil and hot metal, blew into his face from beneath the noisy wheels rumbling past. The small stones next to him danced in the dirt, vibrations thrumming through his fingertips.

Meanwhile Nate and Angus kept heading up the train, wary at each doorway, but finding no further hijackers. Finally reaching the engine room, they spotted a third guy,, holding Mac captive. The hijacker was pre-occupied with picking his nails with a nasty, narrow boning knife. Angus caught up to Nate in the passageway of the foremost carriage. This was stacked almost to the ceiling with boxes and bags of foodstuffs, giving them a little cover to hide behind. After a short discussion of tactics, whispering and using a combination of lip-reading and hand signals they moved into place.

Angus climbed up the ladder on the side of the carriage to the top, muttering under his breath why is it always me that takes the risks? and crawled along the roof of the moving carriage to the front where he lay on his stomach and let out a huge wolf-whistle. As hoped, this distracted the guy with the knife, leaving him open long enough for Nate to pounce, grab his knife arm with his left hand and hook him with a bone-crunching punch to the nose.

Angus jumped off the roof, rolling as he landed, and then stood a little stiffly, dusting the dirt from his clothes and shaking his curly brown locks. He whistled loudly for Gypsy who was way back down the track. She raised her head as though not quite sure of what she'd heard, then Angus whistled again and she loyally trotted towards him accompanied by the other bewildered mares tagging along, lacking the knowledge of what else to do.

Angus climbed into the hard saddle and headed back down the line, wincing each time Gypsy stumbled a bit in her footing; he must remember to thank Nate for the new bruises on his backside later on. Some distance from him he could see the tiny form of Kyle sitting on the side of the tracks. As he grew nearer, he saw Kyle smiling smugly and sitting beside a man who was hogtied, slightly bleeding from one nostril and looking simultaneously humiliated and pissed off.

'How goes it?' Angus asked Kyle casually as he dismounted.

'It goes better for me than it does for this bugger,' he laughed, standing up and stretching. 'I take it the train's ours again now then?'

'Yep, looks like we get to eat tonight after all.' Angus re-evaluated the wisdom of leaping from a moving train as he walked stiffly rubbing his backside absentmindedly. He came to help Kyle lift the tied man to the back of his horse. Kyle noticed his strange gait and a mischievous smirk stole over his face. Together they hoisted their irate and cursing captive up and over the placid horse's back. Kyle and Angus ignored his mutterings as though he were nothing but a Christmas turkey they'd just bagged.

'Anyone ever tell ya you walk funny?' Kyle jeered at his mate from over Gypsy's back.

Angus frowned at him. 'Anyone ever tell you ya dress funny? Cheeky little bastard!'

'Yeah, my sister does. All the time.'

And they headed back towards Scottsville to the prospect of food, and more importantly a nice cold beer.

I was waiting in Scottsville, more than a little anxious to see if they'd succeeded in stopping the thieves and saving our much-needed supplies. Boys need adventures but they played havoc with my nerves; the last boys' weekend they'd taken my son on, he'd come home with a broken wrist.

With immense relief, the villagers and I saw a smoke plume appearing down the line. The slowly approaching train rolled into Scottsville with Nate wearing the engineer's cap and a cheeky grin. He pulled the lever and let loose a loud toot, toot.

The huge iron train pulled to a noisy halt in a huge billowing cloud of steam, briefly obscuring the platform.

'You're just a big bloody kid, aren't you!' I said, squinting into the sun behind the train. His reply was a sexy wink and smile from ear to ear. Mac appeared next to him. He had found something alcoholic in nature to calm his nerves and raised the bottle to me in salute, 'I think he deserved it after what they just did,' he called out.

Angus and Kyle ambled their way into town about twenty minutes later, leading their horses eventually to a well-deserved drink of water and feed.

They gave the captured leader and his hogtied accomplice to the villagers to deal with, warning them to keep an eye out for the last bugger that Nate had thrown off the train. The villagers rewarded their efforts with a few extra additions to their supplies and Nate, Gen and Kyle climbed in the Chrysler and headed for home, leaving Angus to bring the horses along at his own leisure.

Several miles back down the track the last hijacker, with a badly grazed face, left bleeding and broken but not quite dead, trudged towards Scottsville, seething and plotting revenge.

The cool night air was punctuated by the thump, thump, thump of bass from the music playing loudly at the pub. Sid finally reached town after licking his wounds and then walking for around an hour on the tracks. The townsfolk were in a merry and distracted state of intoxicated celebrations – obviously celebrating that they now had alcohol as well as food.

The food and alcohol he and his gang, had tried to steal earlier that day – that was, until those bastards had interfered. Who the bloody hell did they think they were? Well, they'd be bloody sorry when he found them, that's for sure.

He entered the foyer to the crowded bar, noticing his rumpled reflection in a large square mirror on the wall. Hell! Is that what I look like? He'd lightly run his fingers over his stinging cheek when it had first happened and felt the bleeding mess, but actually seeing it was more of a shock. Like raw mince ─ nasty!

Ah well, not like he could really hide it, he decided. So in he went. The smothering smells of hops and sweat was almost overwhelming after the crisp air of his long walk along the tracks. He picked a dark side of the bar and did his best to keep the wounded side of his face turned away from people, as he ordered a beer and tried to eavesdrop on the conversations of the patrons.

Many voices merged and he couldn't decide which way to turn, until he singled out the word train. He headed in that direction, straining to hear more and pulled out a vacant bar stool at a table near two old timers. He sipped. The cool bitter tasted like the nectar of the gods after the dust he'd swallowed all afternoon. He idly traced the wet rings left by the glass on the surface of the table as he listened to the old men chat.

'... man, that was a bit of excitement, ay mate? Used to watch my Dad's old Westerns; them looked like fun times.' The old guy talking rested his pint on his sizeable paunch and grinned in a dreamy way with round, rosy cheeks and scruffy greyish white beard; he looked like a decrepit Santa.

'Mind you,' said his younger table companion, 'Nate's got the build for it hasn't he? What with his work and the whole rescue thing he's involved with out there in the hills.' Then he laughed to himself, 'If I tried that, I'd end up fresh roadkill on those tracks, fodder for the hawks.'

The old guy noticed Sid just sitting there. 'Hey, you.' Sid paused, afraid to look up. He'd been so absorbed in eavesdropping, he'd forgotten to blend in adequately. He tried to think quickly of a plan. But the crowd were in a happy mood, and he needn't have worried. 'You better drink that beer soon mate, don't want it getting warm on ya.'

Sid muttered, 'Just savouring it Grandad, haven't had one for a while.'

Just then the barmaid came up to their table and put down a full jug next to the gentlemen. 'There you go Larry,' she said.

The old guy replied, 'Oh, thanks Janet, you're a darlin'. I'll fix ya up on pay day.'

She turned a knowing, suspicious eye on Sid, 'Sure Larry, just make sure you don't go being too generous and make sure some of these buggers buy you a few now and again, huh? You're too kindhearted for your own good sometimes.'

Larry blew her a kiss, and she smiled at the harmless old gent, and then the smile dropped as she shot an accusing I'm-watchin'-you-buddy stare at Sid.

Sid had his injured face turned away, but he started to think it was well past time he was getting out of this bar. So one of the men who jumped the train was called Nate. And he was from out in the hills then...

'That guy sounds handy to have around, this Nate? What does he do out there in the hills then?'

Larry's younger companion answered, 'Oh yeah, he's a good guy, for sure. He's got a farm out Arrow Valley some way from here, can't miss it. Only one road leads out of Scottsville to the valley.' Then he paused, and asked a bit more soberly, 'Sorry mate, you're not from round here are you? Who'd you say you were?'

'I didn't.' Sid said bluntly. Eager to get away from the curiosity, he stood quickly bumping the table edge and spilling half the contents of the jug of beer.

'Oh now look what you gone and done, you clown!' Larry said. 'Sacrilege spilling good beer like ...' he noticed Sid leaving the table rudely, and shook his head in disgust. Then he shrugged looking at his friend, 'Was it something I said?'
14

A Scout Is About

25 June 2030

The valley was an abundant source of free food, if you knew where to look. Self-sown plum trees were scattered along the roadside and crabapple trees sprung out of the hillsides like ogres' ears. And nothing tasted better on a hot day than cool, crystal water from the streams, straight off the foot of the mountains.

Allie, perched halfway up a tree, tossed fragrant wee apples down to Olivia, who was doing a fine job of catching them and lowering them to their basket. They had a good rhythm going and Olivia had worked up quite a sweat.

'Stop!' Olivia cried. Allie peered out between the branches puzzled. 'I'm pooped. Can we rest for a while and have some biscuits?'

'Ok, I'm getting a sore neck anyway.' While Allie was clambering down from the little tree, Olivia picked up her binoculars as she often did, and gazed around the hills of the valley.

'Hey ... there's Shirley up on the hill riding her horse,' she reported.

'Oh, I must drop back that book she lent ...' Allie was cut short by a gasp from Olivia and then a bloodcurdling scream from the unseen horse in the distance.

'What was that?' Without waiting for the answer, Allie grabbed the binoculars off her little sister.

'She ... she fell.' Olivia looked white as a ghost. 'Something scared her horse and ...' she gulped trying to summon up the nerve to finish the statement, 'and they fell off the cliff, both of them!'

Allie scanned madly back and forth looking for signs of the fallen horse, but realised the thick vegetation probably hid it. She caught a flash of colour and movement in the bush and spotted a man; a dirty, scruffy, scary-looking man. There was no sign of Shirley.

The man looked in Allie's direction. She wasn't aware of it, but the sun was reflecting off the lens of the binoculars and he stared unerringly straight at her.

Allie dropped the binoculars. 'Run,' she said to Olivia. 'Run home bub, and tell Mum.' Their earpieces were out of range in this part of the hills, but the closer to home Olivia got, the better chance she had of contacting someone for help.

'But ...' Olivia looked close to tears.

'I'm going to go see if Shirley's alright. Go tell Mum ok?' Allie said.

Olivia nodded, not overly sure that this plan was a good idea. She picked up the basket, changed her mind, dropped the apples and ran.

Allie was worried about Shirley and would've given her left nut (if she had one) for her crossbow right at that moment, but nevertheless she headed bravely down the hill through the dense bush, heedless of the possible danger, in the direction of her fallen friend.

'Where are the girls? They should have been home for lunch by now ...' I looked at the GPS monitor. Strangely, Olivia's spot was heading towards home fast; she was obviously running, but Allie's was not registering on the monitor.

'Something's wrong,' I told Heather, panic rising. I called Olivia on her earphone.

'You ... gotta ... come. Need ... help,' said a panicked and breathless little voice on the other end.

'Calm down love, where's Allie?' I asked, growing more frantic.

'She told me ... run. The horse ... it fell ... the scream ... horrible.' She burst into tears.

Heather saw the look on my face and was poised for action but wasn't sure yet how best to help.

'I'll be right there baby, just hide in the trees till you see us coming, then show yourself, ok?'

'Ok,' she sobbed, 'please hurry.'

Meanwhile Allie's search continued ...

Her cheeks stung from the branches that snapped back, slapping her face as she made her way frantically through the thick bush leading, she hoped, in the direction to where Shirley had plunged.

It felt like she'd been walking, running and stumbling for hours. She was breathing heavily and her t-shirt clung sweat-soaked to her back. She paused to wipe her damp fringe out of her eyes in annoyance. If she hadn't known the valley like the back of her hand, and learned all the deer trails and short cuts through hunting with her father and brother, it would have taken her a lot longer to get to the other side of the valley.

Even so, by the time she'd gotten close she was soaked to the thighs from streams crossed, and sporting numerous grazes and bruises from stumbling in her haste.

She smelt it before she saw it; that coppery metallic tang of fresh blood. She recognised the smell from when she had accidently come across her granddad killing a sheep. She'd never forgotten that smell.

She almost tripped over it, camouflaged by the trailing vines and punga ferns. At her feet, come to a stop amidst some tall bamboo shoots, was the twisted corpse of Shirley's horse. The front legs were obviously broken, with bits of bone jutting from tears in the skin, and the poor creature's neck was sitting at an impossible angle, with thick, congealing blood oozing from its nose. She said a silent prayer for it, hoping its death had been instant with no suffering. At the same time, she was relieved that it was already dead, as she didn't think she had the courage to put it out of its misery.

Knowing she must but dreading it all the same, she looked around for signs of Shirley and lost hope with every minute that passed, of finding her alive. She lifted ferns and branches until finally exposing a still, bootless foot.

'Shirley,' she called softly, 'are you alright?' Her adrenaline was on overload and her heart was pumping so hard she thought it might rupture right through her chest. She lifted the small bush off the exposed limb. There lay her neighbour; eyes wide open in surprised horror, and it took a few moments for Allie to comprehend what was wrong. Shirley's neck was also very obviously broken – she now eerily looked out at the world over her own shoulder.

Allie turned aside in the bushes and vomited. The burning visceral fluid came up her nostrils and her eyes watered. This was altogether too much for a fifteen-year-old girl to have to deal with.

'Well looky here,' a male's voice said behind her, leering at her backside.

Allie spun around with fists clenched; an instinctual reaction from her years of self-defence training.

He smelled bad, reeking like an old billy-goat covered with his own piss, with longish greasy brown hair and oily pockmarked skin. His eyes were greyish and there were dark bags under them. The whole of his right cheek looked like it had been washed with a cheese grater and hadn't quite healed; in fact it looked angry red with infection and she hoped with no trace of guilt, that it gave him septicaemia. His sneer showed he had a few front teeth missing and his clothes were ripped. He'd obviously been in them for weeks.

'Who are you?' She angrily batted her sweaty blonde locks out of her eyes, desperately trying to bluff bravery. The gruesome injury on his face triggered a recollection in the back of her mind. Something her father and Kyle had discussed following the train hijack, about the man they'd hurled off the train into the shingle beside the track. They had said he was already an ugly bastard and that fall wasn't likely to have improved those looks at all. Could this be possibly be him?

'Calm down sugar, I'm not going to hurt you,' the dirty-looking man said, though his body language told Allie otherwise.

'You killed that woman!' Allie pointed, her hand shaking, to Shirley and her poor horse and tried hard not to cry. She knew she couldn't let this stranger think she was weakening.

'It wasn't my fault sweetheart, just an accident is all.' The man edged dangerously closer, with a smile that made sweat trickle down her spine and sent a wave of shivers and fear through her body.

'Stay where you are you bastard, or else!' Allie threatened. Luckily, his hands held no weapons. If he had bad intentions in mind, she sure as hell wasn't going to make it easy for him.

He lunged at her and she kicked at his crotch. Unfortunately, he seemed prepared for this reaction and she only caught him a glancing blow on the thigh. He grabbed her leg and pulled up sharply. She landed flat on her back on the ground and the dense green canopy high above swam into view. She managed a high scream before he threw his heavy, sweaty-smelling body on top of her. Her racing mind registered he'd been eating salami and pickled onions.

She lifted her head sharply, and head-butted him right in the nose. This surprised and really hurt him; he hollered in pain, loosening his grip on her wrists enough for her to just break his hold. But he recovered quickly, grabbed her wrists painfully with one hand and slapped her hard across the face.

His eyes were watering madly, and a small trickle of blood slid out of one nostril. He was extremely angry now. 'So you want it like that then? You little bitch. Well I'm going to enjoy this even more now.' Still holding both her wrists with one hand, he fumbled his fly with the other.

Allie was terrified. Her head throbbed, cheeks stung and tears streamed down her face, but she couldn't give up. Fighting to stay conscious lest she be left totally unresisting and at his mercy, she mustered all her remaining strength and managed to lift her knee up quickly and give him a good whack in the base of his balls. He rolled off her, clutching his crotch and moaning.

Allie scrambled to her feet and ran, not even sure what direction she was going in, but knowing that she was in big trouble if he caught her again – she'd be lucky to get out alive.

It wasn't too long before she could hear him pursuing her through the thick brush. Something slammed into her back. Falling to the ground hard, her nostrils became clogged with musty soil and she could also feel it in her teeth. Panic set in as though she were being buried alive.

A sinister voice next to her ear whispered, 'I'm not done with you yet sweetheart. I was going to just use you for myself, but since you wanna play hard ball, I'll take you back for the boys.'
15

Things Get Personal

I tried again and again to contact Allie, but her GPS must have been out of range in that part of the valley. Nate – who had been busy with a project in his workshop – came in. Startled by the frightened look on my face, he said, 'What's happening? Where are my girls?'

'We got to go. Now! Tell you on the way.'

'I can help,' Kyle piped up coming in from a game of paint-ball with his friend from up the hill, covered in blue and green paint and bristling with the excitement of it all.

'No, you stay here in case your grandmother needs help,' Nate ordered him in a voice not to be reckoned with. Kyle slumped off disappointed.

Heather was busy loading up the car with a dangerous assortment of weapons; she had a feeling we might need them.

We jumped in the Chrysler and roared off down the road, watching the GPS signal on the monitor in the dash. 'Hurry Nate, I have a bad feeling about all this,' I said.

Jaw firm and the line between his brows deepening, he just stared straight ahead and accelerated a bit more.

We headed up the valley to where the girls were supposed to be picking apples and where Olivia's GPS was showing. We were about three kilometres from the apple trees.

'Come on baby, show yourself.' I pleaded with the GPS monitor.

'There!' Nate pointed to a thick clump of hedge, where a white t-shirt stood out in stark contrast against the surrounding dark green of the flax and shrubs. Our youngest daughter hovered anxiously.

Nate pulled the car over, careful of our wee girl. Her arms were crossed and she was rubbing them to try to generate warmth as the shivering of shock set in. Her knees and hands were slightly bloody from when she had fallen and grazed herself in her panic to get to us.

He leaped out before the car had completely stopped moving and gently scooped her little body up in his arms. She wrapped her arms round him and buried her dirt smeared, scratched and tear-streaked face in the familiar scent and security of his big warm neck.

'It's ok, Daddy's got you sweetheart. You're safe now.' He climbed into the passenger seat with Olivia as I jumped into the driver's seat and planted my foot. We couldn't yet see Allie's signal and I didn't want to waste time backtracking, but it would be far too risky to take Olivia with us. She would be safer at home with her grandmother.

'What's wrong honey? Where's your sister?' Nate whispered, and Olivia collapsed sobbing. 'There was a man, and ... and the horse fell off the hill, and ... Shirley ... Allie's gone to see if she's ok. I tried to stop her but ...' she babbled hysterically.

'Ok honey, it's alright. We'll find her.' He patted her back and looked at me serious and concerned.

We raced home so that her Nana could give her some tender loving care. Heather met us halfway down the driveway. We passed Olivia into her arms, and then tore off down the village road.

Allie's GPS signal suddenly became visible. It was heading away from Arrow Valley too fast to be on foot. We turned up the nearest road toward her signal.

'He's got wheels.' Nate said.

'If that animal has done anything to her ...' I didn't finish my sentence, but Nate could guess the end of it.

'Do you want me to drive?' Nate offered, trying to be helpful. I was shaking from fear and furious anger. No-one hurts my babies and gets away with it! He should have known better.

'No time!'

'Hun, you're shaking.'

'I'm not in shock ─ I just want to kill some bastard!'

'Oh, that's alright then,' he answered meekly, gripping the dashboard as my speed continued to increase to nerve-wracking levels. 'You may have to.'

Kyle prowled the kitchen like a tiger, itching to get in on the action. He'd been told to stay home and protect the women; he understood they needed protecting but he felt useless and wanted to actively do something. He wrenched open the front door and stomped down the steps.

Their little dog Cocoa hid shivering under the steps as Kyle vented his frustration, hurling and smashing random bits of renovating junk in anger. Overhead, a hawk called its shrill cry while searching the horizon for small prey. Kyle paused watching, contemplating.

For a brief moment the world went strangely quiet as though hit by a mute button. Suddenly he was bizarrely thrown off balance as though he was drunk. He grabbed the fence railings for support. Looking around he saw power lines – usually inanimate objects ─ shaking like saplings in the breeze. The whole effect was nauseating but slowly stopped.

Cocoa crept timidly out from beneath the step, crawling along on her belly; tail tucked submissively behind her rump. She pressed her nose to Kyle's leg, begging protection and he scratched the poor frightened dog's neck, 'It's ok now girl.' He straightened up, and firmed his mouth in determination.

'Bugger this shit!' He decided it was better to disobey than stand around useless; he wanted to help.
16

Don't Mess With Mama

Broken white lines blurred into a long solid one with the speed we were travelling and the sky darkened as dusk rolled in. Trees lost all gaps and became just a blur of orange and green. Our stomachs rose and dipped as the car briefly left the tarsealed road over hills and rounded the bends with a frighteningly quick pace, but there was no way I was losing control of it. We had to get to Allie and bloody fast.

Up ahead, smoke was rising from several spots in town to mingle with the dark looming clouds above. To my disgust angry tears escaped my eyes and as if in sympathy the rain began to fall, making our pursuit even more perilous.

After what felt like a painfully long time, but was probably only a few minutes, we came to the small township of Scottsville. It was unrecognisable. The place looked like a warzone. All around there were fires burning from looting and vandalism. Power-poles lay, knocked down with cars crashed into them and broken lines sparked periodically. Everywhere I looked there were smashed windows and dead bodies of the poor villagers who had resisted and tried to defend their homes and supplies.

An old guy in a wheelchair was speared to his seat, his Rottweiler shot dead in front of him obviously in the path of trying to protect his master. The smell of early decomposition lingered around the old guy's green-tinged, swelling corpse. Nate swore to himself, his anger rising.

My anger and fear grew with each heartbreaking scene. We drove slowly and I noticed a lonely doll lying abandoned in the middle of the road, but there was no dead body near it. Did the little girl who loved it get away safe?

A little further on, a woman lay in a shop front corner, curled in on herself, alive but seemingly numb and in a trance-like state from terror, clothes torn and bloodied between her legs.

'They'll probably be in the pub.' Nate said. He must have been reading my mind as I was already heading in that direction. Before long the old blue building came into view. Desperately trying to fight the rising panic, I slowed the car so as not to announce our arrival, and turned into the carpark.

'Be careful Gen.' Nate kissed me.

'Ditto,' I replied.

Images of Allie ─ from baby to toddler, from preschooler in a bridal dress-up outfit she loved to wear each day, to schoolgirl with front tooth missing and little lime-green suitcase, to the present beautiful young lady she'd become ─ flashed through my mind in seconds. I was much too angry to feel scared; my own death didn't frighten me as much as someone hurting one of my kids.

Clasping our guns, we split up and I crept round the front of the faded weatherboard building. Nate took the back. We could hear voices through a broken window. Fortunately their rowdiness meant they neither noticed nor heard us.

What I saw made me almost drop to my knees in shock. Allie was lying on a table, each arm held by a different man. Blood streamed from her nose. She appeared to be only unconscious ─ I hoped. Her dirt-stained pink top was ripped and part of one small breast visible. One man was pulling at her jeans to get them free while another disgusting creature stood at her feet; pants unzipped and stroking himself with a lascivious smile on his face.

There were others doing the same as they stood round the room, presumably waiting for their turn, laughing at my poor, defenceless child.

Their festivities were rudely interrupted by a loud bang that echoed in the rafters. Their faces took on a confused look. The man who had been about to rape my baby looked in stunned horror at the place where his hand was no more; neither was his penis. Instead in its place, was a bloody red stump. A red puddle was growing on the floor. Then, he screamed.

I looked at my pistol and released the trigger I didn't recall pulling. All hell broke loose inside the pub. A man in the corner, the only one in view with a gun, belatedly realised what had happened and was too late to avoid the bullet hole Nate put between his eyes. The rest ran panicked in all directions, like a nest of ants kicked over – all except the one I'd shot; he was on his knees in the large red pool, cradling his stump and crying over his missing hand.

I smashed the remaining broken glass in with the butt of my pistol and jumped in the window.

'Gen!' Nate called in warning from the back door.

Out of the corner of my eye I caught a movement and before I could determine friend or foe, instinct made me shoot.

It was lucky I did, for there were no friends here. Another gunman had me in his sights. My bullet hit him in the stomach as he fired, and his shot went awry. He dropped his gun, clutched his middle and fell down behind the bar. It would likely be a slow, painful death from infection. I hoped so; I felt no remorse at all for any of them.

Nate scanned the room from the back foyer and seeing no obvious threats in his range of vision, entered the room. Then to his right he saw a man sliding along the wall, heading for the window. The man grunted in surprise and was too off-guard to block Nate's gun butt falling swiftly to club him in the face. The remaining men froze unsure of what to do now, as their leader was expired face down on the blood-soaked grey carpet of the bar room floor.

'Anyone else here feel inclined to dishonour my daughter?' Nate's deep, angry voice threatened. The room was silent.

Allie groaned and moved her head from side to side, coming round.

Thank God I thought, and ran to help her. The gang stood bristling but I hoped their combination of inebriation, shell shock and fear would give us time enough to get my stunned, semiconscious Allie out to the car park.

Holding Allie up between us, we almost dragged her, weakened and wobbly as a newborn foal, across the carpark, heading to the Chrysler.

Nate cried out as an arrow penetrated his right thigh and he fell to one knee.

'Got the bastard!' someone yelled from inside.

I turned and, as the thug appeared in the doorway, fired several shots at him ─ terminally halting his attempts to reload his crossbow. No doubt, he had intended to put another arrow in Nate's back while he was struggling on one knee to rise.

I stood torn. I had to help them both but I wasn't strong enough to support Nate as well as carry Allie, who was almost larger than me.

'Go!' Nate yelled, sliding behind a brick wall of an old crumbled fireplace. 'I can hold them off till my ammo runs out. Get her safe and come back.'

I didn't want to leave him but I knew he was right; there was just no other way. I just hoped his ammo didn't run out too soon. I looked into his eyes, smudged with echoes of pain. I hoped this wasn't the last time I'd see that cheeky Irish sparkle.

He reloaded, muttering to himself as he did so. 'What kind of fucking cowards shoot old men in wheelchairs for Christ's sake?' He leant round the chimney bricks. 'Run!' he yelled and fired a few rapid shots to cover my back while I got our baby to the car.

I wrapped Allie up in the blanket in the backseat, to try to ward off shock, and belted her semiconscious body in. It was going to be a fast trip home. I grabbed my earphone from the dash. 'Mum, get the bike ready. I've got Allie. I'm coming home but Nate's hurt. I'll have to go back for him.'

'Ah, sorry can't do that love,' she answered.

'What? Why not?' I yelled almost at the end of my tether.

'Kyle's taken it, sorry. I tried but I couldn't stop him. He's coming to help ...'

'Shit!' I smacked my fist on the steering wheel. Bloody males, why can't they ever do as they're told?

The leaden sky hid the blurred trees from me this time as my mind tried to stay calm while the mother in me just wanted to hold my baby while she cried. But I didn't have the luxury of time for that.

In my mind, I ran through what I had to do in the next ten to fifteen minutes and tried to ignore the thought of what they might be doing to my poor darling Nate. The small speck of a single headlight appeared on the horizon, and then disappeared as the bike dipped in a hollow briefly, to reappear seconds later. The little bugger was going for it. I could just feel my hair turning grey.

I flashed my lights then pulled over in a safe place to wave him down. He slowed ─ thank God he'd had a lot of experience on motorbikes ─ and pulled up alongside the car.

He whipped off his helmet breathing fast. 'Mum, what ...?'

'No time to explain now! Just take the car and your sister; she's in a bad way. Watch your speed,' I warned him, giving him The Look. 'Get Nana to tend to her. Then grab the gun, load it and lock the doors. DON'T leave the house unguarded again. Do you understand me?'

He swallowed, nodding, trying to absorb everything I'd just thrown at him and handed me the helmet and jacket before he climbed into the car, briefly glancing in the back at his sister. Her face was buried in the blanket. An angry shadow came over his face; they were going to pay for this, those bastards, whoever they were.

'Where's Dad?' he asked as I equipped myself with more weapons and magazines from the boot.

'I've got to go back for him.' I whipped on the helmet and Kyle's snug bulletproof jacket. As I jumped on the Ducati, I once again mentally thanked my mother for her premonitions and forethought that had us make all these mad outrageous preparations for so long. 'Be careful.'

'You too,' he said.

We sped off in different directions, desperately fighting time to save our loved ones.

Slowly, slowly – watch the metal I warned myself. Wait ... Once on the tarseal, I let rip. I wrung the accelerator to full throttle. The back tyre skidded out sideways till it gained traction, then thrust me forward like a rocket. I was mindful of the white lines the rain had glossed over and glistened like opals in the moonlight; deadly opals that would take the tyres out from under me, smearing my bloody body down the road with the brutal efficiency of a food processor.

'Please let him be ok,' I prayed. 'Please, please God, don't let them kill him.'
17

Gallant Deeds

Drive it like you stole it, Gen, Nate said to himself, sheltering behind the old chimney ruin and recalling the good ole days before racing was banned as fuel ran short.

In pairs or singly, the vengeful but wary thugs began to emerge from the pub. They looked as though they were being pushed from within by comrades unwilling to risk getting shot. They still boiled with affronted testosterone in need of release.

Nate reached round the bricks shooting at them now and again, killing a few, wounding a few more; including one bright spark that managed to creep round behind him. Nate only just caught him in time.

He was losing blood steadily though and his vision was beginning to blur a bit. The arrow hurt like hell and had bled a fair amount.

Eventually he ran out of ammo, and thought stubbornly to himself, Oh well, I'm NOT dying on my knees!

Gathering up all his anger and courage, he grasped the stem of the arrow with both hands. He held the shaft firmly, close to the wound, and sharply snapped off the length, swearing with pain as he did so. Only a stumpy jagged bit was left protruding. He struggled to his feet with most of his weight on his good leg, fighting off waves of dizziness and the strong urge to pass out. A new assailant received the broken end of the arrow ... brutally jabbed into his eye.

Nate continued to punch and fight bravely but ─ weakened and outnumbered ─ more often than not, his punches met with empty air.

To his left he heard someone say something derogatory about his wife; with renewed anger and pure frustration he head-butted that someone in the face. Although the deterrent was effective, Nate, in his dazed state, had aimed too high and the impact got him square in the nose. He heard the crunch of bone and felt the warm spill of his own blood running into his mouth, with that faint metallic iron taste. His eyes watered too much for him to see, rendering him even more vulnerable.

With only the briefest moment of regret to wish he could've said goodbye to Gen before he died, someone clubbed him over the head from behind – and it was lights out.

Back home with Allie

The soft rocking motion, the hum of the car and the familiar scent of the woollen blanket wrapped round her, had cradled Allie in a safe nest. Knowing her mother had her, she finally relaxed and was lulled into the sleep her abused, aching body desperately longed for.

But when the engine hum abruptly rumbled to a stop, the silence was deafening. Allie's eyes popped open, and anxiety crept up her spine. A shadow fell across her face as the door beside her head opened. She looked eagerly for her mother's face, for sanctuary. But the hands that reached in were very large and masculine and she instantly recoiled with fright, having flashbacks of the cruel man in the bush that had captured her not so long ago.

How had he found her? She knew she had neither the strength nor courage to face it all again and screamed, hitting madly out at him, petrified. She half-climbed, half-fell out of the car as Kyle struggled to pull her gently to her feet.

'Allie, it's me, Kyle. It's ok. We're home now. Look at me, Allie!' he shouted, shaking his frantic sister, to get her to realise he wasn't the bad guy she thought he was.

As her screaming died down, he said softly, 'Look at me.'

Eventually his words got through and she stopped suddenly, breathing fast, heart going like a trip hammer ─ a startled rabbit in a trap. She gazed at his sad face for a long while, considering it, as though she had never seen him before. She looked down to his arms holding her shoulders gently and finally crumbled into him sobbing her little heart out.

Kyle enfolded his sister in his big arms and hugged her with all the love he could muster, wishing with every ounce of his being that by doing so, he could his soak up some of her pain.

He saw his Nana waiting patiently on the deck, not wanting to intrude on their moment, with Olivia standing beside her under her arm for refuge. After a time, Allie raised her head from Kyle's chest and looked around at the familiar sights of home. With legs like jelly, she walked with his support towards her family.

Heather helped settle Allie in her room while Kyle went to the gun safe. He took out the rifle and ammunition box, loaded the gun and locked the door as his mum instructed. Olivia was hovering in the kitchen, watching him, eyes tearful and looking scared and lost.

'They'll be back soon matey. How about you put on some of Nana's soup for when they do, ay?' he said, being unusually kind and mature to comfort her. He sat down in a chair by the front door, and looked out at the darkening valley with its forest of hidden perils. His thoughts drifted to his parents and what the future might mean if they didn't return and he was then left in charge ...

Well then, he thought to himself courageously, we'll just do whatever needs to be done, and vengeance will be mine.

Nate awoke to find his nose throbbing and so swollen he couldn't use it. He had to breathe through his mouth ─ which tasted like copper and dirt. His pitiful breath emerged as a small visible cloud as the chill night air kicked in. He couldn't take a deep breath, and he was sure his ribs were cracked. The world was currently just a thin slit through his swollen eyelids, and shifted from normal to double vision and back again in a most nauseating fashion.

His hearing gradually morphed into intelligible sounds and soon he could make out male-sounding laughter behind him.

He realised his hands were tied above his head, and he was lying on his side in the dust. His hands appeared tied to the tow-bar of a black van; and someone familiar-looking was walking to the driver's door.

He became aware of the sound of a motorbike in the distance ─ his Ducati maybe? But then again, that's probably just delusional wishful thinking, he told his subconscious mind, trying to convince himself that he was in very deep shit here ... and more than likely going to die in the next few minutes.

Gen ...

As I sped towards Scottsville, I tried to remember how many there were and what weapons they had. How much ammo did Nate have? How badly was his leg bleeding? Was it trickling or spurting out? If it was the latter he'd be dead before they got the chance to kill him, the cold rational part of my brain said. Well if he was going to die, he'd make damn sure to take a good number of them down with him. But, I would just as soon prefer that he remained alive, all the same.

As the blue pub with its peeling paintwork came into view, I didn't care if they heard me coming – this time I wanted them to. It might buy Nate a valuable few seconds he needed.

I slid the bike in sideways behind a row of trees and viciously slapped it onto its stand. Shadows were creeping up cold and dark from the ground as the light was failing. Everything was pastel-grey coloured. There was a black van round the corner by the car park with a group of scruffy-looking thugs standing around behind it; occupied with something on the ground at their feet ... something tied by a rope attached to the tow bar ... a bloodied, bruised body. My husband.

He wasn't moving.

Was I too late? Despair and sorrow washed over me like waves of surf. I felt lightheaded and slid boneless down a tree trunk to the ground, overwhelmed by fatigue, cold and shock. Despite the chilly temperature, numbness enveloped me like a mother's arms and I was tempted to just lie there and let them kill me.

But they wouldn't be that humane.

I glanced over at Nate, lying between only two of the original group now; the rest having grown bored with it all, were returning inside, probably looking to pilfer the contents of the bar.

I thought I saw Nate's leg move. There, it moved again ─ he was trying to crawl. Had he heard me?

Rage snapped me out of it like a slap round the face and adrenaline forced me to my feet. Why hadn't I just killed the fucking lot of them when I had the chance before?! I chastised myself. Because you had your baby to save and you're not a killer, Gen. Oh yeah, I argued with myself, we'll see about that!

In the black van sat a man with a horribly injured face that looked half-melted. He fired up and revved the engine, emitting clouds of oily-smelling black smoke. But, it coughed, spluttered and stalled ─ out of gas?

'Ha! You bastards, take that!' I vented to the inside of my helmet.

Then the van roared into life. 'Shit!' No time.

Everything seemed to happen all at once. I sprinted over to the rope with my tomahawk raised. The men looked up, confused. As their alcohol-sodden brains scrambled to catch up to this unexpected turn of events, they started to move towards me. I hacked down on the rope lying slack on the ground, severing it just as the van roared off, to disappear round the corner of the pub and out of view.

Without hesitation I swung the little axe up in an arc towards the man closest, catching him in the groin and spraying my visor with droplets of blood. As I straightened up, ridiculously considering whether I should bother removing the tomahawk, the other guy grabbed me in a bear hug round my chest and effectively pinned my arms to my sides.

I could still reach my pistol with my fingertips. Without pulling it out of my pocket, I manipulated my fingers through, angled the gun and pulled the trigger, shooting him in his right foot. As he hopped about in pain, I pulled the gun out and shot him again in the chest.

The gun had a silencer but some nosy sod was bound to notice something up eventually. I had no time to waste. I ran to get the bike. I had to get Nate out.

Off in the distance I could hear the roaring engine leading out of town. I chuckled to think of the black van flying down that road like a demon in a cloud of black toxic smoke, the driver unaware of the shredded piece of rope flapping in behind like a forked tail.

When I reached Nate and put the bike on its stand, he looked up at me. 'I can't believe you just did that,' he said, his voice hoarse and thick with blood and pain. His nose sounded clogged and looked as if it had been broken. He had blood all over his teeth, chin and front of his shirt. The soft drops of a rain shower, when had that started? were beginning to penetrate his clothes and a fine shiver was running through him like an electrical current.

It was a relief that he could move his head; a broken neck would've just made my day for me.

'Shh, help me get you on the bike, we're not safe yet.'

He nodded, and put renewed effort into rising. 'I'll try.'

'You're bloody well going to have to; I'm not leaving you here again.' I gave the powerful V-twin engine a rev up as some of the remaining men in the pub were just coming to investigate.

Nate, with frantic tugging from me, stiffly hauled himself onto his good knee, his face grimacing with the pain from his ribs and everywhere else.

Gritting his teeth as his weight bore down through the injured leg, Nate swung his good leg over the seat of the Ducati. The gang were getting too close. I grabbed the back of his jeans and tugged hard to haul him the rest of the way up. He uttered a strangled gasp at the resulting shift in his underwear, and clung on with a death-grip round my waist.

Several scruffy men were hurrying towards us now. I wrenched back the throttle. The back wheel spun out in a half-circle, slowly, due to the added weight of Nate.

'Leave my family ALONE!' I shouted, booting a gang member as he was trying to grab the handlebars. He stumbled backwards.

Nate let go of my waist with his left hand and ─ straightening his arm, fist clenched ─ coat-hangered another guy across his throat.

I weaved and dodged, hoping to Christ Nate wouldn't slip off. I glanced back to see his wounded leg dragging and quickly stopped to pull it up onto the peg. He cried out in pain, but had no choice in the matter; it was either that or he would arrive home minus half a foot.

Finally clear of the pub with its horrendous inhabitants and back on the main street I sped up. The rain was falling harder now and it was difficult to see the road clearly with my visor still blood-smeared, so I left it up. Sleet and frozen rain drops pelted on my cheeks like needles and I had to squint to keep them out of my eyes.

After a short while I could feel Nate's arms loosening slightly; it was possible he could lose consciousness again. I decided I'd better tie him to me with some rope from the saddle bag, for both safety and warmth. I knew the injuries and shock could kill quickly.

Once we were a reasonable distance away, I stopped in a rest area under some pine trees on the side of the road to check on his injuries; and also because I needed a hug ─ really badly. I slipped the bike onto its stand and carefully manoeuvred my leg off, leaving Nate balancing precariously on the back of the seat. Both his hands were holding the seat for support, and his eyes were closed. After removing my helmet I asked, 'Are you ok? Where does it hurt most?'

'Ha,' he laughed unconvincingly. His eyes opened slowly as he tried desperately to look alert. I examined the arrow wound.

He recounted how, while waiting for me to return, and amidst much pain and swearing, he'd snapped the shaft of the arrow off, leaving the arrow head embedded in the flesh. The wound was bleeding freely but at least it wasn't squirting out in streams.

With eyes shut once more, fighting off a fresh wave of dizziness, he said, 'How 'bout I tell you where it doesn't hurt – but that part of me is too cold to feel right now – that's probably hurt too.' A constant tremble was running through his entire body.

Never mind, not much to be done about that till we got home. I tore off the bottom half of my t-shirt and tied it firmly round his thigh to stem the bleeding a little. Urgent task taken care of, I threw my arms round him. He muffled his cry of pain as I squeezed him tight, tears of relief pooling in my eyes, as he tried to hug me back. I don't know who was shaking more, him or me.

'I'll be alright. You did good lass,' he whispered tenderly into my ear. 'But remind me to get you to pull my jocks out of my ass once we're off this bike, they're cutting off the circulation to the boys a bit.' He grimaced and tried to smile.

I smiled a little at that. After all, I reasoned to myself, he's probably not dying yet if he's still being a smartass.

Still, I insisted on tying a rope round us both for the rest of the ride, just in case. 'Come on, let's get home and see if Allie's ok.' I put my helmet back on, impatiently wiping it as clear of blood spatters as I could with my sleeve and rode off a little more calmly.

The rain had stopped and the moon's crescent shed a little light. The surrounding countryside was now just an eerie silhouette, but it was no match for the carnage we had just barely escaped.
18

The Devil's Advocate

The black van continued on its mad dash, rope flapping erratically, for a kilometre down the deserted country road before the driver recklessly fishtailed, skidded into the metal on the side and stopped.

Sid climbed out with a crowbar in hand and a smug grin on his face, expecting to see bleeding flesh hanging from the rope he'd tied. It came as a nasty surprise to see merely shredded rope lying in the dust and not a drop of red in sight.

'Arghhh! Fuck it!' he yelled and punched the side panel of the van repeatedly. Not satisfied with that level of venting, he proceeded to beat the panel a bit more with the crowbar. He climbed back in, sweating and steaming, and slammed the door a few times for good measure before turning the van round and roaring back towards the pub.

Upon arrival, his mood did not improve; finding their victim had disappeared and seeing the carnage Gen had left behind.

'Forget something, Sid?' A sarcastic Irish voice jeered, from the door of the inn. Leon was Sid's not-quite mate, yet accomplice in matters illegal and immoral. Leon laughed showing sharp pointed teeth, at the new dents in the side of the black van; evidence of Sid's anger at finding no bloodied prisoner behind him when he had finally stopped to check.

'Shut your face you — not a word or you're next.' Sid stormed past him into the bar.

'I was looking forward to some fresh meat,' Leon called after him. 'But noooo! You wanted a long, slow, painful death not a quick one. So you mucked around with that piece-of-shit van, and went and let him get away, didn't you? We could have grilled him up nice, right here in the car park. Now I got to settle for one of these smelly bastards.' He kicked the corpse of one of the fallen gang members on the tar-seal of the car park.

'Actually, I got a better idea for ya,' Sid's voice popped up disturbingly close to his ear, smelling strongly of bourbon with a freshly opened bottle in his hand.

'They'll know me, but they didn't get a good look at you before, did they? Oi ... where the fuck were you while all this,' his wave took in the surrounding scene, 'was going on anyhow, you plonker?'

'In the shithouse damn it. I always miss all the fun. Bitch wouldn't have slipped past me so easy. These drunken pricks deserved everything they got.' Leon looked at the dead with undisguised derision. Then he pulled out his own hunting knife and checked the edge for sharpness.

'So his woman came back?' Sid shook his head in wonder.

'Aye, she did. I just came out in time to see them take off on a mighty fine motorcycle,' looked in the direction they'd gone, possibly envisioning himself in control of that bike.

'Where the hell did he find a crazy bitch like that? Lucky bastard,' Sid laughed, grudgingly impressed.

He put his arm round Leon's shoulder but was immediately shrugged off; Leon was not comfortable with any man touching him. From his pack, Leon pulled a whetstone, spat on it and then began to sharpen his knife.

Sid shuddered at the snotty green globule slowly making its way down the stone, but continued undeterred, 'Anyhow, about this plan of mine ...'
19

A Dram to Dull the Pain

Arrow Valley

Relieved faces met us as we came up the driveway – but turned to concern when they saw the state Nate was in. With Kyle helping me to support him, Nate staggered up the steps limping badly. Unable to bend his injured leg, it dragged behind him like some dead animal. He had grotesquely swollen eyelids, and there was either blood or bluish-purple bruising covering almost every visible patch of skin. He looked quite hideous – only a mother could love him. Luckily mine did.

'How's Allie?' I asked Heather as we slowly made our way to the living room.

'She's sleeping love. She's fine.' My mother's smile had always worked magic; able to settle my nerves when trouble was about. I hoped I inherited at least that quality from her, along with the red hair.

'Get him up on the couch so I can see how bad he made them hurt him,' Heather directed Kyle. Olivia gasped in horror, and then covered her mouth with her hands.

'They shot him with a crossbow, that's why I couldn't get them both ...' I stopped talking, upset and thoroughly overwhelmed.

Heather patted my shoulder. 'It's ok hun. You did what you had to. You're all home now; it'll be alright love.'

'He broke the shaft off but the head's still in there,' I pointed out. We gently lowered him onto some cushions on the couch, and as Kyle slowly lifted the injured leg, Nate cried out in pain.

'Jesus, sorry Dad,' Kyle said, looking at the blood which was seeping through the makeshift bandage round his father's thigh. The sight made him feel wretched and inadequate.

Nate weakly raised his hand and patted Kyle's arm to show him he felt no ill-feeling towards his son; that he was still loved. Kyle looked about the room as though not sure where to put himself and then sat in a chair close by – eyes glued to his father.

The clock on the mantel ticked, a solitary sound in the silence. In the background was the distant crackle of wood in the fireplace. The room was blessedly warm and I was growing drowsier by the minute.

'Now let's see.' Heather frowned in concentration, and adjusted the lamp next to the couch so she had plenty of light. She took a hearty pair of garden shears and after cutting open the leg of his jeans to the waist, rapidly checked over Nate's injuries. 'Suppose we should be glad they play with their food before they eat it,' she looked up into Nate's poor swollen eyes, but he just grimaced, not in the mood right now to appreciate her humour. She felt his pulse, a little fast but steady and strong. 'Grazes all down his side and leg.' She looked questioningly at me, leaning tiredly against the doorframe and feeling as though I'd detach and slide down it any second, like a blob of melting ice-cream.

'He must have been dragged to the towbar,' I explained, my voice disappearing in a high sob as I gazed at my broken man. My sight blurred with tears.

Heather carried on with her inspection. 'No apparent broken bones – except maybe your nose – but you may want to straighten that one yourself...' He gave her a dirty look that she ignored and continued with her examination. 'How'd you break it?'

'On someone's face when the bastard insulted my wife!'

'Hmmph,' she chuckled to herself unperturbed.

He had a nasty cut to the back of his scalp she'd noticed as he came through the front door. She held his chin and turned his head away slightly. 'Do you remember how this happened?' she asked him, partly so she could determine how best to approach the gash as well as to keep him from passing out.

'I think some son-of-a-bitch bottled me. I was doing ok – holding my own with two or three of them but was out of ammo and then – well I didn't plan to break my nose on the bastard's face, did I?' He looked at Heather wryly, 'Next thing I woke up, hands tied and some prick kicking the shit out of me on the ground.'

He looked at the raw skin and rope-burn on his reddened wrists, before reaching up towards the tender spot in his scalp, but had to stop mid-reach as it caused flashes of searing, throbbing pain to shoot through his leg afresh. He felt like an insect that had been pinned to a board on the wall with a hot poker fresh from the fire.

Heather shook her head in disgust at the savagery of the so-called men in the village. 'Well the bleeding has slowed; that scalp will need antiseptic and stitching. But I think the most urgent problem here is this arrow wound in your thigh. You're very lucky it missed your femoral artery.'

I went over and knelt next to him, tenderly wiping a stray strand of dried blood-matted hair out of his eyes.

'How can you tell that?' he said casually, his voice muffled as he had his fingers across his eyes to block the lamp light.

'Because you'd be dead already if it hadn't,' she stated matter-of-factly as she pulled out a scalpel and various other items from her medicine kit, assembling them within easy reach on the table. Then she looked at me. I was obviously exhausted and sporting a few decent grazes and bruises of my own.

Adrenaline alone had kept me upright, and the shock could be hiding God-knows-what injuries from myself ... but now that we were out of immediate harm's way and I could rely on my mother's no-nonsense calm in the face of catastrophe, fatigue was dragging me down like a ship's anchor round my neck.

'He'll be fine love.' Heather rubbed my back soothingly as with a small child having nightmares. 'It looks worse than it is.'

'Kyle, go make your mum a hot cup of tea, and that pumpkin soup smells like it's ready now; how about you dish her up some. There's a good lad.' Tired but eager to help, Kyle was glad to have something to do and headed out to the kitchen.

A few tears began to trickle down the side of my nose with the release from stress – but I had to ask again,'You're sure Allie's alright then?'

Heather looked up from her instruments, 'A bit sore, bit shaken, but nothing too serious, thank God.' I opened my mouth to speak, but then hesitated thinking of young ears listening. Kyle was a little green and Olivia even paler, tucked away in the corner under a blanket avoiding all the turmoil. Heather saw my anxious hesitation and guessed what important injury I was wondering about. She whispered, 'I don't think any of them got into her.'

'Oh, thank Christ,' my whole body sagged with relief. Kyle was banging around with the teapot and cups, faithfully wanting to cheer up his distraught mother.

'I gave her a good dose of sleeping herbals and tucked her up with a hottie. She's sleeping, poor lamb.' Heather stood up with a popping of knee joints, patted my shoulder, kissed my cheek and with a warm smile sent me off to the kitchen. I plopped down at the table in view of the lounge through the doorway.

Olivia dropped the blanket and moved towards her father, then hesitated as if afraid of him, looking the way he currently did, but her love and concern overcame the fear. Breaking down into heart-wrenching sobs she rushed to her battered Dad as he stiffly raised his arms – painful injuries not withstanding – to embrace her.

'It's ok sweetheart. Daddy's ok.' She glanced at the angry dark-red entry hole where the arrow was embedded, then up into his rapidly-blackening puffy and bloodshot eyes, and fresh tears overflowed.

Heather emerged from the kitchen. 'How about you hold Dad's hand while Nana digs ...' she began, then realised he'd likely crush the poor little thing's hand. 'On second thoughts, how about you go have a hot cocoa with Mummy honey, and ask Kyle to help me with Daddy, hmm?' Heather encouraged her granddaughter kindly.

Reluctantly Olivia nodded and went to give Nate a final kiss, but settled for patting his hand awkwardly instead. His face was just too blood-smeared for her to bring herself to touch it. Head lowered and walking as though in a dream state she crept quietly off to the kitchen.

Moments later Kyle entered the room, and sat down on a stool next to his father looking as emotionally shattered as his little sister but shoulders set bravely for the task at hand.

'Here, this may help.' Heather handed Nate a small glass of whiskey, which he took gratefully. Kyle picked up the bottle and deftly swiped a sip then, unused to the strong burning spirit, coughed embarrassingly before returning the bottle. His grandmother smiled warmly, pretending not to notice.

Once the coughing stopped, he felt a warmth blossom from his stomach all the way up his throat to sear the back of his nose. His eyes watered, but the alcohol did seem to help steel him for the long evening ahead. He gained a little appreciation for why his father enjoyed the occasional 'wee dram'.

While he sipped the whiskey, Nate peeked over his glass watching Heather take two long leather belts and begin to strap his thigh to the armrest of the couch – well, that definitely seemed a bit ominous. He threw back the rest of his whiskey and held out the empty glass to his son for a quick refill.

He tried to focus on his son to distract himself from Heather's preparations for what he knew would be an extremely unpleasant business. 'Good work coming to help your mother tonight son, even if you don't yet have your licence.' He raised a brow in mock sternness at the boy, but then lowered it smartly as he found the gesture amplified the current pain in his skull.

Kyle looked a little sheepish but undeniably pleased at his father's praise. 'I had to Dad, it was driving me nuts waiting here and worrying about what the hell was happening in town.'

Nate made a sound that was almost a laugh, but before he could say the words, Heather beat him to it. 'Now you know how you make your parents feel sometimes worrying about what their offspring get up to while away from the nest.'

Then she turned to Nate and he could smell the sharp alcoholic fumes from the open bottle of antiseptic solution in her hand, reminding him unpleasantly of hospital rooms. She had a small brown object in the other hand.

'Here this may help too,' she said to Nate as she handed him a small strip of leather. It had a curved row of slight dent marks. He looked at her a bit confused. 'Well, you can crush Kyle's hand, too.' She smiled apologetically at Kyle who swallowed audibly and helped himself to another good swig from the whiskey bottle. He made a manly effort not to cough and embarrass himself again. Heather laughed, and nodded towards the leather strip. 'That will hopefully keep you from screaming and upsetting your poor little girl more than she already is. I'm putting some local in your thigh, but its old stuff so I'm not sure how effective it's going to be.'

He paled a bit at this, but placed the leather strip in between his teeth and tried to fix his eyes on something in the room to distract him from the coming pain. Old carriage-clock on the mantel above the large red-bricked fireplace; painting on the wall of two magnificent stags in a forest beneath a beautiful waterfall painted on black velvet; old piano made of some nice dark wood and a tall lamp with an embroidered shade and hideously gaudy flowers painted on it. The rug, with patterns and colours of red, brown and dark green, resembled vomit in his current mind.

'Just a little prickle now,' Heather said as she injected the local anaesthetic in close to the wound. 'Just give that a wee while to numb.'

Nate smiled and looked crossed-eyed at Kyle to try to lighten the mood, but it really was false bravado. He lay his head back on the cushion staring at the ceiling as seconds ticked by. The clock seemed to grow louder, taunting him. After an uncomfortably long few minutes, Heather loomed above him with a getting-down-to-business air.

'Ready?' Heather asked, scalpel poised above the arrow entry in his thigh.

'Nnnnh!' Nate muttered belligerently and grasped his son's hand firmly, and failing to find a suitable distraction that didn't induce feelings of nausea, he turned to the side and buried his face in the pillow instead.

Armed with the long-nose tweezers and a warrior's courage Heather said a quick silent prayer, took a deep breath and dug into the wound with quick and brutal efficiency.

Nate groaned deeply into the pillow, squeezing Kyle's hand hard. The anaesthetic may have taken the edge off a bit, but he could still feel immense pain. Although Kyle couldn't help but glance at the operation out of the corner of his eye, he repeatedly turned away sickened, only to have his eyes drawn back to the gory wound repeatedly.

Occasionally Heather used the scalpel to nick and slightly enlarge the opening. Fortunately, it wasn't too deep. She extracted the arrow head in less than ten minutes, although it likely felt like much longer to Nate, who failed dismally at keeping his leg still despite the straps. He lay panting with sweat streaming from his forehead, thinking the worse was over. Heather had anticipated the need for a bowl, and Nate grabbed it just in time to catch the vomit.

The wound would be a bacterial playground given that Nate had been dragged through potentially all sorts of nasty contaminants at the pub. A thorough antiseptic wash was absolutely necessary – and stung like holy hell. Dropping the leather strip, Nate let out a holler that the Pope in Rome himself would have heard, and sent everyone running for cover.

Nate was pale and dizzy with droplets of moisture beading on his brow. His heart-rate, which had gone through the roof during the worst of the procedure, was beginning to slow to a more stable level. Fortunately it looked like he would survive indeed.

'Oh thank Christ that's o ...' As he tried to sit up his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell back gracefully in slow motion like a felled tree.

'It's the body's way of trying to protect itself from such overwhelming pain,' Heather explained to Kyle who sat stunned with his mouth hanging open.

The big man had finally reached the limits of his endurance. Heather had expected this reaction and simply checked his pulse, which was reassuringly steady and strong, then chuckled quietly and gently patted his good leg.

She groaned from kneeling so long and readjusted her cramped old legs trying to get a bit of circulation going in them.

'A few stitches and we're all done,' Heather grinned unperturbed, as she swabbed the small amount of blood seeping out and taking advantage of his unconscious state, finished with a few tidy stitches. She gave him a shot of antibiotic in the thigh, bandaging it up with a nice healing compress of comfrey and mashed, softened garlic for added measure.

After covering him with the warm rug from over the back of the couch, she slowly rose with creaking and cracking bones and shuffled off a bit stiffly to administer some love and medicine to her other battle survivors, leaving Kyle to make sure his father kept breathing.

Kyle was understandably restless that night and got up out of bed to get himself a drink. Seeing his father awake, he joined him for a chat and to keep him company for a bit. He asked his father about the fighting, and Nate got the impression that Kyle was a little naive – although gallant – in his notions of fighting.

'Well knights were noble, yes, but in reality that's part of the reason

the evil bastards with no conscience kicked their asses a lot of the time,' Nate informed his sweet, innocent son.

'What? So there's no point in having honour these days?' Kyle asked with no hint of his usual sarcasm.

'Honour is all well and good ... if both sides have it. But if you're the only one acting honourably, then all you're really doing is giving an unfair advantage to your opponent mate.' Nate watched his son's face, giving him time to process the thought.

'Not sure I get what you mean?' Kyle asked.

'I mean that if you've already done your best to talk your way out of a situation, or to walk away, and it's come down to fighting ... all bets are off. You don't fight to make friends Kyle. If it's something worth fighting for, you fight to win! Can't be half-hearted about it. So if you're going to punch them ... do it like you mean it. Punch them like you're aiming for the back of the head.'

While he talked, Kyle noticed his dad kept wriggling.'You got ants in your pants?' he said cheekily to his Dad.

Pulling a sheepish smile Nate replied, 'Your mum gave me a killer wedgie back there getting me on the bike, and the bitch went to bed and forgot to pull it out.' He laughed, then leaned forward and said in quieter tones, with a face quite serious now, 'How much do you love me son?'

Kyle was considering whether he loved Nate enough to help him with his uncomfortable predicament when his mother saved him from answering at the last minute.

'Don't worry Kyle,' she smiled, 'the bitch is back.' Then she stared at Nate. 'I can't sleep without you, so we may as well both not sleep, together.'
20

Healing

After a damn good cry and a considerable intake of whiskey — neat — over the next week, wounds slowly began to heal, and a small degree of normality began to re-establish itself at home.

Nate had the distasteful task of straightening his nose. None of us had the stomach to witness this but judging by his green shade, it was as unpleasant as it sounded when he cried out from the bathroom.

We all hovered protectively round Allie, though as unobtrusively as possible. She put on a brave face, however she had begun to have nightmares, after her a traumatic experience. She insisted on sleeping with the slug gun beside her bed because of fears of being dragged off in the night.

Nate was full of fatherly concern for her and couldn't help checking on her before retiring to bed. One night as he limped up to her doorway, where the door was open just a crack, he heard a low, rumbling growl from her little furry guardian.

Nate hesitated, to allow Cocoa to smell him and recognise him so she would calm down before barking and waking up Allie. Cocoa this night however, was unsettled and her warning rumble grew even louder.

Annoyed at having to argue with the fluffy mop, Nate said, 'Shh dog its m ... ' He was stopped in his tracks by a stinging pain in his thigh. 'Oww, shit!'

Allie had panicked at hearing Cocoa growl. Before becoming fully awake, she had grabbed her slug gun, swung it from the bed in the general direction of the doorway and fired without aiming, pinging him in his left thigh.

Even though it was only a slug gun it was capable of inflicting a nasty sting if fired at close range, and he hopped around the passageway swearing to himself under his breath. Cocoa, feeding off the vibes of absolute terror running through Allie's body, ran at him barking threateningly, hackles raised and firmly attached herself to the hem of his jeans.

Allie was frantically trying to reload the gun in the dark with jittery hands but her fingers fumbled and dropped the pellet.

He dragged the dog to limp up to his hysterical daughter. He grabbed her urgently round the shoulders trying to wake her with the other hand restraining the slug gun at a safe distance. 'It's ok hun. It's only Dad. It's ok – I'm not going to hurt you.'

This only increased Cocoa's agitation and the dog proceeded to take a chomp higher up his trousers. He shook her off, beginning to lose his cool and Allie screamed, batting wildly at him with her hands until she fully awoke and realised who he was and what she had done.

Several others in the household, myself included, had rushed to see what all the noise was about and gathered in the hallway outside Allie's room. Nate waved us away distractedly; he had calmed the situation down a bit now, and wrapped his arms around his sobbing daughter.

Cocoa lay sulking resentfully in the corner with her nose on her paws. She kept her eyes on Nate, in warning.

Her dad held her and rocked her soothingly. He instantly forgave her, as she was still traumatised – because of men! And he should have known better. But his heart ached that she was haunted so, and he was helpless to stop the pain.

'I'm sorry Dad. I'm so sorry. I thought ... I thought ... ' Allie felt terrible because her father already had one wounded leg, and now she'd gone and hurt his good leg. Sitting on the bed with her head cradled on his chest and her arms round his middle he said, 'Hey, don't worry yourself hun. I've cut myself worse than this when shaving.'

Snorting a laugh through a runny nose, she saw a distorted version of her dad as the light from the hallway shone through the glistening tear in the corner of her eye. It trickled down her nose to plop on her hand. His heart melted seeing this; he lifted the hand and gently kissed the tear away.

His daughter's pain wrenched at his gut and the urge to seek vengeance boiled up inside but he slapped a lid on it, not wanting Allie to misinterpret who the anger was directed at.

'I'll make sure they can never hurt you again baby. Don't worry.'

There was no way I could sleep for worrying about Allie and the frustration of not knowing how to help her. There was no bandaid I could put on this pain; no foul-tasting medicine I could give her that would banish the boo-boos this time. Love, lots of patient love, seemed to be our only weapon ... I hoped it would be enough.

After a little time banging about in the kitchen with the first aid kit no doubt, Nate made his way to bed, tactfully giving Allie's doorway in the hall a wide berth.

'How is she?' I whispered to him, wrapping my arms round his torso as I snuggled up to his chilled skin and tried to warm him a little.

'Sleeping again, finally,' he said quietly. 'I'm such an idiot. I went to check on her to make sure she was all right, and she was until ... until I had to go and upset her.' I felt more than saw him run his hand through his hair as he did often when frustrated and look up at the ceiling as if the answers he searched for would be floating up there, like so many moths round a lightbulb.

'You weren't to know she'd do that,' I consoled him, fumbling beneath the sheets for his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

He turned to look at me. Lower down though I felt a faint nudge in my thigh from another part of his anatomy.

'Really?' I questioned him, the movement seeming at odds with his melancholy mood.

He shrugged, slightly embarrassed. 'Sorry. Damn thing's got mind of its own.'

It seemed Allie wasn't the only one in need of some healing of the love variety. I gently pushed him back against the pillows and climbed over him, cautious of his new tender wound, settling gently. He kissed me; partly in surprise and partly I felt, in gratitude.

If we couldn't help our daughter yet, at least we could help heal ourselves emotionally; and if it didn't take away the pain completely, for a short time at least, it helped us to forget it.
21

Puppy Love

Angus

30 June

In his sheltered glade of pristine native bush, Angus sat on a small three-legged wooden stool he'd made, hunched over a spinning whetstone. The whirring of the sharpening stone was a hypnotic balm to his nerves. He focused intently on the rhythm of the pedal and the angle of the blade as he ran it down the curved stone, again and again. Periodically he'd wipe the moisture off the blade with a cloth and lightly run his thumb across it to test the sharpness of the edge.

No. Not quite there yet. He'd hit the pedal once more, sometimes a little harder than he meant to. Focus, he kept thinking to himself. If he let his mind wander to Allie, and what those animals had almost ... if he thought about that, he doubted he could keep from heading into town and creating a bit of carnage of his own.

But the village needed him here. Allie needed him here.

He remembered how sweet and kind Allie was as a little girl when his parents had died. Allie had felt sad for him, standing alone by their caskets at the service. She'd come over to him shyly, held his hand and cuddled it to her soft innocent little cheek, giving him the strength to get through the service. He'd never forgotten it.

Having no other living relatives except an elderly grandmother, he'd been sent from foster home to foster home over the years and then to a military-type camp. There hadn't been a lot of contact between them since that time many years ago, but he had kept hold of that precious memory of Allie's innocent heart reaching out to his. The affection it generated had grown stronger over the years.

He gazed around his small property in the bush, from the stable he'd built for his horses, to the rounded cob-house Nate and a few other friends had helped him with. They had used straw bales, a clay-mud mix and whatever else they could beg, borrow, recycle or steal. The smoke rose in barely noticeable grey puffs from the long, black flue in the turf-covered domed roof.

He wondered what Allie would say if she could see his happy wee home. Probably laugh and find it amusing that a man who dresses like Rambo lived in a house that looked as though it were built by hobbits.

'Well then,' he muttered to himself. 'One should never underestimate a hobbit. After all, they were kicking orc asses long before Rambo decided to go bat-shit.'

He stopped the stone wheel to test the blade again. 'Sss, ah!' he snatched his thumb away, and a trickle of blood dribbled down his wrist. Yes, that should just about do it. He gave it a final wipe with his cloth. Sheathing the knife, he rose and looked above the treeline on the hilltops. The sky was a pale grey streaked with coral pink and flashes of light, resembling the inside of an oyster shell – must be almost dinner time.

He'd better go inside and wash up; he wanted to make himself presentable for when he paid Gen and Nate a call this evening.

'Remember lad, if my girl gets upset ... you will be minus some very important body parts!' Nate threatened Angus quietly

Allie came into the kitchen smiling and about to say something, before noticing Angus standing quietly by the doorway, rumpled brown leather hat in his hands held politely in front of his unusually clean and uncreased clothes. He looked excited but nervous. When she had entered, the most beatific smile spread over his face; like the sun had just come out in the form of this lovely, blond girl.

She looked from her father to me, growing suspicious. 'Ok, so what did I do this time?'

'Ahem,' Nate cleared his throat and took the proverbial bull by the horns. 'Wee Angus here ...'

Allie's 'Ha!' interrupted him. Wee was not the term she'd have used to describe the hulking young man that stood smiling at her.

Angus' smile dropped as he prepared himself for imminent rejection.

Nate looked sternly at Allie, and she knew he was mentally chastising her for interrupting and being disrespectful. She lowered her eyelashes, abashed, 'Sorry Dad, you were saying?'

'As I was saying, Angus has suggested to your mother and me a nice distraction for you, to get you out of the house and into the fresh air for a while.'

Allie took a deep breath ready to protest. She had been scared to leave the house ever since she'd been abducted, and used every possible excuse not to go outside. But we knew this couldn't go on forever, so Nate forestalled her.

'He has given us his word,' he looked sternly at Angus who nodded with sincerity, 'to keep you safe from harm and assures us that you will be pleased with his surprise. Are you up to it love?'

I chipped in trying to sound encouraging, 'Dad's right hun. It's not good for you to be cooped up in the house every day; got to get back out there some time. How about it?'

Allie must have felt like a mouse cornered with the cheese by two very large intimidating rats and one homely red-haired mouse. She looked from me, to her dad and finally to Angus. He looked so pathetically hopeful, like a puppy when it melts you with its big, brown eyes.

'Oh, all right then,' she sighed, tense shoulders dropping in resignation. She had also noticed Angus' mare standing patiently out by the porch. 'I guess I could do with some fresh air.' She grabbed a couple of small windfall apples from the bowl on the bench.

Angus could barely contain his happiness. He opened the door and nodded respectfully to us as he handed Allie her jacket. She took it reluctantly, looking back to us for encouragement, which we both gave in the form of a friendly shooing motion with our hands.

'Hello girl.' Allie gave Gypsy a small apple and patted her nose affectionately as the mare crunched it up merrily. She was grateful for the jacket. She knew the late afternoon's sun, although presently mild, wouldn't be up for much longer, and dusk and night's chill set in quickly up here in the valley.

Angus gave Allie a gentle leg-up into Gypsy's saddle. She was a quiet, solid chestnut mare with a white blaze on her nose. He took the bridle. He was so tall that his face was almost level with Allie's. He led her up the hill for a while, talking about general things to break the awkward silence.

Allie on the other hand, was not feeling quite as shy as Angus. Now that she had taken the first step out the door, so to speak, she was actually feeling rather excited about this surprise and had no problems in finding conversation topics.

'So, why do they call you crazy?' she blurted out, as it was something she'd been wondering for a very long time now.

As he opened his mouth to reply, they were distracted by a huge stag bounding across their pathway unexpectedly from the bush to the right. Gypsy shied a little in surprise but Angus held the bridle and calmed her easily with a pat and kind words.

'Oh, that,' he laughed, carrying on the conversation as though the stag running across was something that happened daily, 'just a stupid teenage stunt that some very conservative stiffs didn't like really.'

Allie gestured with her hand and raised her eyebrows to encourage him to expand on the story.

'Well, truth is ... I got drunk, some mates dared me to streak through the village at the farmers' market, and I did to impress some girl. I fell off the bank — not so good. I broke my arm and gained Crazy, without very good reason, along the way.'

'Oh dear,' said Allie. 'And was she impressed at least?'

'Who?' Angus replied, puzzled. Allie returned a look that said, you're kidding, right?

'Oh well ... no, she laughed, and thought I was a big, dumb dork and went out with my best mate instead.'

'Oh dear,' Allie smiled, thinking she probably would have reacted the same way before she knew the real Angus.

The sun was setting in a spectacular glow and at the same time the moon was high in the sky. It was a strange golden colour and seemed so close to the surrounding hills, she felt she could almost touch it.

She asked him how he knew her nana. He explained how one night, on the way home from the local pub, he had noticed something going on out in the MacGregors' yard.

'She had been dancing naked round those little standing stones of hers singing a chant when some nosey person walking their dog decided she must be bonkers and stirred up some local villagers to go confront her about it. They said something about devil-worship and sacrificing babies.'

'Really! My sweet little grandma? So what happened?' Allie was intrigued.

'Well. Your nana told them what she did in the privacy of her own back yard was her own business and she wasn't overly-fussed on eating babies, but could really go for a slice of middle-aged do-gooder round about now.'

'Haha. Yes that sounds like Nan.'

'So I told them they were blind, and didn't they learn anything at school? If they did, they'd know it was just a fertility dance to help her wee plants grow. Then your granddad came out the door and, seeing what was going on, casually rested his shotgun across his folded leg as he sat in the deck chair and put his hands behind his head, smiling.'

'Oh, I miss my granddad. I would love to have seen that,' Allie reminisced.

'Then Dave gave me permission to escort them off the property, with force if necessary, and that was that. We've been good friends ever since.'

The resins from the sun-warmed pines made the forest smell gloriously refreshing, and the babbling creek that criss-crossed their path occasionally was very relaxing as well. But as it turned to dusk, her comfortable feelings started to evaporate. She was getting anxious with flashbacks creeping into her thoughts.

Finally they stopped. He gently lifted her down, and put his finger to his lip to silence her, then pointed down towards the creek. He helped her climb carefully down a small bank, with his hand comfortingly on her arm in case she fell, to where a shallow creek ran slowly.

She closed her eyes briefly, inhaling the wonderful fresh smell of the spray of water gurgling past and the damp earthy smells from the bank. When she opened her eyes, she saw them. On the bank of the creek was a twinkling curtain of tiny lights – the lights even twinkled behind the shimmering miniature waterfall that sprang from the rocks above.

Allie looked at Angus, and a rewarding smile of wonder lit up her face. 'What are they?' she whispered. A few of the lights near her went out.

Angus put his finger to his lips again and took her hand. He led her away a short distance to sit on a huge fallen treetrunk so they could speak. 'They're glow-worms. Have you never seen them?' he asked.

'No. I had no idea they were here. I've heard of them, but I never knew we had them in the valley.' She stared back at the bank, which was lit up like the starry sky. So close you could touch them, but wouldn't because that would end the spectacular display they put on each night.

They stayed for a while longer, until a low growl from Allie's stomach reminded Angus she hadn't yet had her dinner. They both giggled as almost all the lights went out on the bank, then quietly crept away to leave the remarkable little bugs to themselves.

Once back on the horse Allie thanked Angus for showing her the glow-worms. 'Well,' he said, 'you've had a hard time of it lately. I just wanted to do something nice for you.' He dropped his head shyly; he wasn't good at mushy talk.

Allie pulled the reins and the horse stopped. Angus looked up at her and was about to ask why, when she leant over to him and gently planted a warm kiss on his night-chilled cheek.'Oh,' was all he could manage, but as he shyly lowered his head again, hiding his smile beneath the shadow of his hat, she was almost certain he was blushing.
22

Family Ties

'So ... what was the big surprise?'

I'd been fairly certain Angus wouldn't deliberately upset my little girl, but still felt a little separation anxiety letting her leave with him that night. However, my fears were unfounded. She had returned pleasantly uplifted and looking more at ease than she had in weeks..

'Oh Mum,' she confided to me, absolutely exuding girlish excitement, 'did you know we have glow-worms out here? They are just beautiful.' She beamed as she wiped a plate dry with the tea-towel and placed it in the cupboard.

'Well, I meant to take you kids to see them some time. I got too busy to fit it in. Sorry hun.' Doing the dishes together gave me the chance to observe Allie and find out how she was doing, without her feeling too embarrassed and awkward.

'Hope our Angus was on his best behaviour was he?' I looked over to see her reaction. She blushed a little and tried to hide the small smile that was stealing over her face.

'He actually really surprised me Mum. He was ... Well, not like I thought he'd be at all, to be honest.' She struggled to find the words.

'What do you mean?' I prodded.

'Well, he was actually really kind and sort of ... sweet almost,' She laughed nervously as though this was a most ridiculous occurrence. 'Did you and Dad know where he was taking me?'

I pulled the plug to let the water drain and popped the kettle onto the coal-range for a cuppa. 'He was very old fashioned about it all. Came over the other night, all hair brushed and tidy like, to ask your Dad and me if he could have permission to take you to see something really special not far from here. He wanted to cheer you up a bit after what happened. He really seems to care about you hun.'

Allie looked surprised, but definitely flattered by this revelation.

'I talked it over with Dad when he'd gone, and your grandmother vouched for his integrity, so we told Angus we thought it was a lovely idea, as long as you had no strong objections.' Allie's silence was concerning. 'Or were we wrong in supposing that?'

Allie fidgeted and shrugged, working out what she wanted to say. 'It's just ... well he's so hairy and big, and male-smelling you know?' She looked to me for an answer; some understanding.

'You mean like your father is, and your brother is making every effort to be?' This lightened the mood a bit. Kyle had been trying for years to grow a reasonable beard or even just a moustache, but all he'd managed so far was a bit of peach fuzz.

'It's different with them, they're my family. With Angus, he's kind to me and everything but ... well I feel mean saying this, but the way he looks, he reminds me of them.'

I knew exactly the them she was meaning.

'Well then, perhaps that's not an entirely insurmountable obstacle.' I hugged her close, the seed of an idea growing in the back of my mind.

Kyle...

His lips pressed tight and his muscles stretched taut as a bowstring as he pulled himself up, slowly but surely, to rest his chin on top of the bar. He glanced down to see his biceps bulging noticeably and the sweat glistening in the shadowed curves. Lean as a rabbit. The last few months of hard training with Angus were definitely starting to pay off.

Olivia had been hanging back in the doorway, unobtrusively watching her brother working out in their home gym in the garage. He knew she was there of course, and she didn't give a damn that he knew; after all, there was bugger all he could do about it at present.

He exhaled as he lowered himself and was able to take a quick breath before he spoke quickly, 'What do you want?' Then his muscles contracted and breathing in deep, once again, he hauled his twelve stone of adolescent glory back up to rest his chin on the bar.

'Bet you couldn't do that with me hanging on to you?' Olivia teased.

He lowered himself and breathed out again, never one to pass up a challenge. 'Bet you I could,' he rattled off quickly.

Challenge accepted, Olivia rushed up behind him and wrapped her slim arms round his waist, like a monkey clinging to its mother.

He had no choice but to do it now, so summoning all his available testosterone, Kyle gripped the bar tightly, white-knuckled, and took a deep breath. Slowly but surely he lifted himself and his giggling little sister up till his chin passed the bar once again, triumphantly. Showing off even more, he managed to squeeze out a quick 'See told you,' before quickly lowering them both again with an explosive release of his breath.

'Me too. Me too.' Allie had come in and was threatening to add her considerable size to the resistance.

Kyle stifled his groan — because of course his sisters thought he was Superman and the challenges they set, and he usually achieved easily, only confirmed their theory — and as Allie grabbed on to both Olivia and him he went to lift them both.

He might have had to admit defeat. However, he had lost some weight with his stringent exercise regime; gaining muscle of course but not round his hips, which were supposed to be holding up his jeans. With the girls pulling on him, the jeans began to slide lower, further and further downwards, until bashfulness overcame his desire to win. He let go of the bar, causing them all to tumble laughing hysterically to the padded mats on the floor, where he proceeded to ruthlessly tickle the pair of them.
23

Scythe Justice

Water droplets hissed and steamed as they danced across the hot surface of the stovetop. 'Keep an eye on those veggies for me hun; I'm just going out to feed some hay to my girls. Ok?'

'Sure Nan, no probs,' Allie said as she rubbed calendula cream into the almost-healed grazes round her wrists. Olivia and Kyle were at the hall with their parents for another meeting to make more plans for the safety of the village. Allie couldn't face a crowd just yet, even if they had good intentions.

Heather's prized Highland cows were already mooing in anticipation of their evening treat. 'Greedy buggers,' she said under her breath. 'They haven't even seen me coming yet and they're calling out.' She cut the baling twine and pulled off a sizeable chunk of sweet-smelling hay but a niggling thought was forming in the back of her mind. The cows only called out when they saw someone coming.

Rounding the corner, she reached her conclusion seconds before her eyes confirmed it. There was someone; actually two someones about ten metres away, and one of them was slowly raising a gun to point at the head of one of her beloved babies. He was about three metres away from the cow, who expecting a feed of hay and having no reason not to trust humans, was wandering over towards the gates placidly ignorant of the danger.

Heather's first impulse was to grab the nearest weapon and attack. That's a bit drastic, her brain tried to reason. She argued back, We're alone here, Allie and me. The others are in the hall, preparing to protect the village from the trouble to come. Poor Allie was almost raped by bastards like these and Gen and Nate killed to save her. Kill or be killed! That's what it's come to. These thoughts all flashed through her mind in a matter of seconds, and she decided.

Grabbing the scythe she had bought for Kyle off the wall of the barn, she strode purposefully towards the man with the gun. The other man had his back to her; he seemed to be urinating on a tree. The gunman was so focused on his prey that he didn't notice her approach, until too late.

Her last step cracked a twig and as he turned toward her she struck hard at his neck with the razor-sharp scythe. His head left his shoulders, face contorted in surprise, leaving the body standing motionless in a strange parody. His finger squeezed the trigger in the shock of sudden death.

'How the fuck did you miss at that close range?' His mate yelled before he turned his gaze from the cow and saw his companion's decapitated body on the grass in a spreading pool of red, with its hot copper-tinged scent.

Heather stood frozen, staring at the body. She had never been a violent person; never deliberately hurt any living thing. A sudden crippling pain to the side of her head banished further thought as her world went black.

The other guy, enraged, had lifted the butt of his gun and savagely slammed it into Heather's head. He was about to finish her off with a bullet when he heard a high-pitched scream. Allie, drawn by the shot, was on the veranda panic-stricken.

Heather's cow, having seen her beloved owner so brutally attacked, went berserk and charged the gate to get to the man. He looked round when he heard the mad cow bellow, and jumped back instinctively but the strong steel gate held.

Allie, trying to force down her fear, ran inside and instinctively grabbed her cross bow from where it hung inside the door. She slowed her breathing and, from the safety of the doorway, aimed at the stranger pointing his weapon at her grandmother. The first arrow caught him in the shoulder and he dropped his gun crying out in pain. As he looked up she shot him again. This time she got him in the throat and he fell to his knees, spurting blood.

She aimed again and waited for him to move. She hoped that the last shot was fatal.

She went inside, shaking with reaction and frantically went from room to room, wondering how to help Nana. She couldn't ring her parents; they were at the hall and there was no reception there. Crazy Angus was closest. She hesitated, the briefest of moments. There was no choice. She found her earphone in her room on her dresser and called him.

Unbeknown to Allie, Angus had been keeping a very close watch on her. He could not bear the thought of anyone else hurting the young lady he cared so much about. Despite running late for the meeting, when he'd heard gunshots nearby he decided to check on the farm to make sure Allie was ok – any excuse was good enough to visit her, after all.

'Crazy ... Ah, I mean Angus? Are you there?'

A deep voice right behind her said, 'Who are you calling crazy?'

She spun around; heart lodged somewhere up around her tonsils and clutched her chest. 'Don't you ever bloody well knock?' she demanded angrily. Her nerves were long past breaking point.

'Oh, sorry, knew I forgot something,' he said, chastised. Ridiculously, he tip-toed back to the front door in his holey socks, having been courteous enough to remove his dirty boots at the door. He knocked on the open door, grinning like an overgrown school boy.

Exasperated, Allie sighed shaking her head in irritation, 'Ok, I really don't have time for this. I need your help. Nana's hurt, follow me.'

Angus quickly grabbed his boots and shoved one of them back on, then hopped along trying to put the other one on, before running to catch up with Allie. They headed out the back, and Allie diverted her eyes away from the grisly headless corpse on the ground not far from her grandmother.

'Your gran been doing a bit of hunting I see,' Angus stated matter-of-factly.

They could see the man facedown in the dirt near Heather. He was lying in a pool of red with the arrow protruding from his neck.

'Oooh,' Angus grimaced and looked at Allie. 'That's your work I take it?' But Allie ignored Angus and focused on her grandmother. She knelt beside Heather's unmoving form and stroked her freezing cold hands. 'Nan, are you OK? Please Nan, don't die on me. I need you.' Tears trickled down her nose and plopped on Heather's hand as she looked at the huge blue bruise rising on her grandmother's temple and blood trickling from the side of her forehead. There was no response. Allie turned to Angus, 'Could you carry her inside for me?'

Angus easily scooped up the small woman as gently as though she were a feather, carried her into the house and deposited her on the couch. Then Allie covered her with a warm blanket. A small moan escaped the old woman's lips as Allie placed a soft pillow beneath her head. 'My babies,' she muttered.

'Thank you Angus.' Allie touched his arm as he passed. He looked down at her.

'Any time, glad to help,' he said quietly choked up. He turned to look at Heather, very concerned. 'You going to be alright? She looks pretty bad.'

Allie wanted to say, 'No, of course I'm not alright! None of this is alright!' But she felt on the edge of crying and didn't want an audience, and there was not a lot more he could do to help, even if he stayed. So she shrugged and said 'We'll have to be.'

'Well, if you don't need me any longer Allie, I got something I got to go do for your ma.' He stood there feeling a bit hopeless, then added, 'I'll come back and check on you as soon as I can.'

Allie nodded without looking up, as tears pricked the edge of her eyes. She dabbed Heather's head with an antiseptic solution. She was vaguely curious as to what it was that her mother had asked Angus to go do and why it was so important, but she didn't have time to query it now.

Heather moaned and moved her head side-to-side, coming round a bit. After a sip of water, she screwed up her face, 'Got anything stronger love?'

'Do you really think that's a good idea Nan?'

'I didn't ask if it was a good idea,' she said irritably, raising an eyebrow that spoke volumes. Allie went to get the brandy decanter. Heather sipped with Allie's help; the amber liquid sliding down her throat and blossoming a pleasant warmth.

'Who were they Nan? What happened out there?'

Heather winced as she moved her head to face her granddaughter.'Damned if I know. Raiders? But they were going to hurt my babies.' Then she asked quickly, 'Did they? Are my cows ok?'

'Yes, yes Nan. They are ok. Don't worry.' The raiders however, were a different story.

'Ah, that's my girls. When you're able to, make sure someone goes to get his gun Allie, we're going to need it.' She winced again, this time because of a blinding pain in her head. It felt like it was about to explode.

'Take it easy, Nana.' Allie was very worried. Her grandmother had taught her a bit about herbal remedies and basic first aid but she had the feeling this was way out of her league. She wondered how long it would be before her mother got home.

Heather lifted her head for another sip, but the blinding pain in her head was getting rapidly worse, so she lay back again.

Allie looked at her eyes and noticed that one pupil was strangely growing larger than the other one. 'Nan, is something wrong with your eye? The black thing is bigger on this side.'

Heather closed her eyes and racked her memory for what she'd learned as a nurse. This could mean her brain was swelling ... needing surgery ... not a good sign. She swallowed, fighting back the rising panic. When she opened her eyes again she caught Allie's worried look, and her heart sank. Her granddaughter didn't need to deal with this. She had to send Allie away; she didn't want her any more traumatised than she already was.

'Honey, I need you to go to the cave and get something for me. It's a book ... a big one, with a brown leather cover. It's right down the back, under the mill I think. Can you do that for me?'

Allie was suspicious, 'Wait a minute; I know what you're up to. You're trying to get rid of me because there's something really wrong, aren't you?'

'Don't be silly love. You can't kill weeds. There might be something in the book that can help. Go on. There's a good girl.' She squeezed Allie's hand, weakly and tried to smile reassuringly.

Allie would never defy her nana so, although still suspicious, she squeezed her hand. 'Ok. I'll be back as quick as I can. Don't fall asleep ok? Try to stay awake until I get back'

'I promise,' Heather said trying to ignore the growing pressure in her skull that was making her eyes see black spots. 'Quickly love; off you go now.'

The key to the cave was kept in the herb cabinet in the kitchen. Allie grabbed it, put on her boots and ran down the narrow track down the side of the farm to where the small hillock was and the old door hidden by thick manuka bushes.

After recent events, she felt very jittery being outside alone. But the paddock where the cows were, was now peacefully quiet – no sign of the earlier disturbance.

She looked around out of habit to make sure there was no one about to see the secret supplies cave. It hadn't been swept in a while and there were cobwebs in the corners. Allie flicked on the solar powered lights.

Down the back by the mill, Nan had said. Bloody hell, it would be wouldn't it? Allie had to squeeze and climb through twelve metres of stored supplies and equipment to get to the mill. She wondered as she clambered through the dusty room, if she might come across any of her old toys amongst all this rubbish.

After clambering over and around countless dusty wooden crates and cardboard boxes she did come across one of her old toys; a doll with blond hair like hers and red ribbons in both pony tails. This doll in particular was a favourite of hers. No time for reminiscing now though. She popped it back in its box and hurried on.

To her disappointment, when she finally got to the back of the cave she found the shelf beneath the mill was empty. 'Nan must have been hit in the head harder than I thought,' she said to herself and the realisation increased her urgency. Nana was badly hurt; she couldn't be left alone too long.

Frantically Allie scanned the shelves and the area surrounding the mill. She was growing more frustrated by the minute. She kept searching the cave for another half an hour when suddenly a thought hit her: the book Nana was talking about was not in the cave at all. Allie knew this because a few years ago she'd seen Nana writing in it when she went in to show her a new doll. Nana had closed the book – a brown leather one with a star in a circle on the cover — and slid it under her bed before making a fuss over Allie's new doll.

Being so excited about the doll at the time, the book itself had completely slipped Allie's mind. And Heather had made quite certain never to let the children see the book again since that time.

Allie realised with horror that Nana had sent her on a wild goose chase. She had done exactly what Allie suspected she was trying to do. 'Oh God,' a feeling of dread washed over her as she scrambled and squeezed back over the boxes, tripped up and banged her shin on a wooden crate, swore loudly and half-limped, half-ran out the door leaving it unlocked. She ran all the way back to the farmhouse and inside without even bothering to take off her boots.

Heather lay face down on the rug beside the couch. Brandy fumes filled the air. She had knocked the glassful Allie had left from the coffee table to the floor, in the seizure that had gripped her body from the pressure and bleeding in her brain. Fumes rose from the now-empty glass and floor.

Crouching beside her Allie cried, 'You promised not to die on me Nana, you promised. You can't kill weeds — you told me so.' She pushed Heather gently onto her back, noticing how much colder she felt and how pale her freckled skin had become. Her eyes were unnervingly open and stared straight through her. Nana was gone. Allie buried her head in Heather's chest and sobbed, clutching at the familiar scent of chamomile and scones from her cardi.

Finally, feeling thoroughly exhausted, she sat up slowly and gently closed her Nan's eyes. She leant forward and planted a feather-soft kiss on the dear old lady's head. She had heard someplace that the hearing is the last to go and so hoped she could still be heard. 'Goodbye Nan,' she whispered, 'I love you. I will miss you so much.' She pulled the blanket up to cover the still form; the warmth was of no use to Heather, but the gesture helped Allie feel a little less helpless.

After a while she remembered what she had been sent away for. She jumped up and ran to Nana's room, hoping like hell her grandmother hadn't moved the book. Down on her knees she reached her long arm under the bed and groped around. Something small and many legged scurried across her fingers. She let out a yell and then told herself that she had worse problems to worry about than arachnids, and tentatively resumed feeling around under the bed until her fingers came in contact with a large leather book. Stretching her finger tips with a little difficulty she dragged it out.

Suddenly the house was shaken by a reverberating Boom! that shook all the crystal glasses in the cabinet. The earth began to shudder beneath her feet. Allie wondered seriously if maybe Hell itself had decided to open up a new outlet in Arrow Valley.
24

The Last Straw

A heavy mist shrouded the snow-capped mountains and the sky was a concrete grey; now embellished by a cloud of smoke which rose like a ghostly wraith above the southern pass.

The loud boom followed by yet another small quake compelled us to return home promptly, aware something serious must have occurred for Angus to have blown up the pass — the backdoor to the valley. Angus had agreed, that if things got worse and it was likely intruders were coming, to destroy the cliff overhanging the old road from the village, destroying access from that direction and leaving us only the one road to concentrate on if invaded.

Our arrival at home was an immense relief to Allie. But the heartache was just beginning for me, and I immediately ran to my mother's side, followed closely by Olivia, Kyle and Nate.

There was a long period of crying and later questions, which Allie did her best to answer. She told us of the men and Nana's brave fight and of Angus helping her. Then how Nana had still tried to spare her pain by sending her away when she knew she was going to die. Finally, she showed us the book.

It was exactly as she remembered it; a star encircled on the front of a very old, cracked and faded, brown leather cover. She opened the cover and a musty smell wafted off the page. It read:

If you are reading this my darlings, then either I am dead, or you're going to be for snooping under my bed  Sorry, bad taste of me, no time for joking now is it...

We all looked at each other in ironic acknowledgement of Heather's warped sense of humour.

Oh how fondly I remember the time you came to live out here in the country with me. You were such townies. Until I said I had a job for you, and got you to sit on that folded netting on sacks while I dragged you round the paddock behind the tractor spreading the manure. Boy you three were a sight! All covered from head to toe in cow shit. But the smiles on your faces after you hopped off made me believe you were going to handle it out here in the sticks after all. And you will my darlings, you will. I have great faith in you, all of you.

It was all too much and I flew, distraught, to the kitchen to be alone. I slammed the door, which caused a picture to fall from the wall nearby, glass shattering on the floor. My mother's death was the straw that broke the camel's back, on top of all this other horrible shit I had had to shoulder and I'd reached my limit. Once alone, I slid down the cupboards to sit on the floor and cry.

After a short while, Nate came tentatively in to see if I wanted a cuddle yet. 'What do you want to do hun?'

'Ha!' Not a real laugh, I looked up at him with red-rimmed puffy eyes, face drawn with the stress of the past weeks. 'Honestly? Take the grocery money and the next plane to anywhere, one way ticket.'

'Can't say I'd blame you babe. Would miss you a bit though.' He smiled, his kind eyes full of concern.

I had my head buried in my hands, elbows resting on my knees but looked up at him, a bit calmer since he'd come in. 'Can you make her a nice casket?'

He nodded.

'We'll have the funeral the day after tomorrow.' I slowly rose from the floor, wiping my eyes and squaring my shoulders to just suck it up, and soldier on.

I lay my hot, tear-streaked face against the cool windowpane and watched Nate walk forlornly towards the barn. Not long afterwards I heard the quad-bike roar past and down the drive, as I went about the heart-wrenching business of cleaning up my mother's body.

When Heather lay peacefully, wrapped in a clean linen sheet, sprinkled with thyme and other sweet-smelling herbs from her garden as per her final wishes, Allie helped me shift her to her own bed to wait until the casket was built.

'Where'd you go with the quad-bike?' I asked Nate when he returned.

'Phillip's. Had something nasty to dump in his offal pit,' he said, with eyebrows raised.

'Oh', I replied, understanding, as I recalled the horrific scene out by the barn.

'I'll go make her a pretty box then,' he said nodding towards the still figure down the hall.

'Thank you.' I kissed him lovingly, hugging his waist and resting my head on his chest for physical and emotional support, and tried to smile, 'And Nate ... no race cars or anything, just a nice plain box, ok?'

I could feel the chuckle rumble in his chest, as he rested his head on top of mine affectionately.

Heather's artist friend Marty who lived in the old church in the village, his long hair tied back in a tidy ponytail, John the neighbour, Dennis from up the hill, Nate, Kyle and Angus gently lifted her casket onto the trailer for her final journey. It was a plain box with a simple yet elegant Celtic cross Nate had skilfully carved into the lid. I'm sure she would have approved.

They drove the quad with its trailer, down the hill and up again to the quaint little cemetery that sat on a quiet, sunny incline in a peaceful, pretty part of the valley. Its ornate wrought iron gates stood guarding the inhabitants therein and trees swayed gently like Hawaiian dancers in the breeze.

Olivia was red-eyed from crying all morning and she clung to my side for support. Allie had been crying as well but drew a little support from Kyle, who was sad but not giving too much away.

The men gently lifted her casket from the trailer. They paused so Allie could place the bunch of orange and white flowers she and Olivia had picked this morning on the lid, before walking solemnly to the plot, where a freshly dug opening gaped at their feet. Next to it waited my dear old Dad, Dave, where he'd lain peacefully for all these long years.

There was no minister in the village, and even if there was, that was not what Heather would have wanted, being a Pagan. The officials we had contacted told us that, given the current state of upheaval, certain services were suspended and we would have to organise things ourselves for now. It was up to me to say a few words. Feeling a little on the spot, blank and still a bit numb from the shock of it all, I'd searched Heather's leather book for inspiration and found a small piece in her diary that seemed appropriate.

'My mother wrote in her diary some time ago, this piece I've chosen to read to you all today. It has helped me some — perhaps it will help with the grief you are all feeling as well. In it she says:

I love sleep.

Especially sometimes when I'm warm and cosy and I slow my breathing so much it almost stops, I can sink into a state of such peace and tranquillity, it feels like I almost leave my body and drift above myself, weightless as an angel.

Sound, although still present in the background, is no more distracting at this time than a television set on low and I feel my body begin to relax, recharge and rejuvenate itself – it is simply the most satisfying and healing of states I think, sometimes even better than sex.

We do not yet make use of our entire brains; I feel there is potential, if we are able to open our minds to it, to go beyond our living shell and temporarily visit, or somehow embody our spiritual selves and see our world through all-knowing omnipresent eyes. To drift weightless, without pain, fatigue, sorrow, or worries.

Just ... to be.

It seems so easy, so very nice.

I wonder if this is what death feels like? If it does, then I no longer fear that journey, but instead shall embrace its wonder like a child at Christmas time.

I then leaned over my mother's face in the open casket and kissed her forehead gently for the last time. 'Be at peace sweet lady for you have lived your life well.' I walked towards Nate, leaving the way clear for those who wished to contribute their respects and final goodbyes. Nate took my hand and kissed my wet cheek.

Finally it was Angus' turn to give his last respects. He stood nervously up by her casket and began.

'I loved this little woman. She was very strong and charming and I loved her like my own grandmother. I'm going to miss her giving me a hard time as I muddle my way through my life. And,' he coughed, throat thick with emotion, 'well, she always said she liked the idea of being on top.'

'Angus!' Allie hissed. Nate and I, after a moment of shocked silence, laughed a little.

'Of your granddad I mean ...' he muttered, trying to hide his embarrassment at the inappropriateness of the comment, but instead now adding his other foot to the first one he'd put in his mouth.

He looked horrified as he realised the big ass he had just made of himself, twice. Allie took pity on him, taking his hand and squeezing it to try and make him refrain from anymore insensitive outbursts.

I knew he was fond of my mother and took no offence from it; we needed someone to lighten the mood a little.

Everyone else, worn-out from emotion, had gone to bed. I was bone-tired but not at peace enough to sleep just yet. The gaping hole in my heart was still too raw and painful, and I feared that if I were to surrender to sleep too soon, it would suck me down into that gaping chasm and I would be lost to the rest of my family who needed me here.

I kissed the kids and Nate goodnight, and as I wandered towards the kitchen I thought that at least Mum would be pleased to see my father again. Then his voice seemed to speak to me in my mind, sounding just the way he used to when I would visit him at times when I felt troubled. 'Grab a beer out the fridge Gen, and tell your old Dad what the matter is.'

Surprisingly, this felt comforting. I veered towards the fridge and took him up on his offer. Screwing the cap off the bottle of Nate's special homebrew, I headed for the log-fire. It had burnt down low, neglected by everyone tonight. I threw in another couple of pieces of wood and plopped down in my favourite armchair, sipping the cool, bitter ale and staring up at Dad's photo on the wall, and permitted the tears to leak out.

I could sometimes hear him in my head as I went about my daily chores; his voice so clear it was as though he was right in the room with me. I hoped so. 'You look after her up there you old bugger, you hear?' I said to his photo on the wall.

As I sat and sipped, the cool beer going down exceedingly well, I stared into the flames of the fire and memories of our past conversations began to float to the surface.

'I love all my three lovely daughters,' he'd said to me once, slurring slightly from a few too many of the brew and reminiscing, as was his way in this state. 'Anyone hurt my girls, I'd kill 'em. They wouldn't get no comfy jail cell.'

To which I'd sedately replied, 'That's nice to know Dad; we love you too.'

Then he'd informed me, 'We're descended from Vikings, our family. Did you know?' I'd raised my eyebrows in mock surprise and waited for the punch line. He continued, quite seriously, 'Yes, my great-great-great-great-great grandmother was raped by a Viking!' He'd burst out laughing at his own hilarity.

My beer bottle was already empty, and I looked around the room to see who had drunk it, while knowing full well it must have been me. I was beginning to relax now, but perhaps one more bottle would be maybe enough to do the trick.

When I returned from the kitchen and resettled myself by the fire, I began to think on what our immediate future was going to involve.

'Well Dad,' I stated quietly as I looked up at his photo again – the congenial fifty-seven-year-old gent, chubby, with a shaved head, wearing sunglasses, holding a fishing rod displaying a piddly-sized fish and laughing – stared back at me. 'Next time you're having a drink with that lot up there in Valhalla, can you put in a good word with Thor for us? Think we're going to need all the help we can get.'

I raised my beer in salute to him, Thor and anyone else in Valhalla, and also to my dear Mum who I still couldn't quite believe wasn't going to pop round the corner in her dressing gown and offer me a cup of tea. I was feeling slightly more at ease. It was going to be hard, but we would face it on our feet, like our forefathers before us. And if a bit of our Viking berserker decided to emerge when the moment required, it couldn't hurt.
25

On Your Bike

Neil

He could not believe it. Reginald Parker III and his wife had been murdered; home invasion they believed. The gossip had been circulating the Lab like wildfire all morning. He was sipping his cup of tea absentmindedly, gone cold from sitting so long, and staring at his beloved eggs.

What was the world coming to? What would become of them if the Lab closed down?

Then he heard excited shouting from the next room. He got up out of his chair, forgetting his cup still in his hand, and wandered to the door to see what the problem was.

'Cannibals!' the frantic person shouted. 'It was bloody cannibals, not home invasion! They left them hanging there in their kitchen, gutted and... and...' He couldn't finish and turned away pale and sickened.

Neil's cup dropped to the floor, spilling cold tea over the carpet.

'That's it then!' Charles, HOD of the science lab said. 'I don't think the department can guarantee anyone's safety in the workplace any more. I'm shutting us down as of now. I advise you all to make your way home with extreme caution until further notice and lock your doors. Be very vigilant with security.'

With his hand to his chest, and a feeling of shock setting in, Neil took one last look at the eggs. Was there any way he could ...?

But of course, there wasn't.

With a heavy heart, he grabbed his lab coat and personal effects and joined the streams of frightened employees leaving in haste, with an unknown future hanging over them like a thundercloud.

He lived not far from the university, which itself was on the outer limits of the city, on the edge of the countryside. He usually took a short cut through the park and along the riverbank. A route he had avoided lately due to the regular appearances of dead bodies turning up there along with unsavoury groups of men, which he would not want to meet in a dark alleyway, let alone the riverbank.

He was almost home and feeling like maybe things would be ok, and someone would sort it all out for them soon. It was just wishful thinking, really.

Then he smelled the scent on the breeze, of something burning. He looked up and saw a rising column of black smoke up ahead. When he got closer to home, he stopped in stunned silence, listening to the roar and cackle of it.

A building was on fire. His building. Orange flames flared out windows and blackened the walls above with soot. Flames totally engulfed his building, yet there was not a fire truck in sight, not a siren to be heard.

Everything he owned was in that building; it would be nothing but ashes by the time the fire-trucks got to it ... if they ever did.

Wondering what the hell to do now, he stood by his bike, bewildered. Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes.

Keep moving son. That's what his old Dad would have told him. When danger is about, keep moving.

With no idea where he was running to, Neil climbed on his bike and started to pedal. He headed for the outskirts of town, then paused and looked up to the horizon where the ranges lay. They looked deep blue from this distance, soft rounded hills topped by windmills and forests. It looked so very peaceful from here.

He looked back at the city behind him, and saw more columns of smoke rising. The sirens had begun in earnest now. The whole town was going to pot.

As he cycled carefully passed the last shopping suburb before the open road, he saw a small group of ragged looking people, down on their luck, scavenging in a large rubbish bin. A fight broke out between two men over what looked like a piece of chicken.

He looked back at the hills, a far more inviting sight. Bit of a long ride, but then what was the alternative?

Neil was knackered.

He had been cycling down the main road for what seemed like hours, his leg muscles burning with lactic acid accumulation. Breathing too, was becoming a bit of a struggle, when a red car with a noisy muffler, filled with around four or five of mischievous looking youths, approached and slowed down alongside him.

Oh, God help me. What now?

A couple of tall young males got out and started smiling at him; not the sort of smile you'd ever see on your Grandma's face.

'Nice bike you got there Doc.' the slimmer one said.

'Thank you, Son. Ah, I'm not quite sure I can help you, but I'll try. What seems to be the problem?' Neil tried to say without stuttering nervously.

The other youth, a thickset lad with a very short crew cut, answered this time. 'The problem is dick-head', he opened a can of beer he'd been holding, in Neil's face, 'you've got a nice bike and we're goin' to be stealin' it!'

The rest of the lads laughed and a couple pounded on the outside of the car doors in mirth. More so to be intimidating, Neil supposed.

'Please,' Neil shook the stinging fluid out of his eyes. Don't beg. You'll appear weak DO NOT BEG. 'Please, I'm begging you. Don't take my bike. It's all I have left and I ... I ...' he looked behind him in the direction of the city, 'I can't go back.'

The original lad, a taller slim boy of around nineteen, cruelly mimicked Neil's begging. 'Please, don't take my bike... Pussy!' He shoved Neil over and the older man tumbled painfully backwards into the ditch, still clutching the handlebars of his bike.

The larger youth with the crew cut said, 'Gimme that!' and easily snatched the bike away from Neil's grip, hurling it into the open boot of the car.

Neil lay there, wet and frightened. He curled up into a ball, closed his eyes and began to sob. This seemed to encourage the first lad, the one with the smile ... like a crocodiles Neil thought as he shivered, wondering if they were going to kill him or not.

The lad yanked Neil up by the hair. He screamed and put his hands up to his scalp in defence. The boy booted him in the gut, knocking the breath with the scream, right out of him.

'Come on Pete, this is getting fuckin' boring. I'm starving. Leave the old prick, he's stuffed now anyway.' A voice from inside the car called out.

Eyes open a crack; Neil could see 'Smiley' eyeing him up for some more punishment. From a primal instinct to do anything to survive, he tried to speak. At first, all he could do was wheeze, winded as he was, but then he tried again and squeezed out, 'Best you watch yourselves in town. There's always bigger fish in the pond. And those big fish are very hungry.'

He could see the uncertainty creep into 'Smiley's' eyes. Possibly fear, even. Good, they should be bloody scared! He knew what they were walking in to.

'Shut up old man!' He spat at the cringing scientist and walked arrogantly back to his car. An empty beer can came hurtling out the window at him and the car sprayed him with loose metal from the verge as they sped off.

Neil, relieved the youths had not killed him, lay in the wet ditch, fighting to catch his breath and waiting for the shakes to stop, so he could crawl back out of the ditch and begin the very long walk, towards the hills.

Days later, he stumbled deliriously into the bush and fainted ...
26

Uninvited Guests

5th July

Everyone was slightly on edge. My nerves were wearing thin and I'd about had enough of the males of the household. Nate and Kyle were short-tempered and stroppy with everyone just because they were itching to do something; anything, rather than just wait for the next round of action to happen.

'Why don't you take Kyle and go do some fishing? Hmmm? We could do with the food, and you two could do with some relaxation time to chill out for a bit. What do you think?' I suggested to Nate, hoping he wouldn't click that they were just getting on my nerves and I wanted them and their damned testosterone out of the house for a few hours.

'Actually, that sounds great. You sure you'll be ok if we bugger off for a few hours?' he asked, concerned but not trying hard to hide his enthusiasm at the idea.

'Of course we will, and if anything happens, Allie's been practising and I must say her aim is getting downright lethal.' I smiled at my daughter, trying to boost her confidence. 'Angus isn't too far away if we need him and you've got your earpiece. I'll call you if I need you'

So off they went; tackles, bait and rods in higher spirits than I'd seen them in ages.

They'd racked up quite an impressive string of trout and a few salmon between them, and had just started a small fire to cook a few freshly gutted fish on sharpened saplings, when a loud crack like a snapping branch echoed out from the bush-covered bank across the river.

Nate and Kyle looked at each other, dropped their skewered fish on the rocks by the fire, instinctively grabbed their rifles and ran downstream until they could cross. Once on the other side they ran, jumping and dodging bushes and tree roots, through the bush in the general direction of the noise they'd heard.

In mad pursuit, Kyle tripped, rolled, ran three steps and collided with a tree trunk. He shook his head ignoring the pain and waited for his blurred sight to clear. When it did, he saw what he'd tripped on. A man had been hiding in the bushes – a tall, skinny, nerdy-looking older man with thick-rimmed glasses and fuzzy, red hair that stuck out all over the place – he looked terrified and pointed to where the noise had originally come from.

'Bloody hell,' Nate said with exasperation. 'Can't a man do a bit of fishing with his son?' He quickly surmised that this older man was probably harmless, so he left Kyle to interrogate him and continued after the original culprit.

'So,' Kyle accused in his manliest voice, 'Who the hell are you and what were you doing spying on us?'

'I, I, I ...' he stuttered and Kyle hoped the man wouldn't actually soil himself.

'Calm down,' Kyle said in his usual genial voice. 'Don't hurt yourself.'

'My ... My name is Neil.' He paused and took a breath to steady his nerves. 'I'm not with him.' He pointed a very shaky finger in the direction Nate had gone in. 'I saw that other fellow making his way down the hill. I was hoping he might help me.' He put his hand to his obviously hammering heart, and looked up at Kyle, 'Oh my, I do hope my heart doesn't ... I take it he wasn't with you then?' he panted, still trying to steady his breathing. Kyle shook his head. Neil nodded and looked up the hill, 'Well. I wonder what he's doing all the way out here all alone then?' Realising the same question could be asked of himself, he added, 'I'm a scientist,' and gestured at his lab coat that may have once been a pristine white but was now covered with considerable filth and stains from living rough for some time. 'I've been walking for days.'

Neil certainly looked like an absentminded scientist in a permanent state of confusion, so his story sounded legitimate. Kyle folded his arms across his chest and leaned back on a tree, crossed his leg casually at the ankle and raised his eyebrows to hear the rest of the old man's tale, 'Hmm ... and you were here in the bush because?'

'I had a bicycle, but some thugs knocked me off it, kicked me in the stomach, left me in a ditch and stole the bike. That was about three days ago. Then I kind of lost my bearings a bit ... and seem to have gotten a bit lost.' He swallowed and took a deep breath. 'Hey, you look like a nice boy,' Kyle cleared his throat in indignation at being labelled a boy. After what he'd experienced lately, he considered himself somewhat closer to a man these days.

Neil continued perceptively, 'Nice young man.' Kyle grinned in acknowledgement of the respect. 'You wouldn't have some food on you, would you? I haven't eaten for days. That's why ... well, I wasn't actually hiding here, you see. I must have fainted. I'm getting too weak. I was lying in the long grass willing myself to get up again when I heard you coming but I didn't have the time or strength to get out of the way before you tripped over me.'

'Do I have some food, hmmm?' Kyle smiled thinking of his impressive string of fish on the bank of the river. 'Come along then Norbert, we'll see if we can find something to fill the cracks in with then.'

Meanwhile Nate continued in his pursuit of the branch-breaker.

It wasn't too hard to find him. In his panic to avoid capture, his escape was noisy and he left a huge wake of broken saplings and crushed ferns in his path. Nate could hear the man's ragged breathing — obviously the exercise was testing his fitness limits. Given that Nate's own leg had only recently healed from the arrow wound, he was impressed with his own stamina.

Within minutes, Nate was close enough to tackle. The man looked back with panic in his face seconds before Nate leapt at his back and slammed him to the ground near the edge of the bank. He tried to claw at Nate's face without being able to see, as his own was buried in the dirt.

Nate flipped him over and punched him in the jaw a couple of times. The weaker man submitted and held up his hands across his face in surrender. The bank gave way beneath their combined weight and they tumbled along with dirt and roots and rocks into the river.

After considerable spluttering and floundering about in the icy cold current with their wet clothes dragging heavily, Nate managed to push the stranger towards the bank. When he had caught his breath the man pleaded, 'What are you hitting me for?' Nate noticed the man's Irish accent.

That's a good question, Nate thought to himself. 'You were running. Why? Were you spying on us?' Nate asked, struggling between deep rib-cracking breaths.

'What else was I supposed to do when you started chasing me? Can't be too careful in these times, can we?' he answered, looking equally drained and feeling as though he was going to throw up. 'And I wasn't spying on you. I was trying to see if you might be decent folk, able to help me,' he continued.

Nate wasn't buying it. He didn't recall ever seeing this man before, but there was just something about him that Nate didn't trust. 'Where are you from?' he asked.

'Town, I was with a group of guys in town,' he said. 'But some shit went down, and it wasn't such a cool pad to hang out any more.'

'That shit you mention wouldn't have involved the abduction of a young girl by any chance, would it?' Nate's face turned red in anger and he raised his fist again.

'Wait!' The man shielded his face with his arms, and when he was reasonably sure there wasn't going to be more incoming pain he cautiously poked his head out again like a snail. What an unbelievable stroke of luck! Surely this couldn't be the bastard Sid had sent him to find? That was way too easy! Leon thought fast. 'I didn't like what they were doing and I said so. They were going to kill me, so I ran. I'm not like that.'

Nate's fist trembled with suppressed anger but he kept it stopped in mid air, not sure whether to believe him or not. A man would say anything if it meant keeping his life.

'But now I'm alone, and wet. And got no food or shelter. So I was hoping to ask for help from someone out here? Like a fellow Irishman?' he finished, pleading a bit, with a disturbing smile that showed unnaturally sharp, pointed teeth.

Nate cautiously lowered his fist and thoroughly checked his captive over for concealed weapons. The man was a bit on the scrawny side as were many these days, with greasy mousy-brown hair slicked back like a car salesman. And his lip curled up in one corner like he had a permanent sneer.

Nate had no reason to believe him yet, but he was not one to leave someone in need of help alone to die either, so he grabbed the stranger's fist and helped him up, then allowed the man to tag along to where Kyle and he had been fishing earlier.

'So,' Kyle said between muffled mouthfuls of fish, 'what's it like out there,' he gestured towards the city with his head, 'these days?'

'Terrible ... terrible, son. I've seen things I really wished I hadn't, and will probably never forget. Be thankful you live way out here where you do.'

'A war on the cards though? They'll be coming won't they?' Kyle asked Neil. 'We'll have to fight them when they come?'

'And just how are you proposing to do that?' Neil asked dubiously, while picking delicately through his hot fish and savouring each bite.

'Guns and pitchforks, crow bars; whatever we have,' Kyle stated bravely, as only a teen who believes himself ten foot tall and bulletproof would.

Neil shook his head staring at the ground and sighed, 'I'm sorry to break it to you, but there are hundreds, maybe even thousands coming.' He looked into Kyle's eyes. Kyle stopped chewing, looking genuinely shocked; he'd no idea there were so many.

'A few will no doubt perish from exhaustion and hunger along the way but still ...' he seemed hesitant to finish what he started to say. 'A village of farmers with a few guns and pitchforks are simply not going to be enough.'

'Well, it's all we've got!' Kyle threw his fish into the fire, his appetite evaporated by the subject matter. 'Do you have to rub it in?' There was an uncomfortable silence then Kyle looked intently at Neil with unfaltering determination in his eyes. 'Do you know any Scots' history?' he asked in a kinder tone. Neil shook his head but looked curious.

'William Wallace, a Scottish landowner way back in the 1200s was just a farmer, and he fought for freedom, against odds and numbers way greater than his men had. He won many battles using mainly his wits, until he was betrayed. He had passion, courage and the support of his men.' He threw another piece of wood on the fire and gazed into the distance deep in thought. 'We will just have to give it all we've got, won't we!'

Poor lad, Neil thought to himself, he's only young and acting staunch, but it must be really scary for a kid. It's scary enough for an adult.

'Actually, since you have been so nice to me and more so in the interests of my own self-preservation, I think I can help your cause.' And get the valuable possession I had to leave behind as well, Neil thought, but left unsaid.
27

Said the Spider to the Fly

As Kyle was listening to Neil's suggestions, a shivering, bedraggled and dripping Nate returned with his prisoner in tow, in a likewise condition,

'Bit cold for a swim isn't it?' Kyle cheekily goaded his father.

Nate sat down by the fire. Kyle handed him a plate and some coffee heavily laced with whiskey, while listening to Nate's brief account of why he had brought this stranger along.

'Who is he then?' Kyle asked. The man was hanging back behind Nate and displaying a black eye and split lip. The stranger licked the blood off his lip. Something about the way he did it really gave Kyle the creeps.

'Ah, actually I don't know. What is your name anyway?' he turned to his prisoner.

'Leon,' he answered stretching out his hand to Kyle in greeting, excessively eager.

No, Kyle didn't trust this bugger for some reason. He reluctantly shook Leon's hand then surreptitiously wiped it on his jeans.

Nate looked towards the nerdy ginger-haired fellow sitting next to his son and he raised his eyebrows in question.

'This man, Neil, he says his name is, could be of some use to us,' said Kyle before looking suspiciously at Leon. 'I'll fill you in when we get home though.'

Upon returning home that evening, Nate casually announced to me, 'Two extras for tea tonight hun.'

I had my head in the pantry and was distracted by a brave rodent whose sangfroid was such that it was happily gnawing blatantly on our dwindling stocks, which currently consisted of a pitiful hoard including a bag of carrots gone soft and a half dozen tins of things so old that the labels had worn off.

I hadn't actually registered what he had said, merely that he had returned and replied sarcastically without looking up, 'How nice. Well I hope you actually caught something then.' As I spoke, the rodent finally lost its nerve and fled along the skirting board and out through a newly chewed hole in the wall beside the bench.

'Well, I caught these two,' he grinned and stepped aside letting me see the ragged-arsed newcomers behind him, one of whom vaguely resembled the carrots in our pantry. 'Do they count?' he joked.

I was about to throw a tea-towel at him when Kyle stepped in with the remaining string of fish and said, 'Oh, and these.'

Keeping downwind wasn't too difficult. Staying reasonably hidden in this thick bush was not so hard either; but keeping pace with the group of tall men was testing his fitness and finding him sorely wanting, being a little vertically challenged himself.

Sid had followed Leon from the river where it seemed he'd managed to coerce his way into being taken home by Nate and his lot – as per their plan; though who the ginger-haired fellow was a bit of a mystery. But keeping up with them was giving him a bad cramp in his stomach and his lungs were wheezing like a set of bagpipes.

He planned to follow them for as long as the thick cover lasted and then once he knew where their homestead was he'd find suitable place to hide until Leon could meet up with him again at a shed they'd sheltered in, back by the village.

Before too long the bush opened out into lush meadows and at the bottom of a few small rolling hills and a tree-lined stream, he spied a farmhouse. A woman stood on the veranda waving to the fishing party. Was that the crazy bitch who'd stuffed up his plans? He almost felt sorry for her, unleashing Leon on them.

To his left, at the top of one of the small hillocks he noticed what looked like a dilapidated old house, and through some missing boards in the wall he could see what looked like bales of hay. Perfect, he smiled, better accommodation than he'd had for weeks.

What he really needed, now that he was able to stop the frantic task of keeping up with the group, was a bloody good crap. He headed purposefully back into the thick bush.
28

Watch Your Backs

Leon was in the shower, washing. We made him. He smelt so bad even the dog wouldn't sniff him and it was a good excuse to get rid of him for a short time while we decided where he was going to sleep.

Neil was so damned intelligent he was bordering on stupid, so he'd been set the task of setting the rat trap with some peanut butter. Kyle tricked him, telling him that if he wanted to eat with us we'd be requiring the extra meat, which he had gulped at, but believed without question. Of course we weren't that desperate yet, but he was so gullible it was too hard to resist.

Setting a rat trap – something that even Olivia found easy – was for Neil proving to be more difficult than building a computer circuit board; clearly illustrating that he'd be more a danger to himself than to anyone else in the house. He couldn't work out where to put the peanut butter and finally, after smearing it on the wrong face of the thing, set it off repeatedly on his slippery fingers. 'Ouch, darn it!' and similar comments punctuated the discussion at regular intervals.

In the lounge, after one such loud snap, followed by quiet, annoyed cursing by Neil, Olivia giggled loudly. We were all quite aware he was having difficulties.

Getting back to the important subject matter at hand, I voiced my strong distrust of Leon, siding strongly with Kyle that in my gut, I simply didn't trust the creep. 'If he say's they're a good ten days away, then I guarantee you we've got less than a week to get our guard up,' I warned. Given my mother's gift of foresight, they weren't inclined to ignore my gut feelings.

We heard yet another loud crack from the kitchen, smartly followed by a refrained 'Oopsie daisies.'

Nate and Kyle shook their heads in humorous disgust at Neil's sad display of masculinity. 'Well, good thing that Neil,' Nate laughed, 'if we can believe him, has something at his lab that we can use to help then.'

A third crack and 'Oh blast it,' interrupted their discussion again. Olivia rolled her eyes heavenward losing patience with him; her father felt the same way.

'Livy hun. Go sort that womble out before he loses a finger would you?

Olivia went out to the kitchen, giggling, and easily set the trap for him, much to Neil's relief. He returned to the lounge with her, red faced and sucking one of his poor bruised digits.

'Looks like you're sleeping in Heather's old room Neil,' Nate said.

'Oh, thank you, thank you. You're really too kind,' Neil replied. I couldn't help but smile at him. He was like a helpless child in a man's body.

'Sure you won't mind the pink, frilly covers?' Kyle teased, but got promptly elbowed in the ribs by Allie sitting next to him on the couch. She had her iPod on trying to ignore the conversations but was changing songs and felt a little sorry for the pathetic scientist being the butt of her brother's jokes.

Given mine, Kyle's and especially Allie's, reservations about him, we decided to put Leon in the woodshed down the back. It was a reasonably solid, lockable building and he would have his hands tied as an extra precaution, until we felt he could be trusted.

We were in the middle of this discussion when Leon emerged from the shower and, hearing our quiet voices, attempted to eavesdrop on the conversation by lurking in the shadows of the hallway.

Old Cocoa had taken an instant dislike to Leon earlier. She'd, growled and retreated beneath Heather's bed. Now she spotted him hovering in the hallway. She crept up behind him and barked loudly once – catching him completely unaware and making him nearly crap himself with fright — and nicely gave his presence away before he overheard too much.

Leon leaned forward a little, but she growled angrily in warning so he paused and whispered savagely to the dog, 'I'm going to eat you for that little doggie.'

Thanks to Cocoa, Leon was forced to reveal himself to the group wearing, to Nate's surprise and to my obvious disgust, Nate's white fluffy bathrobe. I turned aside and whispered to Nate, 'Don't you ever wear that again! You're burning it!'

'Are you quite comfortable there, Leon?' Nate asked with low-key sarcasm.

'At least it's not your one Mum,' Kyle said quietly to me.

Leon tried to smile charmingly at them, but it was as false as his tan. 'Well you didn't expect me to wear those smelly old things I was wearing before now, did ya?'

Completely unimpressed, I turned to Kyle, 'Go grab some of your old clothes to give to this bugger will you?' Kyle briefly frowned at me with a look of betrayal, and then turned the frown on Leon like he was a more disgusting prospect than stepping in cat shit. He sloped off to fetch something he didn't object to parting with — permanently.

After an enjoyable meal of homemade fish and chips, and a few rounds of homebrew, we bid Leon good evening – to his considerable surprise. He seemed all set to park up in the lounge for the night, by the looks of things.

We were anxious to discuss Neil's helpful information, but not until Leon's ears were well out of range. After sharing a knowing look with me, Nate said, 'Well Leon. If you'd care to follow me, and bring this,' he threw an old grey woollen blanket towards Leon, 'with you. I'll show you where you can rest the night.'

Leon just caught the blanket as it hit him in the face, and looked around the room with a nervous laugh, as though this were a joke the family was sharing at his expense. But we all just smiled politely and said, 'Good-night.' He rose from his chair very reluctantly, but not before his fake smile dropped. I caught the briefest glimpse of a cold look his face had taken on.

The old woodshed was a considerable distance from the house, but neither man spoke a word as they made their way across the damp, dark field.

Once inside the little building, Nate lit the small brazier in the corner of the woodshed. 'There, that should keep you comfortable for most of the night. Oh, one more thing ...' He pulled out a length of rope from his pocket, and held his hands together gesturing to the other man his intentions.

As he tied the rope around Leon's hands, the stranger looked up at him in disbelief.

'What? You're putting your fellow countryman out in the cold and yet that red headed, four-eyed prick gets a bed in the house? Where's the loyalty man?' he complained bitterly.

'Get this,' Nate yanked the rope tighter than strictly necessary; placid nature and humour from earlier all evaporated. He was tired and ready for bed. 'For one thing it's Gen's choice who she lets sleep in that room. It was her mother's aye? And secondly, I don't give a flying fuck if you're the King of Ireland. Until we know whose side you're on and what you're about here, I don't owe you anything.'

Once Nate was safely out of hearing range, Leon quietly threatened, 'We shall see about that.'

He looked around the walls of the woodshed. Three sides were wooden but one wall was lined with corrugated iron. As he studied it closely, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the dimness of the meagre light from the brazier in the corner, he spied precisely what he was looking for. A small, sharp corner folded over just a little. He grinned, licking his pointed teeth. 'Yes, we shall see about that.'

Later that evening Kyle explained to his father that a rich and rather eccentric professor, a sponsor of the lab's research, had a personal, expensive collection of weapons – albeit an old collection with not a lot of ammunition – hidden in the basement where Neil had worked.

The old man had trusted Neil, but the professor had been murdered; the wealthy were among the first targeted by the hungry, rioting hoards. Neil knew how to get the guns.

'My colleagues and I had the best of intentions,' Neil explained to them. 'However, we lacked the ... ah, for want of a better word, muscle power, to carry it out.'

They all laughed at that; never a more unlikely warrior than a geeky scientist who looked like a Muppet.

'I'm good with a microscope and slides. But guns? Well ...' He held up his palms as though it was obvious, and shook his head.

He also went on to tell them, when prompted, of the horrors he had seen on his escape from the city, narrowly avoiding the hungry, violent hoards who scavenged the outskirts, like maggots in rotten meat.

Looking across at Bob, the cat, sleeping peacefully by the fire, he told of how they'd eaten most of the pets, and the small remainder of animals had begun to pack together like wild wolves and prey on any soul caught alone gathering wood or food.

Rats were breeding at an alarming rate, due to the availability of dead bodies littering the streets. Near the river, untreated sewerage flowed into the water as there were no workers left to man the plant. Waterborne diseases such as typhoid and campylobacteriosis were becoming an increasing problem. 'Well,' he said, 'waterways are inevitably suicide near town.'

Everyone looked stunned. Having an idea what was happening was one thing; hearing firsthand accounts from someone who'd recently escaped, was another.

'Well my friend,' Nate clapped Neil on the back, 'looks like you could be the answer to our prayers then.'
29

Bulletproof

The following morning

'So Neil, ever ridden a bike before?' Nate asked over his morning brew of roasted acorn nuts and dandelion roots. He pulled a face of extreme dislike at the mug; then quickly looked to check his wife wasn't watching.

'Well, yes, I had a Vespa when I was a young man,' he replied, optimistically.

Kyle snorted his drink through his nostrils in amusement; then disguised it admirably when he received a stern look from Nate and a concerned look from Neil.

Nate got up from the kitchen table, gesturing for the gawky scientist to follow him out the back door. Kyle raised his eyebrows doubtfully, while trying to hide a small grin that said this ought to be good, and followed.

Across the yard and through a small wooden gate, an orange trail-bike stood on its stand, a black helmet on its seat. 'Great, jump on this and show us what you can do.' Nate put the key in the trail bike and gestured for Neil to pop on the helmet.

After a little reminder of how to start it, Neil hit the throttle too hard, did a wheelie that caused his eyebrows to disappear into his receding hairline and his eyeballs nearly popped out of his sockets in fright. He shot across about twenty metres of pasture to finish, rather impressively, by high-siding himself into a huge scotch thistle at the edge of the paddock.

Nate and Kyle ran over to make sure he hadn't hurt himself too badly, though the turf was reasonably long this time of year. After the pair of them had finished rolling round the grass pissing themselves laughing, they decided unanimously that Kyle was perhaps more suitable for the bike.

They wandered round, distributing segments of hay to the stock for breakfast. Neil tagged along in their wake, in borrowed gumboots, like an acquiescent puppy with paws too big for him.

'Well, can you drive a car?' Nate asked hopefully, to which Neil smiled with relief and nodded enthusiastically.

As it turned out, Neil was better suited to four wheels than two; Heather's Chrysler was an automatic after all. However, Neil was still a little on the cautious side. They sent him off on a short test-drive down the road, critically observing from the fence railings.

'He's more of a nana driver than your Nana was,' Nate stated to Kyle.

The Lab

Outskirts of the City

Later that same day...

'What the hell is he doing?' Kyle hissed to his father. They were crouched behind benches, after breaking into the lab premises to search for the basement where the arsenal was hidden.

'I don't believe it. He's got the biggest egg I've ever seen,' Nate whispered, then a bit louder, 'Hey Neil, we got chickens at home, mate, if you like eggs so much,' he hissed, not bothering to hide his annoyance. 'Hurry up! What the hell are you doing?'

'This baby is a Harpagornis moorei. This is no ordinary egg,' he said, gazing at it adoringly. Seeing the blank looks on the other men's faces, he expanded; 'Haast's Eagle. Surely you've heard of them?' He then stared in disbelief, from one to the other. Still he received blank looks – as though he'd grown an extra head.

Becoming increasingly annoyed, Nate realised this was not the time or place to discuss it and, so impatiently waved away Neil's explanation. 'Yeah, well, I'm going to crack it over your head if you get us caught. Let's go.'

With the boot heavily loaded up, Neil drove off slowly and nervously, eyes peeled for signs of danger. Nate and Kyle, wearing the bulletproof vests Heather had given them, followed on the bikes. Just as Neil reached the top of the hill, at the turnoff to the main road, they spied a group of perhaps ten dodgy-looking guys on bikes and sporting mohawks.

Bait time.

Neil saw them too. He glanced at the passenger seat where his massive egg sat nestled in his jersey. Noticing the appearance of a fine crack in his precious egg, he put his foot down, picked up speed and let the Chrysler have her reins.

'Now we're talking,' Kyle grinned and flicked his visor on his helmet down.

'Come on then, let's go pick a fight,' Nate told his son.

They rode their trail bikes into the intersection, in obvious sight of the oncoming riders and flashed their headlights to get their attention. Kyle opened his visor and yelled out to the group; a few of them had feathers attached to the back of their mohawk-styled haircuts, 'Hey you!' The gang looked at each other in disbelief at the plain stupidity of this young fool.

'Yeah, you in the front,' Kyle continued, leaving them still a bit confused. 'I was just wondering what are you going to do for a face, when that monkey wants his ass back?'

This obviously angered them and as if that comment wasn't enough to bring this festering boil to a head, he continued in an very high and camp voice, with a lisp for good measure, 'Tickle your assth with a feather?' He raised his eyebrows, grinning; winding people up was one of his favourite pastimes, after all.

This rapidly brought the boil to an explosive pop, releasing a swarm of gang members in all directions like a kicked over hornets' nest.

Nate and Kyle, most satisfied with this result, took off to lead them on a merry goose chase. The distraction neatly cleared the path for Neil to get away.

As per strategy, previously planned with Nate, Kyle went left at the first opportunity and Nate right. Kyle, pursued by the majority of the gang, went up the ramps of a parking lot building. He emerged at the top of a building – trapped. He briefly considered trying to jump the huge gap to the roof of the adjacent building, but a rooftop safety barrier was in the way.

'Shit!' he smashing his fist on his handle bars. 'Good move Kyle.'

He looked back and knew he would be cornered if he didn't move fast. He rode towards the barrier fence, turned the bike carefully then wrenched back the throttle and raced back the way he'd come. He risked getting caught and bashed, but that was a surety if he stayed put. On the other hand, sometimes, just sometimes, if you were really lucky, the game of chicken went in your favour.

He sped back down the ramp. The surprised group of guys heading up towards him didn't have time to think, only react, and they instinctively swerved to avoid impact. The last rider was slowed enough to reach out to grab Kyle. Kyle caught the movement in his peripheral vision in enough time to swerve so that the man's inadequate grip slipped off his jacket.

Some of the fools he'd passed collided with each other in their haste to turn about at the top of the parking lot. A few had managed though and were catching him up fast. Suddenly Kyle realised where he could escape them. He'd spent a few afternoons on the university campus for sports events and catching up. He could disappear there, whereas his pursuers were not the type to have sought a higher education, and would easily get lost in the labyrinth.

He raced onto the campus, his heart pumping fit to burst, too panicked to look back least it slow him down. When he finally did stop to look around, there was no one near. He idled the bike, creeping slowly between buildings, scanning for any sign of them. Eventually he spied them way over the other side of the large, central duckpond. They saw him too and began shaking fists. It looked like they were hurling verbal abuse at him. One of them smashed an angry fist into the face of his neighbour in frustration.

When he'd broken away from Kyle, Nate had whipped round a corner where he had earlier left a rope tied to a sturdy post. He leapt off his bike, dropping it a little roughly to the road. He grabbed the rope and pulled it taut just in time as two of his angry followers appeared accelerating out of the corner. It was too late for them to stop. The rope caught the bikes across the front wheel posts catapulting the riders off, their bikes to crashing into a brick wall. Two down, temporarily at least, and the crashed bikes became a good obstruction for the next few riders; a lovely pile-up of mayhem ensued.

From the pile of bodies and bikes, a couple of livid men emerged, pulling out guns and firing at Nate; their bullets peppering the wall of the building like freckles. Even with the bulletproof gear, the heavy, painful thuds on his back made his steering a bit erratic, but he was in the clear, escaping relatively unscathed.

They met up at their previously agreed spot. Kyle, buzzing with testosterone, raised his hand for a hi-five. Nate shook his head and slapped it quickly, relieved that the idiot hadn't gotten himself killed.

'Come on, let's get the hell out of here,' Nate said impatiently.

Before long, they caught up to Neil, who was still trying to outrun a few stragglers chasing him.

Nate and Kyle approached discreetly trying to delay alerting Neil's pursuers, as they closed in. Once in range, they fired shots and picked Neil's tormentors off with ruthless efficiency. After swerving to avoid the fallen, the father and son left the carnage for the gang to clean up. In any case, they could hardly upset them much more than they'd already done.
30

Like My Food Fresh

Arrow Valley, 7th July

It was getting near dinnertime, and I was waiting anxiously for the men to return from the lab. They seemed confident it would go without a hitch – but I worried more with each passing hour that they'd come home with horrific injuries or body parts missing.

I didn't want to be alone with Leon, but he'd not had any food today and I had no idea when Nate would get back. I despised Leon because of what had happened to Allie. I couldn't pin it on him personally, but I felt in my gut that he was one of them. And so, begrudgingly, I took a plate of sandwiches and headed out to the woodshed.

Holding his hands harmlessly in his lap, Leon looked up at me when I unlocked the door and entered. 'Finally, food! Thought you'd all gone to the beach for the day ... Where the hell is everybody?' he asked, rudely.

'They had something important to take care of,' I evaded. The bastard made my skin crawl. 'They'll be home soon though.'

'How's your daughter?' he said, with a smarmy smile, not even trying to hide his pointy teeth. 'Hope they didn't actually violate her, did they?' He was deliberately provoking me.

'You shut up about my daughter you filthy pervert! Or you'll get what your bloody mates got!'

He ignored this plainly empty threat and responded, 'No mates of mine.' Feigning innocence. 'I must say, she is a tasty-looking wee morsel. Pity I hadn't found her. I can't say I would've been in too much hurry to share her with that lot.' He spat deliberately in the direction of my feet.

This was altogether too much. I lost my cool and hurled the plate at his head, Frisbee-style. Bits of coleslaw, mayonnaise and cold chicken splattered the walls of the shed. The plate appeared to miss his head, but it looked close.

He cried out in pain, clutching both hands to his forehead. I wanted to walk away. But I couldn't. I had to know how badly I'd injured him. I crept closer to him, ignoring my inner voice. I figured that I was safe with him in his injured state, with his hands tied.

He leapt up, grabbing me in a flash and pinned me to the wall, the jaggedly cut rope dangled from his wrists between us. His forearm across my throat felt like it was almost crushing my windpipe.

My eyes were wide in fear. The rank, feral smell of him this close brought bile up the back of my throat. His arm was choking me, until I was seeing stars and fuzzy black spots.

'Well that's OK, chickie. I don't mind that you threw my food away,' he sneered. Hunger, desperation, humiliation and weeks of violence had finally taken their toll. His basic survival instincts were in charge and negated the risk posed by the imminent arrival home of the men. 'I prefer my food fresh and kicking — if you know what I mean.' He ran his tongue slowly up my cheek and I screamed for all I was worth.

The men arrived back home on a danger-induced high, with a boot-load of weapons and ammunition that would definitely give the villagers a bit more of a chance of defending themselves adequately, in the inevitable battle that was to come.

Neil arrived home a short time before the others and was already in the warm kitchen eating a lamb and vegetable casserole with Olivia when Nate and Kyle walked in.

'Where's Mum, Livy?' Nate inquired, holding an empty plate beside the casserole dish and a spoon poised with dark-brown, aromatic gravy dripping over the sides.

Olivia swallowed a piece of bread, shrugging her shoulders, 'She went out to give that man some tea a wee while ago and said she was going to take Storm out for a ride after that.'

A jolt of alarm immediately surged through Nate. He had seen Storm in the front paddock when they came up the drive. Fear gripped him by the balls and squeezed tight. Without a further word, he dropped his plate, checked his hunting knife was still in his belt sheath, bolted out the back door and across the back paddock to the woodshed.

When I screamed, Leon had roughly shoved the napkin in my mouth to silence me and punched me, stunning me briefly. I felt dizzy. Vaguely, in the background, I thought I heard the faint rumble of motorbikes. My head throbbed and my eyes watered, but I wasn't going to give up without a fight.

As Leon roughly tied my wrists together on the end of a rope thrown over the rafters – the rope Nate had tied him up with – I worked my teeth and tongue madly trying to dislodge the cloth. I struggled, growled and kept kicking out at him, until he pinned my legs between his. As Leon lifted a chisel to my face and repeated, 'I like my meat fresh,' the cloth fell free and I screamed in his ear till my throat burned.

Nate burst through the door. Leon's head spun towards the doorway, just in time to meet Nate's fist in a bone-shattering punch that nearly snapped his neck with the impact. Leon staggered sideways and dropped the chisel. As he fell to the floor Nate's fist, came down on him again, and again, and again, in rage. Leon's face began to resemble a tinned tomato until Nate paused briefly, out of breath, and turned to look at me.

'Gen,' he panted. He cut the rope to free my reddening and swelling wrists, and with a sob of relief he enveloped me in his arms; both of us trembling.

'Are you alright honey? Are you injured?' One side of my cheek was dark crimson where Leon had hit me.

'Only a bit bruised. And I feel like I'm going to be sick, but I'll be alright.' I was simply relieved to have Nate arrive in time.

'Good,' he glanced towards the unconscious form on the dirt floor, wondering where in the hell Leon had found the chisel. 'Go back to the house, and lock the door. Make sure no-one comes out here.'

'What are you ...?' I began, but Nate cut me short.

'Don't Gen. Just go ... please. Go inside,' he replied, avoiding my eyes — giving me no chance of trying to change his mind; not that I honestly would have wanted to.

With a sick sense of dread welling up from my nauseated stomach, I hesitantly left my husband's embrace and did as he asked.

Nate watched Gen until she entered the house and closed the backdoor. He grabbed a chain and grappling hook off the outside wall before he re-entered and set-to gagging Leon and rolling the unconscious body over to the workbench. He picked up the rope Gen had been tied with, threw it back over the rafters and tied it tightly round Leon's hands. Nate pulled hard, hoisting him up till his waist was almost level with a wooden workbench where an old vice was bolted. Damn, Nate thought, realising that's where the bastard had found the chisel, it had slipped down the back months ago. He wrapped the chain around Leon's upper body, so he couldn't cut himself free, but left his right arm free from the elbow down.

Just as he was starting to regain consciousness, Nate undid Leon's fly. With much disgust, he grabbed Leon's limp appendage and yanked it forcefully between the clamps of the vice. Leon, not surprisingly, was jolted into full consciousness, and by the time Nate had wound the vice firmly shut and pulled the lever out, he was completely aware of the danger he was now in. He began to struggle and emit muffled cries of terror. Beads of sweat were rolling down from his forehead to mingle with the tears now streaming down his face.

Grabbing the knife, Nate growled in a low voice, 'Since you like your meat fresh!' He stabbed the knife into the soft yielding wood of the bench right next to the vice. Leon blinked at the impact; the implication was obvious. 'I think it's time you got a taste of your own medicine!'

Leon, panicking and wriggling like a worm on a hook, couldn't get far, anchored by the most vulnerable part of his anatomy,

Ignoring Leon's frantic struggles, Nate walked over to the small brazier burning low in the corner and kicked a small cast-iron leg. The brazier toppled and glowing hot coals landed on some of the dry straw scattered round the woodshed.

The coals sizzled and smoked briefly before a small flame burst into life and made its way along the straw to the wall. Creeping inexorably upwards, it licked dangerously – just as Leon had licked Gen's face not so long ago.

Nate turned and walked out the door, heading towards his home and family. He didn't look back.

The next afternoon...

It had been three days since his mate had met the men fishing at the river. What a stroke of luck that was, as they hadn't had any real idea where to find the bastard who'd thrown him from the train, only the name of the village he was from. Leon was supposed to return, find Sid, tell him what he'd found out and whether he'd been able to inflict some damage on that Nate and his bitch wife.

While crouched in the bushes having a shit, Sid caught a glimpse of a red jersey. Someone was walking down a path towards his end of the farm. As the figure got nearer, Sid could see it was a young blonde girl. Then she disappeared under the hill barely ten metres below him. He quickly finished up, wiping himself unpleasantly with some wet broadleaves. Sid crawled closer on his belly to investigate and realised when he heard a door close and bolt shoot home, that here in the hill, was a storage room of some sort.

He lay hidden in the long grass behind a bush of flax as she left with a box in her arms. Once she was out of hearing range, he crawled back to the old hay-barn house he'd been hiding in.

The night before while carefully snooping around the farm for food, he'd smelt smoke in the air; something burning. He wasn't sure but he thought it was bacon and it made him hungry. The chickens he'd stolen were going to be missed shortly so he'd have to move on soon.

He'd wait one more night, though, just in case Leon showed himself. Something about the place was disturbing him and the hair on his neck kept standing stiff. One more night, then he would sort the matter himself and get even with that family – one way or another.

Out on the farm

Angus was desperately trying to work up the nerve to tell Allie how he felt about her. He was fairly confident he would survive the upcoming fight, but just in case, he'd hate to think he'd end up six foot under without having had the balls to tell the only girl he'd ever really loved — that he loved her.

They were feeding the stock some hay. The cold weather had slowed the grass growth and the sweet-smelling, red-clover hay filled their bellies and kept them warmer at night in the valley, where it occasionally snowed in winter. Allie wished the pleasant bouquet of red clover was powerful enough to mask the lingering smell from the charred remains of the woodshed, but last night's events were too disturbing to dwell on. She purposefully cast the thought aside and stole a furtive glance at Angus, as he patted the beasts.

Allie wasn't as oblivious to his feelings as she led him to believe, but she wasn't overly bursting with confidence either, given her experience with men in the terrible past few months.

She liked Angus; probably more than liked, if she was truly honest about it, yet she just couldn't seem to make that move from friend and crazy neighbour to ... well ... more than friends. And thinking of friends, Allie was rather curious about the new girl, Danni, who Angus claimed was an old friend of his. Perhaps they'd had a 'thing' in the past; a hot, passionate affair, the embers of which were still glowing, just awaiting the right breeze to ignite that fire once more? Bloody hell, was this jealousy she was feeling?

She noticed he was in an odd mood, and she kept catching his lingering glances as they fed out slices of hay, then he'd quickly look away as though shy and embarrassed about something.

Her confusion in herself, while mulling over her internal monologue, left her standing immobile long enough for Angus to work up enough courage to just go for it, and kiss her. He walked over and stood silently in front of her – then thought better of it and decided he'd better ask permission just in case she freaked out ─ if ever a girl needed to be treated with gentleness and patience it was Allie. Nervously, he cleared his throat.

'Ah, Allie. Would it be alright if I ...' He closed his eyes and leaned towards her, lips pursed ... leaving his question hanging. Allie was in no doubt about what he was about to do. Her flight mechanism kicked in before she had the chance to disagree with it. She promptly ducked out of way and a chunky bovine bum immediately filled the vacated gap.

With eyes shut — customary protocol he believed — Angus was disconcerted to find his love interest sported a better moustache than he did.

His eyes sprang open in surprise and he was both relieved, and embarrassed, to find that Allie didn't have a hairy face; that he wasn't, in fact, kissing a face, or even Allie for that matter.

The cow let out a loud moo at this point, and he apologised profusely to the animal before turning aside, fully expecting Allie to either slap him or laugh.

He looked about and was disappointed to find that Allie was now half-way back to the farmhouse.

Oh well, he thought, maybe it's for the best. I should keep my mind on preparations for more urgent matters, anyhow. It's not really the time to be getting all mushy...

31

Philosophical Son

Olivia was grateful to hand the heavy wooden box to her sister, once back at the house. It was a bit of a walk — almost all the way to the back of the farm, but she'd wanted to help somehow.

She had known something was up this morning when we were all quiet, and even more so when she saw the woodshed had burnt down during the night. When she asked Nate about it he said that maybe Leon had done it by accident in the small hours of the night. She'd looked a bit shocked so Nate said, 'Try not to feel too bad for the man. He didn't seem right in the head and was too unpredictable a houseguest to begin with.'

'Thanks Livy,' Allie said, a little out of breath from her brisk walk back from feeding-out in the paddocks with Angus. She took the medical supplies she needed from her younger sister. 'Everything look ok down there bub?'

'Yes, but I could smell something stinky. We'd better tell Dad to go look in case a sheep or something's dead up there.'

I overheard this from the table and chirped in, 'What's dead? Was it a chicken? I'm sure there's some missing.'

'No, I didn't see any chickens, but something smelt really bad when the wind changed direction. Where's Dad? I'll go ask him to have a look,' Olivia said.

I began checking the supplies Allie had selected, in case she'd missed something vital. 'He's with the others rolling out barbed wire to narrow the road into the valley. I'll tell him when he comes back, but perhaps it would be wise if you girls stay close to the house until Dad gets a chance to go check it out, ok?'

Nate arrived home several hours later, dirty, tired and sporting a few cuts from the wickedly sharp wire they'd been heaving around, but he was happy to be back home with us.

They had ventured out on bikes with Olivia's binoculars to find out which direction the destitute people were approaching from and how far away they were. Luckily they had checked, because it was a different road from the one Leon had told them — not surprisingly — and they were getting close, leaving the countryside behind them scarred and burning. Here and there, single bodies lay on the roadside. Perhaps they were dropping like flies as hunger and exhaustion grew.

It was estimated they'd likely reach the valley as early as tomorrow evening, maybe the following one if we were very lucky. Nate and the other men of the valley spent the next few hours making last minute preparations for the battle to come.

Weapons were handed out and roleplays discussed. Then the men disbanded to spend quality time with their loved ones, just in case things went bad, as even good plans do sometimes.

Nate and I had had many discussions in preparation for the attack; who would go, who would stay to protect the children, and where.

We had decided that Allie should keep her sister and any other children, in the cave hidden, quiet and hopefully safe, until the battle was over. If anything bad happened, Allie had her crossbow and a rifle. Since the attack on her Nana, Allie had assured me she was ready to use them, should she have to.

Nate and I were about to butt heads over the topic of Kyle when the lad himself arrived home.

'Did it ever occur to you all, that maybe all this,' his random wave supposedly encompassing everything bad that had occurred and the oncoming battles, 'was destined to happen? That maybe it's just nature's way of thinning out the herd, like plagues and wars in the past?' He left us with that deep thought and went off to bed, looking aged beyond his years.

Later That Evening.

Following the sudden break down in communications with Leon, due to the fact the man was a cannibal and tried to eat his wife, Nate was in two minds as to whether or not it was wise to have this other stranger ─ Neil ─ in their home. After all they didn't really know the man. He seemed harmless enough, but then you just never knew, did you?

He walked softly down the hall after the others had all retired to bed, heading towards Heather's old room. What he planned to say to Neil, he didn't know yet, but as he approached the door he overheard a soft humming sound, and he lingered just out of sight observing from the shadows.

Neil was humming to himself, leaning over his bed, absorbed in something in front of him. Then he stood up cradling the giant egg, wrapped snugly in an old woollen shawl which Gen had kindly donated He smiled down on it as if it was his first-born child.

'There you go,' he said to the eagle egg softly. 'Nice and toasty. Gen has kindly found an old incubator box for you. We'll pop you down in the corner near the coal range where you'll be nice and warm under that heat lamp till it's time for you to show yourself.'

Watching from the hall Nate rolled his eyes heavenward, and had to contain his chuckle. He was about to enter when Neil sat down on the bed and began talking to his egg again.

'You know I never had a child of my own. Never married either, sad to say. Guess my roguish good looks and irresistible charm was not quite adequate to entice a lovely lady. So don't worry, my little fledgling, you will not be alone. I will be your family now.

After hearing this heartfelt little speech, Nate no longer felt it necessary to confirm Neil's character. He was obviously a big bowl of mush, and kind of a sweet one at that. He could hear Neil quietly singing a lullaby as he wandered off to his own room, laughing to himself.

Neil gently lay the egg in the incubator box and carried it out to the kitchen. He selected a spot near the power point and not too close to the coal-range. He hoped that together they would be adequate incubation for a giant eagle egg.

He was so relieved to have it here, safe, that he found himself lingering, not willing to leave it alone. He cautiously tapped the kettle, currently pushed to the back of the range. It felt hot, so he made himself a cup of tea and sat at the worn wooden kitchen table letting his mind wander back in time. Back to when the crazy idea of cloning the eagle actually became a reality for him.

Global warming was terrible, and eventually scientists convinced humanity to begin making drastic changes to avert its increase. They had eventually made changes, but sadly, not before suffering a lot of irreversible damage; the ice caps and glaciers had begun to melt at alarming rates. Sea levels rose, and they melted faster.

The only good side to this tragic turn of events, for science at least, was due to the melting; these frozen landscapes were now releasing a treasure trove of previously unattainable artefacts and preserved prehistoric animals. His Haast Eagle egg was the result of one such finding.

An actual female Haast Eagle had been found nicely preserved in a melting glacier in the South Island. Usually drier areas or mountain cave's were its habitat, but unseen events had brought about her demise. Perhaps she was injured in a storm or by a rockslide or falling trees ─ certainly no land predators in NZ were big enough to have been the cause ─ and she had become frozen in time in the inexorably slowly moving frozen glacier.

That was enough of an exciting find, but, upon closer examination, she appeared to be carrying fertilised eggs. It was through these, that Neil had been lucky enough to get the opportunity to try to bring back one of these magnificent creatures.

Using a few fresh donor ostrich eggs, unfertilised, he went through the tricky process of replacing the nucleus of the ostrich eggs with DNA and chromosomes extracted from the preserved Haast Eagle eggs, (a process only recently acquired and still in trial phases). Using an adapted laparoscopic surgery technique, he had done this with only a small number of eggs. He then patched up the small entry 'keyhole' in the egg shell using a 3D printer and calcium carbonate, together with a small jolt of electricity to trick it into thinking it had been fertilised naturally, and holding your tongue just right, with a mountain of luck ... voila! Instant Eagle!

Sounded relatively straightforward but in actuality, by the time he had had two or three failures and had to tweak his techniques more than a few times by ...

A board in the passageway creaked. 'Neil? Are you alright?' Gen asked from the doorway.

Gen's presence pulled Neil from his musings, 'Oh fine, fine thank you Gen. Just, a little separation anxiety really.' She looked puzzled and he pointed to the incubation box and its fragile occupant.

'Oh, of course. I'm sure it will be all right there Neil. You've had a long, stressful day. Why don't you go get some rest? Tomorrow will be here before you know it.'

'I will soon, thank you again. I will be forever in your family's debt for your kindness. I really fear what would have become of me if your son hadn't stumbled upon me out there.'

Gen smiled and turned back up the passageway. Neil sat for a moment, feeling he had to finish his train of thoughts before his mind would let him relax into slumber. Now where was I? Ah, that's right, a small jolt of electricity and then forty-five odd days under heat lamps and he had three remaining fertilised eggs waiting to amaze the world with their presence.

He was not surprised upon reaching the lab, that vandals ─ he presumed ─ had smashed two of the eggs. It was just lucky he had separated one of them, on impulse, when his superiors had been discussing canning the experiment due to the after effects of the oil-crisis. He had hidden it in his own private locked office, and so it had escaped notice, and destruction. Apart from the hairline crack, he had noticed when escaping the campus in the Chrysler. Moreover, that crack was probably because it was due to hatch anytime soon.

Well, now his mind felt cleared of sufficient clutter, hopefully, to allow him some desperately needed rest. He leaned over the incubation box, avoiding the hot lamp, and kissed the shell, 'Goodnight my little friend.'

Gen

At breakfast the next day, I pushed my plate of bacon and eggs over to Kyle to finish, because my stomach – unlike my son's – was utterly disinterested in digesting anything at present. Kyle's appetite never dampened much, not by illness, grief or upcoming battles. He scoffed down his own, finished mine efficiently, then popped on his beanie, 'I'm off to Angus' place for a bit, see you soon.'

'What? Why?! What's he doing going to Angus' place?' I asked Nate, as Kyle had whooshed out the door before I got the second question past my lips.

'He's gone to do some last-minute training exercises with his weapons. Angus has been showing him some of his SAS tricks for a few months now.' Nate looked up cautiously from his own breakfast to see my face frozen in shock. For a change, I was at a total loss for words. Knowing not to poke this particular tiger with a stick, Nate waited patiently.

'You can't be serious! He can't go, he's just a boy!' I pleaded in total disbelief.

'He's seventeen love; as tall as me if a bit lighter.' He spoke softly. He too worried for his only son. 'You know you won't be able to stop him.'

I reluctantly acknowledged the truth in his words and lowered my head to hide the tears that threatened to fall.

Nate continued, 'Best we can do is to try to watch his back. Angus and me.' Then he came round to my side of the table, knelt down in front of me taking my hands in his and gently stroked his thumbs over my skin. He peeked up under the curtain of my long auburn hair that I was hiding behind. 'Hey, you're not too concerned with the prospect of my untimely demise?' He tried to joke.

My head snapped up at that, alarmed he could think such a thing. 'That's not true and you know it. I simply refuse to believe you won't be coming back to me. You're my rock. You're ... you're indestructible.' He made a pfft sound at this suggestion. I continued, 'Besides, I gave up on thinking I could stop you doing stupid things years ago.'

Nate leaned forward, kissed my nose then sat back a fraction, whispering, 'Well, so? He is my son then — you know what they say about apples and trees?'

I sighed resignedly. 'Yes and your heads are both full of them.'
32

Calm Before the Storm

Later that evening

There is nothing that screams man more than a room full of hairy, musky-smelling guys oiling rifles, checking ammunition, scraping knives on whetstones and trying on bulletproof vests, chainmail and various other types of armour we had available in our hodgepodge arsenal.

I mulled over that that was the male role since time began — hunter, provider and protector. So why did it feel so wrong for me to send mine out there to face such a danger?

Kyle made a special point of coming to say goodnight to me, approaching with extra care and kindness, as one would with a fragile mentally ill patient. Very apt, I thought sadly, for I felt my heart was in danger of shattering with every moment that passed.

'I'd ask you to be careful tomorrow, if I thought you'd listen to me,' I said to him.

He looked sympathetic but annoyed. 'Mum, I'm not a baby anymore.' Then sensing that I was on the verge of crying, he hugged me gently to his chest.

I couldn't remember the last time he'd hugged me this way. With my face pressed next to his heart I whispered softly, 'You'll always be my baby.' The hug grew firmer and the teardrops began to fall freely.

'I promise I'll be careful; please don't worry,' he said softly. I saw his eyes were pooling up as well, but he wouldn't let his strong mask crumble, lest I be tempted again to try convincing him not to join in the fight.

I hadn't noticed how big and strong he had become. Still lean and wiry with the soft facial contours of youth, but somehow — while I wasn't looking — my little boy had grown up. It is a strange paradoxical feeling, when the protector becomes the protected. I was not so sure I liked it. But I was immensely proud of him all the same.

'I love you son. Make sure you come back to me, please.'

The hour was late by the time everyone was done with preparations and discussions for the battle, along with some shots of whiskey to smooth the nerves. Our house settled into an uneasy silence as everyone took their leave and headed for bed.

I closed the bedroom door the minute Nate entered and we hesitated for the briefest of moments before instinctively pouncing and tearing each other's clothes off, eager to be closer, to be whole.

I needed him in a way I'd never felt before. I now understood those people who dive into spontaneous love affairs after surviving tragedies; that desperate need to procreate in the face of almost certain death must be an evolutionary trigger for survival of the species.

'I want to feel your skin all the way from the tips of your fingers to the tips of your toes, and everyplace in between,' I whispered to him as he removed the last of my undergarments and threw me to the bed, falling with me.

We kissed feverishly as I slid my hands down over his lean hips; too lean I thought. But the physical trials he'd had to overcome lately weren't slowing him down at all now. He kissed me hard, tongue thrusting deeply, urgently. He needed me too.

We were both more than ready and joined together with an impact that made the headboard thump the wall. Caught up in the heat of the moment we tried to ignore it but it was too distracting. Giggling, I passed him a small pillow that he savagely stuffed behind the headboard.

There are times in a woman's life when she wants to be treated with gentleness, care and kindness.

But — there were times like this, where she wants to be submissive, to be taken, roughly and urgently, to feel the power from the man she loves, yet knowing that he will rein it in, in an instant, should he come even close to really hurting her.

I was lucky to have him as my husband – gentle and kind with his family, yet strong, protective and terrifying to his enemies – very rare and special, I thought. To risk losing him again, was something I truly hoped I had the strength for.

We gripped each other tightly enough to leave bruises, and rocked together in rhythm. His kisses held a yearning that was startling, like this was his last dying wish, his last day on earth.

The waves of pleasure grew from deep within me, radiating from where we were joined and spreading out through my nerve endings until my fingers tingled, my body dissolving, melting like molten metal.

I could feel us both rapidly approaching climax. I grabbed his muscular back, pulling him hard into me and thrust my hips up to meet him. The muscles in our bodies were taut. My eyes overflowed with unbidden tears of love for my man.

He breathed deeply, utterly spent and laid his head softly on my breasts, his hand gently cradling my head in his palm.

'Oh Gen. Do you have any idea how much I love you?' There we lay, heartbeats and breathing in sync, until one of my teardrops must have trickled over his hand.

Lifting his head slowly, he raised his hand gently and wiped my cheek with his thumb, feeling the dampness on his finger. 'Did I hurt you baby? I'm sorry.'

'No, no. Really, it was wonderful,' I said, kissing his soft lips.

He rolled to his side, gently pulling me with him as we weren't yet ready to break the spell by surrendering our joining. He wrapped his arms round my waist. 'Are you crying because you think you might lose me tomorrow?'

'Yes, and no,' I said, and heard the breath of a laugh from him. I'd completely confused him now. 'I'm crying with happiness because I've been lucky enough to have had you in the first place.' I cupped his face in my hands and gave him a lengthy and ever so tender, heartfelt kiss.

The night outside was wet and wild, the rain was splattering on the glass and the wind howling down the chimney. It was very cold outside. But, in our bed; we were very warm indeed.

'You won't lose me,' he promised.
33

Fiery Torch

10th July, The Cave, late afternoon

My nerves were shot. I'd visited the toilet half a dozen times in the last hour and my belly muscles were sore from being in a permanently clenched state.

'Now, your father's got his spare key tucked in his pocket. Don't forget to hang your one up on the wall in the cave, or he won't be able to unlock the door. Are you girls going to be ok?' I asked Olivia and Allie. They both nodded solemnly. Poor darlings. After all, it was not like they really had a choice.

Before she left for the cave to care for Olivia and some villagers' children, Allie had set out all her medical kit and paraphernalia, disinfectant, bandages etc, in the house for after the battle; though she hoped they wouldn't have too many horrific injuries to deal with.

I hugged them both long and hard, and forced out an unconvincing smile. 'Try not to be too frightened. Angus, it turns out, is ex-SAS and he's got a friend, Danni, who was on his team. He says she's brilliant with a sniper rifle. Hell, they'll probably clean up the whole lot and leave none for us.' I tweaked Olivia's nose softly and she hugged me close, trying to be brave.

As we parted I continued, 'Besides, I've got a secret weapon or two of my own up my sleeve. If we do our jobs right, you kids won't come anywhere near to being in danger.' I hoped like hell Jeff's suggestion worked as well as it had in our heads

Allie tried hard not to dwell on that 'If' word.

Main road out of Scottsville ─ Dennis' Last Stand

The distant rumble eventually grew into the sound of footsteps and grumbling voices. The smell of some type of fuel – was it kerosene? – floated on the air, mixing with the putrid scent of so many filthy, rotting beings; distinctly human in origin and more ominous in intent.

Enormous black clouds were growing, towering above the horizon, menacing, rumbling and sporadically flashing with light. The direction of the breeze shifted and the cool fresh smell of rain and ozone permeated the night; heavy clouds waiting to open with a downpour. Yet surprisingly it was quite balmy tonight.

Small dots of fire were visible in the fading light as the sun sat low in the sky,, moving towards him on the long road. It looked like some strange, mystical caterpillar, or Chinese New Year Dragon. They were not hastily swarming; they'd had quite a few miles to travel after all, but the thought of ravaging a village or farmlet and plundering the spoils, gave them motivation and determination to keep moving onwards.

Unwilling because of pride, stubbornness or simply the weariness of old age, Dennis wasn't bloody going anywhere. He was not going to walk off his property, or run from his home. Knowing he was done for, he planned to take a few of them with him. At least he'd gotten Debbie and the lads away safe, and his beautiful horses.

He loaded his rifle and laid it on the edge of the guttering, then took a deep breath and waited. He'd counted the rounds and would use them all; all but the last one — and hope it made a difference in the end.

Back at the MacGregors' farm, Debbie sat in an armchair by the fire, gently rocking back and forth, with a woollen shawl across her knees. She was knitting frantically, her face blank and pale.

At her feet lay her lads, two huge, grey Irish Wolfhounds, and a Rottweiler bitch. Well behaved and utterly devoted to protecting their owner, they sensed her ill ease and although they didn't understand, wanted to offer what comfort they could.

Cocoa was shut in Heather's room with Neil for company, for her own safety; not just from the huge dogs, but also any other danger that showed up tonight.

A gun shot in the distance, then another and another in rapid procession, shattered the quiet in the room. The frantic knitting continued unabated. The shooting went on for some time but Debbie's face showed no change in emotion. I felt I was intruding, but was too mesmerized to look away.

Then the shooting halted; so did the knitting. Her knitting resumed, but a little slower this time. The ticking clock in the corner of the room suddenly seemed very loud.

One final, solitary shot was heard, and a teardrop slid down Debbie's nose and plopped on her knitting. She looked up at me, as though asking for permission to cry.

'He was a good man,' I said, becoming teary eyed as well. It was poor recompense for her loss, but I needed to say something. She merely nodded, and slowly resumed her knitting, though I saw her tears continue to slowly seep out.

My heart ached for her, for all of us. I didn't want her to be alone at this time.

'Debbie, would you please go and stay with Allie and the children in the cave? They'll be very frightened and I can't be there for them.'

'Yes dear, of course,' her desolate little voice croaked, hoarse from hours of disuse. Then she leant down and patted the head of one of her giant Wolfhounds. 'The lads will keep us safe.'
34

Edge of the Abyss

Rolls of jagged barbed wire stretched up both hills on either side of the bottleneck opening between the steep banks of the hills at the entrance to the village road. Full-grown steers had been mustered and were now being pushed in the direction of the approaching intruders, to both serve as a shield for Nate and the other men and to trap the intruders in the ravine, leaving them vulnerable

The men from the village, crouched in good positions and ready with weapons, were waiting for the signal from Gen ─ a blast from the air-raid siren ─ to let them know that the invaders were trapped in the ravine by the oncoming cattle, in position for the next part of their plan.

After Gen's signal, all going to plan, the farmers would use the dogs to divert the stock out of harm's way, into a side paddock, leaving only a small gap between the rolls of barbed wire on opposing sides of the bank. The barbed wire, we hoped, would create an effective bottleneck to flow into a Tequila shot fit for the devil.

As for any that made it through, Nate and the boys were waiting to finish them off. With limited man-power, this plan shifted the balance in our favour.

Kyle was wearing camouflage pants and a black singlet; he always seemed impervious to the cold. He was wearing black face paint across his cheeks, and was armed with his newly sharpened claymore and a pistol. Nate and Angus had various weapons including several guns, knives and grenades. They had positioned themselves nearby to cover Kyle's back, knowing that Gen would kill them if they let the boy come to any harm.

Running his fingers across the back of his skull and the bumps of scar tissue where the beer bottle had been broken over his head, Nate mentally prepared himself. He had a recently healed scar in his right thigh, but the pain of the arrow lodged there was still very fresh in his mind. No, he wouldn't be losing any sleep over laying waste to these crazed savages tonight.

To him they were no longer human; that side of them had been possessed, smothered and extinguished by their feral side. Now they were a threat to his peaceful little world and everyone he held dear. This thinking was the only way he could square-up what he and the others were about to do, with his conscience.

Perhaps sometimes peace was only to be found on the other side of war.

Gen at this very moment was riding Storm to the peak of the ridge above the valley entrance, to greet the visitors.

Riding a huge, stroppy gelding to the top of a steep wooded hill, in the late afternoon, in the middle of a thunderstorm is not advisable, and it took every ounce of grit, determination and concentration I could muster. However, I was glad of the distraction, because my heart and mind were torn in so many different directions that I was surprised I was functioning sufficiently to stay upright.

We were making good time, Storm and I. We'd practised a few times over the last few days, and although I was growing very wet, cold and tired, I was pleased to participate and make myself useful instead of waiting to hear which one of my men wasn't coming home.

Lightening suddenly lit up the dim, grey evening sky like day, and as I counted in my head, one-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand, a deafening boom! shook the valley. My horse reared up fully on his back legs, and I slid off, briefly in thin air before landing hard on my tailbone; the jolt ran through my entire body to finish with a thump inside of my skull.

Storm started down the hill towards home. I sat in the wet mud, in the middle of the track and hurled abuse at his retreating rear end. My vocal cords were still rough from screaming during Leon's attack, and this added even more frustration to my mood. 'You useless, fucking, half-a-tonne of dog food! I'm going to ...'

I was interrupted by another lightning strike, which scorched a tree dangerously close to the track and not far from Storm. Another tooth-rattling boom! followed.

Storm backed up a few steps, then danced and hopped and went round in circles, until I feared he'd plunge over the edge to his death if he didn't settle down. Finally he trotted, snorting loudly, back to me. I guess he'd decided he'd rather stick with me, than try to work out what the hell was going on in the bush tonight.

Grateful for his return, I patted his frightened, trembling neck speaking soothing words till he seemed calmer. I climbed painfully back into the saddle and rode to the gate at the top of the ridge.

I slid down the saddle and rushed up to the gate to open it — big mistake.

It took my brain a few seconds to register something was very wrong. The message from my foot reached my brain just ahead of the burning pain that came rushing on like a tidal wave.

When I sucked up the courage to look down, I couldn't see clearly but was in no doubt that I'd stood on a long nail embedded in a discarded fence post, The nail had sunk through the sole of my boot, into my foot. It felt like the nail was almost to the point of re-entry out the top of my foot. It was just too horrendous to contemplate.

I cringed and cursed, 'You bastard!' This didn't feel satisfying enough, so I added, 'Fuck it!' as well, and pulled my foot upwards, before losing the nerve to do it.

It felt like that part of my foot was being dragged inside out as the rusty nail grabbed at the tender tissue, reluctant to release its hold on me. Then, scared to look at the object, and still hoping I was wrong, I tentatively stepped on the foot, only to quickly take my weight off it again, as new waves of pain shot up my leg and a warm patch of liquid oozed round the interior of the boot.

I felt sick to my stomach and waves of nausea washed over me as I dry retched at such a brutal assault on my body. And I wanted to do something really bad to the prick who had left something so god-damned dangerous hidden in long grass!

There was no time for self-pity now, though. I yanked open the gate and, ignoring the pain in both my tailbone and my foot, heaved myself painfully back up into the saddle, grunting, and rode as quickly as I could towards the top of the peak.

The noise of hundreds of marching men could now be heard echoing up from the ravine below, and the moonlight made their shadows in the dusk stretch up the clay banks looking like eerie caricatures of demons. The foul smelling rag-tag remnants of humanity swarmed up the road to our valley in search of food and destruction.

They held fiery batons above their heads and yelled, feverish, anticipation rising as they neared their target, our valley, but their noise was suddenly overpowered by the loud and eerie whine of Heather's air raid siren.

As the deafening urgency – the signal to our men, waiting on the other side of the bottleneck, to stay back and take cover – filled the valley, I gave the handle of the siren one last crank and then lit a pine torch wrapped in kerosene-soaked rags.

Above me, Jeff's helicopter loomed into view, the sound of the blades chop-chop-chopping as he hovered adding to the tension and anticipation. The strong downward draft from the blades tossed my hair wildly and blew dirt and pine needles up to sting my cheeks. Beneath the chopper swung a huge monsoon bucket, but it was not filled with harmless water this time. I signalled, waving the flaming torch at him

From his spot behind a wooden trailer, Nate could see to the ravine where the angry mob grew silent, frozen like rabbits in the headlights of oncoming cars, as they looked to the skies. Fear and uncertainty crept into their eyes. As the ones in front halted in their tracks, the group bunched up in the ravine. Many had freaked out at the eerie siren and crammed forward; a few of the stragglers at the back turning to run back in the opposite direction.

The bucket opened up and screams broke out as the petrol fell like rain from the sky, burning their eyes and coating their clothes with the powerful scent of it.

Giving the villagers an opportunity to move into position, the steers had been driven at a steady pace towards the opening and were now clearly visible to the terrified hoard approaching through the ravine. They were trapped like sitting ducks, all but a few at the back who tried to run. Jeff flew right down the line coating them all with the volatile, greasy liquid before flying clear.

The farmer whistled for his cattle dog, a big Huntaway-cross-Collie, to divert the cattle to safety in the paddock left open for them.

Up above on the edge of the ridge, above the crowd, Gen appeared with the lit torch; shouting above the screams below, 'Your precious oil started this!' She tossed the flaming torch far out into the ravine, 'Have it then!'

Before it could ignite the rising petrol fumes, a wind gust blew the torch off-course into the wet shrubbery on the opposite bank, rendering it useless.

The men waited below; everyone on tenterhooks. Angus was loading up a fire-tipped arrow to light and send into the crowd, one of the backup plans should Gen's torch not do the job. One of Allie's brilliant suggestions.

Several of the mob in front began to run and yell, scared of the oncoming bulls, and the unknown danger from above. In the fading light, they became caught up in the barbed wire like flies on sticky tape, some eventually crawling over their trapped comrades.

I tried to work out what was going on below, eyes straining in the dusky light, fingernails sinking into the bark of the tree trunk in frustration, wondering what was taking them so long. I was completely lost at what I should do next. Maybe it was luck, or a little help from the Gods, but as I stood there immobilised with anxiety, lightning struck the ravine, igniting the vapours above the crowd with a spectacular 'whoomph'. The whole area burst into flames.

'Thank you Thor,' I uttered, amazed, as the fuel fireball boiled up and roared like it were alive. A sudden hot gust of petrol-scented air swept up into my face, lifting my hair above my head, making me look to the crowds below, eerily like a witch at the stake. I turned back to the trees and my very jumpy horse.

The evening filled with fire and agonised screams from wild, desperate and burning men looking like melted escapees from a wax museum. They scattered in every direction seeking refuge or revenge, whichever should cross their paths first.

Nate smelt the horrid sweet roast pork smell waft past carried by the wind. 'I don't think I'll ever be able to eat pork again.' He stated as he looked up to the ridge where Gen stood staring into the flames before she turned and disappeared into the woods.

'Come and get me, ya fuckers!' Some enormous hairy bugger from the valley, with a shaved head and a beard as bushy as a brown bears ass, who had more spirit, than sense, went charging in like waves crashing on rocks. Yelling like a crazed highlander with his sword raised, he broke the line of burning, melting, evilness that fled from the inferno.

What he lacked in skill, he made up for with enthusiasm and we began to wonder if he actually was immortal as he continued slashing his path through the burning intruders, untouched for quite a while before finally succumbing to the enemy hacking at him. But, his heroics definitely put our side at a psychological advantage.

Kyle, having seen the brave man fall, burst forward lusting for revenge.

The savages who tried to run for it were mostly caught by the barbed-wire stretched out on the perimeters of the road, causing the remainder to become bunched up in the bottle-neck. The few who got through were easily picked off especially by sharp-shooter Danni, up in the huge maple tree.
35

Orchestrated Chaos

The Cave

The children could hear the distant noise of fighting, gunshots, yelling and screams. They sat together scared stiff, under blankets on boxes in the cave — most of them had tear-streaked faces or were still crying. Solar lanterns standing in two corners dimly lit the room. Cold emanated from the walls, and the air was still and dusty.

Outside the thunderstorm was so wild at times, that when it flashed and the resounding boom followed, the cave and its contents vibrated. Allie even felt it in the roots of her molars.

A new wave of rage bubbled up inside her. This was her home, damn it! How dare they invade their valley and bring terror to these innocent lives.

Allie tightly gripped her crossbow while her other arm was wrapped protectively around one of the neighbours' children — a four-year-old girl, Paige. Olivia was hugging a couple of other young ones.

Seized by inspiration and a need to do something to console them, Allie suggested they say a prayer together for their parents' safety.

'Debbie, do you know a good prayer?' she asked the dear, elderly wife of the brave old guy Dennis, who'd stayed behind, losing his life in defending his home and giving them all warning.

'The Lord's Prayer is a nice one,' she replied, timidly. Debbie began and the children joined in together, drawing strength from their togetherness and her words.

'Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come; thy will be done; on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation; but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory, forever and ever. Amen.'

The Battle

Unbeknown to Kyle, the French girl Danni was up a strategically chosen tree close to the bottleneck opening. She was picking off bad guys who were scrambling, seared to medium-rare and half on fire, through the bottleneck opening. Nate had asked her, personally, to ensure his son's safety, if she could.

Kyle was towards the back of his group but after seeing the big brave guy in the front get taken out after such a heroic beginning, he surged forward, running and wrangling like an eel through the mud to the thick of the battle, eager to get in there and do some damage.

Once at the front he began slashing wildly and creating a bloody arc of corpses around him. Fortunately, Danni watched him closely and was responsible for many of the falling bodies.

Petite, but ruthless Danni, in full combat gear with black smears on her cheeks, sat up the tree. She was talking to herself as she watched events unfold through her riflescope. 'There's my handsome wee cockerel. Don't go getting yourself killed, my sweet, I've got plans for you.' Although Nate had asked her to pick off any threats to Kyle, she would have done it on her own account anyway.

Panting with exertion, and feeling like he was just a player in one of his games, Kyle lifted the claymore to strike the yelling man in front of him down through the neck. His arm stuck fast as the heavy sword lodged in bone and he was unable to remove it, so regretfully, he left it sticking out of the dying man and pulled out his gun instead. Kneeling in the blood and filth on the ground, he took aim and proceeded to take out as many as he could.

Above them, the sky thundered and crashed. Rain began to fall – heavy and ice cold – hindering visibility.

After notching up a respectable number of dead, a bit of flying debris, later found to be a sledgehammer (knocked free of the enemy with a severed hand still attached), hit Kyle a glancing blow to the temple and he dropped, stunned like a bull at the abattoir.

The Cave

The door handle rattled. No... please no, thought Allie. She shushed the children. The handle rattled again and all eyes turned to the cave door. Allie had barricaded it well and hung the huge key on its customary hook on the wall. With her emotions still raw from her ordeal a few weeks back, she was almost as frightened as the children, but anger was beginning to win out over fear. Let them come, she thought to herself defiantly. I'm ready for you this time, you bastards!

'They won't get us here, will they Allie?' little Paige whispered, from the shelter of her arm.

'No honey, I'll keep you safe. Don't worry,' she told her, smiling warmly.

The other children huddled together under blankets, frightened eyes darting between Allie and the door.

The dogs growled, low and menacing but Debbie whispered to them, 'Cease lads,' and they grew quiet obediently at her command.

Allie put her finger to her lips to keep the children quiet and crept over to the door handle. Quietly placing the crossbow arrow up to the old, oversized keyhole, she prayed that the person on the other side wasn't someone she knew and cared about. Allie had warned them all to use a password if they wanted to get into the cave. If they hadn't heeded this warning, it was going to prove fatal in a few seconds.

The handle was wrenched up and down, frustratedly. Allie fired. There was a grunt from the other side, and then a thump a few seconds later as though something very heavy had hit the ground.

The Battle

Nate, who had been efficiently dispatching crazed cannibals with a frenzy bordering on madness, saw his son fall. 'NO!' he cried out. Horrified and thinking he might witness his son's murder, he stumbled as though he'd just had his knees taken out from under him, 'Kyle!' How would he tell Gen?

Angus looked up at hearing Nate's voice and ran over to where he'd last seen Kyle, to find his friend had taken a hit. A passing bullet grazed Nate's his upper, arm while he was preoccupied with Kyle's plight. Fortunately, it was only a flesh wound, so gritting his teeth and ignoring the pain, he went to his son.

Several singed men, who seemed to be merely running on adrenaline and madness, were approaching; but none reached Nate as they began dropping like flies, all around. Danni, bless her, was up in her tree making them pay.

There on the ground — amidst all the mud, blood and filth — lay his first-born son. He was corpse-still, with a bloody patch on the side of his forehead, black and oozing. Nate sobbed, refusing to believe what his eyes were showing him. He tried to brace himself for the worst, but how could he?

No man should have to bury his son.
36

Very Bad Men

The Cave

Another child let out a scream and turned to hide her face in Olivia's shoulder. She was pointing at Allie's feet, where a pool of red was oozing under the door, curling through the silt and sand there. Cautiously, Allie grabbed the key off its hook, unlocked the door and pushed down the handle. With a lot of shoving and heaving she finally got it open.

It was a familiar face ... but not, thank god, a loved one. She recognised him with a venomous surge of hatred. His face had haunted her dreams for weeks since that day with Shirley on the hillside, and the horrors in town that followed.

He was groaning and clutching his middle in agony. Allie felt a brief wave of satisfaction pass over her when their eyes met and he flinched in recognition. She wanted to put another arrow between his eyes right there but instead leant over his head and whispered, 'I'm not done with you yet ... sweetheart!' sarcastically mimicking the words he'd used when he'd first captured her.

Struggling to contain the surge of adrenaline and bottled rage inside, Allie impulsively booted him in the head, rendering him unconscious. She grabbed his boots, dragged his heavy weight away from the door and rolled him very roughly down the bank.

She peeked back at the children, 'It's alright. We're safe. I'll just be a minute.' She smiled reassuringly at them before picking up her crossbow and loading another arrow.

The Battle

On closer inspection, Nate's heart soared to find Kyle was still alive – still breathing, just unconscious. Kyle had bleed quite a lot from the graze on his forehead. The flesh around the wound was already turning blue-black with bruising, but it seemed superficial.

The attackers coming through the bottleneck were now negligible, so they could take time to hover over Kyle. He began to moan, slowly swinging his head from side to side. Then he spoke... though they couldn't, for the life of them, understand a word of it.

'Blah, blah, wookie, nipple pinchy ...' he said and then screwed up his face and giggled like a schoolgirl.

Nate looked at Angus, extremely confused. 'What the hell?'

To which Angus laughed and said, 'I don't know ... but it sounds like him. I think he's going to live.'

Nate gathered up his nonsense-babbling son in a firefighter's hold – the burning sensation an unpleasant reminder that he'd been shot in the arm – but insignificant to the pain he'd felt seeing his son supposedly killed. He told Angus to go and check on the girls in the cave now that the immediate danger seemed to be over.

Danni, with her secret infatuation with Kyle, was taking revenge, picking invaders off like pegs in an amusement parlour, when she spied a female form beneath her tree. The accompanying horse meant it was likely this was Gen, and this was confirmed when Gen looked up at her with a friendly wave, in hopes she wouldn't be shot as one of the enemy, in the heat of the moment.

The Cave

He stopped rolling about twenty metres away, on his face. 'Move, ya mongrel,' Allie whispered, nose pressed to the sight of her crossbow.

The night was dark, wet and cold; filled with violent screams and shots. She could smell the stench of fire combined with a sickening roast-pig smell, carried on the breeze. Adrenaline was coursing through her blood stream and thumping in her temples.

Gone was the fear that had gripped her in her first encounter – that ill-fated day in the bush when Shirley died. She wanted nothing more than to get her revenge on this piece of filth, to finish him off, but couldn't bring herself to shoot an unconscious man in the back, no matter what he'd done to deserve it.

Suddenly a dirt-smeared hand slapped across her mouth, stifling the scream now stuck in her throat. His muscular arm clamped tight across her crossbow, trapping it against her, useless now.

The words, not again, ran through her mind. The children! They were relying on her to protect them, and she'd failed them, side-tracked with her own vengeful pursuits.

Surprisingly, the hands, slowly, released her.

Allie spun round confused, brought up her bow; her finger on the verge of pulling the trigger. She stared up into the face of Angus. 'What the... you? Why?' She was flabbergasted.

'You don't want to do that, Allie,' he suggested calmly.

'Oh, yes I bloody well do!' she screamed at him.

He shook his head, gently taking the bow from her shaking hands in case it should go off accidently. 'It will rot your soul love,' he said in a tender voice. His eyes were so kind and sincere. He gestured to the broken man down the hill. 'I saw the injury. He's wounded in the gut and will most likely die, slowly and painfully from the infection. I've seen it before. Leave it be. You acted out of a need to protect the babies. That was justified. But to kill him now, will weigh you down long after he's gone. If you want to heal and be rid of him, let it go.'

With one last look at the still form at the bottom of the hill, she reluctantly agreed and stepped into his open arms for a much-needed hug, tensions of the last few hours dissolving by shedding some long, pent-up tears. Then she looked up at his kind face, 'Why are you here? Aren't you needed at the battle?'

'The battle is all but over. I needed to know you were safe.' He stepped back and looked away embarrassed. Then he added belatedly, 'You and the kids that is.'

'Oh,' she answered weakly, fatigue stealing her words, until thoughts of the battle resurfaced. 'Did anyone get hurt?' Realising how stupid the question sounded, she rephrased. 'My family ... are they all ok?'

'Yes, I think they're all ok. Well, Kyle got a bit of a dint in the noggin and your dad got shot in the arm.' He saw her flinch, upset, and quickly added, 'Not bad though – just a flesh wound I think.'

He hadn't mentioned Gen yet, so before Allie could ask he added, 'I haven't seen your mum, but as long as she didn't get thrown by that psycho horse of hers, she should be alright.'

Suddenly Allie snapped out of her surreal state. 'The kids, I need to check them, they'll be frantic!'

'Of course. Go see to them. I'll take care of him,' he gestured to the body, 'and check the area again for any others.'

He turned to go and for a second she wanted to call out to him, to thank him and give him another hug, but she was just too emotionally drained to act. 'Thank you Angus,' she called to his back, but he didn't hear. He was already off down the hill, dragging the man by the scruff of the neck on his back and taking him lord knows where to die.
37

One For The Road

End of the Battle

The wind changed, bringing with it the familiar, homely smell of wood-smoke but tinged with the sickening stink of burnt flesh. The fact that I was responsible for it didn't escape me.

With one hand still on the reigns, I turned to vomit in the bushes, causing Storm to shift his back end smartly. I was wiping my mouth on my sleeve when I spotted Nate approaching, with Kyle slung limply over his shoulders. I burst into tears and rushed to them as fast as my injured foot would allow.

'Gen!' Nate's relief at finding me safe was obvious. 'Kyle's had a knock but he's going to be fine; let's get him back to the house though.'

The Cave

Allie rushed back into the cave to find the children tearful and frightened. One of the little boys was peeking curiously out the door and she shooed him back in.

Debbie, amazingly, had fallen asleep but her dogs stood guard at her side.

'Allie, you killed that man,' Tommy stated, in awe.

'Well, he was a very bad man and he would have killed you lot, so he deserved it. Tommy, why didn't you stay inside with the others, like I told you?' He looked down at his shoes abashed.

She sighed in resignation. 'Well, since you want to be nosy, you may as well stay at the door and help me keep lookout in case there are others out there, huh? Keep low and out of sight. Angus took the bad man away, but that doesn't mean someone else might not come along.'

Not daunted, Tommy grinned, excited and eager to help – a typical boy.

She hugged and consoled the children; waiting for the families to return. She hoped no-one was too badly injured, though it should be ok with her mother's help. Nana was so much better at this; God she missed her.

Little Paige was wriggling around in her seat in a familiar way. 'Do you need to pee?' Allie asked her. The scared little girl nodded. Not wanting to risk taking them outdoors Allie found an old bucket and took Paige behind some crates for a little privacy. From their seclusion she heard the door slam and the lock click shut.

'Allie,' Tommy cried. 'I think I saw someone out there.'

Angus ...

The night was almost completely dark now and the bush was pleasantly quiet — if a little damp, from the drenching they'd had part-way through the fighting. The heavens had opened up with a downpour, although it hadn't completely extinguished the fire.

He needed to be alone for a bit after a night like this. As he wound his way through ferns and bush on the familiar track, dragging his noisome burden, he daydreamed of romantic walks with Allie once this mess was all a distant memory. He was bloodstained, covered in soot, sweat and mud, but when he'd held her in his arms as she'd cried, he couldn't have been happier.

He was going to send this bastard he was dragging back to hell or at least the bottom of a rocky gully, where if the fall didn't kill him, the wound in his gut eventually would; either way, no great loss to the world.

As his head bounced roughly over the turf, striking occasional rocks and branches along the way, Sid had come round enough to know he'd better keep playing dead, or he'd rapidly find himself in that condition. It was a good thing that the huge gorilla dragging him seemed distracted, because he wasn't quite sure how he was going to get out of this one.

He still couldn't believe that little blonde bitch had shot him through the bloody keyhole with an arrow. But, here he was, with his insides leaking out, trying to stifle his groans and grunts and play possum. The arrow shaft had snapped and been driven further into his abdomen during the roll down the hill; the agony was almost insurmountable.

Angus slowed and Sid could see the land disappeared about a metre away. He could smell and hear the water rushing by from somewhere far below. He knew his number was up unless he could come up with a plan now.

Suddenly Sid remembered his knife. It was still in his belt. Sid withheld a tempting snort of derision, realising he'd been outsmarted by amateurs. If Angus hadn't been pondering a romantic rendezvous with the girl he loved, he would have thought to check for weapons.

A sudden pain hit Angus hard in his left gluteus maximus muscle. Sid had made one last-ditch effort and swung his knife up in an arc before erupting in disturbed laughter.

Yelling in pain, Angus dropped Sid's collar, and swung round to see the man's evil smug smile, Sid's fingers still tightly gripping his knife and spotted with fresh blood.

That was as much as Sid had planned. He had nowhere to go and he knew it. His blood loss was beyond critical now. As Sid's laughter became unhinged, Angus picked him up by his hair, and silenced the noise by whipping Sid's own knife sharply across his windpipe, severing the jugular vein.

Angus hurled the dead man's body into the gully leaving him to the wild pigs. He noticed with distaste that his singlet was growing cold and sticky from the blood he that now covered him. He turned for home, muttering under his breath as he limped painfully, 'Jesus, some people just never quit being a pain in the ass, do they?'
38

Last Casualty

After tucking Kyle into bed and leaving Gen to dote on him, Nate was anxious to get his girls and have all his family together under their home roof, safe. Impatiently, he grabbed his key, forgot about the password and opened the cave door to be promptly greeted with a softball bat, being swung with fervour by a terrified Olivia.

'Whoa, hey!' Luckily his height meant he managed to grab the bat at waist height on the upswing. He wasn't heard over the frantic screams from Olivia and the other children. When Olivia realised it was her father she laughed and sobbed, hugging him tight in relief.

'Dad, you're bleeding!' she said, when she noticed his bloodstained arm.

'I'm fine darlin'. Where's your sister?'

'Out there,' Olivia pointed out into the darkness. 'Tommy saw someone coming and she took her crossbow and went out.'

Nate looked for Debbie and spotted her over in a corner out of the way, asleep in her chair. Incredible. He turned back to Olivia. 'I'll go find her. What's the password? I might not be so quick next time!'

'Mud pies,' she replied, smiling. 'I thought of it.'

'Great, mud pies it is.' He kissed her quickly on the forehead and went back out into the night.

Allie heard them coming, long before they appeared. Horrible sounds; almost inhuman noises of pain and fear. The intruders looked extremely unpredictable and dangerous.

But... so was her crossbow. She was fired up, full of adrenaline and lethally accurate at this distance. She found a spot where she could hide with her crossbow resting on the sturdy branch of a tree, and waited.

She fired, three times in rapid succession — each shot meeting its target, straight through the heart. She sat in the silence for a minute and breathed, until their smell made her feel sick. Leaving the bodies, she turned to go back to the cave when a sound behind her made her freeze.

Turning back, she raised her crossbow again at another lone, and very large, figure approaching slowly through the trees. He was limping, but silent, other than the noise his heavy footfalls made. She saw no point in hiding from the injured and alone man and so stood in plain view, with her finger was on the trigger, an instant from firing.

'Don't shoot Allie, it's me,' he said, lifting his hands high in surrender.

Angus emerged from the pine trees, walking oddly, his chest soaked with blood. Allie dropped her bow and ran to him, amazed he was upright after so much blood loss. Surely he was going to die very soon! She flung her arms around him, but then pulled away reflexively. 'Ewww! What have you done to yourself?'

He was tempted to play on her sympathies to squeeze more hugs out of her but realised she wouldn't come close while he was wearing the shirt, so he confessed.

'The blood's not mine, but I have been stabbed in the leg.' It was a small white lie. He felt too stupid to admit he'd been knifed in the ass.

They started back towards the cave, meeting Nate coming the other way. He opened his arms enveloping Allie, finally feeling at ease. All baby ducklings present and accounted for.

As they approached the cave door, it was pushed open fully and Olivia came out looking worried. 'Dad, come quick. I think Debbie's dead.'

The enormous dogs sat protectively at Debbie's feet. They were quite calm, until Nate came over and after ascertaining the poor woman had passed, tried to pick her up. Then the dogs got very possessive, even raising their hackles at him. It took some serious persuasion, but eventually after holding him at bay for a while and sniffing him thoroughly, they began to wag their tails a little.

He stroked them and told them he was very sorry for their loss, and reluctantly they conceded their beloved owner. They sensed she was gone but their loyalty was not going to be erased simply because she was no longer breathing.

Nate carefully picked up the dear old lady, shedding a tear for her because she had lost so much this night; first her husband, and now her life. At least she had been surrounded by love, of the canine variety.
39

Nurse Allie's Caveman

'Take off your pants and get on the table,' Allie said.

Angus looked shocked. 'I beg your pardon? I can't do that, here.' He looked around in embarrassment. There were people scattered round the house in all the rooms in various states of injury.

'Oh for fuck's sakes! Why not!?' Allie was on edge and had no time for silly buggers. She asked the village men to place the few dead they'd bought back with them respectfully under sheets on the garage floor. It was so cold it was like a fridge out there, so the smell would be kept to a minimum until they could be buried in the next day or so.

The few wounded who had arrived had only minor wounds, thank the Lord, because there was not a lot she could do for critical injuries. She had mentally prioritised people by severity of injury and enlisted available hands to help where they could. Even Neil was handing out sugared water to people, pleased to contribute in some way.

Her mother was currently keeping a close watch on Kyle and attending to her father's minor bullet graze to his upper arm. Olivia had gone to bed; she had had more than enough excitement for one day.

Angus's wound was next on her list, and she was far too tired to put up with his shy crap. 'You're being ridiculous,' she said. 'Most of the village has seen you naked, that time you got drunk at the Harvest Festival and ran round the village in your gumboots and nothing else, remember?'

'Oh,' he gasped. 'That's different. I was young, dumb and drunk that night. Drink's the devil's water, you know,' he said rolling his eyes up in his head in mock disgust. 'Besides, you weren't there.'

Seeing that she wasn't budging, he muttered in quiet undertones, 'You know, there is a reason women should be seen and not heard.'

But he was not quiet enough, for she heard him and in equally quiet undertones Allie replied to the middle of his chest where her nose reached, 'Drop your club and come out of the stone-age caveman! I'm cleaning out that wound before infection sets in and then I'm stitching it. So, drop the daks, lie down and stop being such a big, bloody pussy about it all!'

Flabbergasted and at a total loss for words – but also rather impressed – he saw no choice but to do as he was told.

As he reluctantly slid his jeans down, Allie removed her hands from her hips and pointed to the huge kitchen table. Angus proceeded to walk penguin-fashion, holding his hands defensively over his family jewels, in a pair of out-dated granddad-type underwear and looking randomly round the ceiling as though inspecting the cobwebs up there. Allie giggled, but quickly suppressed it when he shot her the dirtiest of looks.

He lay stiffly on his front, on the blanket she'd covered the table with. He could not relax in this most undignified situation and made an attempt at small talk as Allie pulled down his underwear, exposing his startlingly white bum covered with a fine layer of black fuzz like duckling-down.

'So ... ah ... I'm sure you've done this several times before, I take it?'

'Stitched up somebody's butt? Well, no, but I've read about it ... in Nana's book. Mind you, it was a sheep she was stitching up at the time.'

'Oh, ok then,' Angus replied, looking even more apprehensive. 'So did it live then?'

'Yes, I believe so — for a while at least.'

The sounds of clinking and tearing Allie made as she prepared for her minor operation, did not help Angus relax. She saw his butt muscles clench, involuntarily, but the subsequent jolting pain at the site of the stab wound made him stop abruptly. 'Ah, do you think I could maybe have a wee dram for the pain, if you have some handy?'

'Thought alcohol was the devil's drink, you were telling me?' she teased mercilessly. She knew it would hurt a bit and was trying to distract him; at least that was her excuse.

'True, but I doubt the devil ever found himself in a pickle like this, and I doubt he'd be so troubled about exposing himself neither.'

'Sip it slowly, hmm?' Allie appeared by his ear startling him, whiskey tumbler in hand. You don't want it to run out before we actually reach the pain bit.'

He grinned and for the first time since she'd begun he showed signs of relaxing. He was no stranger to pain; he'd hunted wild pigs for years, done horse and bull riding and of course his SAS training. It was more his pride that was hurting now. Especially with his soft spot for Allie – he felt stupid around her at the best of times.

'Ha, ha,' Allie laughed to herself as she began to sponge the semi-dried blood from around the deep cut. The wound entry was in the lower part of his left buttock...

Angus looked over his shoulder, face troubled. 'Is it that amusing?' He was preparing to pull up his grundies to shield himself from further observations of his imperfections.

'No. Well, yes it is, but no, it's just ... Well, with the old scar from that day you helped Nana's cow and caught your pants on the fence, and now this new cut; it's going to look like your bum's smiling.' She looked down at him grinning, but realising that he wasn't impressed, she tried not to laugh again – which only made it worse.

When she'd calmed a bit and regained some composure, she queried, 'This is very deep. You're lucky the bleeding has stopped. Care to tell me how this happened, just out of curiosity?' She continued cleaning and swabbing the wound.

He took a big sip of the whiskey, savouring the taste for a second. 'Nope!' he replied stubbornly when he could draw breath again, then hissed at the searing pain as the disinfectant reached the rawness of the stab wound.

It wasn't until later that I was able to tell Allie that it had been Sid who had stabbed Angus while he was getting rid of him. Allie then felt mean for making fun of Angus.

Outside in the dark, windy night Danni had been meticulously checking the whole valley from the bottleneck to the farm and beyond, making certain no one else was wandering round while their guard was down. She'd been impressed with my forethought in having Angus blow up the overhanging hill at the only other entrance to the valley.

I had told her and Angus, 'It goes against the grain to damage bush like this, but I'm afraid it's necessary. We don't have enough manpower and weapons to defend both sides of valley, if it came to simultaneous attacks.' Heather had stored nitrogen fertiliser in the cave, specifically for this sort of scenario. She knew Angus would be able to make some sort of explosive from it.

Coming down off the cliffside and returning home at speed, I'd left my poor horse, sweat-soaked and chilling, tied up outside the house. Once I knew Kyle wasn't in immediate danger of expiring, I remembered the horse and whipped back outside to give him a rub down and something to eat. Coming back from the stables I met Danni returning from her reconnaissance.

Danni and I came into the house and Danni headed directly for Kyle. She marched straight up to him as he sat propped up in his bed, grabbed him by both ears and planted a big kiss on his lips, before leaving again without saying a word. The stunned boy just sat there, smiling in blissful, bewilderment with his palms facing up. 'What was that?' he asked no one in particular.

I was tremendously relieved that my baby boy was ok. I gave him a drink of sugared water to help combat the effects of shock and hugged him close to my heart. 'Are you ok? How's the headache now? Can I get you anything else?'

'Well, I've got a splitting headache but after that kiss I'm not feeling it so much just now. What the hell was that all about, do you know?'

I shook my head, then shrugged. It was a mystery to me too. Though Danni was young so perhaps she might find this headstrong young man quite agreeable.

'Mum ...'

'Yes sweetheart, what do you need? What can I get you?' I asked attentively.

'I think... I'm gonna... puke; can you go away now please?'

'Oh... right,' I said and handed him a bowl, smartly heading for the kitchen to see how Nate was coping after apparently suffering a bullet wound to his upper bicep. I winced every time I put my foot down but until now all my attention had been directed at my family. Some care for myself wouldn't go amiss.

Nate sat calmly in the dining room, with a bottle of his homebrew in his hand, staring idly out the window into the night. He heard my approach and smiled warmly as I pulled up a chair beside his injured arm. I handed him a bandage and some iodine to deal with my foot, which I lifted up and plonked in his lap.

The copious blood had dried with my body heat and stuck my woollen sock to the wound. The sock, thankfully, had become damp with the rain – enough to peel away from the entry hole without torturing me too much, as Nate peeled the mess off and dropped it in a bucket with a plop. Morbid curiosity made me lean over to peek at the wound, now that I could afford to risk fainting. The entry hole was black, but had clotted somewhat, only bleeding slightly with removal of the sock. Heat and redness radiated out from the wound.

Nate held up the iodine bottle and said, 'Waiting will not make it any easier.' I clenched my eyes shut as he squirted the brown solution generously into the wound. I dug my fingers hard into his forearm until the sting ebbed enough to breathe again.

Nate wrapped my foot lovingly in a bandage, as I sat with my legs across his thighs and I turned to have a decent look at his bullet graze. It had carved a decent graze through the skin, but the heat of it seemed to have cauterised it on the way through. I cleaned the foreign matter – dirt, blood, mud – from the surrounding area with a cloth soaked in iodine. Nate hissed a bit at the sting. I grinned up at him and he winked. 'Revenge, huh?' he asked softly.

He had a black tattoo there, a tribal Celtic pattern that circled his strong arm like a band. The bullet wound had run right through it.

'Your tattoo is damaged,' I remarked regretfully, as he stroked my leg, relaxing.

In his typical laid-back style, he shrugged it off. 'Never mind, the tatts tell the story of my life. The scar is just another chapter in my story, it's an honourable modification.'

I rubbed antibiotic cream on it, then placed some gauze and wrapped it with a small bandage. Finally sharing a long kiss and a long-awaited loving embrace, we laughed at having to patch each other up, but were thankful that the injuries were relatively minor.
40

Shake It Off

Morning broke with the loud, raucous chirping of numerous birds in the trees and a brilliant blue sky above. As the sun was just poking its face out and the dark silhouetted shadows began to retreat gradually up the forest-line, the warmth had not yet reached us. Still, cool and crisp, it was hard to believe that this place had seen such horrors only the night before.

Nate and I wandered along the deserted main road of the village, hand-in-hand, walking slowly. As we neared the entrance to the valley, the sight of the dead lying on the ground everywhere and the smell of smoke and blood on the air overshadowed the beauty of the morning. I felt violated by the destruction left in the wake of these strangers and their ruining of our beautiful paradise.

Returning home, my little cherry tree still sat as always but, I noticed with a pang, today it was devoid of my little friend.

Where was my little kingfisher now? I wondered. After the fear of losing my husband and children, it felt stupid worrying about a little bird, but I did all the same.

Perhaps he had been frightened off by all the violence and noise, smoke and fire from the battle. Hopefully he found somewhere safe to hide and not been caught, wounded or killed. Enough killing had been done.

The funerals were organised the following morning. The families who could manage to, took home their loved ones for burial, and the dead left behind were to be buried together in a rudimentary fashion with a simple linen sheet wrapped around each. As they had fought side-by-side, so they would lay side-by-side in an oversized grave.

There was neither the energy, nor the time before putrification started, to do more than this.

Before the service, I took Angus aside and whispered to him to follow me. I took him to the bathroom where I had set up Nate's shaving cream and razor and told him to sit while I gave him a wee trim, just enough to tidy up his bushy, unruly dark brown locks. He suffered these ministrations in good humour with relatively little objection. He would have done a lot more than that to improve his chances at winning Allie's heart.

I left him to it, returning about fifteen minutes later to catch him pulling faces at himself in the mirror. Seeming pleased with the improved look, he raised his eyebrows and winked at himself. I laughed and passed him some cologne. 'You don't scrub up half bad my lad.'

Some villagers, including Allie, Olivia, Nate and myself, were standing in a group at the cemetery. Other loved ones of the deceased were a little further away. A soft drizzle had begun to fall, fitting, I thought for the solemn occasion.

Allie looked up at the sound of a horse approaching on the road and watched as a handsome-looking man in a black suit climbed off and came through the gate.

Her jaw dropped and stayed that way as Angus walked suavely by; shoulders raised a little taller and back straight, with a new confidence in his stride. He smiled at her exuding genteel charm, but obviously pleased with her reaction, and then he turned to me and gave a wink.

Kyle stood sedately, his head sporting an impressive bandage like a turban. Standing next to Kyle, with her slender arm through his, was Danni in an elegant blue dress. A few children stood further along forlornly holding their mothers' hands.

Angus stood respectfully in his best suit, with his hands clasped, legs slightly spread and face solemn. Cleanly shaven and with his curly dark-brown hair cut to collar length, he looked a warm, inviting, attractive young man.

A little four-year-old stood next to him weeping for her fallen father. She slowly sidled closer and closer to Angus, glancing up at him often as though pondering something. She tugged twice on his trousers and when he looked down puzzled, she raised her little arms, silently asking for comfort from the big man who reminded her of her Daddy.

Feeling awkward, surprised and confused, Angus looked at Allie for direction. She just smiled back and waved as if to say, 'Go on, comfort her.'

He bent and scooped the little girl up. She clung to his neck and laid her face on his shoulder and renewed her weeping. Angus patted her warm, little back softly and whispered, 'Shh now. Don't cry. It's going to be ok, little one.' Gratitude for his kindness shone wetly in her mother's eyes.

'Where's my Daddy gone?' her little voice whispered.

He looked down at her distraught and sorrowful little cherub-face. 'Daddy's gone to a better place now, where he won't feel any pain or sadness anymore. He's up in Heaven with the angels, don't you know?'

'Really?' she asked, seeming to brighten a little with this thought.

'Would I lie to you with Allie over there watching me?' He gestured to Allie standing nearby. 'Why she'd smack my bum for me if I told you lies, wouldn't she?'

The little girl nodded, in total trust. Then she lowered her head to his shoulder again, 'I love you Angus, I'm going to marry you when I get bigger.'

His heart melted. 'Well, aren't I the lucky one then, ay?' he replied, with utmost sincerity.

We got home from the funeral, feeling drained and dreading the task of dealing with the enemy dead somehow. Various suggestions were tossed around the kitchen, all sounding more industrious than our poor worn-out bodies were capable of. We had just agreed we should send scouts to town in case any remaining families wished to claim bodies, when the house began to quiver disturbingly.

A low rumble could be heard approaching under the sound of glasses rattling in the cabinet and as lights swayed memories of the start of last night's battle resurfaced. I had a horrible moment of panic, thinking that another huge hoard had turned up at our valley, before I realised that it was another earthquake.

This one though, was a good deal stronger. As it intensified items began to fall from the shelves and crash to the floor. We dived for cover under tables and in doorframes.

After what seemed like long terrifying minutes, it finally it stopped. We cautiously wandered outside. A few trees had come down, and a few old power poles were now standing at funny angles. Nate walked with me down the road. As we walked down towards the bottleneck, we could see that earth from the hills had come down in a landslide near the ravine where the remains of many of the burnt, dead strangers lay awaiting disposal.

As we got closer, we were in awe of the sight. The ground had opened up, creating a huge crack in the road, and had literally swallowed bodies. Many had been buried by the landslide, leaving just a few bodies remaining above ground and only small remnants of the gruesome barbed wire sticking up here and there like hairs on a the chin of a witch.

We saw only relatively minor damage in the village, with the majority of buildings single-storied. Back home, we found the entry to the cave had suffered some damage and would require a bit of digging through the clay and rubble to excavate it.

Just the job for a bunch of stressed, worn-out teenagers I thought. The drizzle had stopped now and it wasn't overly cold. Angus, Danni and the kids were outside enjoying the fresh air, and enjoying manual work that didn't involve a lot of thinking, but left ample room for mischief.

Add spirited teenagers to mud and rain, and you've got the right ingredients for a good old-fashioned mud fight. I left buckets of warm, soapy water and old towels for them on the deck, and left them to their mischief and laughter; the best medicine of all. Nate and I avoided the mess and went for a walk and some time alone.
41

And Then ... We Just Live With It

17 July

'Will we ever be rid of all the horrors we've seen, the bad things we've had to do, do you think?' I asked Nate as I stared across to the valley, now scarred and bare apart from blackened stumps from where the final showdown had happened.

'Well, I don't think any of them will bother us again, is that what you're meaning?' he asked, tossing stones into the creek. The water bubbled hypnotically over smooth, shiny rocks. It smelt blissfully refreshing and cleansing after the stench of soot from the fields.

'Not exactly,' I turned and put my arms around his neck, 'I mean, will I see those people who died, in my dreams for the rest of my days?'

Nate sat on a large rock, and pulled me onto his lap. I lay my head on his chest and ran my fingers through the soft curling hairs there. He smelt of musk and sweat... but mainly musk. With all the drama, it felt like a long while since we had spent intimate time togother.

'I don't think so love. We didn't want to kill them. We were just protecting our own, which any good parent would do, wouldn't they? Or any herd of animals, for that matter. Events led to this ending. It's no-one's fault – just another curveball thrown at us by evolution. We just have to learn to live with it. Haha! You know, I think our son might have been on to something.'

I looked up into his face, studying it for what felt like the first time in months. He had a week's worth of dark-blonde stubble and hadn't bothered brushing his hair. It had grown long in the past few months and was hanging, tousled as though he had just come out of the hayshed after some afternoon delight. He looked very rugged and thoroughly disreputable, just the sort of look I loved. Even though my body ached in

every muscle and the fatigue dragged at me like a rock in a river, I was becoming increasingly aroused.

He bent to kiss me gently, merely meaning to reassure me that things would be OK, but the kiss lingered and went from gentle to passionate and demanding. He smiled and picked me up. 'I've got a cure for what ails ya. There's a barn over there with your name on it.'

A few hours and a pleasant spring nap later, we emerged with hair even more tousled and now containing several telltale bits of hay that we didn't bother removing. We wandered hand-in-hand through the trees and down the road a bit. For once, not bothering to think ... just enjoy, and ... to be.
42

Home Sweet Home

December, 2030

'Do you have any idea how bloody big those things get? I know judging by the thickness of those glasses you wear that you're pretty damn blind, but do you see any bloody moa running around out there? He'll prey on the sheep for Christ's sakes.' Nate was at the kitchen table with Kyle and Neil having a hot drink and discussing the pros and cons of having a Haast's eagle as a pet.

Neil's beloved egg had hatched with the aid of our customised incubator. The chick chose Neil as its mother by right of imprinting and had grown at an alarming rate with all the minced up offal, liver and heart he had been feeding it.

Neil's response to Nate was unruffled. 'Not if we train him. He could prey on our enemies instead, or the rats – there are plenty of those about now unfortunately. Think of him as a big German Shepherd my friend.' He patted Nate on the back, brimming with pride.

'Shepherds can't bloody well fly though, can they,' Nate replied sarcastically. He turned to Kyle for some support in his argument. 'And can you imagine being shit on by something that big?'

Kyle just laughed. Then he noticed a grey form near the floor out of the corner of his eye. 'Ah Neil, that bloody cat of ours looks like he's heading for your room with death and destruction on his mind.'

Neil had been fiddling with the mousetrap. He was determined to master the contraption. If a young girl could do it – then he could too. He answered Kyle indifferently without bothering to look up, 'Oh, is he?'

Nate chipped in, concern tinged with amusement on his face, 'Aren't you worried he might eat your wee budgie?'

Neil shrugged noncommittally. 'Ha! Got it!' He held up the mastered mousetrap.

Bob came hurtling out of Neil's bedroom with the huge Harpagornis moorei hot on his tail, awkwardly almost crab-walking to fit down the narrow passageway; with wings extended the tips grazed the walls on either side. It was screeching loudly.

Still not looking up Neil commented, 'Perhaps Bob's bitten off a bit more than he can chew then.'

They burst out laughing and left Bob to figure out how to get out of this caper.

EPILOGUE

Christmas dinner in the valley this year consisted of some humble chicken, corn, potatoes, yams, kumara and gravy, followed by apple crumble, steamed pudding and copious quantities of homebrew and wine.

A rather skinny Santa, aka my husband Nate, in a pitiful red and white hat, handed out presents. I had whipped up a variation of butterscotch candy from our precious stores of sugar in the cave. Allie had painted us some lovely pictures on canvas, and Nate made me a beautiful jewellery box with a pretty, glowing opal set in the lid. Angus, with Allie sitting happily in his lap, had made wooden carvings of various wild animals.

Kyle had found a guitar somewhere – I didn't want to know – and was serenading his new love Danni out on the deck. Nate had discovered a well-aged bottle of whiskey buried in the back of the shed, so we were in for a very merry Christmas indeed.

We went up to the graveyard in the afternoon to put a bunch of mountain daisies on Dave and Heather's grave – our first Christmas without her.

A new heifer calf had been born and we'd named her Heather in remembrance.

Maybe it was to reassure ourselves that we were safe and could relax, with current danger dealt with well and truly. Before long, by unspoken agreement, we headed towards the entry to the valley.

The barbed wire that we had rolled out for protection and had looked so menacing months before – well, the bit left above ground following the earthquake – was now blanketed with huge mountain daisies, all but hiding the rusty looking barbs. The area had taken on a much more benevolent appearance. I'd never seen daisies grow so prolifically.

I was delighted to find my little kingfisher friend, who flew over to sit on the wire near me, and sing for a bit, before flying away to a nest in a nearby tree. We went over to look and when Nate lifted me up to see, I discovered a nest full of babies newly hatched, bald and ugly, large mouths gaping for sustenance.

Life was good once more.

Raindrops in the pasture sparkled like a thousand diamonds across the field, as the sun sank behind the treeline to kiss the valley for the millionth time. The shadows lifted from the gnarly old willow trees that reached down to embrace the land and Daisy munched her hay happily.

'We live in paradise, honey,' Nate said.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Teresa Schulz (Author) has a Diploma in Science and Technology (Massey University, Palmerston North) and a Certificate in Freelance Journalism (NZIBS).

She lives in Feilding, New Zealand, with her two youngest children. She is a collector of stray animals who follow her children home or happen to look at her with sad eyes at the animal shelter, also a collector of dragons and anything Celtic, and last but not least, a guardian of our planet and all living things we share it with.

FINAL WORD FROM AUTHOR

During my time studying for my Science Degree, I came across interesting information regarding the oil supplies on our planet. This source (Kunstler, James H) stated that worldwide supplies would plateau around 2030, and then go into a decline. World populations and usage, however, would continue to grow – therefore demand rapidly outstripping supply.

The ripple effect of these predictions would mean large delays in production of food, and transporting it to world consumers. Given our current heavy reliance on corporate farming and the immediacy of grocery stores, people would be totally unprepared for abrupt halting of the food chain.

In older generations, they were more self-sufficient growing their own vegetables and making much of what they required. The old ways have been buried almost entirely and this puts most of the world population in a very vulnerable position ... not IF these events come about, but WHEN they do.

As a mother, I always plan ahead, and look for possible dangers my family may be exposed to. This issue, along with the environmental damage oil and other fossil fuels is causing to our atmosphere, and spills on coastlines to the aquatic life, makes me feel driven to send out a message to the world to stop burying our heads in the sand, and shifting the blame to future generations to worry about these problems.

The fact we will be dead long before they happen is just a cop out. Maybe we will. Maybe we won't. However, I, for one, am not going to take the cowardly and irresponsible option of leaving it to chance and to my children, and grandchildren to clean up after our mess.

We do have technologies available to use clean energy and do away with fossil fuels entirely, IF we can cut through corporate red tape to make it available to everyone. We have to combine our universal weight and put pressure on the powers that be, to change things for the better, before it's too late.

Below are a couple of sources I have used for information that I have found useful; I hope you will have a look and consider your part in helping. Don't do it for me, do it for your kids, and the animals who share earth with us. Without them, we will all die too.

http://www.thezeitgeistmovement.com/faq#faq1 (This link explains what Zeitgeist means and why it's something we should all be aware of.) http://www.thevenusproject.com/ The Venus Project

Kunstler, James H, The Long Emergency, Surviving the Converging Catastrophes of the Twenty-first Century, 2005. (He refers to the Hubbert peak oil plot/graph for estimates on peak oil plateau and decline.)

Survival Seeds: The Emergency Heirloom Seed Saving Guide (Kindle Edition) by M Anderson. (This book is practical advice for anyone wanting to prepare for food shortages, and explains some of the reasons why we should learn, similar to the reasons that prompted me to write this book.)

© BARBED WIRE AND DAISIES T SCHULZ

FOR MY FICTION READERS, I OFFER THIS

FREE DOWNLOAD

Psychological Thriller Novella

Unwilling to Break

Get your free copy of Unwilling to Break

When you sign up to the Author's VIP mailing list

Get started here: https://teresaschulz.com/free-book/

