Tomorrow 7 - The Other Side Of Dawn Read Online Free PDF

Stitch, our nerves on edge and stomachs churning. There was just no telling what new treats this war might have in store: patrols, helicopters, snipers, who knows? I wouldn’t have been surprised if a tank had come lumbering along the narrow track, blasting rocks and trees and wombats and us out of its way.
    Every section of the track that we got through was a relief. To reach that gum tree. To reach that white rock. To make it around the next bend. To come at last to the turn-off, near Mt Martin, where the four-wheel-drive track started down to our property.
    Ryan was waiting in there, not all that far from where we’d left him. He was holed up among a pile of rocks with a good view to the left and right of Tailor’s Stitch.
    To give him his due, he was genuinely ecstatic to see us five. We must have bonded with him faster than we’d realised. He was about as ecstatic to see us as he was dismayed to see the feral kids. At least he had the good sense not to say anything, but every time he looked at them he shook his head like he was a deputy principal and they were on daily detention.
    He had nothing to report though. He’d seen and heard nothing, not even our rifle fire. I was surprised that the walls of Hell sealed the place so well. It sure had been a perfect hiding place. Later, maybe, I’d have more time to feel sad about losing it.
    I gave him a quick news bulletin.
    ‘We need to get out of this area fast,’ I said. ‘If you’re willing to trust my judgement, there’s a part of our property that should be safe. We’ll have to retrace our steps a bit.’
    ‘I have to trust your judgement,’ was all he said.
    I found myself warming to him. Maybe it was the pressies. One of the backpacks he’d told us to bring was stuffed with goodies. Fresh bread, oh God, what a luxury that was. Avocados. Weet-Bix . Two bottles of Diet Pepsi. Kit-Kats. Iced Vo- Vos . Vegemite. We couldn’t stand around having breakfast, but on the other hand we couldn’t go any longer without food. We needed it for physical energy, and we needed it even more for emotional energy.
    We grabbed whatever looked good, stuffing as much as we could into our pockets while looking around anxiously, then set off down the track, Homer and I leading, Lee and Ryan bringing up the rear, eating as we went. It was kind of messy. Every dozen or so steps I’d reach into my pocket for another smidgin of food, at the same time as I was keeping a lookout.
    So I was scooping into my pocket, bringing out a couple of fingers-full of mushed avocado, or the crumbs of a broken Kit-Kat, or a torn piece of bread. I’ve often tried to picture what my stomach would look like after a meal of, say, pasta, with ice-cream and chocolate sauce for dessert, plus a glass of wine if my father was feeling generous. I mean, if you could see what was in your tummy, it’d be so utterly disgusting you’d never want to eat again. But I reckon if I’d looked into my pocket of food that morning I’d have found a pretty fair approximation.
    It wasn’t long before I was stuffed full. Jack was the ultimate chocolate mouth, but this time Fi and I gave him a run for his money.
    I wondered as I licked the Kit-Kat crumbs from my fingers who’d packed these goodies. I bet it wasn’t Colonel Finley. I don’t know whether he would have bothered, and I also wasn’t too sure that he cared enough about us to bother with luxuries. At least though he’d taken the trouble to ask on the radio what we wanted. Maybe he had more imagination than I’d given him credit for.
    The kids were totally in awe of Ryan, in spite of the pressies. They were so shy they wouldn’t speak to him at all for the first couple of hours. It had been a long time since they’d met any adults who were on their side. Gavin went into one of his furious sulks, refusing to go near him, or even to accept any food directly. It had to be passed on by Homer. I guess it was fair enough in a way, because the kids had been