The North (#wattys2016)

Chapter 12

The crest I’d chosen to go to ground was surrounded by eight-foot-high scrub brush, providing excellent concealment for both carriers. Doug and Kenny parked back-to-back; the APC’s facing east and west to give both turrets a 360 degree field of vision for our night sentries. We couldn’t open the rear doors without the interior lights spilling into the darkness and giving away our position, so any interaction between Arks One and Two would have to be via radio. The swarm following had to be more than 15 km behind us - we’d gunned our engines to about 30 km/hr and driven cross country for 45 minutes after we fuelled up. I estimated there was little chance they’d catch up to us by first light – we’d still be about three or four clicks ahead, and that was a conservative estimate. The ground was uneven and there were cattle fences stretched out across former farmland, as well as a host of other man-made obstacles.

But that didn’t mean we were going to kick back and relax. Each one of us was determined to stay vigilant. One thing you learn when you’re a soldier is the reasons why things are seen: shape, silhouette, shadow, spacing, texture, light and movement. There’s also the other issue of noise. Sound travels farther at night, because you don’t have to compete with every other living thing that might be awake during the daytime, though since Day Zero, cities and towns had fallen silent. The only sounds we’d heard from the safety of the armory were the creeps shuffling around the city and sporadic gunfire in the distance. Now that we were in open country, we’d have to invoke stricter discipline during the silent hours.

We’d pulled blackout covers over all the viewing ports in the carrier, and the interior of our machine was now bathed in red light, which took everyone a few minutes to adjust to. White light can seep through blackout covers and draw attention to your position, but red light is far less noticeable.

I sipped on a drinking box of orange juice with my back to the rear doors while Kate brushed Jo’s long red hair, trying not to tug the small hairbrush too hard every time she encountered a knot. It was shortly past eight o’clock, and we’d been out of the armory now for more than fourteen hours.

“How’s everyone holding up?” I asked as I watched Sid dole out foil packages of rations from the simmering pot of water over a portable mountain stove.

He sniffed loudly as he pulled a hunting knife out from its sheath; slicing open a steaming hot bag of corn beef hash. “I’m good … all things considered,” he said, poking his knife around the contents. “MMMM … corn beef hash. This is just like Christmas dinner.”

Dawson slipped the hairbrush back into her rucksack and then began to braid Jo’s hair. “We’re going to have to cut your hair one of these days, Jo. It’s getting pretty long now.”

Jo flashed me a toothless grin as I opened her pouch of ravioli and blew inside to cool it off. “Maybe I could get my hair chopped like Pam. Or maybe a Mohawk!”

Sid snorted. “Then we could count the freckles on your scalp, squirt. Or maybe play connect the dots with ‘em.”

Jo threw him a sour look. “I don’t have freckles on my scalp, and even if I did they’d be beauty marks, right, David?”

I took a swig on a cup of instant coffee and then sliced open my ration pack. Naturally it was the one containing the dreaded ham omelet. “I’m not taking a position on the matter of freckly scalps, Jo. I like your hair the way it is. But then it’s not me that has to brush the knots out every day.”

The radio squawked in my earpiece. “Ark One, we’re finishing our rations and will be going to ground shortly. Radio checks every hour, on the hour?”

“Roger that - We’ll be going lights-out in about twenty minutes. Doug will be doing the first night sentry followed by Kate, me and then Sid. I’ll have a route established for first light and will radio it to you during my sentry shift. Over.”