Urban Guerrilla E-Book

Leo Nix

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Sundown sends the silent kangaroo shooter, Roo, to explore the possibility of resettling their community in the safety of the Flinders Ranges.

But when they arrive, they encounter a foe even more dangerous than the Revelationist terrorists. Meanwhile in Adelaide, the 'house rats' have found the only way to survive: forage by night and hide by day.

Sergeant Nulla and his band of survivors accidentally set up camp right under the noses of the terrorists. But it is the conflict between the Alice Springs Command, Third Australian Army and Sundown's Commando that sets the path towards either disaster or survival in the harsh Australian outback.

This is a standalone novel, and can be enjoyed even if you haven't read other books in the series.

Leseprobe

Urban Guerrilla

Sundown Apocalypse Book 1

Leo Nix

Copyright (C) 2017 Leo Nix

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2019 by Next Chapter

Published 2019 by Next Chapter

Cover art by Stephen Kingston

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

A special thank you to: Bruce and Marja for their generous support and the difficult task of proof reading; Peter for his ongoing technical assistance in all things military.

Dedication: to Nulla, a damn good mate.

Chapter 1 - Sundown - Flinders Ranges

Even though the weather had cooled a little it was still hard going across the desert sand. Roo pulled up on top of a towering sand dune and peered into the distance. Bongo pulled up beside him. He lowered his handkerchief and spoke. “Roo, how much further to the homestead? I'm pretty sure my fuel is almost done.”

Pulling out his binoculars Bongo looked in the direction his silent friend pointed. Sure enough there was a tiny set of buildings a few kilometres away. “I can see some buildings. I hope my bike makes it. I'm running on fumes right now. How are you for fuel?”

Roo bent and looked at his fuel gauge and nodded `all good'.

“I'll lead just in case I run out. Let's go.” Bongo kicked his bike forward in the red sand and slid sideways down the face of the sand dune.

The landscape in this region was sparsely dotted with spinifex and salt bush. Here and there patches of green grass began to show more frequently as they approached the foothills of the towering Flinders Ranges. They rode up to the first shed before stopping.

As they kicked their bike stands down three cattle dogs raced from behind the house barking and growling viciously. Roo whistled loudly and the dogs suddenly stopped, looked at him curiously then gathered around the olive skinned kangaroo shooter to sniff his extended hand. Finally satisfied he was safe they began wagging their tails. Next the dogs checked Bongo's scent before jumping all over them both. Just then a young man appeared from around the side of the shed, his shotgun pointed directly at them. Roo carefully removed his helmet for the man to see who it was.

“Roo! For shit-sake, I nearly shot you! What the blazes are you doing out here?” the man shouted and walked across to shake the newcomer's hands.

“I'm Bongo, we've come down from Birdsville. We're pretty buggered, it's been a long trip and we need some fuel and a feed,” he said as the they walked their bikes into the shed and dismounted their gear. Roo busied himself cleaning grass stalks and seeds from his bike engine. Bongo followed suit while the young man chatted to them catching up with the news.

The farmer introduced himself as Riley, he informed Roo and Bongo of the local situation. “Those terrorists have been shooting up the homesteaders and taking some of them away. Jarl Horsely, said they've got a prison farm or something in Hawker and they're working them as slaves. Strange eh? His missus said the terrorists were religious folks she knew before all this happened and now they've turned crazy. Fancy killing people for nothing? There's no army, no police, nobody can stop them.” He pulled his felt hat off and scratched at his head as he wandered off to fill their empty fuel cans. The two men from Sundown's Commando could clearly see a stack of forty-four gallon drums of fuel in his tractor shed.

Riley finished filling the fuel cans then called his family to come out of hiding. Riley's two small children smiled shyly as they stood staring at the two men as though they had never seen a stranger before.

“Have you had any contact with the terrorists?” asked Bongo curious to know what was happening closer to civilisation.

“Not us, we're too far out for them to bother, I reckon. We've holed up here trying to keep our heads down. Sometimes we'll drive around to get some supplies from Jarl, but otherwise we stay away from everyone. They've been to just about every other station though, and collected people, killed some too. They tried to take all the cattle and sheep but they'd no idea what they're doing, so they gave up and left the area, gone back to Hawker we reckon.

“Most of them ain't from around here, they're mostly city folk and don't know anything about the bush or farming. That's why they've taken people from their farms, to work for them. Those they don't put into their prison farms they tax, they take a percentage of their food, cattle or sheep or crops. They call it `tithing', something to do with the Bible, Jarl said.” Katie looked at the two dusty riders as she picked up their youngest, Harry, and balanced him on her hip. The dogs continued to race about sniffing the interesting smells from the boys and their bikes.

Bongo filled them in on their battles with the terrorists and about their commando in Birdsville. He asked where the best place would be to settle in the Flinders Ranges. Bongo explained that they were sent to find a safe haven for their people. The farmer and his wife nodded, shifting their feet a little nervously.

“Arkaroola village is nice, you could probably settle there for a while. Anywhere towards Wilpena Pound would be a good enough place too, but Wilpena's occupied by the Wilson family, they're strange people. Don't go west or south of the ranges because that's where the terrorists have set up some of their outposts and prison farms. They'll capture you and make you work for them. We can help show you some places if you don't mind waiting a day or so. You could help me shift some cattle and sheep around? If you don't mind, I'd really appreciate some help.”

He looked at his wife and put his hand on her shoulder, only then did he notice how thin she was. “Poor Katie's exhausted trying to look after the kids and be my rouseabout at the same time. But come inside first and get some tucker into you, then we can look at the map and make some plans.”

Riley was one of Roo's cousins on his father's side, his brothers once had properties all over the Flinders Ranges. He was the only one who stayed behind to farm, the rest sold out to live in the city.

“Yeah, Earl lives in Adelaide and Mitchell lives down near Mount Gambier. They hardly ever bothered to visit. Katie and I love the bush, we've survived droughts, floods and bushfires but now we're really struggling. We have to hide whenever we hear a sound, and it's getting on our nerves a bit. We'd sure welcome some neighbours who knew how to fight them Revelationist terrorists. We'd sure appreciate some help with the animals and harvest too. We put in some barley and wheat with the help of a few of the survivors hereabouts. I'm too afraid to start up the harvester in case the terrorists see the dust cloud and come to investigate.” Riley was talking while Roo and Bongo hungrily ate his wife's home-made bread with piles of butter, cold meat and pickles.

Through his hot tea and a mouth full of sandwich Bongo asked them about Wilpena Pound and the Wilson's.

“I'm not sure exactly what's going on in there, Bongo. We haven't gone out there since this started, we're too afraid to. There are others like us who escaped the terrorists and didn't get captured, but we stay away from them too just in case they put us in. If they don't know we exist then they can't point the finger at us.”

That evening they relaxed, talking and playing with Riley's kids. Bongo was in his element rolling on their kangaroo and cattle skin covered dirt floor wrestling and laughing with little Harry and his older sister, Elle. Katie spent most of her time smiling as she watched her children having a wonderful time playing with someone else for a change. Riley was usually too tired to do much with his kids of an evening and she was flat out helping him and keeping the family fed. Neither had much energy left for their children, she thought, and her eyes reflected her sadness.

The children were put to bed in one of the double beds beside the fireplace and were soon asleep.

Roo indicated he wanted to head off for bed too. Neither of the adventurers could keep from nodding their heads, they were exhausted. Riley told them to throw their swags in the shed, it was the best place to sleep with the nights now getting cooler. Their one bedroom shack was already overflowing and there was simply no room for visitors.

Outside, the moon shone brightly. Roo walked Bongo over to the fences while the dogs walked beside them. “Roo, what say we do some work around the place tomorrow before we do our recon of the Flinders Ranges?” suggested Bongo.

Roo fingered the wire and pointed to the many places that needed mending. “Yeah, I can see it needs a lot of repair work. You want to hang around and repair Riley's fences and do some odd jobs?” Bongo asked, Roo nodded. “OK, why not do a good job of it and spend the week here, shoot a few kangaroos and emu's for them and then go exploring, what do ya reckon?” Again the silent kangaroo shooter nodded this time with a smile on his tired face.

Over the next six days the three of them worked from sun-up to sun-down doing everything from repairing the shed roof to fixing fences and chasing cattle and sheep from one paddock to another. Roo shot four large kangaroos and two emu's and they ate like kings. What they didn't eat they cut into strips, salted down and hung them out to dry for jerky.

On the seventh day Riley said they should go out to Wilpena Pound to meet the Wilson family and have a yarn with them. He warned them not to take their weapons, or to say anything about Birdsville, or their intentions to move here. He said he didn't like the Wilson's much and didn't trust them, no one did.

They left early in the morning riding their bikes along the back tracks. When they finally hit the main bitumen road they were blocked by a large herd of cattle. Two friendly stockmen rode up and invited them to their camp site for lunch.

At the stockmen's campsite was a truck, caravan, and a cook busy making the midday meal. One by one, the cattlemen came in for their lunch. Riley knew some of them and they came over to shake hands and introduce themselves.

“Hi Riley, how have you been mate, not seen you for a while. I thought the Revelationists might have got to you too. How's the missus and the kids?” asked Laurie, a lean sunburned man in his thirties.

“We're doing well, Laurie, how's your family? They safe?” The group yarned for a while catching up on the news and then the conversation turned to current events and the terrorists.

Laurie spoke up first. “They've got control of the entire country, mate. They tithe ten percent of everyone's cattle and sheep too. They like us here but only because Jack's a Wilson, and they don't touch the Wilson's. They've got a prison farm on the other side of the ranges, and have taken most of the farmers in the region to work there. You'd better watch yourself, Riley, because they'll take you and Katie too if they find you.

“Our Jack's not as bad as his old man but try to avoid him if you can. He doesn't come around much but he's here today, just keep your head down and be polite. You never know what he'll do. He's got four arseholes who run the property for him - psycho's they are, avoid them if you can. They've got connections with the Revelationists and do their dirty work for them. They act a bit like those Nazi Gestapo.”

Riley looked at Laurie and the small gathering around the camp fire. A few of the heads nodded in agreement with Laurie. Cookie came over and added, “If Jack finds out yer here with these two strangers there might be trouble, Riley. They're after more cow hands so just finish yer meals, and leave, boys. Don't make a fuss of it, just jump yer bikes and head back where yer came from.”

Again those same heads nodded.

The meal was almost over and the stockmen began preparing to move back to their cattle just as Jack arrived in his four wheel drive. He got out and walked over to the three trail bikes, then wandered over to the camp-fire with his four henchmen and sat down.

“Riley, nice to see you, mate, it's been a while. Brought some friends with you?” Jack called across the fire.

“G'day, Jack. You might remember my cousins Roo and Bongo, on my father's side. They're up from Yalpara ways, been working the cattle stations and harvesting wheat. They dropped in to give me a hand with me cattle and repair some fences. How's things with you, Jack?” asked Riley, amicably, but his eye's watched Jack's carefully.

“We're busy, as you can see. We could do with some extra hands though. You boys ride a horse and muster cattle, eh?” he called to Roo and Bongo. The boys both nodded.

“If you've finished working on Riley's property, I'll take you all on. We're light handed right now and could use you today…” The large man thought for a moment his eyes shifting from one of the newcomers to the other. “How about I send some of my boys over to help you, Riley, they could speed things up a bit with your repairs? The sooner we get some extra hands with the muster the better.”

No one spoke for a half minute. The uncomfortable silence was broken when Bongo spoke. “That's nice of you Jack, thanks for the offer but we're only here for the week and today was our last day. Riley wanted to show off the beautiful Flinders before we headed back.” He watched the man opposite, waiting for his reaction.

“No sweat, boys,” Jack said but he didn't sound pleased, “If you want full-time work just let me know, good workers are hard to come by. Things have changed in the world, boys, so bring your families if you want, we can put them up as well. We're a family friendly company and you'd all be welcome.” His eyes had gone dark and he looked away from the three as he stood up. “Right lads, back to work. Riley, nice to meet you again, take care now, boys.”

Within seconds the gathering dispersed and the only ones left were the three from Arkaroola and the cook. Bongo could hear Jack speaking with his four henchmen beside their bikes. It made him feel uncomfortable.

“Boys,” said the cook softly as he collected the cups and plates, a smoke hanging from the side of his mouth, “I suggest you take him up on the offer. He's got a nasty streak and no one gets away with saying no to him.”

“Why? What could he do?” asked Bongo, curious.

“What could he do?” The cook laughed. “He'll kill you.”

Riley looked at the cook then at Roo and Bongo. “We'd better get back to Katie, I don't like this.” He stood up to leave.

As he did a voice called from beside the bikes, “Hey, nice bikes you got there boys. I tell you what, you do a days work with me and I'll let you have them back.” It was Jack's voice and beside him stood his four bully-boys. They each had side-arms strapped to their leather belts.

“No sweat, Jack.” Bongo called back politely, “Roo and I can hang around for a few days and can give you a hand if you need us that badly, sure. But you'd better let Riley get back to his missus and kids, they'll be frightened something's happened to us.”

“We don't want to keep Riley from his kids,” replied Jack. He looked at Riley and said, “Piss off, Riley, we'll probably drop in some time and invite you back here.” Then he turned to the two Birdsville lads. “Grab yourselves a horse and join us. If it's adventures in the Flinders you want, we've got plenty. Leave your gear here, it's safe, I guarantee it. Cookie will make sure no one touches anything.”

Bongo thought just how fortunate it was that they'd left their rifles in Riley's shed.

The two worked with a will which impressed Jack and his bully-boys. Roo was an expert horseman having learned to ride horses, camels and donkeys since before he could walk. Bongo was still a bit of a rookie but he did a good-enough job. By nightfall they had joined the muster gang for dinner and sat around the camp-fire chatting and drinking the Wilson's beer.

Bongo was watching the four bully-boys like a hawk. He knew that at any moment one of the them would challenge either Roo or himself, he'd seen their likes before. They were drinking like cattlemen did after a hard day in the saddle. He noticed how the four enjoyed their positions of power, openly bullying the others when it pleased them.

“Hey, boy! Rooster, or whatever you call yourself. How'd ya learn to ride like that?” called the tallest, Brad.

Roo looked at him but didn't speak. Bongo felt the heat rise inside him when Brad's mate, Joey called Roo a `dumb prick'. Bongo felt his outrage rise and knew that the four were looking for a fight.

Joey called out across the camp fire, “I didn't know the special school taught retards to ride.” The four of them laughed, no one else did. Jack sat in his directors chair silently watching, his cigar smoke drifted lazily into the night air.

There was dead silence, the only movement came from ten pairs of eyes switching between Joey, Roo and Bongo. All that could be heard was the crackle of flames from the camp fire.

Thinking quickly so that he could protect his silent mate, Bongo stood up and called out in the growing silence, “Why don't you just go fuck yourself, Joey, you arsehole.”

Bongo smiled knowing he'd taken the heat off Roo. He had a soft spot for his quiet mate and there was no way he would let anyone bully a mate of his. The younger man knew that if he started the fight before the boys were truly drunk, there was a chance someone would step in before it got out of hand and someone was killed.

“You prick!” Joey's face flushed bright red in the firelight. He threw his beer can at Bongo who easily ducked. The bigger man walked stiff legged around the camp-fire and with a big wind-up took a wild swing at the new boy.

Bongo rocked back on his heels and then cracked his right fist into Joey's chin sending him flat on his back. Joey shook his head and groaned as he tried to stand. He wobbled on his hands and knees then vomited. He collapsed to the ground, curled into a ball and began rocking back and forth holding his broken jaw.

The cattlemen stared in shock, they couldn't believe it. Bully-boy Joey, flattened with a single punch by the new guy. Jack Wilson smiled quietly, he was enjoying this. The three bully-boys looked at each other and as one came around the fire and threw themselves at Bongo. He didn't stand a chance against all three.

Roo stood when he saw them charge Bongo and kicked the legs out from under the closest. As he stepped in to protect his young friend, Brad flattened him with a swinging king hit from behind. Roo didn't get up, the punch laid him flat on the ground beside Joey.

Laurie stood up and cried out, “Why don't you lot fucking grow up? Every time we get a new boy you have to beat the shit out of him!” But he didn't step in to help, no one did.

Two of the bully-boys held Bongo by the arms while Brad started punching. “Hold him still, Ferrie. Greg, grab his arms, tighter!” He smashed a fist into Bongo's face opening a cut along his cheek, blood sprayed with each blow.

Soon Bongo was unconscious and had to be held upright as Brad exhausted himself. Brad stepped aside to allow his cousin Greg to use Bongo as a punching bag. Greg had a reputation as a fighter and relished every opportunity he got to use his fists.

“You smart-arsed prick.” he said kicking Bongo's prostate body as it lay on the ground. “You Yalpara boys think you're better than us, eh? Next time you want a fight just call us Wilson boys, we'll show you how we fight in the Flinders.” Greg turned and smiled at the frightened faces of the other cattlemen looking on in horror. He wiped some of Bongo's blood off his knuckles and reached for his beer.

“Anyone else want a flogging? Anyone here think you're better than us? Come on, stand up!” When no one stood he raised his voice and laughed, “You gutless bastards, you're all just pieces of shit that God has placed for us Crusaders to use to glorify our Lord, the God of the Revelations. Amen!”

The cattlemen sitting around the camp fire squirmed uncomfortably. Some turned away, others just stared into the fire. Laurie put his face in his hands and shook his head.

“Don't any of you bastards here think you can challenge us. Try it and you'll end up like these two.” Brad nodded to his mates and they resumed their drinking. Jack smiled smugly having had a ring-side seat to the excitement. None of them bothered tending to Joey who was still rocking and sobbing on the ground.

After a few minutes Cookie saw that it was now safe to step in. He dragged Bongo across to his trailer and washed the blood off his face. Then he carefully applied ointment to his cuts and bruises.

“Leave him, Cookie,” called Jack. “He started it, let him wallow in his own blood. It'll teach him that it doesn't pay to upset the Wilson's.” But Cookie ignored him and continued to administer to Bongo. He then brought in Roo who was now beginning to stir. Cookie looked at Joey sobbing quietly on the sand with his broken jaw, and left him there.

The next morning they were kicked awake by Brad and Joey. “Get up you yokels, time to pay for your meal.” Joey's face was well wrapped in a bandage and his eyes were black. He was in a foul mood unable to eat or talk. The bully-boys were about to kick Bongo but suddenly stopped when they saw the violent look on Roo's face.

“What the hell did we get ourselves into, Roo?” said Bongo trying to stand up. Bongo had a livid cut on his swollen cheek. It was red and inflamed and the combination of swelling, lumps and bruises clearly showed that he'd been in a fight and lost badly.

Neither did anywhere near as well as they were expected that day. They stoically bore the brunt of the Wilson boy's bullying and jokes. By late afternoon Bongo realised that Greg had disappeared with three others of their pack. He was sure they were on their way to Riley's place.

“Strewth, Roo. I hope Riley gets his family away in time. I know what them bastards are going to do if they catch them.” Bongo began to shake in rage and fear. He adored kids and had fallen in love with Riley and Katie's two children, he felt he would die if anything happened to them.

An hour before dusk Roo and Bongo found themselves alone on the very edge of the gap which was the only way out of the compound. Roo looked around then whistled to Bongo, lifted his chin and galloped his horse towards a break in the rocks, Bongo took off after him. They were free and no one noticed. Neither of them knew the Flinders Ranges well enough to make their way to Arkaroola. They knew it was best not to return by the route they took coming in though.

After an hour of hard riding they came across a detailed map on the tourist road leading into the ranges. They studied it for a few minutes. Finally Roo looked at Bongo and nodded. Bongo knew Roo had a photographic memory and trusted his mate's keen sense of direction. Roo pointed out the route they would take on the map and Bongo nodded. Mindful of their injuries they climbed back on their horses and headed towards Arkaroola.

It was a hard ride through the rugged ranges. They had to detour via some of the deserted farms to gather water and food for themselves and their horses, and that added another day to their trip. The two pushed hard only stopping for short rests so the horses could catch their wind and ease their backs. Bongo kept hoping against hope that his new-found friends were safe. At times he found himself crying – he wasn't sure if it was from pain, fear or exhaustion.

They sat and watched Riley's homestead for an hour before Roo nodded that it was safe to ride down. They saw no dust clouds and no sign of vehicles or horses since they had escaped. Of course Jack would know where they were headed. But on horseback, in desert country, he wasn't bothered too much. Jack knew he could pick them up whenever he wanted.

As they entered the yard, Roo stopped his horse and jumped down, wrapped the reins on the timber fence and scanned the ground. He pointed out fresh truck tracks and foot prints.

“Four men's foot prints going into the house and only one coming back. There's multiple drag marks and these patches look like blood. What do you reckon, Roo?” said Bongo beginning to hyperventilate. He then let out a keening moan when he saw more blood on the ground as they approached the front door.

Roo swung the door open and the two entered. Bongo gasped deeply and pointed to the wall where a shotgun blast had plastered blood and what looked like an eyebrow on the whitewashed stone wall. There were bullet holes in the walls and empty cartridge shells on the floor.

“Riley must have ambushed them when they walked inside.” Bongo continued his dialogue, “It looks like he took out one at the front door… one inside just here with his shotgun and that's his face, or what's left of it, on the wall there.” He pointed to the eyebrow and Roo nodded. “Then they opened fire with their automatics. Oh hell, Roo. Riley, Katie and the kids might be dead outside the back door.” He started to sob when he saw more blood and a shotgun blast-sized hole in the open back door.

Roo put his hand out to stop his friend. He then stepped out carefully looking at the ground and reading the tracks. He crooked a finger at Bongo and grunted. Bongo stopped dead in his tracks and looked squarely at his normally silent mate. That grunt was the first sound he had heard coming from Roo in all their time together. Roo then held up his hand for Bongo to stop and observe.

A master tracker, Roo bent down to read the signs on the ground using the sunlight to highlight each footprint. He pointed to the bent grasses and prints which spoke to the initiated of the story of the fire-fight.

Bongo began talking again to calm his nerves. “So…” he began, “Riley then ambushed the next one as he pushed the back door open. That's the blood there and it looks like he then ran across to his truck in the carport.” Bongo stopped and Roo pointed out the small tracks made by a pair of bare feet.

“That's Katie's tracks,” said Bongo. “OK, she must have got out first with the kids. But where's the children's tracks, I can't see any.” His voice went up an octave as he started to fret again.

Roo pointed to the roll and variations in depth in Katie's tracks. “So that means she was carrying one on each hip?” asked Bongo, Roo nodded.

He then pointed to Riley's footprint covering part of Katie's. “OK, got it, he followed her. I can't see any of the bully-boys footprints though, does that mean they didn't follow?” Again Roo nodded and pointed back to the door and the drag marks.

“Yep, I can see it now. The last Wilson was too afraid to come out. So that means Riley and his family got away? And one of those Wilson boys escaped, taking his three dead mates back to Jack. That means he'll want revenge.”

Roo grunted a second time and stood up, they walked to the carport. Again he bent to study the tracks and pointed to the back cattle grill. Together they walked over to the fence line and the cattle grating separating the enormous paddock from the house block.

“They got away, thank God, they got away!” Bongo smiled and then hugged Roo. Roo smiled and even returned the hug, briefly.

“Roo, we've got to find them and help them. We're not going back to Birdsville until we make sure they're safe.”

Roo smiled, a tiny grunt escaped his lips one more time and he nodded - it was exactly what he was thinking too. They ran back to the shed and recovered their weapons, collected what gear they could pack onto the now exhausted horses, and began to track Riley's truck into the Arkaroola wilderness.

“Roo,” called Bongo walking his tired horse, “did I really hear you talking to me just now?” He was smiling, in fact he realised that he was feeling darn joyful.

Roo looked at him, looked away, then back again and nodded. It was late afternoon and he wanted to put some distance between them and Riley's homestead before dark. He looked back at Bongo and grunted. It was a soft, lighthearted sound, then he smiled broadly. He too had been afraid for his cousins and was overjoyed they had escaped.

Chapter 2 - Nulla - Luke and Simon's Apocalypse

A panicked voice cut into the static on their CB. “They have infiltrated my unit! All personnel, be advised, terrorists have infiltrated 1st Armoured. We are compromised and ineffective. I repeat, we have been infiltrated by terrorists planted in our units. I repeat…” They heard a loud bang followed by an ear splitting scream. The voice was replaced by static.

Simon turned to his mate, “Wow! Luke, did you hear that, terrorists have infiltrated our army units, they must have killed that guy. This is starting to freak me out.” They set their CB back to scanning the radio frequencies hoping to discover more but all they could pick up was static.

The two teenagers had been listening on their hobby scanner all morning. News stations broadcast of hundreds of synchronised terrorist attacks across the globe. The `Crusaders Of The Revelations' had been threatening to bring down the Apocalypse of the Bible for what seemed ages. Their numbers had exploded after they ran a brilliant, world-wide recruitment campaign earlier in the year. Turning on their CB scanner they listened to the police and ambulance calls with escalating anxiety.

Simon was in the habit of listening to his CB scanner when he woke before dawn almost every morning, but this was different, very different. The radio and TV told of power outages, poisoned water supplies and people dying by the millions. Internet news footage showed images of the Crusaders cutting down civilians in broad daylight. They saw people dead and dying, lying in the streets, poisoned by their municipal drinking water.

In the USA, Asia, India and Europe reports came in describing how the crusaders had also released a biological weapon, similar to the SARS virus. It had a mortality rate close to 90%. It was predicted that it would travel around the globe infecting billions. News reporters went off the air as they too succumbed to the poisoned water and infection.

By midday there were no more news broadcasts, no more TV or internet and no more mobile phone service. Then there was no more electricity either. The poisoned water caused people to die in their homes and on their way to work without even knowing what had struck them.

In Simon and Luke's neighbourhood people began to congregate outside in the street. They gathered in confused and distraught groups as they sought to understand what had happened. Many people simply dropped and died in front of their own homes. Whole families began to collapse to the ground in agony. Simon heard screaming coming from his neighbours house. He was frightened and gathered up his scanner and the backpack he and Luke prepared earlier. The boys decided to escape the city.

It was almost midday and the two teenagers could now clearly hear the approaching sound of gunfire. They guessed their army was fighting in the suburbs as they were forced back towards the CBD.

“Come on, Luke, those terrorists will be here soon, we'd better move. Our parents are probably already dead or captured by now and it's just too dangerous to stay here.” The distant gunfire was moving closer. Simon kicked his dirt bike into gear and pushed forward with his left boot. Luke did the same and their bikes leaped into the now quiet and deserted street.

There was only enough space in their packs for a few days food and water. With much regret, Simon left his remote control helicopter behind. It cost him every cent he'd earned over the entire year. Luke told him they could go back for it when things settled down. Many things were left behind the day of the apocalypse.

As they rounded a bend in their suburban street they almost ran into an army truck filled with armed soldiers. Desperate, hard faced men leveled their rifles at them. The boys pulled up sharply and put their hands in the air. The bikes coughed and stalled, silent.

“What the hell are you two doing out here? Get back home and lock your doors!” came a booming voice and they watched as an officer jumped from the front cabin of the truck. He towered above them with his hands on his hips, looking tough but his red, sweaty face betrayed his fear.

His voice softened somewhat as he said, “Boys, there are terrorists right behind us. Get out of here right now or you'll be caught in the middle when we set up our ambush.”

“We're heading up into the Adelaide Hills, sir,” said Simon. “We heard on the army UHF that the terrorists had infiltrated our military units, some of our own soldiers are terrorists, sir. They might be in every unit. The radio said the military were compromised.”

Sweat flicked from his face as the officer's head jerked back with the news. Simon thought to himself, `You didn't know did you.'

Right at that moment the deafening staccato drumming of automatic rifle fire sounded beside them. Simon swung his head around and witnessed a soldier firing short bursts of his Steyr assault rifle, killing his comrades in the back of the truck. Bodies jerked and slammed backwards from the force of the fire. The uniformed traitor then swung his rifle towards the officer and the teenagers.

Simon and Luke reacted swiftly. Kicking their bikes into life they leaped forward speeding rapidly through the gears. Luke looked back to witness the officer savagely flung backwards as he was hit by the terrorists burst of automatic fire.

The teenagers rode like maniacs through the streets and then into the hills on secret dirt tracks they knew so well. They didn't stop till they could look down on the city itself an hour later.

At one point they had ridden past a terrorist road block as rifle fire cracked around them. Terrified, they put on speed to escape, ducking their bikes behind parked and stalled cars to avoid being hit.

As they neared the top of a bush covered hill they slowed, then stopped. In front of them was a group of civilians sitting beside a Greyhound coach. They appeared lost and disheveled. One explained they were on a holiday tour when the terrorists struck, the driver headed into the hills for safety. A woman called the boys over and asked them what was happening in the city.

“Hi boys, we've been watching you ride up. Can you please tell us what's going on down there. Did our army kill the terrorists and is it safe to get back to our tour?” she asked, her face moving closer to Simon's, almost pleading for good news.

“Lady, things are not safe down there, please don't go into the city. The Revelationists are there, everywhere. We saw them kill an entire truck load of army guys and their captain - right in front of our eyes. We only made it this far on luck,” Simon told her.

Some of the other civilians asked questions and it was obvious to the boys that many of them struggled to believe that their army no longer controlled the city. One even went so far as to abuse the boys for telling lies.

“You think we're lying? Go down and see for yourself then!” replied Luke, he wouldn't be called a liar by anyone. The man shut up and put his head in his hands, rocking silently.

“What about all the dead people?” asked one of the women. “People are dying everywhere. The driver said he saw dead people in the streets and in their cars. I'm terrified. Do you boys know what's going to happen.”

“I told you before, Marian, it's been on the news. The Crusaders Of The Revelations have finally done it. They're killing everybody like they've been preaching for years. Isn't that right, boys?” a middle aged man called out to them.

“Yes, that's right. It's on the news and CB radio, that's exactly what we've heard. They're saying that the water in every city has been poisoned right across the world and we shouldn't drink the tap water.” Simon turned to the lady. “I'm sorry, miss, but things are really bad out there. The terrorists have taken control of the part of the city where we escaped from. They've set up road blocks and they're killing everyone they see.”

He looked up to see the crowd moving in closer to listen. “We got out by sheer luck. I wouldn't go down there, but if any of you want we can let you listen to our CB?” The teenager began to set up their mobile CB set from the rack on the back of his bike. Luke sat on the ground and turned up the sound.

“I'll scan our police channels and see if anything has changed. This morning we heard the armoured cavalry on UHF open channel, warning everyone that the terrorists had infiltrated their units, they were killing everyone. We can't usually listen in on the military frequencies because they scramble their transmissions, but this time was different. They must've done it on purpose. The civilian channels can sometimes come up with something useful like that.” Luke tried to sound hopeful for these clearly distraught and struggling people.

They crowded around but the news was all bad. Reports of army reversals came in from all points. They heard orders passed back and forth between police units, it sounded like the entire countryside was in a total shambles.

One piece of good news was that some of the 1st Armoured Cavalry still held out in the Adelaide Hills. Although they'd lost control of one cavalry squadron the other continued to fight against stiff opposition. They heard a broadcast for the police to organise transport and ensure civilians did not block the roads.

Sadly, few civilians survived. One police report stated that 75% of the population were either dead or dying after drinking the water. The police fared no better than any other service. The report said that the police were barely functioning with a skeleton staff. The only force in any strength was the terrorists.

“Those damned Revelationists killing everyone. I always knew they were doing the work of the Antichrist.” sobbed one woman, others soon joined in.

The woman that called the boys forward said to Simon, “I would get out of here if I were you. Just pack up your set and go into the countryside. Stick to back roads and tracks. Just get out of the city for God's sake.” She looked at them and stepped back into the crowd.

Simon nodded as he and Luke began to pack up their gear. “Miss, I hope you get away safely.” Turning to the group he said, “Good luck everybody, I hope you all find somewhere that's safe from the terrorists, and the army comes to find you. We need to go now, good luck again.” Simon kicked his bike alive and waved. He sped off along a path that he and Luke knew from their years of riding in the hills.

Simon and Luke decided they should try and contact the armoured division higher up in the mountains. They picked their way along back tracks then headed towards a service station off the main road. Their bikes sat on empty and they needed fuel.

The boys arrived at the station but everything appeared too quiet. Suspiciously they climbed off their bikes and took their helmets off. They looked around but noticed nothing out of the ordinary. Sitting out front was a battered station wagon which made the whole place look quite normal, but that added to their sense of dread. Just then Luke pointed to a figure in the window. It looked like old Mr Thornton sitting in his rocking chair, just like they'd seen countless times before. They made their way carefully towards the open shop door.

Simon waved hello but the shape in the window didn't return the wave. He pushed at the front door to the store and called out greetings but still no answer. Stepping inside he almost tripped over the two bodies lying on the floor. Luke followed and then gasped in shock. Simon stared at him with a questioning look on his face.

“What is it?” he mouthed.

Luke pointed to the hunched figure beside the window. Seated in his rocking chair was the elderly owner. His eyes were closed and his mouth open. He didn't seem to be breathing, he looked dead.

“Hello, Mr Thornton? Hello? It's Simo and Luke. Are you OK?” Simon called out as he took a tentative step towards the aged body in the rocking chair.

The old man made no movement and uttered no sound. There was just a slight rocking of the chair accompanied by a `creak creak' as it gently moved back and forth.

There came a deep, shuddering gasp, as the old man dragged life back into his lungs. Simon and Luke's heads snapped upwards in shock. The withered figure suddenly opened its eyes.

“Shit!” yelped Luke and he looked to run outside.

“Oh, boys, sorry, I was just taking a nap.” He grinned his usual grin. “What is it you want today? Some fuel for your bikes?” came his slow, reedy voice.

“Are you all right, Mr Thornton?” asked Simon, he looked at the dead bodies on the floor and then slowly back to the old man. Beside his rocking chair they spied an aged sawn-off shotgun.

Mr Thornton noticed their glance. “Oh that, it's fine boys. Those two are just some roughnecks who wanted to rob me. They won't be doing that again now, will they?” He sucked his gums as he chuckled wetly. “These out-of-towner's should know better than mess with an old man and his shotgun.”

“You shot them yourself?” asked an incredulous Luke.

“Sure did young fella. I heard on the news this morning that terrorists are trying to take over the city. The world's gone crazy they said. I know what happens when terrorists are on the rampage and scavengers come out of the woodwork. Saw it in South America during the sixties. So when I got out of bed this morning I prepared myself with the old shotty. When these two came in demanding money, I told them to bugger off. One of them made the mistake of pulling out a pop-gun.” He rocked back and forth as a smile formed showing his bare gums.

He saw Simon staring at the pistol in the hand of one of the dead bodies. “If you want that pistol, just grab it. Go ahead, search his pockets and take what you want, he won't be needing anything now.” He paused for a second. “Do you know how to use a pistol? No? OK, point it to the floor away from your feet, and pass it to me handle first. Now watch carefully.”

Mr Thornton then explained the mechanism and action of the weapon. It was a `Saturday night special', a snub nosed .38 commonly used in armed robberies, he explained to the fascination of the two boys. He spun the chamber.

“Only one bullet so it looks like that's all they had. Poverty's a bitch ain't it? You can check their pockets and their car outside there for more bullets. Huh, hmm, well, use it wisely and don't waste it. What are your plans for today then?”

Over the dead bodies lying on the floor they discussed the situation from their experiences and what they'd heard on TV and their CB. Mr Thornton had no idea things were so bad. He told them to fill up their bikes, grab as many fuel cans as they could, and strap them down as they'd done many times before.

“Hmm, that plan to find the armoured cavalry may not be such a good idea. They're in a fight for their lives right now. Listen, you can hear the rumble of shell fire every now and then. If you're dead set on finding them make sure you identify yourself first, and be careful it's ours and not there's. Don't show anyone you have that 38 either, just in case they aren't who they say they are. And keep it safely in your pocket until you're absolutely sure you want to use it. A `special' is a deadly weapon close-up. Remember that, a .38 bullet at close range just might save your lives one day.”

The boys were back on their now heavily loaded bikes and riding towards the sounds of battle. Simon had the .38 in his trouser pocket, his hands kept wanting to take it out and handle it. He was fascinated with the weapon and thought it an object of absolute beauty.

They experienced no trouble finding the cavalry, they just rode their bikes towards the rumble of gunfire. It was fortunate that they came across a sentry who didn't fire first, then ask questions. Teenage boys on trail bikes still look like teenage boys, and this saved their lives.

An armed sentry stepped in front of the boys as they slowly rode up the fire trail towards the firing.

“Stop right there boys and off with the helmets,” he called, his Steyr pointed at the ground in front of them. The boys obeyed and kicked down the stands on their bikes while they took off their helmets.

“Are you the cavalry?” asked Simon. “We escaped the city and want to join up and do something useful. We know how to operate a CB unit. Look, we have a mobile one we use.” He jabbed his finger at the CB set strapped to the back of Luke's bike.

The sentry shook his head. “You boys must be bloody mad coming up here. Can't you tell this is a battle zone? There's ordnance flying all over the place. The terrorist army have pushed us almost back to the city itself.” He continued to shake his head at them as he spoke into his mic. Turning to them he said, “Sit down and wait while my superior comes down. He'll only be a few minutes.”

A stern-faced man loped down the dirt track towards them. He looked them over then said firmly, “Boys you can't hang around here, we're about to push off again and if you stay you'll be killed. The terrorists don't take prisoners. Go home and stay indoors, it's not safe out and don't drink the tap water, whatever you do, its poisonous.”

Simon looked at the sergeant major and said, “Sir, we just escaped the city, we saw a truck load of soldiers executed by a terrorist dressed in uniform, our uniform. We've seen dead and dying people everywhere. Our own families are probably dead by now too. We don't have a home to go to and we can't go back if we wanted. All we ask is for you to give us a job so we can help fight these terrorists.”