John Marsden - Circle of fight

By the time I saw them again they were already across it though. That was pretty slick work. They were haring towards a small clump of trees, swerving a bit as they went. Yes, they were professionals all right. Lee came running down the road, panting like he’d just done ten k’s. I came down the fence line taking giant steps to get over logs and rocks and ditches. We met at the gate and without needing to speak raced across the cattle grid. Lee dropped to one knee and lined up a shot, but I could have told him he was wasting his time. When you’ve been running like that and it’s a hot day and you’re in a state of panic, you can’t get your gun steady, you can’t aim properly, sweat gets in your eyes and your hand trembles and the shot goes wide or high or short or whatever. Lee should have known.

It would have been pretty funny if he’d hit one of them after my saying that, but he didn’t. I couldn’t see where the shot went, even though I’d had to pause and wait for him while he took it. I wasn’t going to run on ahead while he amused himself with pot shots from behind me.

‘Come on,’ I said, and he got back to his feet and started out after me.

I realised we were running into a problem. When these guys got into the clump of trees — and nothing we could do was going to stop them — the tables would suddenly be reversed. We were in a big bare part of the paddock. Absolutely no cover. To my left, beyond a dozen very restless and unhappy-looking beasts, was more bush, but it was a long way from us. We would be exposed to withering fire from a couple of professional soldiers who’d be well hidden in good cover. To my right were more cattle and the crest of the hill, my boundary fence with Colin McCann running along the crest of it.

I glanced behind and if I hadn’t been sweating before I did some serious sweating now. Sheez, we’d come a long way. Too far. We were too fast for our own good. The PE department at Wirrawee High School would be proud of us. They could have a ceremony to honour us. Too bad it was going to be posthumous.

‘This way!’ I yelled at Lee. He seemed to be realising the problem at the same time because he was slowing down and looking kind of doubtful. I swung left, ran ten metres at the most, then it was my turn to drop to one knee and raise my rifle. God, my father, Mr Young, forgive me for what I am about to do. As a farmer, this was the worst moment of my career. This was the absolute pits.

It’s impossible to hit a fox when he’s running and you’re out of breath and shaking from the hunt. It’s probably impossible to hit a human being in the same circumstances, although I haven’t had a lot of practice. But it’s all too easy to shoot a couple of steers, especially when they’re standing still and watching you with the gravest suspicion. I got them both through the head and they both dropped pretty much straightaway. The first one fell on his front knees and stayed there for a moment, then slowly rolled over to his left side. The second fell to his side, again to the left. The other cattle bolted.

We sprinted for the nearest dead one. Turned out when we got there that he wasn’t dead, but equally he wasn’t going anywhere. We got there just in time though, as the shooting from the trees started up when we were still a dozen steps away. I don’t think I took those dozen steps, I think I flew them. I seem to remember a long dive that brought me thudding into the heaving side of the dying steer.

God, sometimes you get emotional overload. I lay there feeling (a) terror from being shot at; (b) fury at these guys and a mad desire to kill them; (c)horror at the terrible gasping of the beast who sheltered me, along with; (d) guilt that I’d just shot two beautiful healthy cattle; and (e) thankfulness that I was with Lee, because he and Homer were about the only two people I knew who could help me get out of this alive. If there’d been time I would have had a few feelings about Gavin too, but for this brief period he was completely out of my mind.

‘Barbequed beef for tea tonight,’ Lee said, panting. I immediately added another emotion to my list: hatred of Lee. We were down to (f) now.

‘There won’t be any tea if we’re dead,’ I snarled back.

Half-a-dozen bullets smacked into the great beast and he died without another murmur. The impact of the bullets was frightening. Luckily these cattle were in good condition. A scrawny beast mightn’t have been much protection. Now he was just a carcass though, chopped up as though the world’s roughest butcher had hacked into him with a blunt axe. Chunks of flesh were scattered over a wide area. Lee had blood all down his front and, glancing down, I realised that I was in the same condition. Already a couple of flies were starting to appear.

‘What are we going to do now, genius?’ Lee asked. To be fair to him it wasn’t said in a bad way. He gave me a little crooked smile. I knew deep down that Lee respected the fact that I’d saved his skin a few times. Just as I respected the fact that he’d saved mine.

It was time for the brain to take over. Instinct might help as a back-up, but this was a job for the brain. ‘Why do you think I shot two beasts?’ I asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. The firing had stopped. I wondered if they were running low on ammunition. ‘Cover me,’ I said quickly to Lee and took off for the second of the cattle.

So close and yet so far away. It seemed like I was running and running and not getting anywhere. The breeze was in my face and the mountains seemed near enough to touch and the carcass of the second steer wasn’t getting any closer. I heard Lee’s gun pounding again and again as I ran forever across the paddock. Oh, I didn’t want to do this. The excitement was intense, yes, and I had become addicted to it, yes, and although I loved music and friends and peace, nothing beat the burning agony of mind and body that took me over when my life was on the line, but enough was enough and I wanted to be a human being again. You can’t be a human being in wartime.

A bullet screeched past me, the strange howling sound that resembles nothing else, and then another, even closer. I took another dive, into another dead or dying beast, and cuddled into its warm flanks. If I lived to a ripe old age a lot of animals were going to die, to feed and clothe me, or because I was driving a car, or because I hadn’t protected them from foxes or crows. But not many of them would die so directly at my hands as these two cattle.

I took a quick look at the grove of trees. Again the firing had stopped. I waved to Lee and fired a first shot to give him cover. An answering shot slammed into my steer so hard that the carcass rocked at its impact. But there were no more. I wondered again if they were running out of ammo. I didn’t have much more myself. As Lee left the shelter of the first beast I opened fire though. I had to. No good letting Lee get killed because I was saving ammo for some hypothetical situation later. I aimed at the places where I’d seen the little flashes of fire, not really expecting to hit anyone, but you never know your luck in a big paddock.

Lee arrived unscathed, but panting hard again. ‘What do you reckon?’ he asked between pants.

‘I reckon I haven’t got much ammo left.’

‘Me neither.’

In covering Lee I’d used up another magazine. Now, trying to stop my hands from trembling, I shoved the rest of my bullets in. I didn’t want them piled in there higgledy-piggledy, where they’d jam later.

‘We could aim for the far end of those trees and then do a bit of stalking,’ I said.

Lee licked his lips. ‘I don’t think there’s much point.’ Before I could say anything he added, ‘Looked at from a logical point of view. I mean, we’re trying to get Gavin back. We haven’t hurt them, just given them a fright, so if we quit the fight at this stage they shouldn’t have any hard feelings. They shouldn’t take it out on Gavin.’