The Word of God (15 page)

As Graham reached them he hissed: “Two more men in black in a dark blue van. They haven't got out. One is talking on a mobile phone or radio.”

“This way, quickly,” Peter said, pointing west along the tramline. They started walking fast along it. As he strode along Peter called quietly to Graham: “Should we try to hide?”

Graham shook his head. “Better get further away. If they come looking for us we need a bigger area to hide in.”

Gwen glanced back over her shoulder. “I don't think they are looking for us,” she added.

“No, I agree,” Peter replied. “I think they are after you Sir Miles; and Sir Richard.”

Sir Miles turned an anxious and perspiring face to him: “You think it is another trap?”

Peter nodded. “Certainly looks like it.”

Sir Miles shook his head and muttered: “You may be right. But how did they learn of our movements? I don't understand it.”

“Walk faster! We can discuss it later,” Graham urged.

The group strode along the tramline as fast as they could go. To Peter's relief they rounded a curve after another hundred paces. It was hard going and they were soon all puffing for breath and sweating. Another hundred paces on they crossed a small dry creek with a sandy bed. The tramline went across on a low embankment. On both sides was a gloomy forest with plenty of undergrowth. Ahead stretched a long straight stretch of line for at least a hundred metres.

Stephen now had his mobile phone in his hand and turned it on. Gwen called to him, “Can you remember the numbers?”

Stephen nodded. “I put them into my phone but we haven't got service just here.”

Peter nodded and remembered the topography. “We are in behind that ridge now, around a bend in the valley. Maybe when we get a bit further up the valley we will get it,” he suggested. But not getting through instantly set him sweating with anxiety.

“Should we dump our packs so we can run faster?” Stephen called.

Graham shook his head. “No. Not yet. They might find them.”

Peter agreed with this decision. Better still, it gave him the germ of an idea. The idea was reinforced as they passed through a patch of sunlight at the next bend.

“We should try to hide the two knights,” he suggested.

“How? What do you mean?” Gwen asked.

“Give them our spare camouflage uniforms to wear. That way they won't be quite as conspicuous,” Peter replied.

“Good idea!” Gwen cried. Graham agreed. He urged them to keep walking, then said: “I don't think that the Devil Worshippers knew we were there at all.” He turned to Sir Miles: “If you wear our uniforms then they will need to come quite close to identify you.”

Sir Miles nodded. “You are right. I think it is a sensible idea. What do you think Sir Richard?”

Sir Richard muttered and shook his head but agreed. “Yes. You are probably right. Do you have clothes that will fit us?”

“Doesn't matter if they don't fit,” Peter replied. “It is only from a distance that they will hide you.”

By that time the group were at least five hundred metres from the place where they had met the two knights and Jones. The tramline had curved left and come out into an area where there was thick forest on the left and a field of tall grass and weeds on the right. Beyond that they could hear cars on the highway.

Graham indicated the forest on their left as they reached another curve. “This will do. We will get you changed here. If we keep going we are going to come out into open country.”

Peter knew that Graham was right. A few hundred metres ahead was the turnoff at Petes Bridge and the area around the road junction and bridge were both quite open. “I'll keep watch,” he offered. “You girls keep going for another hundred paces, then stop and wait for us.”

“I'll help with a uniform,” Stephen offered.

Graham nodded. “Give me your spare uniform Pete. Steve, give yours to Mr Jones,” he said, swinging off his own pack as he did.

Stephen sniffed. “Pity Charmaine isn't with us,” he muttered. “Her clothes would have fitted easily.”

“Stephen!” Joy cried.

Graham frowned. “Get going you girls,” he ordered. As they continued walking he led the way off the tramline into the forest. Stephen crouched down behind a tree where he could see back along the line and began rummaging in his pack. Peter hauled off his pack and quickly undid the top, moved his shelter and jacket and dug out his spare camouflage shirt and trousers. He passed these to Sir Miles.

Graham did likewise. Sir Richard took the offered clothes and looked around. He appeared very hot and agitated. He gestured into the trees. “I will just change over there.”

“Don't go far,” Graham replied.

“I need to go to the toilet as well,” Sir Richard replied stiffly. He moved off into the trees and was soon lost to sight. Sir Miles quickly shrugged off his jacket and white shirt. Graham took these and thrust them into his pack. The knight pulled on the camouflage shirt, then smiled.

“It certainly makes an instant change. Thank you. It is a very good idea. It is quite a few years since I last wore a camouflage jacket.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. Sir Miles replied: “I spent four years in the Royal Marines when I was young. In 40 Commando.”

Peter was impressed. So too was Graham. Sir Miles tugged off his trousers and heaved on the camouflage. At that moment Stephen called.

“I can hear voices.”

Graham moved quickly out to beside the tramline. Stephen pointed back the way they had come. “Someone called out back there.”

Sir Miles hurried to button the trousers up. Mr Jones struggled to get Stephen's trousers over his jeans. Graham gestured to Peter. “Go and get Sir Richard. We had better keep moving fast.”

Peter nodded and turned, leaving his pack where it was. As quietly as he could he made his way deeper into the forest, taking care not to stand on dry sticks, his eyes questing anxiously for a sight of Sir Richard.

Blast the man! Where has he gone? This is no time for modesty!
he thought irritably.

Ahead of him Peter thought he heard someone talking. He turned that way and moved around a large bush. At that moment he spotted Sir Richard. He was still dressed in his grey suit and was crouched behind a tree and was aiming his pistol over towards the tramline. In his other hand he had a mobile phone which he appeared to be listening to.

Or is it a radio?
he wondered, noting an antennae.

As Peter moved forward Sir Richard half rose and aimed his pistol. At that moment Peter trod on a dead twig. The sharp crack caused Sir Richard to spin around. Peter found himself staring into the muzzle of the pistol at ten paces.

“It… it's me!” he croaked in fright. “Don't shoot! We are pulling back. Quickly, get changed.”

Sir Richard's eyes narrowed. For an instant Peter thought he was going to shoot. Then he swore and nodded. He quickly put down the pistol and mobile phone and started peeling off his jacket. Peter felt quite self conscious so he said: “We can hear voices. We want to get moving. Hurry please.”

Sir Richard grunted and pulled the camouflage jacket on.

Peter pointed to the mobile phone. “Can you contact the police on that?”

“I was just trying to. Can't get through. These mountains probably screen the radio signals,” Sir Richard replied.

Peter nodded. “Hurry please. I want to get the girls to safety.”

“Yes. Be with you in a moment.” Sir Richard replied.

Peter moved back to where he had left his pack. He found Sir Miles, Mr Jones and Graham crouched behind a tree beside the tramline. Stephen stood nearby,
peering around another tree. To Peter's surprise he saw that Stephen had a small revolver in his hand.

“Steve, where'd you get the gun?” he asked.

“Took it off that injured Devil Worshipper yesterday,” Stephen replied.

Typical!
Peter thought. Stephen was rumoured to have often done illegal things of which Peter did not approve.

He said: “You should have handed it to the police.”

Stephen shrugged. “Forgot.”

Sounds of someone moving through the forest caused them to look back over their right shoulders. Sir Richard, now clad in the camouflage uniform, appeared. He carried his clothes in one hand and his pistol in the other. He glanced at the gun in Stephen's hand with evident surprise.

Peter said: “Stephen has a gun too. He will cover us. Quick, we must pull back before we are cut off.”

Sir Miles moved at once. He grasped Peter's pack and swung it onto his shoulders. Graham took the clothes from Sir Richard and thrust them into his pack, then knelt to buckle it up. He pointed and said; “Get moving. We will catch up. Go!”

Peter turned towards the railway line. “Follow me, quickly,” he ordered.

Without waiting to see if he was obeyed he pushed his way through the undergrowth out onto the tramline. To his relief the two knights and Mr Jones followed. In two minutes they had caught up with the girls, who were waiting anxiously.

“Where are the others?” Gwen asked.

“Coming,” Peter replied. “Start walking.”

The girls did so. Almost at once Graham and Stephen came into view behind them, both striding along as fast as they could go. Graham gave them a thumbs-up as he came.

Good!
Peter thought.
So far so good. But now what?

He considered what their next move should be. Petes Bridge and the tactical problem it posed now dominated his thoughts. Should they just move out to the highway and stop a car to go and get the police? Or should they use the bridge to cross to the other bank of the river and then go to a farm house to phone for help?

By this time they had come out of the forest and were walking along a section of the tramline which had tall grass on both sides. On the left it dropped to a belt of grass and weeds a hundred metres wide which ended at the belt of trees along
the river bank. The other way was the highway, then a steep mountain side. Peter could even see cars on the highway and a house up on the slope beyond it.

If we can make it to that house we can phone the police,
he thought.

Graham was obviously thinking along the same lines as he had his map out and was studying it. “We need to get across the highway,” he said. “If the Devil Worshippers realize we have gone this way they can drive along here in a few minutes.”

“Stop a car and ask for help?” Peter suggested.

“Yes, as long as it is the right car,” Graham replied.

That was an unpleasant thought.

Peter nodded. “Yes, I think you are right. We need to hide the knights safely first, then get help,” he replied.

From ahead Gwen called back: “Which way?”

The tramline forked. A branch went off to the left past a clump of trees. Ahead was the turnoff to Petes Bridge. Decision time!

“Go left,” Graham called.

Peter wondered if this was the best option as the line straight ahead went on to cross the highway, then ran along beside it for the next kilometre.

“What about the highway?” he asked.

Graham nodded. “We stop the first car which comes along. I just wanted to keep under cover.”

Within fifty paces Peter saw what he meant. The branch came out beside the bitumen road which crossed Petes Bridge. The turnoff was only twenty metres on their right. The bridge was fifty metres to the left. Peter had often been there on picnics so knew what to expect. The bridge was a dual purpose one, the tramline and roadway both sharing it.

As they came out past the clump of trees Peter looked at the bridge. It was fifty metres long and the river flowed clear and deep beneath it. On either side the verge of the road had been mowed so the grass was only ankle high.

But it was not the beauty of the scene which caught Peter's eye. It was the 4WD vehicle parked at the far end of the bridge. A man in jeans and a black T-shirt was leaning on the bonnet smoking a cigarette. As soon as the cadets came into sight he straightened up and moved to sit in the vehicle.

“Is that bloke a Devil Worshipper do you think?” Gwen asked anxiously.

“Don't know, but he is using a radio or mobile phone now,” Peter said.

Megan let out a short wail. “Oh dear! What will we do?” she cried. She looked very tired and ready to burst into tears.

“Well, we aren't crossing the bridge it seems,” Graham replied. “Go across this road and walk on along beside the highway. We will stop the first car that comes along.”

Without waiting he walked across the bitumen road and set off along the grassy verge. The others followed. Peter glanced several times back at the vehicle at the far end of the bridge but the man in it did not get out and made no move to drive across.

Within one minute the group had walked far enough along the highway to be out of sight of the vehicle, the trees and long grass of the river bank screening them. As they strode along Peter looked anxiously back over his shoulder along the highway. He had a sinking feeling that the first vehicle that would come along would be the Devil Worshippers.

Stephen muttered crossly: “Bloody cars! When you don't want them they roar past in hundreds!”

He was right. The highway was deserted. Graham looked worried and kept glancing back. The girls were obviously feeling the strain of the forced march.

As they marched Stephen kept checking his mobile phone and shaking his head. “Still no service,” he muttered.

Their route led them down across a grassy dip, then up beside the highway again. On their right was a hundred metres of open field, then the tramline and a dirt road which led up a steep slope to a shack or shed. On the left they came to a field of standing sugar cane. Graham stopped and pointed down the dirt vehicle track which led around the cane headland.

“I think we should go that way, get out of sight till we can get closer to that farm house at the bend along there.”