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Invercharing Community
“And the program does the rest.” Stan rubbed his palms on his thighs as he sat back from the computer. His brown, fuzzy hair didn’t match his neatly ironed uniform.
“Now that’s smart.” Murray’s heart continued its pounding.
This was all so awesome.
“I take a bit longer to do it with a slide-rule.”
Stan’s glasses slid down his nose a fraction. “You know how to do calculations with a slide-rule?”
Murray nodded, wondering what the big deal was. “Why? Can’t you?”
Martin stood behind them as Stan ran through programs with Murray, commenting often on how he had used computers in the past when he studied postgraduate physics at Edinburgh University and computers were an everyday item.
Government camouflaged-coloured people who stayed behind occupied the control centre. People lounged while others looked outside at the surrounding mountains. They had unexpected time on their hands now Major McLellan wouldn’t allow them to go any further on the mission to the submarine. McLellan ordered only the select few essential personnel to go with Rory and his crew. Community Militia members mingled among those who remained, their brown buckskins and dirty-green coloured shirts almost as camouflage-looking as the Government’s uniform. Murray bet the odds would be in favour of the Militia standing out less in a forest than the Government guys any day, but for once he wouldn’t calculate them.
Stan’s mouth had remained open as Ceilidh, passing behind them carrying the dirty dishes from their luncheon, joined the conversation.
“Our young Murray is somewhat of a mathematical genius,” she said as she squinted over their shoulders at the screen. “He’s helped Martin and the others over the years with his calculations and theories.”
A flash of cold ran along Murray’s spine as he turned behind to his sister. Martin stiffened and glared at Ceilidh. Ceilidh blinked and trotted off to the kitchen.
“What have they been for?” Stan asked.
“We have maths games with the children during school time. Got to make it interesting.” Murray spoke his first thoughts. Well, he hadn’t lied. “Could you have a look at my dinosaur while you’re here? I’ve been trying to get more RAM, but I don’t have the tech I need.”
That was close.
“You’re quite the bright spark, aren’t you, young man?” Another military-looking man stepped next to Martin. Every Government person looked military, but this tall man with a closely cropped haircut, almost completely shaved, involved himself with the technical equipment. “Bet you’d love to come back to the Government Bunker and have a look at what we’ve got,” he said to Murray. The man’s badge read William MacIntosh-Technical Support.
Murray couldn’t prevent his eyes widening and his jaw dropping. He shut his mouth. “I’d love to.” A pulse thumped in his ears. “But I don’t know if it’s allowed. I’d have to ask my brother, Rory.”
“Oh, he’d be okay with it, surely. An opportunity like this?”
“Um, I’ll have to ask.” No, he’d have to beg.
Mr MacIntosh shrugged and pursed his lips.
“And you already know this room, Lieutenant Wilson.” Angela’s fawning tone came loudly from the doorway.
Murray turned. Angela wore one of her suits she’d had made especially for her. Angela had tied up her long, red hair behind her head, much like Ms Siobhan Kensington-Wallace’s. Not Angela’s usual style. Walking beside her, in neat combat uniform, was another non-deployed member of the Government team. He nodded approvingly and wore an interested smile.
Hmm, the Guided Tour.
“Well, that’s the inside facilities. I’ll change out of these heels and show you how we are self-sufficient.” Angela said as the tour continued out the door.
Murray glanced at Martin, who raised his eyebrows. Murray shook his head. It would surprise no one that his eldest sister ingratiated herself with the Government, as everyone in the Community was aware of her ambitious nature.
Murray passed his afternoon with the tech guys. Oh, how he’d love to know what they knew, and have the equipment they had.
“You’ve got this!” Murray jumped at William MacIntosh’s loud voice over his shoulder. Murray had just completed the finishing additions to a program with little assistance from Stan. A firm hand patted his right shoulder. “You’d better ask that brother of yours. And he’d better give permission.”
Murray let out a silent sigh. He didn’t hold out much hope.
In the yard outside, the dogs were barking a somebody-is-coming bark. The lookout shouted from the tower and the Militia in the control-room grabbed their guns and ran outside to the front forecourt. More shouts came from outside, plus the faint sound of horses’ hooves galloping toward the compound.
Then the sound of gunfire came through the open doors. The air outside cracked. Government people grabbed their handguns and small machine guns and filed out.
Murray left the desk and ran to the doorway. Outside, Mr Stobbart yelled commands to the men and women of the Militia who readied their weapons and ran to the positions to which he directed them. The Government soldiers were obeying his orders as well.
On the road leading to the compound, a group of about twenty armed men on horses galloped to the front gate. These untidy men wore dirty clothes, had unwashed hair and scruffy beards. Their horses looked in poor condition and their weapons were rifles and handguns. Many had swords strapped across their backs and knives glinted on their belts.
They didn’t slow, and now aimed their weapons and let fire. Murray was used to the loud clap of gunfire, but this was something else. The rapid fire banged around the compound; bullets pinged off metal posts and thudded into brick and timber walls.
These people were serious. The crack of gunfire sounded everywhere; Murray’s ears rang.
Government personnel ran to their armoured vehicles, which could shield them from bullets and allow closer aim. A soldier sprinted to the back of the jeep that carried the larger machine gun and loaded a chain of bullets.
One attacker at the front of the group let out a yelp and fell to the ground, blood spurting from his neck. His horse whinnied and ran. The fallen man’s companions began an angry cry and aimed more purposefully. Now bullets thudded and skidded off the armoured vehicles.
The soldier fired the larger machine gun attached to the back of the armoured jeep. A succession of loud thunk, thunks, thunks accompanied the jolting of the soldier manning the large gun. Horses screamed as one fell, landing on its rider who yelled for help, his leg stuck under his horse at an awkward angle. One of the attackers jumped from his horse and dragged his friend out from beneath his dead animal. The machine gun’s rapid fire didn’t drown out the injured man’s ear-piercing scream. His friend threw him over the saddle on his own horse as the man’s cries continued. The rider remounted, kicked his horse to a gallop and retreated down the road the way he came. The rest of the bandit group continued their firing on the armoured vehicles as they ducked back and forth, attempting to remain moving targets, Murray guessed.
A whoosh of air whizzed past Murray’s ear followed by a ping through the ceiling.
Wow, that must have been a bullet.
He retreated from the doorway, no longer interested in watching all that went on. The sound of loud, rapid gunfire filled the compound forecourt. Screams from horses and cries of pain from men floated through the door.
“We’re gonna need Christine and Aunty Bec,” Murray shouted over his shoulder to Martin as he ran for the door to the main building.
Murray sprinted through the internal corridor to the medical centre. Inside, Christine was clearing trolleys and laying out equipment, IV lines and medications. Ceilidh helped her.
“They’re shooting at us. Seriously shooting!” Murray yelled at Christine as a volley of rapid gunfire sounded from the front of the compound.
“Who are they?” Christine opened a cupboard and took out cloth wrapped trays. “Are our people hurt? Is that a machine gun? Is it ours or theirs?” Over the cloth trays, her pale blue eyes seemed grey as they darted at him, impatient for an answer.
“The Government guys are shooting their machine cannon at the bandits.” Murray ducked as a high window shattered and sprayed glass beside him. Ceilidh let out a yelp as she covered her head, protecting herself from the shower of fine glass shards.
“Keep low, Murray!” Christine had ducked as well, but now the glass had settled she stood and continued her preparations for the wounded.
How could she be so calm!
“I suppose we should be thankful they haven’t started using their tank!” Christine shouted from the cupboard of supplies, then she handed gauze and bandages to Ceilidh who placed them on a bench. “Where’s Angela?”
Murray shrugged. “She was giving a Government guy a guided tour.”
“Go find her!”
Murray ran out of the medical centre, keeping low. Last he heard, Angela was going to show the government guy the farm, but that was hours ago. Murray ran to Angela’s room at the back of the accommodation block of the compound. Here the gunfire was distant. He approached Angela’s room.
“Gotta go!” The Government man receiving the guided tour, bumped into Murray as he barged out of Angela’s room. He buttoned his shirt as he brushed past Murray. The man’s neat uniform was not as neat as the last time Murray saw him.
“Where’s the action?” he yelled.
“Out front.” Murray pointed over his shoulder as he looked into Angela’s room.
Angela sat on her bed wrapped in a sheet. Only a sheet. Her long red hair fell over her shoulders as she pulled the sheet over her breasts. Murray blinked.
“What do you want? What’s going on?” Her voice was terse. Husky.
“Ah, we’re being attacked, but the Government soldiers are machine-gunning them down. I think.” Murray looked away as she began to move out of her bed. “Um...Christine wants you.”
“Oh, go away!” she yelled.
“Okay. I’ll be in the medical centre.” Relief welled through him. His embarrassment was becoming unbearable. He’d rather be back in the gunfire than stay with her any longer.
