Seven Steps to the Sun (23 page)

John sat up. Mike took the nonexistent shoes off and with the aid of the knife carefully cut off the socks. The feet were one mass of broken blisters. Even in taking off the socks Mike hadn't been able to completely clear the area of material.

'What are you looking for?' asked John following his searching look.

'I was trying to think what we could use for bandages.'

'How about this?' said Bernie, holding up a piece of cloth. Mike took hold of it, but rejected it.

'John, try not to let those feet of yours get too dirty. Bernie, come on, there's a lot we've got to do,' he said.

The two of them went back to the motor bike, and dragged, pushed and hauled it back to the hut.

'Now what?' asked a very breathless Bernie.

'Without destroying the whole bike, help yourself to some wire,' said Mike, studying the petrol tank with the idea of using it as a boiler to clean some cloth for bandages. Looking at the bike brought back the memory of Pete's bike. The more he looked, the more he felt that the bike might have belonged to Pete. He remembered that it had obviously been there for some time. Otherwise, the awful thought that he might have left Pete without his transport crossed his mind. Bernie was now removing one of the brake cables, which proved very difficult without tools. Mike opened up a small pannier on the side of the bike, but it contained nothing but an old oily rag. Without tools getting the tank off wasn't possible.

'What are you thinking?' asked Bernie, standing next to Mike with a length of cable.

'We've got to find something to boil water in, plus some water,' he said, still wondering whether he could have left Pete sitting out in the middle of the valley.

'I could use a drink. If we find water close by, I can get John to it.'

'Fine, let's see if we can find some. But first just check that he's all right.'

Bernie looked round the doorway and reported: 'John's asleep.'

'Probably a very good thing. He must be in great pain.'

'Yes, I think without the bike ride he'd have given up,' said Bernie.

'We were lucky. Look, let's go down over there,' said Mike, pointing at a great outcrop of rocks.

'How did you manage to get involved in the fighting here?'

'I came in from Australia.'

'Where did you land?'

'I don't know. Everything was deserted and I lurched a lift with some soldiers. They were making for the mountains here. It took me a little nearer home.'

'You'd have been better off staying in Australia.'

'It would seem so!'

'Yet the whole world's gone mad.'

'How do you mean mad?' asked Mike skirting a large rock.

'Well, it's really crazy. Last month we were in normal communication with Washington and I was watching a demonstration march in protest about the lack of foodstuffs. A small scuffle started, the demonstrators and the police had a go at each other, one of the demonstrators got shot, and the crowd went mad. We got progress reports from our normal communications, as the television transmission went off the air, and learnt that the people were taking over. Looting, burning, killing. The police lost control and the military were completely ineffective. Within an hour of the first shooting in Washington, it seemed that all law and order had vanished. We lost contact with Washington and never got it back,' said Bernie, following Mike.

'That seems incredible.'

'You might think so, but within a few hours of the Washington incident, Rome was in the same predicament.'

'It strikes me that somebody's made a big howler.'

'They sure have. Anyone could have seen from the way people have been starving to death that eventually some of them would just be too hungry to care. At that stage, they've nothing to lose. To die from a bullet is quick compared with slow starvation.'

'Why do you think it happened?'

'It's all to do with the total lack of authority over many years from the politicians. They've always been so interested in their own personality politics that they've conned the public into believing they know everything. This time they've really come unstuck and so have their advisers.'

'What do you think they should have done then?'

'They should have listened to the cries from the wilderness, from the great minds of the last fifty years. The emotional section of society nowadays is too bloody scared of science, as they have been for more than sixty years. I bet people sixty years ago wouldn't have believed that the breakdown of civilization would have started with a simple demonstration. They probably thought the end would come in fire and brimstone from a nuclear war. You realize that if the politicians of the sixties had acted on the symptoms that were being pointed out about overpopulation and food production, by the scientists and philosophers, we wouldn't be in this situation today. But the politicians were so sure of themselves. Fools,' said Bernie, in a way that made Mike smile.

'If you hate politics so much, why go into the diplomatic service?'

'It is one of the few professions that is still well fed.'

'That's honest.'

Mike looked at the hard, unyielding rocks. Suddenly he put a restraining hand on Bernie's shoulder and they listened. Below them he could hear a splashing sound. They dropped quickly down over the boulders and soon found a small cascade of water splashing over a large boulder.

'This is great,' said Bernie, going under the shower of water.

'You forgot your soap and towel.'

'Who cares. I think I'll have breakfast out here in the sun. Just above the terrace, where I can see those I exotic girls on their way to the beach.'

'Keep your voice down and your erotic thoughts to yourself. While you're contemplating in your shower, have a think about how you intend to get the breakfast you're talking about,' said Mike, cupping his hand and drinking water from it.

'What are you going to do?'

'Try and think up something for John's feet and make sure we're not being followed.'

'I'll bring some water for John on the way back.'

Although the sun was now warming the air, Mike gave an involuntary shiver. It was imperative to find a proper mountain climbing hut, otherwise they wouldn't survive very long. He followed the marks they'd made by dragging the bike over the rocky ground back to the point where they'd originally stopped. His heart sank as he glanced round and saw the glaring tracks leading to the hut. Only wind, rain and time would erase them.

Mike walked on until he reached the shoulder of the mountain. He looked hard at the village and the path leading up from it. His view was bright and clear for a moment, then the dead blood cells in the eyes started to cloud his vision. He tried to recollect what he'd noticed on his tour round the village. He couldn't remember seeing any cooking utensils but felt sure there must be some. He wondered which cable Bernie had taken off the bike. It didn't matter, they wouldn't be using the bike again. The warm sun, and his relaxed sitting position, made him realize just how much his bones ached. His eyes closed but he forced them open. He couldn't allow himself to sleep. He concentrated his thoughts on what Bernie's remarks had implied.

The collapse of civilization, or whatever was happening, starting from a simple demonstration, brought back to mind the May demonstrations in France of 1968. It wouldn't have seemed possible before May to envisage a babble of students bringing eight million workers out on strike. What was going to happen when the shooting stopped? Would enough good people, wanting to start again, be left, or would they enjoy their rule of anarchy too much and make the future society into the ideal bad man's land, rather like the wild west of America in the nineteenth century? The urge to sleep was now so great that Mike climbed to his feet, took a last look down at the village and moved towards the hut.

When he found it empty he dropped down to the water, where John and Bernie were asleep in the sun. Mike struggled with his boots and eventually got them off. His own feet weren't in too good a shape, as they were heavily bruised. He pulled the rest of his clothing off and stepped into the shower of water. His first reaction was to jump clear as the cold water hit his back but he clenched his teeth and quickly rubbed his body with his hands before drying himself in the sun as the others had done. He dressed quickly and woke the others. Between them they helped John back to the hut. Mike walked to the window and propped it half open till he had a good view of the shoulder of the mountain. He was in two minds as to where to put the rifle, eventually deciding on propping it up against the wall by his hand. Outside, the sun shimmered down. Mike could understand why people enjoyed poetry when he looked at the peaceful countryside.

Suddenly, there was a shot and half the window frame exploded in Mike's face. He threw himself to the floor and motioned the others to stay where they were. Several more bullets tore into the woodwork of the hut.

'Where are they?'

'Just keep your heads down,' said Mike briskly. He raised himself against the wall and slowly edged his head round the corner of the window. His eyes searched the hillside but he couldn't see anything. Groping for the rifle he felt it being pushed into his hand. A quick look down revealed Bernie, crouching by the window.

'Can you see them?'

Mike shook his head and slowly raised the barrel onto the window frame. It struck him that they, whoever they were, might be behind the hut.

'Have a look at the rear wall to see if there are any chinks you can see through,' said Mike, watching the hillside.

'Found one.'

'Good, keep a close watch for any movements out there behind us.'

'What do you want me to do?' said John. 'Sit tight, for the moment.'

It took Mike a few minutes to see the obvious; the grooves the bullets had made in the window frame. He quickly moved to the other side of the window and, sure enough, two figures were coming up from the direction of their showering place.

'John, come here. Keep your head down,' said Mike. John came across the floor and raised himself by the window. 'Ever seen them before?' he asked.

'I don't think so, it's still too far away to be sure,' John said, peering out at the two figures steadily gaining on the hut.

'What are you going to do?' asked Bernie.

'Get back to your post.' He looked hard at the approaching figures and carefully took aim.

'Mike, look,' said John in an excited voice. Ducking his head under the window ledge, he looked towards the shoulder of the mountain. Along the skyline he could see small black dots.

'Bugger,' he said emphatically and went back to his post. He couldn't do anything now but hold his position, both against the two approaching men and the tiny dots. He let the two figures come on until he was sure they were well clear of any cover. He aimed carefully and gently squeezed the trigger. The gun recoiled and he swung the sights on to the second man and fired just as he hit the ground. He waited until the man was lying on the ground and fired a third time. Neither body in the dust just short of the hut moved.

'Here,' he said, handing the rifle to John, 'I'm going to see if they're dead. Bernie, give me the revolver.'

Gun in hand, he cautiously left the hut. They were dead. He picked up all their equipment and returned quickly.

'Mike, what the hell are we going to do?' asked Bernie, becoming unsettled.

'Keep at your post. Here, there's a rifle each. John, see if there's any food in those packs,' said Mike, going back to the window.

'Yes,' said John, handing rations from one of the rucksacks.

'All right, the plan is this. We keep everyone at a distance until nightfall, then you two can slip over to the col while I'm keeping them busy.'

'But you might get caught,' said John.

'And we all will, for sure, if you don't have a good start with those feet of yours.' Mike watched the people coming over the shoulder and tried to count them, but he couldn't do it accurately. Ducking under the window he looked at the two bodies and was relieved to see them still lying there.

'Mike, there -are men coming over the col,' said Bernie.

He didn't see them at first, then several men came into view below the rocks on the col. Mike looked at the captured rifle, checked the magazine, and pushed the barrel through the crack but it only went about six inches and then stuck.

'I could get underneath the hut,' Bernie suggested.

'Not at the moment, just keep watching them.' He didn't want to send Bernie out until he had a true picture of the situation.

'John, while I'm watching those fellows coming over the hill, you keep an eye on the valley,' said Mike.

The men were now advancing in a long line, about half-way from the shoulder of the mountain to the hut. Something familiar struck his eye as he watched the line advance. They drew nearer and nearer. Mike watched. Suddenly his mind clicked; the advancing line of men were wearing uniforms, Italian army uniforms. He turned from the window and hurried to Bernie's spy hole. The men coming down from the col were dressed in civilian clothes.

'John, Bernie,' said Mike in a whisper, 'we might have got ourselves mixed up in somebody else's fight.'

The others nodded. A movement outside made them freeze. Suddenly four men went running by. An automatic weapon started up, one of the running men flew in the air and there was a thud as the lifeless body hit the ground. The line of soldiers had now melted into the cover of the terrain. Occasionally Mike would see a uniform break from one piece of cover to run to another. He gently crossed the floor and peeped through the crack but there was no sign of anyone outside. He returned to his position and waited. Everything was quiet, nothing stirred.

It was a good fifteen minutes of agony before the shooting started again. At first it was directed away from the hut. During the first bout Mike stood trying to judge which way the fighting was moving. His grip tightened on the rifle as he heard heavy footsteps outside. They started shooting, the fire was returned. Mike dropped to the floor as the whole wooden structure broke into thousands of holes and splinters. He manoeuvred himself into a position where he could cover the door and the window. The sound of gunfire grew loud and menacing until the air around the hut cracked in one continuous sound. A couple of bullets ploughed into the floor near-by and he wondered whether this was the end. Suddenly it all stopped. Mike got up and moved to the window. A couple of soldiers appeared a few hundred feet away. He held his rifle ready in anticipation, but they moved off. Pushing the barrel of the rifle out of the window, he covered the soldiers.