Mike Dixon

The old infantry weapon had been dragged through the
sea at Dunkirk by her grandfather. Somehow he‟d remained
in possession of it and had brought it back to Australia. She
held the gun above her head and crawled forward. Janet followed,
sliding over the putrid mud … catching her breath.
Something moved ahead
and the next flash of lightning
revealed a small crocodile trying
to turn round in the nar-
row channel. Noelene pushed
past the frightened reptile
and reached a spot where the
creek was obstructed by a
large mangrove tree. She
checked the rifle and waited
for the next flash. The plane was visible through a tangled
mass of roots and branches but it wasn‟t an easy target.
Janet tugged at her sleeve. „He‟s seen us!‟
„What?‟
„He‟s gone out the back and he‟s tracking round to the
right.‟
Noelene slid down and sat in the mud.
„What do we do?‟
„Like you said … get in a couple of quick shots and get out
of here.‟
Noelene waited for the next burst of lightning, got the
plane in her sights and fired a carefully aimed shot at one of
the fuel tanks. She was swinging towards the second tank
when the sound of thunder was rent by the crackle of automatic
fire.
„Out! Out!‟
Janet had her by the sleeve.
„Back! Back!‟
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