Tomorrow 3 - A Killing Frost by John Marsden

Author:John Marsden [Marsden, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-04-01T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

I felt like I’d been beaten with truncheons on every inch of my body. I had so many aches and pains that I didn’t know which part of myself to feel sorry for first. When I realised I was alive I hauled myself up onto all fours, then used a small tree trunk to get on my feet. I hung on to the tree, willing myself to find some energy. Behind me, wave after wave was crashing onto the shore. It was a long time before they started to quieten down. By then I was back on all fours, unable to stand without feeling sick and dizzy. I didn’t give a moment’s thought to what we’d done. It seemed unreal, and irrelevant. All I could do was survive the next moment, the next minute. It was impossible to tell where I was: just somewhere on the shore of Cobbler’s Bay, and probably a few k’s from Baloney Creek where Homer and I had arranged to meet the others. I didn’t think about Homer though; he could have been alive or he could have been dead, or he could have been somewhere in between, but there was nothing I could do for him.

My mind just wouldn’t work: nothing would connect. All I knew was that I had a terrible craving for fresh water and that I was terribly cold and that I couldn’t cope with the pain. I heard a gurgle of water near me, striking quite a different note to the roar of the waves behind, so I crawled to that. But when I found the little stream and sank my face into it all I could taste was salt. It had probably been flooded by the tidal wave that Homer and I had created.

I had another go at getting upright and this time was more successful. I started to wonder about the chances of soldiers finding me, but thought they would probably be too busy back at the wharf – if any of the wharf was left, which was unlikely. My thirst forced me forwards. I took a couple of hesitant steps, trying to work out which leg was the better. There wasn’t much in it, but the left one seemed to at least have a functioning knee. I put more weight on that and hobbled uphill into the bush.

I don’t know where I wandered that night. I found some fresh water eventually and lay with my face soaking in it for ages, cold though it was. I drank like a dog, lapping noisily and greedily, coughing when I swallowed too much, but gulping down more even while I was recovering from the coughing fit. After that I staggered on for a while, holding my head in both hands and wishing it would stop hurting. I had enough sense to know that I shouldn’t stop and lie down when I was so wet, so I kept walking till my clothes were just damp, then lowered myself carefully between two logs and lay there shaking.

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