Chapter 3, Pawliday Love

Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

MCKENZIE

B loody hell, did I just give her permission to shoot me?

Would she shoot me?

I wait for her reaction, getting a little antsy when she continues watching me, her face devoid of emotion.

“Hello? Brenda? You best make your decision.” I have no patience left. I’m the damned head of the SES branch here, and I should be in town directing my teams. Instead, I’m stuck out here with a woman holding a loaded gun, which is still aimed at me. Maybe I shouldn’t have given her the option of shooting me.

With a huff, she uncocks the shotgun, before breaking it open.

“It’s not loaded?” I growl as my jaw almost hits the ground. “What if I’d been a cop? Or a bad guy?” I ask abruptly. “I could’ve shot you. All over an empty gun,” I reiterate while shaking my head.

“I can load it if you want,” Brenda snarks.

“Nope, don’t bother. We’ve got shit to do,” I snap back.

“I’ve already started. I heard the radio callout about the horses loosening the bags of sand on the levee banks earlier.” Brenda walks away, so I trail along behind her like a lost puppy. As we round the back of the old rundown house, I discover there is an even more rundown shed.

Brenda opens both doors to the shed and as I step inside my eyes widen in surprise. In front of me is something resembling a flatbed boat. As I inspect it further, I notice pieces of every floatable product available around the place have been strapped, tied, and welded beneath a flat platform. The platform is a mess of planks, tin and tarpaulins.

“And this is for what?” There’s only the two of us. How many people was she expecting?

“Not what,” she responds. “Who.”

“We can’t take the animals, Brenda. The water’s going to reach here soon. It’ll be every man for himself.” The woman obviously hasn’t been caught in a flood before.

“If they don’t go, I don’t either,” she informs me sternly. “There’s enough space on the raft for everyone.”

I point at the shoddy-looking raft. “You mean that thing? How do you know it’ll even float, to start with?” I reckon it’s going to fall apart really quickly, but I’m not stupid enough to say it aloud. She might still have shotgun shells in her pockets.

“It will,” she answers confidently.

Squinting into the shadows of the shed I keep prodding. “What makes you so sure?”

“Because it has to,” Brenda snips. She’s getting agitated at my questions, so I change tactics.

“How did you end up here?” I’m intrigued and want to know more about her. Especially how she came across Salerno’s farm. He died several years ago, and the farm has sat empty since.

“Why do you want to know?” She avoids answering, by moving away from me, further into the shed, but I follow her.

It’s only now I hear the muffled noises of animals moving around in stalls. “What sort of animals do you think you’re gonna take out of here on that thing?” I can’t bring myself to say boat, because it’s not. It’s a fuckup waiting to happen. “ If it floats.”

“Oh, it’ll float all right.” Her confidence in herself is cute.

“If you say so.” I don’t want to argue. “How are you going to get it out of the shed?”

“Well, you have that gas guzzler out there. Surely it has enough power to drag it out.” Brenda’s disdain for my ute rubs me the wrong way. I saved like crazy to buy it. I sacrificed a lot of other things to get exactly what I wanted, and I am damn proud of it.

But she’s right. It’s not a boat.

I could probably attempt driving out of here, but there’s only one bridge which I’ve already been told is underwater. The property I’m on is lower than most other properties, so it’s pretty certain to go under. If I try driving out and get caught up in the floodwater, I’d be taking emergency services away from someone who might need more help than me.

As much as I’m pissed off at not being where I’m needed, I’m intrigued by this pixie of a woman. I get the feeling she’s running from someone. Or something. Who in their right mind would live in a house that should be condemned?

It’s getting dark, so I lock up my ute. I know there’s only us out here, but it’s a habit. I carry extra petrol, a first aid kit, and tools for emergency use because I’m not always in the rescue truck when I get a call for help. They won’t help me here though.

Climbing onto the bonnet of my ute I pull out my phone and call Matty. No answer. He must be busy. Remembering what else I have in the back of the ute; I jump off the bonnet and walk around the car. Unhooking the clips of the tarpaulin covering the tray of the ute, I flip it back, then drop the tailgate, so I can drag my drone towards me.

I check that it’s fully charged and am thankful when it is.

“What’s that?” Brenda asks, her eyes narrowed at the machine.

“It’s a drone. Like a flying camera. Haven’t you seen one before?” Has she been living under a rock?

“I’ve never seen one for real,” she shrugs casually. “What are you going to do with it?”

“I’m going to check how close the water is. This place is on low ground, so it’ll flow through here fast. We need to know how long we have.” Brenda says nothing more but continues to watch me as I set up the drone for flight. “It has a range of about five kilometres. So if the water is that close, then we will need to get your ark out and get it ready.”