Synopsis

Cpt 1

Cpt 2

Cpt 4

Cpt 5

Cpt 6

Cpt 7

Cpt 8

Cpt 9

Cpt 10

Bonus

Extra

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The Bedford truck had been used on Knotted Pine Farm since before Alan's time and was even older than the Land Rover. The blue paint had faded to a powdery white and cobwebs covered the headlights that stuck up on the front fenders. The seats wore through to the underfelt and the glove box cover had long gone. However, its wide wooden tray was excellent for holding hay bales and with the double back wheels, it could go almost anywhere on the farm.

The snow still covered the hills and top flat where Alan stood on the truck tray. He cut a hay bale string and tossed the cubes of pressed hay out to the row of black cattle that followed them. Steam from their nostrils made cloudy puffs in the otherwise crystal air against the snow. Alan pulled his Balaclava down under his chin and rubbed a leather glove against his trousers. God it was cold!

"Swing the truck around and I'll make another row of hay, Hazel," he yelled to the driver.

"Right Dear," Hazel shouted back. The truck accelerated a little and she changed up to second gear.

After they had finished feeding the cattle, Hazel drove the truck back to the track that bisected the farm. She turned away from the direction of the farmhouse and headed uphill to the next paddock where sheep were held. The track was an old one that had been cut into the hillside to provide access to the middle of the farm. Beyond the top table flat was steep hill country with higher paddocks that were only used in the warmer months. With these out of use, the lower paddocks were almost overstocked and as well, no grass grew at this time of the year, hence the need to provide hay and other supplementary food to the animals.

Alan stood behind the cab on the tray with Jiggy while the two work dogs, Toby and Missy ran along the track beside them. Alan glanced back over the snow-covered hills and the farmhouse below them. Snow was thick on the roof except for one small area around the main chimney where it had melted and a circle of red roof paint showed through. The evergreen trees beyond the house resembled a picture postcard.

The truck's engine rumbled and black diesel fumes belched out the exhaust as the wheels crunched through the icy surface to the gravel beneath. It was a well-formed track, though, and the old truck had made the journey a thousand times before. Alan clung on when they went around the bottom corner. This was one of two ninety-degree bends on the track. From here, it was a steep straight climb up the hillside until they reached the top bend that turned another ninety degrees onto the table flats.

The warning that something was wrong only came when the Bedford swung wide on the last bend. Alan heard a scream of gears as Hazel attempted to change down. In this old truck, first gear was not synchronized and to get into it involved a double-declutch. Hazel as a confident driver but something went wrong. The engine howled as the gearbox slipped into neutral and the truck stopped and began to slide backwards.

"Don't brake!" Alan screamed but Hazel had already reacted.

She braked slightly with the result being the opposite of what she had intended. On the icy surface the back wheels locked and the tray swung out. The hay bales that covered half the deck began to slide. Jiggy skidded sideways with a yelp of fright but Alan managed to grab her collar with one hand and hold the frame behind the cab with the other. He stuck a foot out to defect a hay bale away from them and waited for the truck to level out.

But it didn't. He saw the snow covered valley and gasped in alarm as the hay bales hit him and he was propelled forward. The tray disappeared and Alan saw the blur of ground beneath him. A hay bale hit his shoulder and his legs went from under him. There was a bang of something snapping that penetrated his brain, the feeling of excruciating pain as he tumbled down onto a rock hard surface and the vision of the truck careering by down the slope.

There was more though. As he watched in frozen horror he saw the spinning back wheels. The truck was on its side as it skidded by!

More hay bales hit and Alan screamed involuntarily before the world around spun and he remembered no more.

*

Claire felt different as she pulled on the farm clothes Hazel had provided for her. Apart from shorts in the hot summertime she had never worn trousers before, let alone these faded jeans. The blouse felt soft against her skin though the woollen jersey tickled her arms. She pulled on some thick socks, also provided by Hazel and began to brush her hair.

Barking right outside her bathroom door made her jump in alarm. She opened the door to find not only Jiggy there barking but also one of the farm dogs. This one was a female but she didn't know its name. The dog stood back looking almost nervous as if she knew she shouldn't be inside while the little terrier continued to bark, run up the corridor and back again.

"What is it, Jiggy?' Claire.

The farm dog stood up and whined.

"Where's Alan?" Claire asked.

Both dogs stopped, sat down and gazed at her with sensitive brown eyes.

"They sent you to get me. Is that right?"

Jiggy barked and ran back along the corridor again. This time, though she didn't stop but disappeared into the kitchen. The back door was wide open and icy air blew in. Claire followed Jiggy and the other dog out to the veranda. There was snow everywhere and the day clear and cold, far colder than she had ever experienced in Wellington. Both dogs ran out onto the drive and stopped between the truck tyre marks in the snow.

"You want me to come?"

Both dogs barked and the farm dog sort of pawed the snow and ran along the ruts created in the snow by the truck tyres while Jiggy stayed by her but continued to bark.

"I'll get a coat." Claire gazed out but could see nothing except snow and the tyre marks disappearing around the side of the far shed. She assumed this led out to the farm.

The farm dog watched while she put one of Hazel's raincoats on and found a pair of gumboots. Her hands and ears were already freezing but there was no time to find a hat or gloves. As soon as she stepped out onto the drive, the farm dog sort of yelped an acknowledgment and disappeared out of sight. Jiggy stopped barking and trotted along beside her.

Behind the shed the truck marks followed a wide track that was fenced on both sides. Claire pulled her collar up and stepped out to follow the farm dog moving rapidly away in the distance.

*

In spite of the freezing temperature, Claire was perspiring and puffing by the time she reached a paddock where cattle were munching hay in two long lines. By the look of it, the truck tracks had turned in and come out again. Jiggy ignored the paddock, though and continued to run just ahead to where the track turned up the side of the hill.

"Oh hell," Claire gasped when she saw how steep it was. "Jiggy, slow down, will yah."

The little dog turned, ran back, around her and ahead again around the corner. Clair followed and heard something beside her. She glanced down and saw another dog. This was a larger male who had slowed its pace to trot beside her. Its tongue hung out the side of its mouth as it gazed up at her with almost pleading eyes.

"So you stayed behind until your friend arrived back, boy," she said and reached down to pat the dog's head. Unlike the females it did not bark but instead his tail wagged three or four times as he fixed her with a knowing expression his eyes.

The hill was steep and slippery. By the time Claire was half way up she was wheezing and gasping for breath. She ignored a spasm of pain under her ribs and continued on. Ahead, the track went left around a small cutting so only distant hills were visible. That was when she noticed that the tyre marks in the snow were different. The single front marks and double rear ones had become a continuous line that churned up snow and slush everywhere.

Claire stopped and gasped. The tracks went straight ahead, not around the corner beneath the cutting. She broke into a run, slipped and staggered but reached the edge and looked ahead. Half way down a steep valley she spied the truck surrounded by tossed out hay bales. It was jammed between two pine trees and looked as if a branch had crashed across the cab while the tray, devoid of any hay stuck grotesquely up in the air.

"Alan! Hazel!" Claire screamed but there was no reply. Everything was deadly quiet in the frosty air and the only movement was steam was curling from the truck engine. The three dogs stood in a line beside her with their ears forward, backbone hair ridged and tails drooping.

*

With little regard for her own safety, Claire slid down the icy bank and scrambled between the hay until she reached the truck. The far side was a crumbled like a collapsed biscuit tin but the driver's side appeared to be relatively undamaged. She seized the door handle and tugged. Nothing happened.

"Is anyone there?" she screamed as she pulled herself closer to peer inside.

Hazel was slumped sideways with her head back, one arm sort of dangling beside the seat and the other through the steering wheel. A pile of octagonal pieces of glass covered her and her dandling arm had blood running down from a blood stained jersey.

"Hazel!"

The only sound Claire heard was a small whimper as one of the farm dogs stood on its hind paws and gazed in the window.

Claire grabbed the handle again and managed to shift the door a little. However, the buckled framework stopped her pulling it further. She gazed around and a strange calmness replaced her earlier emotions. It was up to her to help. Nobody else was around so she needed to think clearly.

Of course, the windscreen was broken. She could get in that way.

The fender provided a step. She ignored the steam drifting by and grabbed the window edge. Damn, there were still bits of glass sticking up and two fingers began to bleed. She wrapped a handkerchief around them, managed to get one leg up on the bonnet, grabbed the dashboard inside and heaved herself up.

From there, she wriggled through the gap where the windscreen glass had once been. Hazel was right in front with her eyes closed but her chest was moving. Blood dribbled from the side of her mouth.

"I'm here, Hazel," Claire cried.

She wriggled forward but pulled back in horror.  Hazel's body and legs were caught under the crumbled dashboard. Claire grabbed the twisted metal but all she managed to do was cut her bleeding fingers deeper. She could not shift a thing.

For several moments she did what she could. Luckily, Hazel appeared to be breathing okay. When she lifted her companion's head a little to place some soft seat covering beneath it like a pillow, she noticed a swollen forehead. Something must have hit Hazel's forehead. Perhaps that was why she was out cold.

One of the dogs barked and Claire swung around. About fifty yards away were a dozen or more hay bales where both farm dogs had found something.

"Alan!" Claire cried. She checked to see that Hazel was as comfortable as possible and realised how cold it was. "You'll freeze!" She grabbed the seat rug. However, it was caught under the crushed metal and could not be shifted. She wriggled back out onto the engine cover, took off her coat and crawled back inside. She moved hair off Hazel's face and tucked the coat around her.

"Sorry I can't do more," she whispered in half sobs. "I'll get help. That's a promise."

*

The dogs had found Alan. Claire arrived to find him lying on his back. He had no noticeable blood or cuts but his right leg appeared to go the wrong way. A bone bulged beneath the skin.

"Oh hell, it's broken," Claire muttered to herself

"Hazel," Alan's eyes opened and focused on her.

"No, it's Claire."

"Claire?" Alan appeared confused.

"Your new boarder. Remember you picked me up at the station last night?"

"Oh yes, of course." Alan attempted to sit up. He grimaced in pain and dropped back to the ground. "What happened?"

"There was an accident. Your truck slid down the bank."

"Did it?" Alan frowned. "Hazel! She was driving wasn't she?"

"I think so..." Claire spoke quietly in a reassuring voice and told about the dogs attracting her attention and what she found.

"Hazel is unconscious, you say?" Alan said.

"I don't think she's seriously hurt but she's stuck in the cab."

Alan nodded and smiled slightly. "You're shivering."

"I put my coat over Hazel." Claire stood up. "I need to get help but don't want to leave you both."

"I'll be okay," Alan replied. "The phone's in the corridor at home. Take Jiggy. Toby and Missy will look after us." He reached up to pat the female dog who squatted beside him. "Good girl, Missy."

Claire glanced up. Jiggy was waiting nearby but Toby had gone.

"He'll be with Hazel," Alan whispered. "Leave me. The sooner you can get help for Hazel the better."

Claire nodded and stood up. "I'll check on Hazel once again then head home," she said.

Without waiting for a reply, she ran back to the truck to find Toby lying beside the truck. Hazel was still unconscious but there appeared to be more colour in her pale cheeks. The steam had gone and there was no smell of fuel so it seemed as if there was no immediate danger. She rushed back to Alan, brought him up to date on the situation and headed up the steep slope to the farm track.

It took fifteen minutes to reach the house. She arrived shivering in cold with her hands so cold she could hardly open the door. The warm inside air welcomed her as she tore through the kitchen and up the corridor.

The telephone on the wall had no dial, just a handle on one side. Claire bit on her lip. How could she dial for help? She picked up the receiver and put to her ear. There was no dial tone. Nothing! Claire stared around. Perhaps this wasn't the phone but there was nothing else around and Alan definitely said it was in the corridor.

With her pulse racing, she turned back to the ancient machine, put the receiver to her ear and did the only other thing possible. She turned the handle. Nothing happened!

She turned it again... a third time.

"Number please," a woman's voice said.

Claire gasped. "I need a doctor," she gulped.

"Is there an emergency?"

"There's been an accident..." Claire blurted out all the information she knew to the operator.

"Doctor Williams is on the emergency roster this week. I'll put you through to him. One moment please."

Claire could hear the phone ringing before another female voice came on. "Doctor Williams' surgery. Can I help you?"

"I need help," Claire burst out and repeated everything. By the time she finished her voice quivered and she felt tears welding in her eyes. "Can you hurry, please?"

"And your name?"

"Claire Woodham. I'm staying with the Sloanes."

"You did well, Claire," a male voice said. "This is Doctor Williams speaking. Can you tell me what condition Alan and Hazel are in?"

Claire relaxed a little and even smiled when the doctor complimented her on how she had handled the emergency.

"Don't try to shift them The main thing is to keep them both warm before we arrive so place some blankets over them," he concluded. "Don't worry. I'll do everything now and will be with you as soon as possible."

Claire hung up and went to find some blankets. With Jiggy at her heels she went outside and felt uncertain again. How could she carry the blankets all the way uphill? Jiggy glanced up and ran along to the shed, turned and ran back as if trying to tell her something again.

"Of course!" Claire exclaimed. "We'll take the Land Rover."

Like most New Zealanders her age, Claire had her driver's licence but had only driven her parent's car. After piling in the blankets and a first aid box she found in the washhouse she sat in the driver's seat and studied the controls. The Land Rover seemed huge and she had no idea how to work the second gear lever. However, the engine fired on first pull of the starter, she found reverse and with Jiggy beside her, reversed out. She found first gear and drove the huge vehicle slowly up the farm track.

Again her heart raced and her hands perspired as she gripped the steering wheel far too tightly and stared ahead. But they were moving and she would soon be back to help Alan and Hazel.

*

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