Free Darkness Be My Friend by John Marsden Page B

understand it a little. And "to understand is to forgive." Isn't it? That's what they say. So it must be right.
    I understand that I screamed because of all the stuff we'd been through, and because I'd seen too many people killed already, and because I'd once seen Lee use a knife to kill a man, and because I'd killed people in cold blood myself. And because of Robyn. I understand all that. And there's nothing else I need to know about it, is there?
    Is there?
    When I think back like this, like I'm doing now,
I seem to remember my scream as a kind of guttural noise, a hacking kind of cry. Maybe it was more a sob than a scream. I guess that was the only thing I did right. It was a low, hoarse sound, not a high-decibel glass-shattering scream that brought people to their doors and set dogs barking and cats yowling. So it was our good luck that only the one enemy soldier heard it.

    After I screamed, I turned and ran. I'm not proud of any of this; that must be obvious; but it's what I did. I ran straight into Iain who'd been coming up fast behind me. He handed me on to someone else, I don't know who it was, while he went swiftly forward. I collapsed onto this other guy, clinging to him, half-sobbing, trying to fall down and at the same time trying to keep to my feet. I tried not to listen to the sounds behind me, but I couldn't not hear the gurgling sobbing noises as they killed him. I don't know what they did with the body either, I think there was some discussion about whether to make it look like an accident or whether to get rid of it where it couldn't be found. It was a real problem for them because they needed to stay under cover for another twenty-four hours or more. I could hear Lee's voice as they held their whispered conversation and I hated him for staying so calm and in control when I was not.
    Anyway, I don't know what they finally decided, or what they did. I don't want to know.
    After some time a soldier called Bui-Tersa came and got me from the guy who'd been looking after me. She was East Timorese and probably the youngest of all the New Zealand commandos. She was a quiet dark-haired girl with quick alert eyes and a wicked sense of humour.
She'd told me her name meant Thursday's Woman; it's a Timorese custom to name children after the day of their birth. I was grateful she'd be looking after me. I knew, of course, that they would never let me go on with them after what had happened. I knew there was no question that I'd have to go back. So I didn't put up any resistance, just let her lead me quickly and quietly through the streets and out of Wirrawee into the countryside.

    In the cool clear night air, with all that space around us, away from the nightmare that Wirrawee had become, I began to breathe again. I wanted to apologise to Bui-Tersa, to say sorry to all the Kiwis, but for once I knew words were a waste of breath. I didn't care what Andrea thought, this was one occasion when talking wouldn't help. So I said nothing. I just kept following Bui-Tersa meekly across the paddocks.
    I soon realised where we were going, though. And a minute after I worked it out, Bui-Tersa told me anyway.
    "We're going to your farm," she said. "I might leave you at the bottom of that track where we landed the other night. That's if you think you'll be all right. If you think you can get into Hell on your own..."
    She paused like people do when they want you to tell them something's fine. Her voice, normally light and laughing, was now quick and crisp.
    "I'll be OK."
    "Well, we'll see when we get there," she said. "But if you are OK, I probably will leave you there. Iain's got a job for me back in town for tomorrow night. Will you be able to navigate us there now?"
    "Yes."
    That was the only conversation we had. It wasn't that she was being unfriendly, far from it. She couldn't be unfriendly to anyone. She was too nice for that. Too nice to be a guerilla, I'd privately thought since first meeting her. But I sure didn't feel like