Free Jack's Island by Norman Jorgensen Page B

sun. We didn’t have watches and we were pretty good at guessing the time. ‘We should just make it.’
    I sighed. ‘Banjo?’
    â€˜Don’t say anything. I know. It’s in the restricted area. We’ll be shot. We’ll be arrested. Blah, blah, blah. Are you coming?’ He made me feel like a complete chicken without even saying it.
    The main gun emplacement sat carved into the tallest hill in the middle of the island. The barrel of the enormous nine-inch naval gun pointed to the horizon, and concrete bunkers covered in green-and-brown camouflage nets poked from the sandhills.
    We hid our bikes and started up the path we’d made to the hole under the fence. We’d dug our way under the fence months before, when the army engineers had first started work on installing the guns, finding a way through the maze of rusting barbed wire defences.
    â€˜The Lone Pine?’ I suggested. We’d called it that after the famous one at Gallipoli. It had plenty of branches and we’d be able to climb a fair way up it. From there we’d have a perfect view across the small valley between the sandhills, directly in line with the barrel.
    The concrete gun platform was swarming with soldiers. They looked more like khaki-coloured toy soldiers from this distance.
    â€˜Ooo-ooo-ooo! Me Tarzan, you Cheetah,’ yelled Banjo, sounding nothing like Johnny Weissmuller in Tarzan. He was several branches above me and climbing higher.
    â€˜Shut up. They’ll hear us,’ I said.
    â€˜Don’t be so daft. How can they? They’re miles...’
    One of the soldiers on the gun platform suddenly looked our way as if he’d heard Banjo. We froze. He turned and climbed down a ladder out of sight and suddenly, within seconds, the whole area was deserted.
    â€˜Banjo...’ I began, but then the shock wave hit me. I didn’t hear the blast straight away. I just felt like a huge cricket bat had belted me in the chest, like a gigantic Don Bradman had used me for batting practice. The shock wave threw me backwards and I felt myself falling. I hit a branch and felt it snap, and then another and another cracked as I tumbled over and over towards the ground, hitting each branch in turn. With a sickening thud I crashed to the earth. Winded, I lay there staring stupidly up through the pine needles to the sky and listened to my ears ring as pain overwhelmed my body.
    â€˜Jack? Jack?’ I heard Banjo calling but he sounded far away. Then my head cleared slightly and I saw him. He hung from a branch high above me, his legs swinging like he was hanging from playground monkey bars.
    â€˜Hang on, Banjo.’ I stumbled to my feet. Every part of me ached and I couldn’t get my breath. My left side felt like it was on fire. The ringing in my ears screeched and my head pounded. I jumped to reach the lowest branch and nearly passed out with pain, but I managed to haul myself up and grab the next branch. The rough bark tore at my hands as I climbed higher.
    â€˜Hang on, Banjo,’ I pleaded again. It sounded like a cough. Somehow I managed to reach the branch where Banjo hung, staring at me, his eyes filled with fear. He couldn’t hold on any longer. I lunged at him with my free hand. My fingers closed on the front of his shirt as his hands slipped from the bough. I heard the fabric of his shirt rip as he dropped and then I felt my arm nearly tear from its socket. Somehow I managed to keep hold. My eyes closed and my heart pounded in my head.
    â€˜Jack,’ he gasped.
    I opened my eyes. I still had hold of Banjo’s shirt but now his legs were wound round the branch below. He had managed to grab hold of the trunk. We clung to the tree in silence, our chests just about bursting as we took in huge breaths. The smoke and stink of gunpowder drifted over to us, filling our lungs and stinging our eyes.
    â€˜Are you hurt?’ asked Banjo after the shock had eased. ‘Can you climb