Chapter 17
Shouting and roaring engines. Singing. Screaming? Matt struggled through foggy sleep towards consciousness. He was creased and stiff from cold, with a vile taste in his mouth. The hammer in his head didn’t help. The sharp kick to the ribs did. He rose on one elbow, forced open his eyes and peered up at his attacker. A woman in police uniform peered back.
‘Rise and shine, sweetheart,’ she said.
As Matt stumbled to his feet he saw the full chaos surrounding him. It must have teemed overnight. The camp was drenched. Sodden people sat shackled to tree trunks. Some were firmly ensconced in the buried cars, their hands chained through holes in the floor to concrete blocks below. Others were clambering up trees or fleeing into the bush, defying the shrill orders of police and forest
