Quite a turnaround these past few days. On Thursday evening we moved away from the clearing up to our camp near the top of the ridgeline, there to recover. In the morning we'd go down to the clearing again and bury the bodies. While sitting cleaning a pistol, I was absorbed for a while, then looked up and noticed Zarah was gone. I thought nothing of it for a bit, assuming she'd go to relieve herself in the bushes, but time passed and she'd not returned.

I went to look for her, shining my torch on my path in the dark, and came across her tracks. Everyone else has at least size ten army boots on, she has little runners, easy to follow. I went through the bush for a bit, up along the ridgeline towards higher and sparser ground. I lost her tracks for a bit, then went back to where I'd lost them, and followed them again. Eventually they stopped at the base of a tree. I waved the torch up the tree and called out.

"Ssssh," she called down in Hebrew, "I'm watching something. Come up to look."

I stepped back for a look at the tree. It was perhaps twenty metres high, a big old eucalypt with plenty of branches. I didn't fancy falling from there, I'm not any kind of climber, and besides heights make me sweat. "No," I said. "You come down."

"No! I'm looking at..."

"What?"

"There are some lights down there."

"Lights of a camp? Of a city? What?"

"Hard to say, I'll photograph it. Oh hang on, I don't have any way to develop the film."

"Use your video camera."

"No, it doesn't have enough zoom."

"Well, come down."

"Okay. In a minute!"

I started feeling like a real father now. "No, Zarah, come down now, and carefully, too."

"Just a minute more."

"No, now."

Grumble, whine. "Oh, okay." Sounds of clambering. Then, a cry, crash, tumble, another cry, an oof, and forty kilogrammes of daughter came falling down through the tree's branches onto her arm. She screamed in pain. I went straight to her, she was crying and holding her left arm awkwardly.

"It might be broken, honey..."

"Oh abba it hurts..." she seemed to faint. I took her up in my arms and stepped carefully and heavily back down the ridgeline to the camp. The Lt looked up as I entered the camp's circle, no-one was on watch.

"She's hurt, sir... fell onto her arm... see what you can do."

He went to her, examined her. She moaned a little through unconsciousness as he probed her arm and the rest of her. "I think it's just a very serious sprain. If we bind it well, it should heal quickly. Find me two sticks for splints." I went out away from the campfire and did so, then handed them to him. " I've given her a sedative. Now hold her down while I straighten her arm and bind it."

"Why hold her? She's out."

"Yes, but reflexes. Now just do as I say." I held her down. He bound her arm, and did a good if rough-looking job. She didn't awake or stir much as he wrapped the bindings around her arm, lifting the arm, wrapping below, lowering the arm, wrapping above, tugging tightly to make it firm, slowly unwrapping his strapping onto her.

I heard a noise beside me, and looked up to see the Chinese fellow standing over me, looking down, concerned. "I hope she'll be okay," he said. I didn't notice it at the time, but his English was suddenly better. Cameron and Jeremy were there, too, Jeremy standing with a sling on his left arm, Cameron sitting with his guts patched up, and I realised my daughter was something of a darling of our little troupe. I wasn't very comfortable with this: she's my daughter.

I sat first watch and the others went to bed. I sat with the Lt and we said little, sitting by the fire looking off into the darkness, listening for any signs of men.

"Sir, will we abort this mission?"

"No. Why?" he looked genuinely puzzled.

"Because all but myself are seriously injured. How can we go on?" He simply gave me a dark look, and shook his head. I said no more, huddling deep into my jacket against the cold night air, listening to the crackle of the fire.

It began raining, heavily. Soon there was no chance of hearing even a whole regiment marching past, and if we spoke, it'd be loud enough to wake the sleeping guys. Soon the Lt went to bed and was replaced by Cameron, barely sitting up with his wounds. Then came my turn to sleep, and I awoke Jeremy, who stumbled up scratching his beard and arse, saying, "fucking rain."

I slept, and in the night dreamt we had finished another battle, and John Wong was going around cutting people's throats. My legs were broken, and I couldn't stop him. I called out to him, but he wouldn't stop, he just looked at me with blank dark eyes. Slash – and another man shuddered and shook and blood spurted like a butchered deer.

I was the first awake, stood up and stretched, pulled on my boots and walked to the edge of our camp to take a piss. It steamed in the morning air, the grey before the dawn. I took my rifle and sit on the edge of the clearing and looked out. Just before dawn is the most popular time to attack, and someone had motive to attack us, I reckoned. The sun rose warmly as the birds chirped. Once it was up, I put the safety back on my rifle and went back to the camp. I kicked awake Jeremy, Cameron and John, "Morning lads, rise and shine," though of course didn't kick the Lt or my daughter. But they soon awoke anyway.

We had a quick breakfast, scarfing down some beans heated in their tin in the fire. "Hey," I said to Wong, tossing him a short spade and hefting my own entrenching tool, "come with me."

"Just me?"

"Yes, just you."

As we walked down the hillside, our feet sometimes slipping on it, I said to him, "You know, you can't go around killing people like that."

"Who?"

"Those guys yesterday, mate. It's wrong."

"What? I didn't kill them, we all did. I just finished them off."

"That's the point, mate. You finished them off. You killed people who were wounded, or prisoners – you don't kill people who are no threat to you, that's murder."

"Fuck you, you can't tell me what to do."

"Your English seems to be getting a lot better rather quickly, Wong." He said nothing, just stared ahead.

"Anyway, you won't do that again, will you?" I looked at him, getting no response. "Is that understood? Wounded or surrendered, you leave them alone?"

Silence.

"Understood, soldier?"

He just grunted.

"We have to treat them properly, because one day, it could be you or me that's wounded or surrendered. And if we've been doing that to them -"

"No-one will know. They won't tell," he grinned nodding in the direction of the bodies.

"Over time, they'll figure it out. Bodies will be dug up and examined. You don't fight a war as if you're never going to be wounded or made prisoner, or as if there's never going to be a peace. And what it comes down to is that these are your orders. Understood?"

He grunted again. We reached the clearing, the seven men lying dead there. "Rightyo," I said to Wong. "You killed them, you bury them." "I'm not digging if you're not," he said.

"You'll obey orders, soldier."

"Fuck you."

"Like I said, your English keeps just getting better. Where'd you come from before the Collapse, then?"

"None of your business."

"Anyway, dig."

He shook his head and went and lay back against a tree."I dig when you do."

This lad had a real problem with obeying orders. And he wouldn't talk about his past. And he was a liability. He was a murderer, was going to get us killed, and couldn't be trusted. I came to a decision. I pulled my pistol from its holster, and flipped off the safety.

"What are you doing?!" he said, rising.

I raised the pistol towards him, aiming at centre of mass as he ran at me. I triggered off three quick rounds that went high and to the right, and he slid on in, his left leg out, slamming his boot into my knee. My vision went white with pain and I went down, woozy and near-blind, dropping the pistol.

I clutched at my knee, looking up at him as he picked up the pistol. He dropped out the magazine into his hand, tossed the mag one way and the pistol the other. He pointed at me, speaking seriously, now no trace of accent in his voice as he spoke. "I could kill you now, do you understand?"

I nodded.

"But I do not. For one reason only: your daughter." He paused. "But if you ever cross me again, then I will kill you. Do you understand?" I nodded again. "Help me up." He turned and walked away, sitting against his tree again. I pushed myself to a sitting position, in great pain. The Lt and Cameron and Jeremy came running down the hill, weapons drawn. They looked from Wong to me. "He shoot me!" Wong said, his heavy Chinese accent and bad English suddenly reasserting itself. The Lt looked at me with a mixture of shock and anger. "Is this true? Did you shoot at him?"

"Yes." I decided I would mix truth with lies. The actual truth would be too much for the Lt.

"In God's name, why?"

"Because he attacked me."

Wong's eyes narrowed at me for a moment, then he returned to staring into space sullenly, and pretending not to understand.

"Why on Earth would he attack you?"

"Because I questioned him about his origins, where he was from. And told he wasn't to murder prisoners and wounded anymore. He told me to fuck off. I insisted. He attacked me, and so I shot at him. Obviously, I missed. Remember all that business with Chinese taking over before the Collapse? I think he might be a spy. Watch how his English improves when he's not paying attention. He broke my knee, I think. Can you take a look at it?"

The Lt looked disconcerted, confused, looking from me to Wong, obviously not knowing who to believe. Surely he'll abandon the mission now, I thought.

"Alright. Jeremy, Cameron, bury the bodies. You two... when I get back, I'll have to write a report on this." Only two weeks since the Collapse, and we've already revived paperwork? I thought once again. "And you will write a report, too, Wong. And you, Kyle. And then we'll find out what happened. Now we'll continue with the mission." Zarah found a branch I could use as a crutch, I crawled along and recovered my pistol and magazine, Wong avoided my eyes, sitting whittling a piece of wood with his knife.

The Lt made me walk all day without treating me. I staggered along at a very slow pace. In the evening he looked at me long and hard, then knelt down and began binding up my leg. He told me it would take about a month before it was stable again. He looked sad, and concerned, and I don't think it was for my leg.

"Kyle, we can't go on with you, injured like this."

No whacking anyone? I tried not to cheer. "You'll cancel the mission, sir?"

"You keep asking that. No, I won't. We'll go on without you."

"Go on without your best-trained man, and with one who might be a foreign spy, and who we know is a murderer? Is that prudent, sir?" "But we must complete the mission."

"As you wish, sir. But watch out, you might wake up one night with your throat cut." Wong, sitting by the campfire, shot me a dark look. "Be careful, sir."

He nodded. "I will."I handed over my rifle and its rounds, keeping only a pistol and my axe – with one hand on the crutch, I couldn't use a rifle anyway.

I sat no watches that night, and was too tired from staggering all day in pain with all my gear to care if Wong gutted me in the night. I awoke intact on Friday morning, the morning dew on my sleeping bag cooling my face. The others were bustling about breaking camp. I arose slowly, and broke my fast by the smouldering campfire, sipping some lukewarm coffee.

The team gathered their things. They walked off, each giving me a look as they went. Jeremy thoughtful, the Lt regretful, Cameron scratching his large belly, only Wong not looking at me, avoiding my gaze. I waited quietly as they tramped off into the forest. "I'll miss them," Zarah said.

"You'll miss Wong, eh?"

"Yes."

"Do you miss," I said in Hebrew, "him kicking heads in and breaking necks?"

"That is the same as you, abba."

"No!" I said. "Not the same! When I wound men, I perform first aid afterwards. He breaks their necks." She became quiet and looked at her bag, picking with her nails at a thread coming from it, but I don't know if she really absorbed my words. Some people, especially young people, are so repelled by violence of all kinds that they can't see a moral difference between killing a man in the heat of battle to save your daughter's life, and killing a helpless man who's no threat to you. To them, all violence is too abhorent to admit of degrees; it is all equally vile.

I don't wish to be vile in the eyes of my daughter. I hope that she will come to understand. I do live by a kind of code; there is reason for all. I wish I could express it clearly.

The team had head off to the northwest. Lilydale lay east-north-east. The lights Zarah'd seen were to our north. "Let's head to those lights you saw," I said, "perhaps it'll be a village." As soon as the team was out of sight, I took off my uniform and tossed it into the bush, changing back into my civilian clothes. I put my pistol in its holster, and strapped the fire axe to the side of my rucksack. I staggered along through the day, slowly, even the sling-wearing slightly-built Zarah outpacing me. Eventually we came to a road, asphalt, running east and west. Across the road and to our right, the east, there was a large house, and fields around. There was a large fire in the yard in front, and children and adults around. No flag flew from the building. The people were all in simple civilian clothes. I turned to Zarah.

"They'll ask who we are, and where we've been. Until we know who they are, we'd best appear... unimportant. You fell from a tree while looking around, as really happened. We came across a battle between Fletcher's and Crimson's men, that explains where we got the pistol from. I slipped on some blood and injured my leg. Perhaps when we know them better we can tell them the truth. Okay?"

She looked uncomfortable but nodded. I slid my pistol in my leg pocket. We walked across the road towards the house, children stopped and stared, then came running over to look at us. Men stepped forward to take my pack, and help support me. We were taken past the fire and the smell of cooking meat and vegetables, it made my mouth water, and then into the house.

As we walked into the house, a woman cried out and pointed to Zarah. I turned around, and the woman took from Zarah's back pocket a pistol. I looked to my daughter. "Um, I took it from Jeremy, he didn't need it, he had the rifle..." I sighed and shook my head, and said to the woman, "I'm sorry. Do you know how to make that weapon safe? I can do it for you if you wish." In answer, she popped the magazine out and cocked the weapon, neatly catching the flying round. That answered that.

They sat us down and brought us tea. The people looked to be of Arabic or Romani descent, the women with headscarves and the men in loose trousers, with colourful jewelry all about. Three women came before me as I sat back on some pillows. They were obviously in charge of the place. They were introduced as Sofia, Suha and Fatna, and were all old. I rose to my feet but they waved me down, and asked me to tell our story. I told them the story I'd mentioned to Zarah. They explained that they were a community calling themselves "Gewaad". They were under the protection of Fletcher. He had them do ten days' work a year, for which they were paid in his currency, and they could do more work. He hoped in this way to encourage community work, and trade. They said that we could stay here until we were better, but that we ought to give some contribution to it, whatever we could manage. I still had about twenty kilogrammes of food in my pack, coffee and sugar, and of course my pistol, which I was glad enough to give them. They expressed gratitude, and spoke more of Fletcher. I listened some more, and considered. If Fletcher was indeed a leader who sought to create something worth defending, and not just the means of defending it, he had to be warned of the threat to him. I considered telling the true story. Of course, this would lead to the death or imprisonment of Wong – which was not a shame – the Lt, Cameron and Jeremy. But perhaps for each of them I could say the right words and free them, if it seemed good. And sometimes men must be sacrificed for a greater good.

I said, "Honoured ladies, I have deceived you. I did not know what kind of people you were, so held back on my story. I will tell you now the truth." I took out this journal for reference and told them the story, they questioned me on many details. Afterwards, they called Zarah in, whom I told, "You are free to tell the truth now, Zarah. Be strong." They spoke to her for a couple of hours, and eventually she emerged from the room in tears while they conferred. I took her in my arms.

"I am sorry, my dear. I am sorry you've had to live such things, and relive them in talking. I'm sorry I've made you lie. Difficult times call for difficult actions. But we will run no more; it is enough." After some time the women re-emerged. "We have come to our decision. We shall pass on your words to Fletcher, without telling him the source. You will leave this place. We cannot keep you here, for you have blood on your hands. It was self-defence, yes, but it is blood. You cannot stay if you have blood on you, that is our way."

"I understand," I said. "But understand, too, that Zarah and I are injured. If we travel alone in the bush, we will likely die, from infection or further injury. Myself I might risk it, but I cannot risk the life of my daughter. I say that I do not fear your telling Fletcher the source of the information, in fact I would be glad to travel and meet him myself. I don't like this deceit or sneaking about, and I seek a leader to follow, a place to be, one which is sane and sensible. So I wish to travel to him."

"As you wish it," Sofia said, "We will call ahead so that you will be escorted there."

I feel in me an urge for some structure to my life. I remember vaguely some fantasy novel in which one character described his code,

Never violate a woman, nor harm a child. Do not lie, cheat or steal. These things are for lesser men. Protect the weak agains the evil strong. And never allow thoughts of gain to lead you into the pursuit of evil.

It's a bit cliched, I suppose, but I think it's something I could live by. Several men I've killed, and I can't help but feel their deaths were all avoidable. This senseless wandering and killing I can't abide, it's no way to live. Fletcher will perhaps not trust me, or turn out worse than I'd hoped. But we can but try. It's no life for a young girl, wandering the wilderness like this.

I just noticed that without really thinking about it, I'd scratched something in the side of my fire axe.

מוות