As LP pulled out of the service station driveway he spotted the Bad Meadows bikies again,
“I think these guys want a piece of us. I’ll bet they think we called the coppers on ‘em.”
“I think it might be more than that,” replied Red.
“Let’s not wait around to find out. I know a short cut, and they won’t see us for dust.”
“What are you doing? This is a dead-end street!” Bear called out.
Looking back, the guys saw the bikies following in the distance.
LP turned off the bitumen and headed for the gutter. This wasn’t only a shortcut, he had a plan.
“Hang on guys” LP yelled, as he hit gravel, sending George’s kombi fishtailing out of control, just missing some gum trees and heading towards a football field.
Bear screamed, “You’re going to kill us all!”
LP took no notice, even though it looked like he was going to run down a team of football players.
Bear spoke again, “That’s real bright LP. Those blokes are not going to be happy with us on their field.”
LP steered the kombi carefully through the footballers training under flood lights and stopped next to Donny, the coach. In amazement Donny turned and looked at LP, spat out his whistle and said “What the hell are you doing on our football field LP?”
“We need some help.” LP replied. “There’s trouble following us. A bikie gang is chasing us for some reason. Can you guys help?”
“Yeah, sure, why not?” said Donny “The guys could use some extra physical contact to blood them for next week’s game. They get sick of running their bodies into these timber scrum rams. You guys piss off now, and we’ll sort them out.”
LP put his foot to the floor and sped off through the low fog.
Donny yelled to his football mates, “Push the scrum rams together and stand in front of them.”
It wasn’t long before the bikies followed onto the field. The roar of two hundred bikies was almost deafening.
“Stand your ground; don’t move yet,” commanded Donny.
Nutter and his biker mates had one intention – going straight through the footballers.
Low fog hid the scrum rams from sight. The footballers could only be seen from above the waist.
Donny yelled, “Now move!”
There was an opening left for the bikies to go through, but not for long. The lead bikies hit the scrum rams hidden in the fog and went flying through the air, landing with a thud. The rest proceeded to crash or turn to avoid further chaos.
Nutter got up, shouting, “I’ll kill the bloody lot of you.”
“I don’t think so,” replied Donny.
“There are two hundred of us, and twenty of you bum-sniffing footballers. This’ll be the last game of football you’ll train for.”
“Give it your best shot, dickheads!”
Donny blew his whistle. To the left and the right, the reserve and B-grade teams finished their one hundred push-ups, and rose up out of the fog.
“Let’s show these guys some football skills that are not allowed these days on the field. One, the elbow; two, the eye gouge; three, the spear tackle; four, the biff. Go for it, guys! They’re on our turf now; don’t leave anyone standing.”
The footballers charged the bikies from three sides with thumping tackles, spear tackles, eye gouging and elbows, and they didn’t forget the BIFF!
The training session was over, and the Bad Meadows bikie gang, knowing they’d been outplayed, rode or pushed their bikes off the field and into the distance.
“It’s time for drinks. I’ll see you all back at the club house,” Donny called to his teammates, and walked from the field.
The floodlights were turned off, leaving the field in darkness.
LP looked in the rear-vision mirror and found no bikies in sight. He thought, you can rely on Donny to get you out of a jam.
“Floor it; let’s get some distance between those bikies and us. We need to figure out why they want to kill us,” said Bear.
“I think I may have had something to do with it,” replied Red. “When I phoned the coppers about the van floating down the creek, Porky came down the hallway, and he thought I was calling the coppers on them. That’s when I put his head through a wall. That’s why they’re after us.”
“Good one, Red; you should have put Nutter’s head there, too.” Bear laughed.
The guys all had a good chuckle over that story.
“The south coast road is flooded, so we can’t go that way,” LP pointed out. “We have to make it to the contest on time. We’ll head west and take the inland road, then south to Bells Beach.”
“Speed bump up ahead; slow down,” yelled Bear.
“Hang on,” said LP. Then he sped up! “If they wanted me to slow down, the sign should read slow bump!”
Bump! Bump!
“Are you happy now?” asked Bear.
“Not quite; there’s a roundabout coming up ahead.”
“Look out! Everyone lean to the right. LP, don’t get stuck on the roundabout again; it’s not funny.”
“Well, just tell me which exit to take, and no problem.”
“Now, now, turn left!” LP kept going around, a crazy grin on his face. “Oops, missed it; hang on; we’ll go around again.”
“I can understand why they call you LP. You’re like a broken record that just goes around and around. Now listen carefully, or I’ll jump over there and drive myself,” Bear screamed.
The direction sunk in, and, this time, LP turned left and exited to the western freeway.
The guys settled in for the long drive to Bells Beach. The drive would take three days if they managed to avoid the flooded creeks and rivers along the coast road. Once they crossed the mountain range, it would be as dry as a bone. That part of the country was still in drought.
Eventually, they came to the border crossing. It was heavily lighted, with barbed wire and armed guards. A spotlight was pointed at the Kombi, and the guys in the back woke up, wanting to know what was happening.
“Calm down! Border security. They’re going to search the van. Get rid of that weed in the back, quick smart.”
Cassa quickly shoved a handful of grass into the shoebox with Wal, their pet cane toad. “Don’t eat the grass, or you’ll be one stoned toad!” he warned Wal.
The side door opened, and an armed guard stepped inside the Kombi and sat. “Have you got anything to declare?”
Cassa looked at Bear. Bear looked at Red.
“Do we have to declare the guns on the gun rack?” asked Bear.
“No, but what’s the go with that knife and boomerang?”
“Souvenirs, mate,” replied Brownie.
The officer eyed them with suspicion. “That’s one big knife; where did you get it?”
“It’s a ceremonial knife carved from an extinct giant kangaroo jawbone from ‘Dreamtime’.”
“Don’t go walking down any streets with that thing,” the officer warned. “Or you’ll get arrested.”
“No problem; they’re just souvenirs,” Brownie repeated.
“Now, look outside and see the sign. What does it say?”
‘Bananas are prohibited
past this checkpoint’.
“You have to hand over all your bananas before crossing this security checkpoint. Do you declare you have no bananas? What’s that moving in the box?”
“Just a pet from up north,” Bear said.
“Well, let’s have a look.”
Bear lifted the lid of the shoebox, and there was Wal, the largest cane toad you’ve ever seen.
“What do you feed it, besides that green grass?” the officer inquired.
“Wal loves chewing on cockroaches for breakfast, and spitting them out, so don’t get too close.”
“Look, how long is this going to take?” asked LP. “We’re on a tight schedule to get to Bells Beach for a surf contest.”
“You’re right to go. Guns, cane toads and green grass from Queensland are not illegal. But never try to cross this border with bananas, or you’ll all end up in the lock up, and your vehicle will be confiscated.”
“No worries, Officer; there are no vegetarians here.”
LP accelerated away with a sigh of relief.
“All right, guys, what’s next?” asked Bear. “We’re almost out of fuel, and we haven’t got enough coin to get us to Bells.”
Red had a bright idea. Willie, Red’s flatmate, had worked for PMG when it had been split to Australia Post and Telecom. Willie was an IT guy who had helped to design the motherboard and electronic components for the latest telephone boxes.
“When we see a silver phone box, not the old red ones, we’ll stop, and I’ll get the coins out. I know the code to press, and the coin box will automatically empty.”
“Okay, Mason, look up the map; where’s the next truck stop?” asked LP.
“About fifteen miles down the road.”
Sure enough, fifteen miles further on, there was a phone box out in the middle of nowhere.
“Red, go make your withdrawal from the phone box. Mason, fill the tank, and we’ll be on our way.”
Red realised that the wound on his foot, from the broken glass at the party, had started to bleed again. Walking to the phone box to get the coins had opened a large gash.
“You’ll need stitches for that cut, mate, or you’ll bleed to death,” said Cassa.
“It’ll be okay. I’ll stop at the next town. There’s sure to be a doctor’s surgery,” said LP.
“Yeah, you’re right, and we’re not far from a good camping site, either,” said Brownie.
The so-called town was not much more than a truck stop, but there was a sign:
‘Doctors’ Surgery
Open 7:30 a.m. – 5 p.m.’.
LP said, “Red, you’ll have to wait till 7:30.”
While they waited, Brownie told the guys about a secret aboriginal site he knew of that was worth having a look at, and wasn’t too far from the town.
At 7:30 a.m. on the dot, a good looking chick with blonde hair, wearing a white skirt and white blouse, walked up. She unlocked the surgery door and entered.
“Mason, give Red a hand to get into the surgery,” said Bear.
Red hobbled over to the doorway. “Thanks, mate, I’m right now. I’ll be back out soon.”
Cassa and Bear checked that the surfboards and the Golden Fleece were still securely tied to the roof racks.
Red was inside, chatting up the young doctor’s assistant. Even though he felt throbbing pain from his wound, his instant attraction to the girl dissolved any thoughts of the stitches he needed. He put on a French accent and charm. When that happened, women melted into his arms.
The girl directed him over to a chair and made him comfortable. It was no ordinary chair; it was a dentist’s chair.
“What’s a dentist chair doing in a doctor’s surgery, Kat?’ Red asked. He was quick off the mark, and they were already on a first name basis.
“Doctor Punjab is multi-tasked in this small town,” she replied. “He is also a practising dentist, and the dentist’s chair doubles as a surgery table. Now, Red, lie back while I adjust the chair to a more suitable position.”
“I could think of a better position, if you know what I mean.”
Kat walked over to the door, locked it, walked back over to Red, then said, “The doctor doesn’t arrive until 8 a.m. What did you have in mind?”
Red raised his hand and pulled Kat forward, passionately kissing her. “I think I‘m in love,” he said.
“We shouldn’t waste any time, then,” said Kat.
She slipped her knickers down one thigh, dropped them to her ankle, and straddled the dentist’s chair. As Kat leant forward, her long blonde hair fell over Red’s face. Her greenish blue eyes were mesmerising as she kissed him. Kat’s passion engulfed Red like a mating praying mantis, about to devour its mate.
The guys were getting bored waiting in the Kombi, and wanted to get on the move. “What’s taking so long?” mumbled George.
“Oh, shit, look at that; the doctor’s only arriving now.”
As Kat unlocked the door so the doctor could enter, she said, “You have a patient waiting; I’ve already prepped him.”
Red piped up, “Yeah, Doc, your assistant certainly knows how to relax a guy.”
“So, how can I help you?” asked the doctor.
“I need stitches under my toes – I cut them on some glass.”
The doctor took a look and agreed. “Yes, five stitches should do the job. Do you have any feeling in your toes?”
“Yes and no. I can’t feel two of them.”
“I have a surgeon friend in Sydney who could operate to fix the nerve endings. Your toes would be as good as new.”
“What sort of specialist is he?”
“Like me, from Bombay. We both got our doctorate at the same time.”
He pointed to the certificate on the wall.
Red looked closely, and read, “Doctor of philosophy.”
“This doesn’t say you’re qualified to be a general practitioner.”
“Not yet in your state, but I'm doing a correspondence course from my old medical school in Bombay. When completed, I can add the letters GP after my name.”
“So how can you practice in Australia without the right qualification?”
“Your hospital system is desperate for more doctors, and they just don’t check very much. All I have to do is two years in the Outback, and I’ll have a luxurious home on Sydney Harbour. Then I’ll be sponsoring all my extended family to come to this great country.”
“How will you afford to do that?”
“Medicare, young man! Bulk billing is the answer. Whether it’s dentistry, veterinary, or medical; it doesn’t matter. If they come in here, they’re all bulk billed.”
As Red walked out of the surgery, he asked Kat, “How can he do that?”
“It’s simple. When he treats a dog for fleas, it’s a child’s rash; when he helps deliver a calf, it’s a house call for a home birth; if he does a tooth filling, it’s a flu injection.”
“That’s the best get-rich scheme I’ve ever heard.”
“I don’t like it, but I’ve got no choice; I’m stuck here.”
“Why don’t you come with us? We’re going to Bells Beach.”
“It’s all a bit quick. I can’t, really.”
“Look, we’ll be coming back through this way tomorrow morning. Be ready, and we’ll pick you up.”
“I’ll think about it, but a word of advice. Don’t see that surgeon in Sydney; his nickname is Dr. Death.”
Red planted a kiss on Kat’s lips and walked out.
“Come on, mate, hurry up,” called Bear.
As Red limped over to the Kombi, a few young local cow cockies followed him and swore abuse for talking to one of their womenfolk.
Red climbed in the side door, and Bear reached for the shotgun, then pointed it out the sliding Kombi door,
“Piss off, dickheads, or I’ll blow you lot away! Drive now, LP.”
As they drove out of town, Brownie said, “I know a top spot to camp tonight. It’s not far from here. Just follow the road behind that building, and it’s about twenty miles.”
“You couldn’t call this a road; it’s just a graded dirt track,” said LP.
It didn’t take long before Brownie said, “Pull over here.”
The Kombi pulled up in a cloud of red dust. In the distance, the sun was still rising across a barren dry red landscape. There had been no decent rain for years.
“This is the real Australia, where my ancestors lived for thousands of years. Look up to the left; see that outcrop of rocks? That’s a sacred site, a female Bora Ring. It has something to do with women’s business. Don’t move any rocks, or bad shit could happen.”
“Okay let’s set up camp and have a break. Later on in the morning, we’ll see if we can get some food off this land,” said Bear.
By midmorning, the guys were getting restless.
“Get the guns; we’re going hunting,” said Bear.
At Brownie’s request, they agreed to only shoot feral animals, which competed with the local fauna for the little amount of feed in the barren landscape
Bear grabbed the shotgun, LP took the .243, and Cassa got the .22. They had enough firepower to take down anything.
“Over there, Cassa, it’s a rabbit,” called Mason. “See if you can shoot it.”
Cassa took aim and fired. The rabbit was still standing, so he shot again. It still didn’t move, so he fired again, again and again. He ended up shooting six times, and still the rabbit hadn’t moved.
“You’re a bloody city slicker,” Mason said to Cassa.
“I might be from the city, but I know how to shoot, and I’m sure I hit that bloody rabbit. I’m going over to check it out.”
The rabbit was stone cold dead.
“It was probably dead before you shot it. Look at its eyes. I think it’s got that disease they introduced to control the rabbit plague - myxomatosis.”
“Oh, bullshit. I shot it, and I’ll eat it.”
Cassa skinned the rabbit and cut it up into pieces to cook later.
“I think you’ll be the only one eating that,” said George.
“By late in the arvo, you’ll all be hanging out for a feed, and you’ll eat rabbit then. I bet you.”
“Shut up,” Bear said. “Look, over there by those rocks, about three hundred yards away. I saw something move.”
LP raised the .243 with the telescopic sight.
“I’ll give a shotgun blast to the left of the rocks. That should get whatever is behind there running on open ground,” said Bear.
He fired both barrels. Instantly, the largest feral goat they’d ever seen ran across the red landscape. LP took aim again and fired. It was a clean kill. One bullet to the back of the neck. LP felt a little apprehensive, having shot the goat, but it was food and, as Brownie said, they were feral goats, just like the introduced pest rabbits.
“Okay, what do we do now?” LP asked.
“Get my knife,” replied Brownie. “I’ll skin the goat and cut off the hind leg, and make us a roast dinner. When we get back to the ceremonial site, have a look around for a dip in the ground. It’ll be a fire pit. If you uncover it, you’ll find some large stones. Just gather up some dry timber, and we’ll start a fire over them. When there’s only ash and coals left, brush the ashes and coals between the rocks, then I’ll put the goat leg on the hot rocks.”
“Hang on a moment,” George said. “I’m not going to eat a leg of goat.”
“George, you’re an idiot. What if I said it was a leg of lamb covered in Brownie’s bush tucker secret herbs and spices? Would you be fine with that?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Then it’s a leg of lamb.”
“Put it on the hot rocks and cover it with the sheets of paper bark, and it’ll be ready in a couple of hours,” said Brownie.
Cassa proudly placed his rabbit portions on the stones, too. “Don’t go eating my rabbit, you guys! I’m having roast rabbit tonight.”
“Grab some potatoes out of the van,” Brownie directed George. “Wrap them in alfoil and put them on the side of the hot stones.”
George promptly did this.
