By the time Park Rangers arrived the following morning to check the toilets, waste bins and barbeque facilities, the eight men had been walking for two hours, scrambling over boulders, pushing through tall grass and threading their way between dense young regrowth. They had crossed three walking tracks and two narrow roadways. Suburbs stretched almost up to the base of the cliffs and the men were seldom further than five hundred metres from human activity. The chance of finding somewhere peaceful and private where they could calmly consider their future, seemed remote.
‘Why are we doing this? Why not just walk along the roads?’
‘I thought we needed exercise.’
‘And we don’t want to be seen.’
‘Who will be looking?’
‘You're right.’
‘No he isn't. At least here we have a chance to find somewhere interesting, from the road there’s no chance.’
‘Yes, but it’s so slow. Pity we couldn’t take our vehicles, then we could easily get out of the city.’
‘They were crushed before we left!’
‘I liked our old Land Rover,’ Mort said wistfully.’
‘Meanwhile, what do we do? Use the roads or press on in the hope of finding a passageway to paradise?’
‘Onwards to Utopia.’
‘That's somewhere in the Northern Territory.’
‘Bit far to walk.’
‘Then it’s up to you, Hercules. You're the oldest and wisest and suffer scratches more stoically that we sensitive souls, we will follow you unquestioningly.’
‘Fair enough, Bart. But I warn you, I'm only following my nose.’
They set off again, only to have their way blocked after twenty minutes by a new housing estate backed right against the cliffs. Without hesitation, as if he’d been there before, Hercules turned west into a deep, narrow cleft in the rocks that they followed for a hundred metres until it ended in a vertical wall. Without pausing for breath he began to climb, followed silently by his devoted band of savages who noted his hand and foot holds and didn’t look down. At the top they sprawled on their backs on a bare rocky shelf that offered a glimpse of the sea. Everything was peaceful. A couple of sea eagles swirled in thermals.
‘Ten minutes to drink and eat, then we push on.’
Beyond the rocks a recent landslide of small pebbles made the traverse perilous. The forest returned and they trudged through it, climbing higher and higher for two hours in silence until the rough, steep terrain became a gentle slope sprinkled with newly planted saplings. Unfortunately, a new, five-strand, barbed wire fence prevented entry. They continued uphill for fifty metres until they crossed a kangaroo track heading towards the fence. They followed it to where the wires had been pulled apart to create a gap large enough to permit native animals to pass through.
‘Whoever owns this place is a gentleman and a conservationist,’ Zadig said with feeling. ‘I hope we meet him.’
After crawling through the gap in the fence they tramped uphill for half an hour, threading their way through the sapling plantation to the top of a ridge. On the other side was very dense, old growth forest. Laughing in delight they plunged into it, following animal tracks down the gentle slope. Twenty minutes later they arrived at a clearing containing a stone cottage that looked as if it had been there for centuries. Ten metres below it, a small rock pool was fed by a trickle of water oozing from between rocks further up the hillside. The one-roomed building was well maintained and the door unlocked, so as there was no sign forbidding entry they decided to camp outside. The owner clearly wasn’t expecting strangers so it would be rude to impose.
They stripped and swam and washed the dust, dirt and plant debris from their bodies, then groomed each other as they had done every day since first arriving at Oasis. Beards and body hair trimmed, anuses, feet, hands, nails, nostrils and ears inspected for cleanliness.
‘I don’t feel clean until I've been spruced up and preened by Hercules,’ Hylas laughed. ‘So I never want to stop doing this.’
A soft chorus of agreement.
‘We ought to celebrate our escape and finding such a wonderful place, even if we can’t stay,’ Fidel suggested. ‘Let’s throw ourselves on the generosity of the gods of the forest and eat the last of our food; then think what to do next.’
‘I guess there's no point in eking the food out?’
‘None whatsoever.’
Hunger pangs appeased, they lay back and gazed up at the forest canopy.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ Fidel said diffidently, ‘about our future. Hercules, Mort and Zadig, you're not wanted by the cops, but we are, so there's no need for you to stick with us.’
‘Are you trying to get rid of us?’ Mort tried to sound as if he was joking, but failed.
Fidel was aghast. ‘No! No! Never! We love you guys as much as we love ourselves. I’d be happy to live with all of you for the rest of my life. It’s just… you mustn't feel obliged to…’
‘We don’t feel obliged,’ Zadig’s tone was thoughtful. ‘Life in Oasis before you guys came was pleasant and amusing. After you arrived it became the absolute best time in my life. So I never want to live away from you. It’s that simple. Mort was my first real friend and will always be my best friend and lover, and Hercules is irreplaceable, but to meet five other men who turned out to be like lovers, brothers, and best mates all rolled into one, is beyond reason. According to the laws of chance it could never happen, but it did, so if you're not unhappy with us, please don’t break the bond.’
‘I’ve no choice in the matter,’ Hercules said lightly to prevent a descent into pathos. ‘Where Hylas goes, I go, whether he likes it or not.’
‘I love it.’ Hylas grinned, kissing Hercules and ruffling his hair.
‘When we joined up with those three,’ Robert pointed at Fidel, Hylas and Arnold, ‘Bart and I felt reborn. We got a new enthusiasm for life and became brave and broke out of the middleclass bonds that were stifling us. And since meeting, living and working with you guys, I’ve felt even enthusiasticer, as if we’re all part of a composite being, like our bodies. We think we’re a single organism, but in each one of us there is more weight of other organisms—mainly bacteria, than our own weight… each individual human is a collection of organisms living in symbiotic harmony—usually.’
Silence greeted this curious analogy.
‘I like your word, enthusiasticer,’ Mort grinned. ‘Creative use of language is the hallmark of an inventive mind.’
‘Robert may be inventive, Mort,’ Hercules sniffed, ‘but I'm not sure I like being told we’re just a clump of bacteria. Bart, how do you live with this guy? Does he ever talk sense.’
‘No idea, I seldom listen.’
‘This calls for a vote,’ Mort said decisively. ‘Those who want us all to stay together like fleas on a dog, stand up and piss with the wind. If you want to separate, piss into the wind. Go!’
They stood in a line and bet on who could squirt the furthest. Then fell on the ground laughing.
‘Do you know what I’d like to do now?’ Arnold asked excitedly.
‘Learn to knit?’
‘I can do that. No, I’d like us to do what my high school footy team did whenever we won a game.’
‘Well?’
‘Go on.’
‘We’d sit in a circle and jerk off. The last one to come had to buy cream donuts for everyone.’
‘I wouldn’t mind, but there’s no donut shop handy.’
‘Pikers.’
‘No one calls me a piker.’ Mort yelled. ‘Come on, guys, humour Arnold’s infantile desires.’
With lots of laughter they sat in a tight circle, legs intertwined, and on Arnold’s count of three the race began. The laughter stopped, faint grunts punctuated the silence as each man bent to the task. With a yelp of victory, Hylas was first, followed immediately by Mort, then Arnold, Fidel, Robert, Bart and twelve long seconds later, Hercules shot his load into the air and they all fell back laughing like the kids they used to be, gazing up in total relaxation at scudding clouds in an almost indigo sky.
‘Are you wankers aware you're trespassing?’ The voice was pleasantly husky. The man deeply tanned, lean, hard, and weathered rather than weather-beaten—looking as if nothing could beat him. Aged between thirty and fifty, he stood in relaxed contrapposto. A sculpture by Donatello. Face serious, left hand on hip, the fingers of the other lightly brushing his thigh.
‘We guessed as much, having gone through a fence,’ Bart said apologetically. ‘That's why we didn’t go into the cottage. If you’ll show us the quickest way out, we’ll be off. I don’t think we’ve damaged anything.’
‘Who said anything about leaving? All you had to say was, yes.’
‘Oops. I’m getting garrulous. You're right.’
‘Fuck you're beautiful!’ Robert’s ejaculation surprised even himself. ‘You're like a bronze statue.’
‘Thanks. You're not bad looking yourselves, and obviously fit. Shouldn’t you take a dip and wash off the cum before it dries?’
‘Yeah, good idea.’
The man squatted, watching the eight men carefully. He always trusted his instincts and he instinctively liked these men. Judging by their tans they hadn't worn clothes for a while. He was always careful to note first reactions and it was clear his lack of clothes hadn't registered with them. So far no alarms had been triggered. He’d take them home and see if Sebastian agreed. They might be useful.
Clean and refreshed, the eight friends jumped up and down to shake off the water, then cautiously approached the man who scrutinised them for several seconds as if making up his mind. Then with no change of expression he extended a hand to Hercules.
‘I’m Jarek. This land belongs to me and my partner, Sebastian.’
Instead of a normal handshake, Jarek took Hercules’ hand in both his and kneaded it slightly as if feeling for something. The process was repeated with the seven others.
‘I think you're honest. What are you running from?’
‘Five of us did some damage to JECHIS so had to leave Brisbane. We've no idea if Christian Kingdom wants to punish us—didn’t ask for fear of opening a can of worms.’
‘Wise.’
‘We've been living in Oasis, a gated estate that the Kingdom decided it wants. Yesterday, they moved in with bulldozers and evicted us. So we’re looking for somewhere to live and be useful.’
‘Will you miss it?’
‘I took the advice of Othello,’ Bart said with a smile. ‘To mourn a mischief that is past and gone is the way to draw new mischief on. What cannot be preserved when fortune takes, Patience her injury a mockery makes. The robb'd that smiles steals something from the thief; He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.’ He laughed softly. ‘For some reason those lines stuck in my head at school.’
‘Because they make excellent sense, I imagine. So, are you looking for work?’
‘Hoping to be employed usefully; we don’t need money… as long as the banks continue to honour our cards.’
‘They will. If they start mucking around with the property of the wealthy men who support them, they’re finished.’
‘How did you know we were here?’
‘I didn’t. There’s a feral cat in the neighbourhood, judging by the number of carcases I've seen lately, so I came up to dispose of her before there are no small native mammals left.’
‘I guess we’ve ruined your chances. Sorry.’
‘Not necessarily. They're arrogant beasts. So, get your gear and follow me silently, but keep a few metres behind. If I stop, you stop. If I squat, you squat. We’re down wind of where I think she’ll be, so I might be able to surprise her.’
‘Shall we dress?’
Jarek shook his head dismissively and walked quietly uphill towards a rocky outcrop. The men quickly shoved their meagre possessions into the rucksacks and followed silently, hearts racing. Feeling like real hunters. Jarek blended into a landscape as brown and hard as himself. As they approached the rocks he bent almost double and continued like a shadow, gliding between increasingly large boulders as if he was a native animal himself. Suddenly he stopped and squatted. The others mimicked him. He indicated they should stay low while raising himself slightly and drawing back his left hand. In a movement too fast to register, the arm shot forward and he sprang towards a yowl of fury that, when they approached, revealed itself to be an enormous tabby cat with a knife through its throat. It had dragged itself a metre before collapsing in a shuddering heap of fur, its claws, insanely angry yellow eyes and gigantic bared teeth still capable of inflicting serious wounds. Jarek picked up a large stone and hurled it, crushing the head.
While the others came up for a closer look, he pulled the knife from her neck and wiped the blade carefully on his thigh before sliding it into a tiny silver sheath he’d been holding in his right hand. He then inspected a hollow in the rocks a few metres to the right. Taking another rock he pounded five times, then squatted behind a large boulder to reach in and pick up five dead kittens. When he stood with three held by their tails in one hand and two in the other, there was no sign of the knife.
‘That was fantastic!’
‘No it wasn’t, it was the result of lots of practice. How heavy do you reckon she is?’
Hercules picked the cat up by the tail and his eyes grew large. ‘She’s a giant! Must be nearly half a metre long and I’d say at least twenty kilos.’
The others were equally astonished.
‘Look at those jaws! She’s more like a tiger than a cat; surely it’s a different breed?’
‘She’ll be the offspring of a domestic cat; the feral life makes them develop these huge heads and claws. Feral cats have massacred about ninety percent of all smaller native mammals in Australia. It’s a disaster no one cares about.’
‘We do.’
‘Good.’
‘Where's the knife?’
‘What knife?’
‘The one you threw.’
‘Did you see a knife?’
‘Not really, it all went a bit fast too fast.’
‘You must have imagined it. I’ll take the cat and you guys can bring the kittens. I’ll skin them at home.’ Holding the cat by the tail, away from his body to avoid being scratched by swinging claws, he set off at a fast trot downhill, followed by the eight men who wished they'd put on their trainers. Shoes hadn't been necessary at Oasis because it was all grass and soft forest floor, not rocks. They’d have to toughen their feet up if they wanted to stay here.
Half an hour later the forest thinned and they looked down a long, scrubby slope onto the roof of a circular house surrounded by a large garden and tall trees. They jogged towards the back where a walled garden and several stone outhouses seemed to grow out of the earth.
‘Leave the kittens and your rucksacks here and take a look around while I skin and gut them.’
Need a hand?’
‘No, thanks.’
They wandered into the walled garden and admired the organisation; rows of vegetables, herb gardens, espaliered fruit trees, grape vines and every other thing that ought to be there. The out-houses contained tools, pumps, solar electric stuff and all anyone intent on being self-sufficient could ever need. On completion of their short tour the cat and kittens had been skinned, the guts placed in flytraps, the skins in the compost and the meat and bones were being minced in a large hand mincer.
They followed Jarek to a wide yard surrounded by cyclone netting strong enough to keep out even the most importunate fox. He made a soft sound and in seconds a dozen brown hens and a rooster were at his feet, swallowing chunks of meat. In a minute all was gone and they were asking for more.
‘Right, that's done, lets get cleaned up and have a drink.’
Cleaning up meant standing on a paved area and directing a garden hose at each other to wash off dust, dirt, sticks and other debris. By the time they arrived at the front of the house they were dry enough to relax on cane chairs, a dozen of which fitted easily on the wide verandah. Jarek arrived with a tray of cool drinks and slices of cake, then sat on an elegant cane ‘peacock chair’. While refreshing themselves they answered questions about their former lives. An hour and a half later an all-wheel-drive Mercedes wagon drove silently in and parked to one side of the verandah.
‘Ah, here's Sebastian.’
A slim, perky, visibly athletic man in fawn slacks and short-sleeved white shirt, got out, slammed the door, bounded up the steps and gave Jarek an affectionate hug and kiss before acknowledging the eight intruders with an enigmatic smile that could have been either amused or dangerous. They suddenly felt nervous.
‘I found these guys up by the hut this afternoon when I was looking for the cat.’
‘Did you get it?’
‘Yep. And her kittens.’
‘You're brilliant.’ He stepped inside, stopped and swung round to face the visitors ‘You can tell me who and what you are after my shower when I'm clean and pretty.’