Loreless

The Interceptor

"My name is Billy," said Billy.

"I'm Rob and this is Tex," said Rob motioning towards the shadow in the front seat. The shadow's head was submerged in an enormous Akubra stockman's hat and he barely acknowledged Billy's presence. Exasperated, he responded wearily, "C'mon, I'm buggered, let's get moving!"

"You'll have to put some elbow grease into the back door, it sticks a bit," said Rob.

On his third attempt Billy managed to tug the door open. He slid into the seat, requiring the same amount of effort to close the door behind him. The car, a 1970s Ford Falcon, had seen better days. Billy hadn't had the opportunity to scrutinise its exterior, but assumed that the main material holding it in one piece was probably rust. The backseat had a number of rips in the vinyl almost deep enough to swallow him up, surprisingly the front bench seat appeared to be in pristine condition.

"You might have to make a bit of room on the floor."

Rob wasn't kidding, the entire floor-well was filled to the brim with cans, bottles and other assorted rubbish. Billy tried his best to ignore it, "My dad had one of these."

"Is that right? It's my pride and joy mate, spend every spare moment I've got doing her up," Rob said puffing himself up like a penguin. "Call her The Interceptor, ya know like Mel Gibson's car in Mad Max? Cousin of mine worked on the film over in Broken Hill a few years ago, he scored a few parts from one of the ones they wrecked."

"So nobody uses the backseat?" Billy inquired, trying to find a stable space to rest his feet on top of the pile of rubbish.

"No, not yet but I'm working on that too, her name is Mabel."

Tex chuckled, "Mabel wouldn't be seen dead in this heap of shit, mate, not even in the front seat!"

"Ok, ok," said Rob defensively, "let's get the old girl moving."

He turned the ignition and the car roared into life as did the cassette player. Slim Dusty blared out of the speakers, "And the biggest disappointment in the world was me..."

One of the speakers on the back shelf of the car was only a few centimetres from Billy's left ear. He instinctively pulled his head to one side and clapped his hands around his ears.

"Hey! Can you turn it down a bit!"

"Sorry," Rob murmured sheepishly, and fiddled with the volume knob on the stereo. The speakers crackled loudly followed by a reduction in the volume of the music. Slim launched into another verse.

"A lot more dinner times than there were dinners

I learned a lot that hurt me at the time

Then this quiet country boy went home a different man

With a memory of distance on my mind"

Rob swung the car around with some difficulty. He struggled with the big steering wheel and lack of power steering. Once he was back on the road, he accelerated down the highway. They all sat in silence for a while listening to the music. Billy was not a fan of country music. He wasn't a country boy and felt quite alien sitting in a car with two characters that clearly were. He had met very few indigenous Australians in his time. For the most part this was probably the longest conversation he'd had with one of them. He was aware of the political arguments over land rights and the stolen generations, but it had never interested him. The men were as foreign to Billy as any of the overseas backpackers that he met in his local bar. Even their use of the English language was a bit hard to follow. At the moment he was totally dependent on them, had no idea where he was or where he was going, but still appreciated their generosity. In the city this probably wouldn't have happened. There it was every man for himself, or at least that had been his experience. Yet he felt a sort of kinship with his unknown saviours, he trusted them. They seemed honest and had taken everything in their stride, which was not at all like him. He was mistrustful of strangers and only spent time with his closest friends. He wasn't prone to taking risks and, under normal circumstances, he probably would have ignored these people if they had asked for help on the street. Even so, he could relate in part to Slim's words. He was clearly a long way from home and distance was certainly on his mind.

Rob slowed the car down and turned off onto a dirt side-road. The previously smooth hum of tires on a sealed road turned into an undulating rumble. Rob called back, "We're about a half-hour drive from here."

"Cool!"

"Where ya from?" Tex spoke up out of the gloom.

"Adelaide, where are we going?"

"Uranda, little place west of Alice Springs."

Alice Springs, Billy was flabbergasted. His mates had really pulled off a coup this time. He guessed that they had expected him to wake up a lot earlier than he had. Still, at least now he had some inclination as to where he was. All was not completely lost, although he doubted that there would be a bus stop in the place where they were heading to. Maybe in the morning he could find some way to get to Alice Springs and head home. With all that had happened to him, his head was swimming. Thoughts of his wife to be and the wedding flashed across his mind. It was all to much to consider and he pushed the thoughts away. He let his head rest back on the seat and stared out the of the side window and up at the stars. The rocking of the car and occasional vibrations from it hitting corrugations in the road sent Billy into a restless slumber.

A short time later Rob woke him with the announcement that they had arrived at their destination. Billy peered out the window. They were in a small town made up of an assortment of prefabricated houses. There didn't seem to be a regular street plan. Just a few buildings scattered around and, as he had assumed, no sign of a bus stop. They pulled up at a small single roomed cabin constructed of white aluminium sheeting.

Rob stuck his arm through his window and indicated the small dwelling.

"Ya can sleep here tonight, it's open and the light-switch is just inside the door. I'll come 'n getcha in the morning and show ya round."

Billy, not yet fully awake, groggily murmured a grateful thanks before extracting himself from the car. He resorted to kicking the uncooperative car door with both feet to open it and it took all of his strength to slam it shut again. He waved a half-hearted goodbye as the car pulled slowly away before plodding the few steps to the cabin and opening the door. He felt along the door-jamb and found a light-switch. He turned it on, blinking at the sudden glare of fluorescent light. The room was sparse but clean. In one corner there was a small kitchenette, in the opposite a double bed. There was also a small table with two wooden chairs and a slightly overused two-seater couch. He was exhausted and had lost all sense of time. Although it could only have been a couple of hours at the most since he had stumbled off of the bus, it felt to him like weeks. He glanced around the room again. Hanging on one wall was an Albert Namatjira print depicting a lone Ghost Gum with rolling hills in the background. The painting seemed to spring off of the cream coloured wall, its vivid pastel colours lighting up the rest of the otherwise relatively barren room. Looking at it he felt better, it exuded its own warmth.

Billy let himself drop on the bed. He tugged off his shoes and socks and threw them in one corner. He peeled his jeans down off of his legs and flung them over one of the chairs at the table. He then laid himself down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. A large Huntsman spider was trying to make itself invisible in the crevice between the wall and the ceiling. Realising that he had forgotten the light, Billy groaned and rolled out of the bed. He took one step towards the door, reached out and flipped off the light-switch. He sat back down on the bed and slowly leaned back. It was a relief to finally be able to stretch his body out full length. He settled himself and stared once again at the ceiling. Starlight was streaming softly through one small window and illuminating it. After a moment Billy closed his eyes and within seconds he was asleep.

            ----

On the other side of the room Pidgin sat cross-legged on the small table, staring inquisitively at the motionless figure on the bed. He let his chin sink down onto his chest. His beard and coat became one. In the dim light it appeared as if there was a mound of feathers piled up on the kitchen table.

Thanks for reading!