Existing. Part 1

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16th April 2018 All Rights Reserved.

Not Edited.

Jax POV...

After the accident,  and after I finally recovered, I found that I could not work like I used to before the accident. I couldn't do the things that I had taken for granted anymore. I didn't know what to do with myself.

So, after I recovered and had everything of my family settled, I did the only thing I could think of. I traveled around the country and worked in pubs and clubs as a cooks assistant since I didn't mind the kitchen. On a few occasions, I even signed up for a cooks position on a few of the country's cattle stations for a few months at a time when they wanted someone.

I didn't mind. It gave me something to do plus I got to see some of the countryside first hand and not via a documentary show. It has certainly been a bit of an eye opener being able to do that. I mean, to do this. It got my mind off what happened to me.

That thinking too also was a bit annoying. I had begun to think very selfishly and had myself a few 'pity me' parties with Jim or John. You know them. You can get them at Dan's. Murphy's that is. I don't buy them by the bottle. I buy them by the case. So, when I am feeling absolutely pitiful about my situation, I pull either the Beam or the Walker out and start drinking.

Or at least I used to do that. I had to stop when I found myself waking up naked next to a stranger one morning in a pretty seedy looking motel room after going out clubbing one night so I could forget. That was the scariest thing I experienced. The fact that there were used condoms littering the floor was of some relief. But not much.

I snuck out of the room leaving the man in question I couldn't even remember sound asleep as he lay on his stomach with his head turned away from me. My eyes focused on the tattoo that was stained into his right shoulder blade. I couldn't quite see it, but to me, it looked like a tornado of some kind. One that had attitude. I think they call them Willi Willi's. Or dust devils. They were nasty little tornado's that are commonly seen in the whole of the outback of Australia that can be just as destructive as the ones that ravage America.

In fact, these particular storms can come up anywhere in Australia if the conditions are right for it.

That is what it looks like that he has tattooed onto the back of his shoulder. But what was fascinating was the black lightning bolt that sparked through the dust devil and struck the ground around the twisting storm. I don't think it was going to be a tattoo I will forget in a hurry. Every time I see a storm brewing, I will remember that tattoo and that faceless I spent that night with.

I didn't know that I had accidentally left a thin necklace with a small tricky locket that my mother had given me behind when I left. I also didn't know that it would be years before I would see it again.

But one of the first things I went and did was to make an appointment with a doctor and get myself checked out before continuing on further up the country for another job I had started. So, while making sure I had plenty of provisions in the forby I owned to take me everywhere I went, I waited for the doctor to tell me the results of the tests before leaving.

I know that there are some tests that I can't have until a few months down the track, but he gave me a couple of pills that he told me that the army uses for its soldiers when they are sexually active in another country and not know what diseases they may catch. So, I had a couple of those to be on the safe side.

I startled a little when he asked through the course of the checkup about the chances of my getting pregnant from the encounter. 

I burst out into laughter since I knew that the chances of that happening were likely to be zero. Thanks to that accident which caused some nasty scarring happening in my abdomen. I was still wryly smiling when he called me and told me that everything was negative. But he did ask me to take some further tests in several months to be absolutely sure that there was no residue to cause a problem.

The most emotion I was feeling at the time was that of annoyance. At myself. I couldn't believe that I was stupid enough to allow myself to do something like this. I can't remember his name or what he even looks like. I just remember that damn tattoo. But I reckon the chances of us meeting up again and seeing that Tattoo are practically a million to one.

After a while, the memory of that night faded. But not the man or his tattoo. Every time I looked at a bottle of Jim Beam or Johnny Walker after that night, it reminded me of my stupidity and how it could have turned out much worse than it did. 

I became a tea-totaller after that. Nothing stronger than that unless it was a half strength cappuccino with full cream milk. No sugar. I had traveled up north of Hughenden and was living on a property as their cook when I managed to make a name for myself. 

This time, it was another accident where I saved a busload of stupid tourists with a few of the station hands who should have known better than to choose to stop close to the river and camp for the night. Everyone knows that you do not do that because of the crocs that inhabit the rivers, creeks, and estuaries in the area. 

But the stupid fools wouldn't listen. They thought they knew it all. At least they had a story to take home and tell their grandchildren one day. It could have been so much more worse had we not gone to see what that fire was that was blazing along the riverside.

Any fire in the scrub has to be investigated. No exceptions. There is too much farming stock to lose if a fire takes off and ravages the countryside up here. The stock needs the scrub feed, especially when the droughts kick in and feed becomes scarce.

Then life out here becomes a fight for survival not just for the cattle or the stock. But also for us too. If you do not know how to survive out here, get out of the bush and go home back to where you belong. Else you would only be existing out here. Not living.

You don't have any business being out here. That's because each day could be the day you have to fight to survive, literally. Then any existing you think you are doing out here will quickly become a fight to survive on a daily basis. But me, I had fought and survived bigger and worse battles before now. I will probably fight some more again. 

But I am not surviving each day because my life did not turn out the way it had which I is much different from what I planned. But I survived that happening to me, that change in my life.

I do not survive. I am a survivor. I fought my way back to life and apart from a couple of lapses which disappointed me, I picked myself back up and dusted myself off and started putting one foot in front of the other and did not look back.

Now, I get to see the country side and get paid for it.

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