by James, Daz
Her tender loins moist at the prospects, the anti-government propaganda would be quashed and her promotion to the government would be certain.
Gun shots could be heard as Marlin and Sam burst out the back door of the apartment. They suddenly halted, spotting Santanna and her gang of bikies.
Santanna scowled, “What the fuck happened to you?”
“Not now…mad woman...run for it!”
At that moment, Aunt Pat emerged from the house, firing at any target. She took down the red headed female biker than turned her sights on the rest.
Everyone scattered, evading the whistling sound of the bullets as they flew through the air, not stopping until they had gotten out of range.
Aunt Pat stopped firing, as she advanced on the wounded biker who began to back away in fear.
“There, there, pet, Aunt Pat will make it quick,” spoke the old woman, grabbing the wounded biker by an arm, dragging her toward the shed.
The young woman struggled, calling out for help yet nobody came for her. Just in life, as in her impending death, no one gave a damn. She was on her own.
Aunt Pat slid the door closed on her squealing vocals. Seconds later, the sound of whirling blades and crushing tenderizers drowned out her horrific final screams.
As they approached the bus, it suddenly coughed and spluttered into life. Boofhead stepped back to admire his handy work. Santanna and the others clutched their chests, gasping for long awaited breath.
Boofhead smiled, “What’s ya hurry, Boss?”
“Shut the fuck up and let’s get outta here!”
“Oh…don’t mind us!” spat Santanna.
“It’s survival of the fittest, babe.”
Boofhead could never resist his boss’s orders but still took time to reassure Santanna that the bus would move again. He had patched it up for the moment but expected the beast to die again before they got to Dubbo. They needed to find someone to fix it.
“There is a guy called Lenny Priest in West Wy. You should go there. He’ll see your bus is right again,” spoke the hulk as he climbed upon his bike, following the others, regrettably, as they pulled away from the bus.
Shots began to ring out once again, Santanna, Marlin and Sam leapt aboard the bus.
Santanna took to the driver’s seat, putting the vehicle into gear, roaring away just as a shot hit a side window, showering the interior with slivers of glass.
Aunt Pat stood on the road, watching the bus speed away into the distance, vowing to get even with those upstart youngsters. No one messed with Aunt Pat.
The bus didn’t stop until dawn was breaking; they were some distance away from Aunt Pat’s horror factory.
Marlin pulled the bus to the side of the road, finally crumbling into a shaking heap, only now allowing himself to contemplate how close he had been to an horrific death.
Santanna rose from the back seat, looking like The Wild Man of Borneo. Sam sat up, rubbing his eyes, longing to stretch his tired body.
Even though they had taken turns to drive, nobody got any proper sleep. Their minds were plagued by Aunt Pat.
Sam noticed Marlin was still semi-naked, removing his psychedelic t-shirt, passing it to him, “Here…it’s not much but it’ll stop you getting a chill.”
Marlin was grateful, feeling less vulnerable than he was a second ago sitting in just a pair of under pants, “Thanks…you’re saving my ass once again.”
Sam smiled, warmly, standing before Marlin, bare-chested, his muscles flexing involuntarily. This, at least, distracted Marlin’s thoughts from that mad woman.
“Christ! You pair make me want to spew,” retorted Santanna, screwing up her face as she opened the doors. “Anyone would think this was a faggy Mills and Boon paper back.”
Santanna stepped from the bus, breathing in the cool, crisp morning air, feeling the gentle breeze caress her body. It seemed to relax her tense muscles.
Marlin had found some ripening apples in his bag, slicing them up using Sam’s dagger, passing around pieces of fruit to everyone.
They sat a few feet away from the bus, on a couple of cushions enjoying the sun on their backs, eating apple wedges.
“I gather you had a moment with that biker guy?”
“Who…Joh Kincaid! What a dip shit.”
The boys smirked. She noticed a look that passed between them, “I saw that, you condescending pricks! He was nothing, just another ass-hole in my long list, which you two have just joined.”
“Oh…I don’t know, you could cut that simmering sexual tension with a knife.”
“Save ya fruity words for someone who gives a crap.”
Santanna stood up, walking back to the bus. She wouldn’t dare admit an attraction toward that Asian ass-hole, certainly not after he practically abandon them for his own self-preservation.
Marlin returned the dagger to Sam, “Thanks for the knife. I thought you’d left behind the old relics of your Enforcer days?”
“I just kept this for protection,” spoke the young Enforcer, shifting on the cushion uneasily.
“It was a good thing you did, it saved our lives.”
Marlin stood up, venturing back to the bus. Sam stayed seated, he looked troubled. He was betraying, Marlin, that knowledge was beginning to gnaw in his guts.
His brief had not included possible romantic entanglement with the target. He would be glad when the operation was over and he could escape from Marlin’s influence. He was sure everything would be normal again after that.
The bus passed through one deserted town after the other, all that were left of these once thriving communities, was the burnt out shells of buildings and bullet riddled sign posts pointing toward further towns that no longer existed.
It made the journey even more depressing; to know people once lived there.
The bus was passing along the once main street of Narra heading north for West Wy, when Sam suddenly pulled the vehicle to a stop.
Santanna and Marlin were sent flying backwards onto the floor of the bus. Santanna rose to her feet cursing his name.
“I’m sorry…you better take a look at this,” called Sam, as he descending the bus steps.
Marlin and Santanna came to a stop at Sam’s side.
In the middle of the road was a cow made out of recycled metal. They began to approach the curious beast eager to investigate such a strange monument. Sam heard a strange hissing sound. He scanned the cow suddenly spotting a lit fuse.
“It’s a bomb! Get down!” He turned around to shield his friends, pushing them both to the ground, landing on top of them just as the fuse reached its final journey.
The cow exploded, sending lethal shards of iron in all directions, one piece of metal clipping Sam’s side. His cries of pain, alerting his friend’s to his predicament.
From the deserted buildings all around them, children stormed out, clutching farming implements. They were yelling like American Indians as they surrounded the three startled adults.
The three adults were brought into a disused café where a teenage boy of sixteen seemed to hold court in an end booth; he was reading the scraps of old newspapers while munching on a carrot.
The kid looked up at them, his expression darkening, “What! No! They won’t do at all.” The teen jumped out of his seat, marching toward them, “I don’t think they will make good parents.”
Santanna scowled, hands on hips, “I’d whip your ass if I were ya fuckin mother. That bomb could have killed us.”
A rather stout young girl stepped forward, “We thought you were Enforcers…Titch I told you the gun powder was too much.” Titch, a small waif of a girl, cowered back into the crowd of children. “She is such a dip shit. Never does anything I tell her.”
Santanna caught Titch’s eye feeling sorry for her, the little girl looked embarrassed, “Oh…I don’t know, I think that bomb was fuckin amazing. I couldn’t do it.” She winked at the small waif.
The girl smiled back, meekly.
The stout girl glowered
at the woman, “You winked at her! That’s favoritism! That isn’t allowed!”
“Listen, fatty, I don’t take orders from snotty nosed kids.”
The stout girl looked passed Santanna toward the teenage leader, “You’re right, Flip, she will never do. She’d be a horrible mother.”
Flip turned to the two men, noticing that Sam was dripping blood, “Titch!”
The young girl called Titch stepped forward, “Yes Flip?”
“Take this man and fix him up.”
Titch took Sam by the hand leading him out of the café.
Marlin turned to Flip, concerned, “Where is she taking him?”
“There is a first aid tent at the end of the street. She knows what to do.”
“But, she’s a kid?”
“So…doesn’t mean she’s dumb,” spoke Flip, turning to the crowd of children. “Don’t just stand there, get them some coffee. That’s what grown-ups like.”
The children dispersed, fleeing for the kitchen at the back of the café.
Santanna sneered at the teenager, “You’ve got yourself quite a monopoly here…for a pimple faced dweeb.”
Flip invited them over to his booth with the wave of his hand. Marlin and Santanna followed, sliding into one side of the booth.
“Where are all the adults?” asked Marlin, with concern.
“They were herded up by an Enforcer squad for some pet project and never came back,” spoke the boy. “They just left us behind. We were unimportant. We’ve been looking for parents ever since. We need someone to tell us what to do, to take care of us. Make sure we eat our greens, read our stories and tuck us into bed at night.”
“You seem to be managing on your fuckin own,” put in Santanna.
“You shouldn’t use words like that in front of the children,” replied Flip, annoyed.
“Well…aren’t we the fuckin moral crusade, you’ve just tried to blow us up! Don’t act all innocent to me.”
Marlin turned to Santanna, nudging her in the side, “Shut it! Let the boy speak!”
“You do that again and I’ll break your fingers.”
“Santanna, why don’t you go check on Sam?”
The teenager watched this verbal exchange with interest, a faint smile appearing on his face. The man did have potential. He was a peace maker. That is what the kids needed.
Santanna snarled, “Fine! I’ve had enough of this shit already.”
The woman stood up from the booth, marching out of the café.
Marlin turned back to talk with Flip.
One of the other children brought over a mug of black coffee placing it before Marlin. They waited until he had sipped it.
“Mmm…this is good coffee.”
The children beamed with joy, they hadn’t heard parental praise in a very long time. It felt good.
Flip noticed Marlin’s lack of clothing, looking over at the stout girl, “Meg! Find some clothes for our new dad.”
Marlin almost choked on his coffee not ready for the challenge of raising an army of children.
Aunt Pat was still simmering from the degradation she had faced at losing her kill.
That little imp had tried to stab her but this old woman was far more agile than he had expected. If not for the other man, she would have been able to contain the blond boy. She hungered for revenge.
She watched two workers load up the back of a truck with boxes of goods.
She smiled, wickedly, taking a moment to caress the side of one of the boxes; the red head had proved quiet tasty.
A cook always sampled her own produce for quality control.
Mr Middlesex turned to face her, sneering, “It’s nice doing business with you, Aunt Pat. This contraband will bring lots of rewards.”
“I’m sure an astute business man like you will fatten his vault just as much as his guts.”
Middlesex sneered in reply, “The wife can’t get enough. How do you find ingredients out here?”
“Oh, I couldn’t share my trade secrets I’d soon have competition,” spoke the old crone. “I like my monopoly the way it is.” The old woman prodded his stomach, “Mmm, aren’t we putting on weight. I like a man with padding…there is always more to go around.”
She was imaging how many jars of sauce she would get out of that fat man.
Middlesex become self-conscious trying to cover up his growing waist line by buttoning up his jacket.
The old woman gleamed with mischief, “Oh, isn’t there something else you promised me?”
“I’ve not forgotten, Auntie,” spoke the shady businessman. “Hey boys, bring up the car!”
In a few seconds, an old jalopy crept around the corner of the truck. One of the workers honked the horn before dismounting.
The businessman escorted Aunt Pat over to the car, “Oh my, it looks just like the car my old fella use to drive when we were courting. My word, it does bring back such fond memories.”
“It’s all yours, Auntie.”
He left her side going back to his truck following his workers inside the cabin.
Aunt Pat ignored them; she had other matters on her mind. She was out for revenge; no body escaped her cooking pot.
Aunt Pat retrieved the palm-size I-Pad from a pocket of her apron, studying Marlin’s last entry. They were headed for Dubbo. They would not evade her for long.
The old woman touched a button and Dancing Queen began playing on the I-Pad,
“You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life,
see that girl, watch that scene, diggin the dancing queen…”
The old woman sneered, humming along to the music as her feet began to sway.
Chapter 3
Santanna found the make-shift medical tent at the end of Main Street, it was an old army surplus tent with a Red Cross emblem sewn into the side of it.
The woman approached, parting the tent flaps, silently watching the waif finish suturing Sam’s wound.
Sam lay on his side, facing toward the tent wall.
“You know you don’t have to take any shit from, Miss Fatty Bombah?”
Titch stopped, turning to face the Aboriginal woman, “I know. It’s best this way. It will save any conflict.”
The young girl went back to her work, applying clean dressing to the wound, when finished she began clearing up the mess.
“Can I help?”
“No, I can manage.”
Sam rolled over, rising to a sitting position on the camp cot, “How did you learn to do that, you’re just a kid?”
“I read a lot. There isn’t much else to do.”
Santanna stepped forward, helping the young Enforcer to his feet, “Is there somewhere he can rest up?”
“Come with me,” spoke Titch, leading them outside.
Santanna followed, with Sam’s weight pressing down upon her.
The young girl guided them down a side street making for a collection of dilapidated homes situation behind the main street of town.
Titch lead them inside one of the houses.
They both stopped, gazing at the dust, cobwebs and mildew the infested the interior. The waif continued on, ascending the stair case to the bedrooms above. Santanna helped Sam up the stairs.
The girl disappeared into a bedroom at the top of the stairs. Santanna and Sam cautiously entered behind her.
They discovered a clean and tidy room; strawberry shortcake bedspread, toys and books assembled on a shelf, and a chemistry set littered the top of a study desk.
Titch removed her good bed covers indicating for Sam to be laid down upon the mattress.
Santanna was thankful to have her arm back again; she attempted to rub the ache from it.
“So this is where you live?” asked Sam, concerned.
“It’s my home…I miss my mummy.”
Santanna moved around the room sticking her head out of the open window, frowning, “Christ, you should see this, Twinkie! The kid has a fuckin vegie patch.”
“We have to eat somet
hing,” spoke the waif. “They stopped bringing the vitamins a long time ago.”
“But the Enforcers wouldn’t leave you to starve.”
The waif busied herself at the chemistry set, engrossed in an experiment she had been conducting, “Flip says they hope we die. There will be no witnesses.”
Santanna turned from the window, sitting down upon the ledge, “So, why are you so smart?”
“I don’t know…one day I woke up and knew stuff.” The kid began stirring a noxious concoction in a beaker, scrutinizing the content, “I’ve been testing
everything I could find to work out why it was so.”
“What were your results?”
“I found something while analyzing some carrot juice…it did not look as it should,” spoke Titch, going over to a book shelf, plucking out a reference manual. “So, do you think you’ll be staying long?”
“Fuck no! We’ve got better things to do than play nurse maid to some fuckin kids.”
“Flip may not let you go.”
“I’ll flog his ass if he doesn’t.”
“His not like other kids.” Titch brought the book back over to the chemistry set, “We’re not exactly normal.”
“You’re not the only abnormal people.” Santanna sneering as she pointed at Sam, “Just look at him, the latent homosexual.”
Sam scowled at her before turning his attention toward the little girl.
He rose from the bed, peering over Titch’s shoulder, “So what have you found?”
Titch opened the book to a page gazing at the mineral make-up of different vegetables, “Carrots have a certain structure to them…well they did when this book was published but now that has changed…something has been added.”
“So food is contaminated…The Enforcers are right,” spat Sam, anxiously.
Titch scowled at the foolish adult, “We wouldn’t be having this conversation if it was.”
Santanna slapped his arm, playfully, “There is no fighting it your mates are lying to you.”
Sam slumped down on the bed, feeling his previous elation begin to wane; there was no getting away from it. The Enforcers were not as they seemed.
