Chapter 1
Sweat was sticking me back to the seat. Straight infronta me was dead land n’ salt bush, one road cuttin’ through it. I didn’t look into the servo, didn’t wanna know what was going on in there. Me brother n’ his mate were shoutin n’ carrying on n’ breaking shit like a coupla dogs in a china shop. I caught meself in the wing mirror n’ saw me broken tooth, makin’ me look real rough, first thing I do when we’re done is get ’em sorted.
They came stormin’ out the shop biting each other’s heads off ‘bout what the other did wrong. When they got in they smelt like darts n’ Lynx, they kept arguing over the seats as I drove.
We got to a motel offa Stuart Highway, it was coated in a layer of red dirt like most places out ‘ere. They went in n’ got a room while I screwed the plates back on. The room was hot, the lights flickered n’ the wallpaper was peelin’ off, lookin’ like ripped calluses. I got on the bed closest to the window n’ stared at the dust drifting in the light, coming n’ going wherever it wanted. On the other bed they shook an old Nike bag, ‘bout twelve twenties n’ a few tenners, few coins spilled out too. We all just kinda looked at it, don’t think any of us were too proud of what we were doin’, but it wasn’t like any of us could stop anytime soon. They started wrappin’ the money into the bundles from the other shops, talkin’ ‘bout the hard yak of the old life n’ settlin’ up north. Probably a coupla grand we got now. Made meself feel a bit better.
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The road stretched out ahead again the next day, same red dirt, same dead trees, same roadkill curled up black on the shoulder. Every now n’ then we’d pass some old rusted car or some burnt up house, felt like the whole country was slowly gettin’ swallowed. Mikey was counting the money again like it was somehow gonna multiply the more he touched it. He pointed n’ whistled when a servo came into view, little place sittin’ by itself off the highway with two old bowsers out front n’ a faded coke sign hangin’ crooked off the roof. When we pulled in they tied their bandanas on n’ got the hunting rifle out the back. The fuel was low so I got out n’ started to fill ’er up.
I made the mistake of looking over at the shop, they had him on the ground n’ were hittin’ him n’ kickin’ him while he tried coverin’ his head, I turned me eyes past the shop, where the dirt reflected n’ looked like a lake in the distance. Then everything went silent, dead silent. The click of the pump echoed. Mikey opened the door n’ waved at me to come in.
Inside they had pulled their bandanas down n’ the bloke was layin’ on the floor in a pool of blood, gurgling n’ spittin’, eyes wide n’ darting round at each of us as we stood over him. Jack was pacing the store rubbing his face. Mikey just pointed at the bloke’s legs n’ wiped his face n’ looked away. I didn’t say anything n’ picked him up at the boots. Mikey picked up his shoulders n’ covered himself in blood. He looked back n’ put his mouth to his shirt like he was gonna munt. At some point the bloke went limp.
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The car ride was silent. All we could hear was the bloke’s head knockin’ ‘round the boot. I pulled onto the dirt n’ the car started rattlin’ n shakin’, kickin’ up rocks under us. I drove ‘till the highway faded n’ pulled over. The smell hit us first. The bloke was folded up all awkward, piss had run down his leg, his eyes got stuck as they were in the shop n’ his jaw hung slack.
We dragged him out n’ his feet knocked together, boots dragging two lines behind him. Jack lit a dart n’ asked if we were gonna bury him or jus’ leave him out’ere.
“Can’t jus’ leave ‘em out in the open” Mikey said, so we took turns hackin’ the dirt with an old tyre iron n’ rocks, reckon we finished ‘round six, it wasn’t deep enough but our hands were too cut n’ blistered to finish. We pulled him into the ditch. The bloke had his name stitched into his flannel n’ sweat stains ‘round his neck n’ cheap boots that’ soles had worn through. He was another sorry bastard stuck out here, tryna make shit work, now an uneven patch of dirt in the middle of fuck all.
