C J Duggan [Summer 03.5] Ringer (epub)

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.My suntanned arm rested on the wound-down window as I tapped my free hand cheerfully on the steering wheel to Air Supply’s ‘Lost in Love’, a song I disturbingly knew all the words to.I paused from my singing, a smile creasing the corner of my mouth; if only the boys back home could see me now.I shrugged.It wasn’t exactly my choice of driving music; still, my tape player was stuffed, so I had to put up with any outback radio station I could get reception for.The music crackled momentarily with white noise.“Not now.This is the best part.” I growled in frustration as I banged my fist on the dashboard.Aside from the rather dubious romantic tunes of Air Supply, I was relishing the solitude.A true stroke of genius on my part that had me escaping the loved-up fools of Onslow.My offer to help out Max’s dad by volunteering to work on the family farm in his place had been met with mixed emotions from Max.First uncertainty, and then fear.A fear to hope I was serious.But I had been deadly serious, obviously, as I fishtailed along the desolate farm road towards…I squinted.“You’ve got to be kidding me?” I groaned.Slowing down to a full stop I tipped my sunnies down and shook my head.In front of me was another farm gate.The fifth one I had been faced with having to open.I didn’t grab the details of how big the Henry’s property was; I wasn’t interested in the logistics.All I wanted to know was if there was a comfy bed and a cold beer waiting for me at the end of the day.Being assured of both, I was satisfied.But what I really should have asked was how many fucking gates the property had.I opened my door and slid out of the leather driver’s seat.I pushed my arms to the sky, groaning with the satisfaction of stretching my muscles as I slid my hand up my T-shirt sleeve to retrieve my packet of Peter Jacksons.I opened the packet, delving in and grabbing a smoke that I flipped into my mouth with expert ease.I reached for the zippo lighter from my back pocket, flicking it to life; I blocked the hot summer wind from the flame as I lit up and inhaled my addiction.I stood next to the opened car door, turning slightly, taking in the great nothing of my surroundings with each slow draw.Flat, desolate scrubland, with no pinnacle to focus on, no homestead in sight, no cattle or sheep to be seen.Only yet another divide of fencing and a weather-beaten farm gate.I shielded my eyes from the penetrating rays of the February sun, before taking another drag and ducking into the console of my Ford to retrieve Max’s mud map to ‘Moira Station’.Scribbled crudely on the back of a Carlton Draught beer coaster (my one and only token from Onslow), I studied the squiggly lines that proved to be a pretty easy route, now that I had turned onto Sheehan Road.All I had to do was just go straight, straight until the fork in the road.Left was Moira, right was the Sheehan’s property.Simple enough, I thought.When it came to Ballan, I had predicted that everyone and everything would be pretty simple, laid back to the point of slipping into a coma.Nope, complication was not on the agenda here.I may have been standing in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by salt, bush and dust.But the silence, the red earth and rusty gate I walked towards and started to unchain, all of these elements were beautiful to me, oh so beauti—I paused.Cocking my head slightly to hear the distant thrums.Was that a car?I stilled my hands on the gate, turning to see.Sure enough, a distant billow of dust burst into the sky as a little speck gunned along the track.I could have heard it from a mile away; the car was a shit box and in desperate need of a service.The sound sliced through the stillness of what was once a silent and heavenly existence.I shielded my eyes as I watched the white hatchback Mazda speed closer.Maybe this was my would-be boss? Max’s dad, or maybe a Sheehan from the neighbouring property? It would be more than a surprise as most farmers drove flash four-wheel drives, not the screeching bomb like the one nearing.Regardless, I threw down my cigarette and swivelled it out in the dirt, waving my arm in the air as a way of a friendly greeting while I slowly worked on opening the gate.I smiled, ready to meet my new acquaintance—the new acquaintance that wasn’t slowing down.I worked on the chain faster—the new acquaintance, who was now beeping their horn like a raving lunatic.I clawed and tugged at the chain, glancing up from my hands only long enough to afford myself the view of the fast-approaching white rocket that barrelled down the track.The horn sounded in a long, insistent beep-beep-beeeeeeeep.Oh shit! OH SHIT!The psycho wasn’t slowing.I had visions of the buzz box driving over my car like a monster truck, pinning me to the gate while it smashed its way through.Beep-beep-beeeeeeeeeeeeep.I unlatched the last of the gate with enough time to latch onto it and catapult myself, attached to said gate, away in a wide swing.The beaten-up hatchback swerved violently around my car and sped through the barely opened gap.The force of the gate slamming into the wire fence knocked me from my hold; I fell backwards into the dusty shrubs with an oomph.I heard the car come to a skidding halt.I rolled onto my side, catching the breath that had been knocked out from me.I may have been in a momentary world of pain, and my life may have just flashed before my eyes, but it did little to stem the tide of anger that rose to claw its way out of me.Clasping my ribs, I slowly got to my feet and glared at the rattling-arse end of the car before me.“Hey! Hey, what the fuck?” I screamed, hobbling over to the car and slamming my palm on the back window before doubling over in pain [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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