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The Mob Ch. 05

Sydney or Bust

Loading the roos onto the truck took time and patience. Before they even started there was the race to modify. They used shadecloth again and added a couple of foot of corrugated iron to the sides, just to be sure.

"I'll be buggered if I'm spending the day chasing those bastards again."

Again they were struck by the kangaroos laid back attitude, you could give them a gentle shove and they just didn't care. Keep doing it and their reaction was to take one slow, lazy bound out of immediate shoving distance, as if they knew you'd get sick of it before they would. Out in the open their curiosity got the better of them, crossing large distances just to see what was going on. Once penned up they showed no inclination to follow anyone, especially not uphill, through a tunnel and into a dark gaping hole.

So one at a time they went, some cajoled with a little more force than others until, in the mid afternoon, the truck was full.

Shirley handed up a thermos and a pack of sandwiches for the trip, and waved them off down the long track from the house to the highway.

With the last gate closed and the open road ahead, Chooka climbed into the cab of the big semi, giving his father a smile that was almost as large. Ian roughly slapped a red cap on Chooka's head.

"May as well look the part, eh?"The Mob Ch. 05 фото

With the rig still in park he pumped the accelerator a few times, the truck sounding as excited about their journey as those inside.

"All set, son?"

"You bet, dad. Let's show 'em."

They eased out onto the asphalt, slowly gathering momentum.

"Plug your i-pod in, Chooka. Let's have some music." Ian wound down the windows, turned the volume up all the way, and told Chooka to hurry up and stop buggarising around with the connection.

"All set. Check this out."

The speakers boomed.

I'm all out of love

I'm so lost without you

I know you were right

Believing for so long

"Chooka?"

"Yes, Dad?"

"Solidarity is a fine thing, but I'm not listening to bloody Air Supply all the way to Sydney. Or Rolf Harris either, for that matter. Here, hang onto this."

Chooka leant over, keeping the steering wheel steady as his father slid his finger across the menu.

"There we go."

Ian took the wheel back, settled into his seat, and nodded his head in time to the crunching opening chords of AC/DC's Highway to Hell.

"That's more like it!" He yelled over the music. "That's Aussie as!"

A farmer and his son were driving a semi-trailer load of kangaroos to Sydney to stick it up some know-it-all townie and save the nation from a Vegemite drought.

And that was Aussie as, too.

Now there are many things that might have happened on the road to Sydney.

A police car might have appeared in the rear view mirror and Ian, unsure on the exact laws regarding the transport of live native animals, may have experienced a terrible conflict between his deep respect for the law and his desperation to save the farm.

Perhaps an exciting chase ensued and, after an amusing detour through a chicken coop, concluded with a spectacular crash where, quite amazingly, no people or animals were harmed.

A baby joey might have crawled out of its mothers pouch for the first time, straight into the arms of Chooka who gives it an inappropriate name and develops a deep attachment to the animal.

Later, in Sydney, the joey could have escaped from the truck and popped up in the most unlikely places, surprising and delighting the jaded night-time city folk, while the tension builds as Ian and Chooka disagree on whether to leave it behind and complete their plan before dawn.

Alternatively, some of the kangaroos might have suffered broken limbs due to the unsafe nature of transporting kangaroos in a clearly unsuitable manner, forcing Ian to put the poor creatures out of their misery.

One of them might have even been Chooka's newly adopted joey, causing heart-wrenching despair for all concerned.

This may have left them both in doubt and confusion, causing them to wonder if TAN were really that misguided after all, and question more deeply their treatment of all animals.

Maybe the runaway kangaroo leads them all the way to Kings Cross, where Chooka meets 'a hooker with a heart of gold', who, much to his father's consternation, charms the outwardly worldly yet nervous and innocent boy.

It's further possible that Ian's trust is rewarded when the woman decides to help them, and knows a thing or two about picking locks and defeating security systems.

Any or all of those things could have happened.

But they didn't.

This did.

The broken white line slid past them in the darkness. They were about halfway through their journey from the state border to the coast, when Chooka expressed something that had been on his mind for a long time.

"Dad?"

"Yes, mate?"

"I'm not so sure this is a good idea."

"Come on, Chooka. You've just got cold feet. We can't stop now."

Chooka shook his head.

"No, it's not that. I've been thinking. You know how hard it was to pen up all the roos at home? How much harder is it going to be to get them all out again, into a city office, secretly, in the middle of the night?"

Ian didn't want to hear it. The whole thing only worked if you didn't think about it too much, so he hadn't, because he needed this idea. As hasty and ill-conceived as he knew, had always known it was, it was better than doing nothing, better than sitting back and hoping for a miracle.

"We'll think of something when we get there. Don't worry mate, we'll work it out."

Chooka actually believed they would. Whenever things went wrong, even if they looked completely hopeless, his dad would swear for a bit, turn the problem over in his mind, and then say, 'Alright, let's fix this bastard." And they always did, every time.

"Yeah, but a few of them are bound to get away, right? And anyway, an office isn't big enough for two hundred kangaroos, is it? No matter what happens, some of them are gonna get hurt."

"Maybe a couple will get hurt, but they'll still be better off than the ones we left behind. Getting hit by a car's better than starving to death."

"What about the bloke driving the car, dad? Will he be better off?"

"We'll just have to be careful."

Chooka looked out the window. He should have done this back at the farm. They both should have done this back at the farm. Still, it wasn't too late.

"How are you going to do this without breaking the law, dad?" He watched the reflective lights on the side of the road slip by, red, then white, waiting, not game enough to look at his father. Had he heard?

"I mean, it's kind of like breaking and entering, or trespass, or criminal damage or something. Isn't it?"

"Sometimes you have to..."

"You have to what, dad?"

"I mean, sometimes it's okay to..." Ian couldn't finish the sentence. He was not going to tell his son it's okay to break the law sometimes. "This was your bloody idea!"

"We have to let 'em go, dad."

The two out-of-towners had better luck at the next pub, at least as far as directions went, and reached their destination after only a few wrong turns.

After inching their way across the property, they had turned the headlights off as soon as they left the sealed road, they switched off the engine and sat silently in the car, neither wanting to take the next step.

"I don't like this. I'm not doing it."

"Call her then."

"I'm not calling her, you call her."

Neither man moved.

"What the hell was with that 'Davo' shit anyway?"

"You wanted to use your real name? Who'd buy a jackaroo called Tristram anyway?"

"Better than Roland. Is that what we're supposed to be? Jackaroos?"

"Yeah, course. Like that Peter Allan song."

"Oh, right." said not Davo at all, But Tristram. "Call her."

"Fine. I'll do it."

He did it.

"Hi, look it's Roland.

Yes, we're here, but none of the locals want to do it.

I dunno why, do I? Maybe they're not that...

No, it's not that. We fit right in.

Yes, I understand that. Big picture, have to keep the issue running.

It's just that I didn't sign up to...

Right.

Okay."

Roland put the mobile back in its cradle.

"How did it go?" asked Tristram.

"Shut up and get your gun."

Ian waited until he was sure his voice wouldn't crack.

"You're right," he said quietly, "of course you're right. Where do we take 'em?"

"I've got a place in mind, actually. It's not as far as Sydney, either."

"It's gotta have decent pasture."

"Heaps."

"And a constant source of fresh water, or they'll just bugger off again."

"It's next to a great big lake."

"And this is on Crown land? I'm not putting any other farmer through all this."

Ian could feel the grin on his son's face. "It's a shame we won't get anyone's attention though."

"Oh, I dunno," said Chooka.

"Okay then, navigator. Which way?"

Chooka pointed to an upcoming road sign, and the two of them laughed until they cried.

"Alright," said Ian when he'd recovered, "let's fix this bastard."

Tristram and Roland got out of the car and walked towards the nearest kangaroo.

"Got your camera? She wants this on the website tonight."

"Of course. Stop stalling. Let's just do this and get out of here."

Tristram raised the rifle to the head of the completely oblivious kangaroo, held his breath, closed his eyes...

"Put the gun on the ground and step away from the marsupial."

Blinding lights appeared all around them, each one coming on with a chilling clunking sound.

They did as they were told.

Sergeant Warrell walked out of the light and did the business.

"In hindsight, perhaps demanding the police protect these animals was a mistake, yeah?"

Ian stood at the back of the truck rubbing his hands. "Colder than a nun's nipple", he whispered. "Do you really think this is okay?" He wondered for a moment why he was asking his nine year-old son for moral guidance, until he remembered he'd been the only one showing any lately.

"We don't want to get caught, and it won't make some people very happy, but no-one gets hurt and there's no law against it. Not that I can think of, anyway."

That was good enough for Ian. He slid out the ramp and swung the doors open. The roos still needed a little encouragement to move, but not as much. They hopped out of the truck and spread out and around.

Once the job was done, they took a moment to take in the scene. It was striking, even in darkness. Unexpected, but at the same time somehow right. As if it should have been like this all along.

"Come on, son. Let's go home."

.

No Good Deed

Extract from Hansard, Australian Government, June 2.

Tom Hunter (Member for Moollawarra, National Party):

Mr. Speaker, I direct my question to the Prime Minister.

I ask him, Mr. Speaker what descriptive term he would use to describe, Mr. Speaker, use to describe a fanatical organization that targets civilians. A fanatical organization whose members have recently been arrested Mr. Speaker, while attempting to frame not just one farmer, Mr. Speaker, not just one farmer but the entire nation for a disgusting act of animal cruelty.

An organization, Mr. Speaker, that has attacked Australia's good name at home and abroad, spreading baseless propaganda, targeting the careers of completely blameless Australian artists, while our Government does nothing.

An organization, Mr. Speaker, whose publicly stated goal is to change the Australian way of life, Mr. Speaker!

The term I would use to describe an organization like that is a terrorist organization, Mr. Speaker, and I ask the Prime Minister does he have the ticker to join me in this description?

Further, Mr. Speaker, I ask the Prime Minister will he now agree to provide subsidies to the fair dinkum Aussie farmer attacked by this terrorist organization, and any other farmer who now, or in the future, finds himself in similar circumstances to that which he, which is to say the farmer I mentioned a moment ago Mr. Speaker, finds himself in now.

And while on this subject Mr. Speaker, I also ask the Prime Minister what the bloody hell he intends to do about the hundreds of kangaroos, driven into the heart of this city by drought and currently scattered throughout the grounds, and in some cases the offices, Mr. Speaker, of this Parliament.

Harry Bugeja (Member for Blacktown, Australian Labor Party):

Mr. Speaker... Mr. Speaker... I'll wait for calm Mr. Speaker.

Mr. Speaker this is typical behaviour from the Member for Moollawarra, who knows perfectly well Mr. Speaker, who knows perfectly well that this has been Government policy all along.

Legislation Mr. Speaker, legislation on placing TAN on the register of terrorist organizations, as well as legislation for subsidies to farmers put at risk by a plague of protected animals have been at the drafting stage, he's quite aware of this Mr. Speaker, for the past two months and will be presented for the approval of the parliament today.

As to the issue of the animals currently causing a disturbance to this parliament, I have formed a sub-committee to look into the matter, which I humbly invite the Member for Moollawarra to chair.

The Mears family had just finished dinner but stayed at the table to talk, the way some families do.

"Were we fighting terrorists, dad?"

Chooka saw the look in his fathers eye, and ducked.

"Don't be stupid, son. Did you see anyone with guns? Did anything get blown up? It's just the way stupid politicians behave. They're all bloody mad."

"But don't they make the laws, dad? If bloody mad people make them, then..."

"Chooka, love?" Shirley interrupted, "I wouldn't go much further down that road if I were you. Anyway, you can't complain about the laws Tom made them put through, can you Ian?"

"No. He's a good man, Tom Hunter. He really came through for us."

"I can think of two more brave men who came through for us as well."

"Really?" asked Chooka. "Because I've been thinking... wasn't what those terrorists did at our place sort of like the same thing we were going to do?"

There came a knock at the door.

"Now who could that be?" wondered Shirley. "Hello. What can I do for you?"

"Hi," said the thin blonde one.

"Hi," said the short one with the dark curly hair.

They had guitar cases strapped to their backs.

"Mum!" yelled Chooka. "That's Air Supply!"

"We heard about what you did," said the thin blonde one.

"And we wanted to come by and thank you for getting us back on US radio," said the short one with dark curly hair.

"Oh," said Shirley as she fanned herself with her hand, "you're welcome. But it was these two that did it all. Come in. Have you eaten? I could rustle up something hot if you like, or there's fruitcake and scones..."

"We're fine."

"What we sort of meant was, to thank you we'd like to play a little private concert for you."

"No good deed goes unpunished, eh?"

"Ian Mears!" Shirley snipped at him. "You boys just set up over there in the lounge, and don't mind him."

She went back to her husband and threw her arms around him.

"Smile you cranky old bugger, it's not every day international superstars come to play at your home."

Ian snorted. "Not this day either."

"This is so cool," said Chooka.

"It's not, Chooka. Trust me on this. It's really not."

He did smile though. Well, you had to didn't you, sharing a house with these two mad buggers.

"I told you we always pull through," said Shirley.

"Yeah, yeah. You were right, as usual."

He kissed her, then grabbed Chooka's arm and pulled him roughly to his side for what he probably considered a hug, or close enough anyway.

"Hey, you blokes. Do you know Khe San?"

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