As the hum of the big turbo diesel motor penetrated through the cab of the prime mover Nizar al-Shazedy glanced into his side mirror as he’d done frequently throughout the journey. He could see the other two trucks locked in tightly behind him over his long empty trailer, the convoy was making good time cruising at one hundred and twenty kilometres per hour on the dual lane desert highway. Nizar took his hand off the black almost flat steering wheel to stretch one arm out and then the other as he yawned loudly, he then took his eyes off the road briefly to glance at his wristwatch. It was just over two and a half hours since he’d left the comfort of his home in the early hours of the morning. His wife Maya had prepared his lunch along with several thermoses of black tea, enough for everyone. She’d kissed him goodbye and told him to be careful, Nizar told Maya as he opened the front door to tell their son Omar, that his father would be home late tonight and if he was a good boy for his mother, tomorrow he would take him to the park to play soccer.
Nizar hated being away from home but since he’d purchased his own truck he had no choice but to work hard to meet the repayments, he’d had several good years which had enabled Nizar to employ several other drivers. The result after many long hours on the road was a successful haulage business. Even so, he always felt a pang of guilt leaving his son and wife at home for days at a time, but he would make it up to them, Nizar promised himself that he would. That once the financial burden was reduced he could take a more desk orientated job, the other drivers could do the long hours on those lonely highways, he would even be able to see his son before he went to bed at night. It was a nice dream and it cheered Nizar up for a while, he brushed the tears from his dark brown eyes for the thought of his family tore at his heart. But for now, he had to work, and work hard and accept any job that came his way.
Nizar had received a late night phone call from a businessman from the Syrian city of ar-Raqqah who had a warehouse full of perishable food that had to be delivered to Aleppo before it spoiled. He’d told Nizar that the transport company contracted to transport the load had let him down, they hadn’t shown up and he was prepared to pay extra to have the shipment delivered. Nizar had jumped at the opportunity and quickly rounded up two of his most reliable drivers, Hussin and Yousef. They were both young men recently married and could be relied upon to meet the gruelling hours behind the wheel and the dead lines that were demanded of them. They never complain they were always cheerful even after days and nights with very little sleep. They seemed to enjoy the solitude of those long journeys, the monotonous kilometres of never-ending roadways which seemed to stretch out in front of you forever through the arid land, with the occasional green oasis of irrigated plantations and orchards. In summer the baking temperatures that made changing a flat tyre on your own in the middle of nowhere an uncomfortable job. The shimmering heat mirage dancing in the distance which played tricks with not only your eyes but your tired mind. It was definitely hard work, but Hussin and Yousef enjoyed the challenges of the truck driver lifestyle.
A loud yawn came from behind Nizar, he flinched briefly as he’d forgotten that his young brother Adman was asleep in the back of the cabin.
“So you’re awake my brother, you slept like a little child.” Adman slowly swung his legs out of the sleeper bed at the back of the cab, he reached up and took his trousers off the coat hanger that was hanging behind the canvas curtain. Even when he was on the road he preferred to wear pressed slacks and a nice collared shirt. He was very particular about his appearance regularly having his hair trimmed and his faced shaved by his local barber. He reached for the plastic bottle containing water, opening the top Adman splashed some onto his hands and then onto his face. He did it several times before rubbing his hands together and then drying them on a small towel that was neatly folded at the foot of the bunk. With the remainder of the water in the bottle, Adman took several long drinks. He’d worked late in the restaurant taking orders and delivering meals, and in the early hours of the morning when the customers had stopped coming in Adman along with the other staff had quickly cleaned up and closed the restaurant. As Adman made his way home his mobile phone had started to beep continuously in his pocket.
His brother Nizar had texted requesting his assistance for an early start in a few hours as he’d received an urgent job and an extra pair of hands could come in handy. Nizar said he could sleep most of the way there and back, that wasn’t a problem, Nizar wasn’t quite sure what to expect at the pickup point whether suitable machinery would be available to lift the cargo on. Nizar had said the businessman was a bit vague on the details of how they were to lift the perishable goods onto his trucks. He just kept saying, we will lift somehow, first you come and then we’ll work it out. Praise be to Allah, before hanging up.
“It’s a miracle my brother that I slept at all considering you managed to hit every pothole on the road.” Said Adman.
“We’ll stop shortly for noon prayers and some lunch just a little further up, can you wait?”
“Yes, brother I am fine.” Said Adman.
“Do you want to drive after lunch?”
“No, you can do it, I’m still tired.” Adman leant forward and looked out the front windscreen.
“It’s been like that for some time now, I’m not sure what’s going on.”
Nizar slowly changed down gears as he indicated to the other trucks that he was about to stop. They all pulled in behind each other on the side of the road with the high-pitched sound of air escaping as parking brakes were applied. Adman climbed out of the passenger side as Nizar leant over and passed out the lunch and the thermoses of hot tea along with two rolled up prayer rugs, for it was noon and being devout Shiite Muslims it was time for the Dhuhr prayer. Under the shade from one of the truck’s trailers, they used water from plastic bottles to wash their hands and face before positioning themselves at the foot of the rugs facing towards Mecca. They commenced to recite their prayers quietly to themselves but ending loudly with several
“Peace and blessings from Allah be upon you.”
They remained under the shade of the trailer as Nizar poured tea into small glass cups and divided up the bread that his wife had given him. They ate and drank silently until all the bread was gone.
“Have you heard any news about the highway?” Asked Hussin as he offered his cigarettes to the others.
“I’ve heard nothing, has there been some problem?” Asked Nizar as he lit the cigarette in his mouth and passed the lighter to Hussin.
“I was talking to some drivers from ar-Raqqah who were delivering into Aleppo, they were saying that they’d seen large numbers of armed men watching the highway just out of ar-Raqqah. Some had even said they knew drivers who’d been stopped and roughed up a bit by these men and told if they were caught using the highway again they would be punished.” Nizar took a long drag from his cigarette before exhaling while he contemplated what Hussin had just said.
“I’ve heard nothing, there’s been nothing on the radio or in the news. Who are these armed men?”
“They didn’t say who they were just that they were preparing for the caliphate.” Said Hussin.
“Caliphate, what nonsense is this? Do you think our government will permit such a thing? I think not. Besides no one can stop us using the highway, no one.” Said Nizar angrily.
“There is talk amongst the young men in my village of a deep hatred of the current government, a growing frustration amongst them with talk of some groups taking up arms or joining extremist groups to fight the government soldiers.” Said Yousef, as he drained his glass.
“It’s all just idle gossip, a few disgruntled people. They want to fight the government soldiers, they’ll be crushed like ants if they try. May Allah have mercy on their souls. Said Nizar. They all fell silent, immersed in their own thoughts. Nizar was trying hard to dispel the significance of strange armed men harassing truck drivers going about their business, why would such individuals want to harass drivers? It just didn’t make any sense to Nizar. He just hoped that it was a misunderstanding of what actually happened, that the story passed from one to another with some details left out while others added to make it sound more interesting. That’s all it was, just talk. Although he couldn’t help but notice the nearer the convoy got to ar-Raqqah, the quieter the highway had become almost deserted which did seem odd for this time of the week. But Nizar reassured himself with the thought that if the road was blocked for any reason, he would quickly stop and turn the convoy around if need be.
The highway gave ample room for a large truck to quickly turn around with its dual lanes, but what was he worried about, they were just truck drivers trying to make a living, they were no threat to anybody. He eventually brushed the thought from his mind as he considered the job ahead and the pleasant thought that he would be home late tonight, God willing. As Nizar and the others continued the journey towards ar-Raqqah Adman sat for a while in the front seat but kept dropping off to sleep. In the end, he climbed back into the sleeper cab where he carefully removed his trousers and folded them over the wire coat hanger. With the warmth of the cabin and the gentle vibration of the truck, he fell asleep almost instantly. Nizar stared through the chipped windscreen almost in a zombie state as he dropped down several gears as the truck laboured up the gentle slope, the hill was deceptive from a distance it appeared only a slight rise in the treeless dry land, but once the trucks started the two kilometres straight climb their speed dropped off measurably.
At the top of the hill, Nizar through squinted eyes could just make out the concrete overpass which signalled that they were nearing the city of ar-Raqqah. Upon reaching the peak of the hill the lead truck with its motor roaring crawl under the shadow cast by the concrete overpass for a brief second before re-entering the blinding sunlight. Nizar mechanically changed gears as the truck released from the drag of gravity raced forward, down the decline like a rollercoaster at an amusement park quickly reach one hundred and thirty kilometres per hour.
Nizar looked out onto the long deserted roadway which stretched out in the distance ending in a shimmering mirage, satisfied there was no traffic Nizar took his eyes off the road and checked his mirrors and then quickly studied the numerous gauges which surrounded him. He blinked several times to readjust his focus as he looked up, with squinting eyes Nizar leant forward over the steering wheel until his chubby belly stopped him.
He thought he saw something on the road ahead but he wasn’t sure as the heat haze seemed to be vibrating up and down like a wave on the ocean. Nizar rubbed his eyes several times and blinked at a rapid speed, but it just made his vision blurry. Then out of nowhere as the truck raced down the decline a lonely figure of a man standing in the middle of the highway was now clearly visible. Nizar immediately considered breaking and turning around but at one hundred and thirty kilometres per hour it would take some distance before he could stop and turn, he had to make a split decision. It was only one man, what could he do? Stop the truck with his body. Nizar left his foot on the accelerator and allowed the truck to power on, only a fool would stand in his way.
As the distance between the truck and the lone figure closed Nizar’s throat became dry for standing in one lane of the dual highway was a man with a bushy black beard dressed in light fawn clothing with what looked like military webbing on his chest. He was waving one hand furiously indicating that they must pull over and in the other hand he held something which Nizar couldn’t quite identify. It was only when Nizar’s truck roared past as the lone man ran out of the way at the last minute that he recognised the unmistakable weapon, the AK-47 assault rifle. For a brief second Nizar considered accelerating past the lone gunmen standing there on his own, but then he noticed on the opposite side of the road some distance back more armed men with long bushy beards, all had black keffiyehs wrapped around their heads with some covering their nose and mouth as if they were highway bandits.
Still further back on a slight desert sand dune a white Hilux utility could be seen, it was strategically placed with a 50 calibre machine gun bolted to the tray. Several more bearded men milled around the vehicle all looking in the direction of the approaching trucks. The 50 calibre machine gun was in a perfect position to deliver a deadly spray of bullets as every truck would have to drive directly at it for a considerable time until they passed its location. There was no conceivable option for Nizar and the other two trucks, if they attempted to force their way through with the amount of weaponry before them it would be suicide, the carbon fibre and aluminium of a modern truck was no match against military weapons designed to pierce armour. To stop and turn around was also out of the question as this part of the road was lined with vertical steel posts to prevent vehicles exiting the highway, it was a perfect trap. Nizar was angry with himself for driving straight into it. He would just have to deal with this armed man thought Nizar as he wondered what such a man could possibly want from hard working truck drivers. Maybe they were robbers stealing from trucks as they travel between cities, they wouldn’t be able to steal much from these trucks Nizar reflected as he thought about the money in his wallet. He would just have to negotiate, surely he’d listen to reason. They might even rough them up a bit, Nizar would cooperate as best he could. He would try to avoid aggravating these armed strangers.
Adman woke abruptly from his sleep as momentum moved his body forward, the truck groaned under the sudden strain as Nizar applied the brakes struggling to rapidly reduce its high speed. Even so, the truck travelled a considerable distance past the agitated armed individual.
“What’s happening my brother?” Shouted Adman as he partially rolled out of the sleeper attempting at the same time to grasp the handles at the end of the bed.
“Get dressed but remain hidden we have a roadblock.”
“No, armed men, be quiet and stay hidden I will handle this.” Adman leant forward with a questioning expression as he looked out the large windscreen and immediately sighted the armed men standing on the road with their guns held across their chests. They were all dressed in the same style uniform, black keffiyehs around their heads, light fawn trousers and matching long sleeve shirt which came all the way down like a ladies dress to their knees. All wore military webbing over their chests and around their waists. It occurred to Adman that they were soldiers from some unknown army as he’d never seen this uniform and they didn’t appear to have any badges or markings on their sleeves that would identify them. Before he had time to consider in detail his thoughts his brother was shouting at him.
“Will you do as I say, hide yourself before they see you move, move,” Nizar shouted in a worried voice. Adman dropped down low behind the passenger side seat, there was just enough room with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms folded on top. Nizar still braking managed to twist his body to glance over his shoulder at his brother’s hiding spot, he reached over lifting his backside out of his seat and threw a blanket over the cramped body of his brother.
The trucks pulled to a stop on the side of the road as the agitated gunman marched his way towards Nizar’s truck where he banged loudly on the driver’s side door. It was then that Nizar got a good look at the individual who’d dared to demand they stop. Nizar climbed out of his truck and stood in front of the gunman on rubber legs. He was shocked at the sight of the most hideous looking individual he’d seen, with a long black beard which matched his bushy eyebrows that were joined in the middle above his outrageously large hook nose, his forehead protruded out unnaturally. Nizar’s throat refused to swallow, he was only a truck driver so his education was limited, but there was a word that popped into his head which came without thought. He must be a Neanderthal, his features are not human. In a state of shock Nizar along with the other two drivers studied the armed Neanderthal, under his ugly hooked nose he’d shaved his moustache off which allowed his mouth to be clearly seen with its permanent snarl. His eyes were pure black, like animal eyes that never showed any emotion as if the brain was thoughtless. The webbing on his chest was bulging with AK-47 rounds and his teeth were stained yellow and his breath stunk like dead fish. He held his automatic weapon across his chest like he was holding a stone age club with hands as big as bear paws. In a deep gravelly voice, he shouted.
“Why didn’t you stop straight away when you saw me?”
“It’s a big truck, it takes a long time to stop. I did the best I could.” Nizar said in an apologetic voice, hoping for some understanding. The gunman remained expressionless. Nizar and the other two drivers were unaware that they’d been caught in a trap laid by one of the most sadistic killers known as the Desert Jackal to his murdering brothers, who obeyed his commands. They were credited with some of the cruellest sadistic murders of the innocent. His enemies preferred to call him the Desert Butcher, for where ever the Desert Jackal appeared there was always death and destruction. No good had ever come or would ever come from this man, the leader of the most extreme followers of Islam. That some leaders throughout the world had called a death cult. They were known as God’s Jackals, he ruled with a mediaeval interpretation of Islam. Using his brothers in arms to kill their enemies, the non-believers, the infidels. His philosophy was for a caliphate run by a religious leader following sharia law. Kill your enemy where you find him without mercy for this is the work that God commands from his warriors. The Desert Jackal seemed to become increasingly agitated as if the three truck drivers were an insult in his presence. His permanent snarling lips seemed to intensify with every word he spoke.
“You’re Alawites?” Nizar quickly shouted out before the other drivers had a chance to respond.
“Sunni.” He was lying but what could he do, he had the feeling that his life and the lives of the other drivers depended on him convincing the gunman that they were Sunnis from Aleppo, not Shiite Alawites the mortal enemy of the Desert Jackal. The Desert Jackal wasn’t convinced, he kept asking over and over again trying to catch them out.
“You’re Shiite aren’t you?”
“Sunni from Aleppo.” Repeated Nizar.
“All of you?”
“Yes, Praise be to Allah, we’re just truck drivers trying to earn a humble living, God willing.”
“Proved to me that you are Sunni.”
“Allahu Akbar, there’s no God but Allah.” Chanted the truck drivers in unison. The Desert Jackal remained unconvinced, Nizar could see it in his expressionless face. Nizar now considered with fear that the questioning had meant nothing, that their fate had been sealed from the minute the Desert Jackal had laid his black eyes on them. That his attempt to negotiate a safe passage was useless, that he’d failed to protect his fellow drivers, his good friends. The chubby Nizar al-Shazedy and the two skinny young drivers, Hussin and Yousef were forcibly pushed and struck to the back of the head with metal rods as the armed men yelled obscene comments about their ancestors, all aimed at humiliating the three drivers. They were ordered to kneel on the side of the road facing Mecca. Nizar’s life flashed before him, the sudden realisation that today would be his last. He begged for mercy but the Desert Jackal ignored his pleas.
“Allow us to pray to Allah, allow us at least that.”
“No you’re Alawite dogs, you must die immediately Allah commands it.”
“What sort of justice is this?” But it was the last thing that Nizar said as the bullets tore through his back and came out his rib cage, he fell forward onto the hot desert sand with his eyes wide open as if he was still alive, just laying down to take a rest.
Bernhard Latchford or Latchy as he was called by his mates, lay flat on his back on his narrow bed staring up at the cobwebs in the corner of his room, he didn’t much like spiders but he couldn’t be bothered brushing the webs down, fuck that, he was no one’s cleaner. Next to his bed with barely enough room for a chair was his pine computer desk, using a blue ballpoint biro Latchy had carved his initials into the soft wood and at both ends of the keyboard he’d carved several large convict arrow heads. His old computer sat on top of his desk with dust covering the flat surfaces, the screen with several dirty smears over it were Latchy had whacked a maggot filled blowfly blinked every few seconds. Stony had managed to put it together by scavenging surplus parts from mates and quite a few stolen parts from that shit hole of a school that Latchy was forced to attend, how he hated those smart arse teachers from Jordanville Secondary College. What a waste of time, those smart arse teachers reckon they knew everything. What the hell did they know about growing up in povvo land? The scum bag suburbs sucked.
He glanced across to look at the political poster that he’d stuck to the wall with blue tack. Latchy grinned as he examined his hero, his favourite person, someone that he felt stood up for people like himself. The young white brothers who were being ignored, even at school he was being drowned under a wave of smart arse Chings that beat him every time with their marks, it just wasn’t fair. How did they expect him to get a fucking job if he was constantly being humiliated by foreigners at his own fucking school, suffocating under an invasion? The dude on the poster was his only hope, the charismatic blonde headed firebrand leader of the political party Single Nation, Paul Wilder. He was the dude that could save Australia, Latchy had been following Paul Wilder on the Internet for some time now after first seeing him on the evening news addressing an anti-immigration rally. Wilder was the first politician that Latchy had heard that made any sense, he seemed to understand clearly the struggle for survival of the young white suburban dudes whose futures looked bleak because the major political parties were falling over each other to lick the arses of the newly arrived immigrants to secure their votes. The major parties loved emigration, it’s good for the economy they would say. But Wilder knew better and Latchy had no reason to doubt him that the only reason the major parties needed immigration was to keep them in power. The political system was rigged in their favour Wilder kept reminding his loyal followers, the cards were stacked against them unless there was a change, and that change had to come from the white youth demanding to be heard.
The message that Wilder was pushing was so simple Latchy wondered why other politicians hadn’t figured it out yet. Close the borders no more immigration of anybody to Australia, and those that did qualify to come to Australia, if they couldn’t speak English then they could fuck off. How simple, no more crazy Muzzies threatening to kill people because some cock head insulted their religion, no more rich Chings buying up all the houses in the suburbs so no true Aussies could find a fucking house to live in. No more criminal Ching gangs selling drugs undercutting the Aussie dealers, these pricks have got no morals. Deportation along with a good fucking beating for all those Sudos bastards who smash their way into innocent people’s homes. Not satisfied with terrifying the shit out of them they robbed them blind. And then to rub shit into the wound they knock off the poor sucker’s car, yeah those Afro mongrels would be first on my fucking list. Latchy thought about what Paul Wilder had said recently on his webpage, would you invite strangers into your house? Would you let them eat all your food, and then when they wreck the joint would you invite them back again? This dude Wilder was the future, Australia for Australians, pure and simple.
The only problem was that Latchy wasn’t old enough to vote, none of the boys were old enough. Aussie was the oldest at seventeen but the others Davey, Ollie, Moon and Stony were all sixteen. It sucked being sixteen, not old enough to drive a car, not old enough to drink alcohol or smoke cigarettes, but old enough to realise that you’re being slowly robbed of your inheritance, your own fucking country. Latchy looked back at the Single Nation poster on the wall, it had been taken at a rally with Paul Wilder shouting animatedly into a microphone the veins on his neck sticking out like speed bumps on a road, in the background several women draped in the Australian flag held protest signs with slogans written in large black letters that could be easily read. Latchy read them out aloud as he’d done for a number of days in an attempt to commit them to his memory, Latchy figured he never knew when he might need to shout out a good protest slogan.
“The days of walking on eggshells and thin ice are over. The days of worrying about upsetting someone have ended. It’s time to crack some eggs and break through the ice and take our fucking country back!” The sign next to it read.
“The truth, Islam isn’t a religion of peace, the word really means, surrender your fucking soul.” Latchy study for some time with envy the features of Wilder, a tall athletic dude in his mid-thirties with shoulders like a professional boxer, a chiselled jawline with perfect white teeth. His hair had been neatly crew cut along the sides and around the back but at the top, it’d been left slightly longer to give an almost flat top look. He was dressed in black runners, black jeans held up with a black belt with a shiny chromed skull and crossbones belt buckle. His shirt was light brown with Single Nation stitched over his heart.
His buttons were done up all the way to the top of his thick muscular neck, without a tie. The short sleeves stopped just above bulging bicep muscles, his strong white arms were tattooed, on one side in big black Gothic letters over a vertical dagger “Angry Aryan Dude.” On the other arm was a rectangular uniform badge with two “SS” in the shape of lightning bolts and written below was the word “Blood and Honour” and the number “18” designating the initials in the alphabet for Adolf Hitler. The major political parties had called Single Nation an extremist protest party with no other policies. That Wilder with his Nazi tattoos was clearly a racists, which Wilder denied stating publicly that his tattoos were from a misguided youth and that he had considered having them removed but decided against it, that he regretted having them done, however he had nothing to be ashamed of. His honesty only increased Single Nation’s popularity which grew stronger daily especially with the eighteen to thirty-five-year-old white males who’d had a gut full of the major parties bullshit spin.
His hands were exceptionally large and no doubt could crush a can of beer with ease or the throat of a fucking smelly tree loving greeny. On Wilder’s left wrist was a chunky silver watch, it looked expensive and it made Latchy wondered how much a politician got paid. He’d watched countless YouTube videos of Paul Wilder giving great speeches at anti-immigration rallies, he had a voice that could be clearly heard without the need to shout as some of the speakers at these rallies tended to do which made them sound like they were crazy individuals, just shouting out any old bullshit to get a reaction out of the crowd. Wilder was a most impressive individual. To think he was all brawn and no brain you would be mistaken, for under those muscles and his styled blond hair was a brain that possessed an IQ above the average. Those that debated him had to be extremely skilful as his knowledge and ability to recall past events with precise detail was truly amazing. He always got the last word in and no journalist had ever had the upper hand on him.
Latchy got off the bed and flexed his bicep muscle as he watched it intensely in front of the cracked mirror, holding his breath until his face turned red, at the same time looking over at Wilder’s biceps. He suddenly hit the floor and started doing push-ups trying to control his breathing, breathing out as he pushed down, breathe in as he lowered his body. He could feel his muscles in his chest and arms starting to burn, he kept going until he couldn’t take any more, then Latchy collapsed exhausted face down on the grubby floor sucking air into his screaming lungs. He got back up and flexed his biceps again concentrating on the mirror, he thought they looked a little bit bigger, but not much. “Fuck this, I’ll never have muscles like Wilder, got to get me some roids it’s my only fucking hope. Latchy at six-foot-five and eighty-six kilograms towered over the rest of the Holmesy crew, but because of his height he appeared somewhat lean. He just needed a bit more muscle but no matter how many times he did push-ups his muscles never seemed to get any bigger.
He sat back down on his bed and from the floor picked up a grubby T-shirt and commenced to wipe the sweat from his face and underarms before Latchy gave it a couple of deep sniffs, satisfied that it stunk he then threw it across the room into the corner where it landed on a pile of other unwashed garments. He then reached under the mattress at the foot of the bed and pulled out a small flat plastic container. Inside Latchy carefully removed his ice pipe and a small plastic bag containing a clear crystal substance, he carefully extracted several shards of crystals and drop them in the opening of the ice pipe where they slipped down into the circular bowl. His hands were shaking slightly and his heart rate had increased with the anticipation of the rush that was only seconds away. Using the carburising flame from the cigarette lighter Latchy carefully turned the crystals shards into liquid before placing his mouth over the pipe and inhaling.
He leaned back as the room seemed to mysteriously become brighter and his senses became sharply focused, his eyes could see every crack in the wall and every mark on the ceiling. The little black spiders in the corners were watching him with their beady eyes, he could see them clearly. The clock ticked loudly in the room next door, he could hear the big hand moved, it seemed to clunk between ticks. The voices on the TV in the lounge room were crystal clear, he could even hear his father breathing as he lay on the couch.
Latchy lifted his hand into the air, he could feel the warm air touching the skin the sensation made him smile. An intense feeling of euphoria was overwhelming Latchy as the dopamine surged through his brain. It seemed to embrace every cell in his body, he blew out a long white cloud of smoke. Latchy watched the white cloud disappear in amazement, a sudden warm tingling feeling of joy and hysteria from the top of Latchy’s head to the tips of his toes made him laugh out aloud, the worries and the disappointments of his life seemed insignificant. Even his violent father was no longer a concern, he felt no fear, no pain when he thought of his father. The ice had made him a superior dude, he was invincible, could feel no physical or mental pain. His brain had now become logical and could now function without sleep at an incredible speed. Suddenly Latchy’s ring tone on his mobile phone started playing a hardcore punk beat.
“We’re just a minor threat.” Latchy snapping it up and checked the caller ID, it was his buddy Aussie.
“Yeah what’s up bitch?”
“We still going to the rally on Saturday?”
“Fuck yeah, Paul Wilder from Single Nation will be there. Everybody’s gone.”
“I’m not into that political bullshit, do you think there will be any good looking bitches there?”
“Well, how the fuck would I know! Get the crew together and we’ll meet under the bridge tonight and smoke some shit and work out what the fuck we’re doing tomorrow, you got that?”
“What’s with the heavy breathing? You were jerking off.”
“Fuck you Aussie I’ve been doing push-ups to build up my arm muscles.”
“Jerking off that’s what you’ve been doing don’t fucking deny it.” And then Aussie hung up without saying goodbye before Latchy had a chance to verbally abuse him. The loud fast punk ring tone started again.
“What the fuck now?” Cried Latchy as he reached for the phone but this time it was his girlfriend Raylene.
“Rent a kill can I help you?”
“Very funny I’m coming over open the window.” Latchy unclipped the window and slid it wide open, they’d worked it out a while ago an easy way for Raylene to drop in any time and avoided Latchy’s alcoholic father who was a real pain in the arse. Latchy’s dad was an ex-soldier who served in Afghanistan, he’d come home all disillusioned and immediately resigned from the Army and now spent most of his days in an alcoholic state chain-smoking cigarettes in front of the TV. He’d become increasingly angry at the world and when he did venture outside the family home to the local pub it wasn’t unusual for the night to end in a punch-up inside the premises or out in the street. But that’s not where the violence ended, not satisfied with punching the living daylights out of some fellow drinker he would come home with his aggressive attitude. He would regularly abuse Latchy, accusing him of being useless and a loser. Latchy kept his distance, his father was quick with his fists and Latchy was sick of making up excuses for nosy fucking teachers as to why he had a ripper black eye. Any visitors to the house weren’t immune either, especially females he would give them plenty with derogatory remarks.
“Is this your new slut sunny boy?” Which was really fucking annoying. Latchy would’ve liked to punch his lights out but he was too big and strong, he’d tried once and had come off a painful second best, he just wasn’t worth the hassle.
Raylene slipped through the open window with the ease of a competent pole dancer, she was a skinny girl with dark grey eyes, she’d applied a thick black layer of mascara around her eyes and at the outside corners had extended the line a short distance which gave her an Egyptian look. To complement the look some matching long skinny eyebrows and fat eyelashes. Raylene had dyed her long hair bright red, Latchy had never liked the colour it reminded him of a clown, it was just too fucking bright for his liking, it was like screwing Ronald McDonald. She was right into body piercing with her silver stud through her cute little nose and a silver earring through her bottom lip which Latchy found annoying when they were kissing. No matter how many times he told her to fuck the thing off or at least take it out when they were pashing she never did, she just told him to get stuffed. The nose stud and the lip ring were not the only parts on Raylene that were pierced, she wore large earrings through her earlobes the diameter of a beer can and smaller ones all the way up to the top of her ears. There was too many to count.
She had on a black parka with grey fur around the opening of the hood which hung at the back of her neck, Raylene had thick black tights on which showed just how skinny her long legs were and on her feet, she wore a big black pair of army style lace up boots. To make the look complete she wore a very short pair of faded denim shorts over the top of her black tights. Raylene was Latchy’s first serious girlfriend, she had lived at the end of the street for as long as he could remember but being a girl he’d ignored her, it’d only been in the last few years that he’d taken any interest in her. It was Aussie who’d asked who that hot bitch was, and it was only then that Latchy had checked her out. She’d suddenly become an attractive girl even with the red hair and the lip ring,
Latchy had found her irresistible. He couldn’t keep his hands off her, he’d never had the love of a mother. In fact, he’d never had the love of anybody until now. The surprising thing was she thought he was okay and they’d become an item. The fact that someone had wanted him for who he was had made Latchy’s shit life just a little bit bearable. He couldn’t help himself, she was just beautiful. Latchy lay flat on his back as he watched Raylene as she drew in deeply on the thick joint between her lips, she held the soothing chemicals for a short time before exhaling loudly. The thick cloud from the burning weed wafted its way up Latchy’s nose lingering at the back of his throat, Latchy swallowed several times in an attempt to remove the strong taste. He watched the white cloud above Raylene’s head as it grew in size, the smoke cloud reminded Latchy of fluffy white clouds in the sky. Latchy felt his groin start to harden as the blood flowed to his organ, he knew what weed did to Raylene. It certainly put her in a good mood.
“You coming along to the rally on Saturday?” Latchy asked, he sounded like he was inside a tunnel his voice sounded funny.
“For fuck’s sake it’s a simple fucking question, are you coming or not?”
“Can I bring a friend?”“Sure you can, bringing your fucking mother for all I care.”
“Don’t get nasty Latchy otherwise I’m going home.”
“Yeah, okay. Who’s your friend?”
“Ferret the kid from next door he’s been a bit upset lately, I’ve been trying to help him.”
“Yeah right, big fucking deal bring the little shit along. But if he annoys me I’ll kick his arse.”
As the ice ran through Latchy’s veins he watched intently the white smoke erupt from Raylene’s mouth. Latchy felt his body lifting above the bed, he wasn’t frightened it was a beautiful feeling. Someone inside his brain started to sing to him, was it his mother?
“Is that you mother? He asked silently.
“Are you inside my head mother?” There was no reply just someone singing softly, Latchy could hear it clearly and for a minute he wondered whether Raylene was singing. But she wasn’t, she was still dragging on what remained of the joint.
“I’m floating through the air off my crummy little bed, I’m rising like a cloud of fog through the air but my warm body doesn’t care. I never felt this good before, never never, this drug has nothing that compares. It’s got me hooked, and I don’t fucking care because, I’m a meth head floating in thin air.” The singing inside Latchy’s head stop, Raylene’s eyes were staring into his soul, he could feel her looking in, all his secrets all his imperfect idea she could now see, he didn’t like her doing that, it made him feel very vulnerable and angry but he couldn’t stop her. Latchy suddenly realised she was telepathic, she’s a fucking mind reader, a psychic. But to Latchy’s surprise, he could also read Raylene’s mind.
“Wow! This is fucking great, I’m a fucking mind reader and I never knew it.” He looked back up to the ceiling and concentrated on the black spider in the corner.
“Hello little black spider, I can read your mind. Don’t be scared, no one can reach you up there, I won’t crush you I promise.” Latchy grin as a hot sensation came to his groin, he looked down to see Raylene wrestling with his partially erect cock as she tried to extract it from his tracksuit pants. A weird sensation came over Latchy he felt like he’d left his body and was now a spirit floating towards the ceiling. Reaching the ceiling he became the spider, with his eight black spider eyes he looked down from the ceiling on to his body, it was like watching a movie in fast forward. Raylene was moving way too fast. He tried to tell her with his mind to slow down but she wouldn’t listen to the spider. She didn’t realise that the spider was now Latchy.
“Raylene I’m up here, look I’m the spider.”
Raylene was too busy to listen, she positioned her hips over Latchy’s now stiff cock before gently manoeuvred it to the entrance where she slowly slid down to engulf it completely. Latchy returned to his body in a blinding flash that made him twitch suddenly, he thought his brain was about to explode, he wasn’t sure just how much stimulation he could take. He was sure getting one big dose today. Latchy didn’t wear condoms they were for losers, he didn't like them. It was like wearing gloves when you were playing with your rod, it just didn't feel right. The bed squeaked as Raylene gently bobbed up and down while Latchy laid flat on his back after some time she stopped and lit a cigarette.
“Are you ready to come yet?”
“What the fuck is your hurry bitch?” Latchy blurted out, annoyed with the sudden urgency.
“It’s just that I’m getting tired, we’ve been going for ages.” For some reason Latchy’s ejaculation just wasn’t happening, the reason Latchy suspected was that he couldn’t leave his cock alone. Once again I’ve fucked up, he promised himself that he would stop masturbating, there just wasn’t enough sperm to go around. If it ever got back to his mates that he was a no blower, it wouldn’t take them long to work it out that Latchy was a compulsory masturbator. That was something that frightened Latchy, there was something seriously wrong with him for sure. No one else played with their dick as much as he did, he just knew it. Raylene puffed away on her cigarette while Latchy laid on his side, she drew back deeply on the cigarette holding the smoke in her lungs for several seconds before exhaling. It was like every drag on the cigarette was pure pleasure for Raylene, as if the nicotine was some sort of elixir. Latchy rolled Raylene onto her back and then lifted her legs up until her knees touched her little white breasts, after several minutes of fumbling around to locate Raylene’s entrance she took pity on him and with one hand swiftly position his cock inside the entrance. Latchy forced his penis inside Raylene, she winced a bit as Latchy was a bit too forceful. But he was eager to get things going but after several minutes and the sound of his body slapping against Raylene she told him to stop, she needed another cigarette. Latchy rolled onto his back and tried to communicate with the spider once again. Latchy wondered whether spiders had sex and if they did was there as much mucking around as humans, then he remembered that someone had told him that the female spider eats the male spider after mating. Fuck that. That sucks, Latchy thought to himself.
“Bernie tea is ready.” Latchy’s father shouted from the kitchen as Latchy watched Raylene slide back out through the window of his bedroom. They’d arranged to meet at the Holmesy station just before lunch tomorrow and then they’d take the train into the city for the Single Nation rally.
“Not fucking sausages again?”
“Why do I bother Bernie? I cook you a lovely meal and all I get in return is aggravation, you’re a whinging piece of shit. Tomorrow you can fucking cook, let’s see how good you are then.”
“It ain’t gunna be hard to beat this crap. You’ve cooked them to the shit house, their fucking charcoal almost all the way through.”
“Yeah, well I like mine well done, always have, always will.”
“Dad, their fucking inedible, it’s like eating sticks.” Latchy picked up a black sausage and whacked it several times on the kitchen table. “They’re just sticks of burnt wood.” Latchy complained in an angry tone.
“Go hungry see if I care.”
Latchy picked up the sauce bottle and covered the six sausages under a thick layer of tomato sauce before he sliced them up, using a fork he shovelled them into his mouth, one after the other crunching away without stopping.
“What’s your hurry boy? Got that redheaded slut waiting for you?”
“Yeah something like that, got to run dad.”
“I’m thinking about going to the footy tomorrow, why don’t you come along. It’s been a long time since you and I went to the footy together, you were only a little kid when your mother and I took you to the football, it was the last time she went before she died. You can’t remember her can you? That’s all right it was a long time ago. We can buy some pies or even chips if you like, I’ll shout you. I might even let you have a can of beer when we come home.” Latchy did remember his mother, he felt a sharp pain in his heart when he tried to remember her face and her gentle touch. How things might have been different if she was still around.
“Won’t have time dad, got the anti-immigration rally in the city tomorrow. It’s gunna be mad core.”
“Why are you bothering to get mixed up in this sort of fucking rubbish? Nothing ever good comes out of such rallies, a lot of innocent people could end up getting hurt.”
“We’ve got to hold on to our country, our traditions.”
“Our traditions? Don’t make me laugh son, traditions. Bernie you’re not an indigenous black fellow with thousands of years of tribal tradition. Look in the mirror Bernie, you’re white fucking trash like the rest of us. You young punks have it all, you’re just not fucking smart enough to realise it.
“Fuck you, what the fuck would you know anyway, get off your arse and get out into the street you might notice that we’re being swamped by foreigners, the streets are full of Chings, Sudos and Muzzies. They think they fucking owned the place.”
“What the fuck would I know? You little shit. Well let’s start from the beginning I just happen to spend some considerable time in a foreign country in a frigging war zone, thanks to our fucking government of the day which felt that it was a good idea at the time to go after the evil doers, the Islamic extremists had to be defeated at all costs. So son, we had the longest war ever in modern times. And guess what? There are more Islamic extremists around now than there was before, funny about that. In fact, there are so many Islamic extremists around most of the time they’re busy killing each other.”
“I can’t be held responsible if the government screws things up, that’s what it’s all about dad to tell the government that they have screwed things up. This is our chance for the youth of Australia to rise up, and do something useful for our country before we’re overrun with foreigners.”
“Don’t trust the politicians son, they’ll twist and manipulate the truth to justify their own extremist policies. The politicians will use the threat of extremist groups to justify increasing their power, while their pointing the finger at someone else they’re not getting the blame for the mess they’ve created in their own fucking country, their financial mismanagement and their political partie’s bickering, take my word for it boy they’re an arrogant bunch of overeducated, private schooled boffins. None of them ever had a real job, none of them ever shot a rifle at a real enemy. None of them ever had to sit through a lonely night next to the body of their best mate before they flew him home in a metal box with the Australian flag draped over it. Can’t you see son it’s just a game to them, and the game for the politician is to remain in power? Truth and integrity is the last thing on those bastards mind.”
“Interesting theory dad, I’ve gotta run.”
“Yeah, fuck off you ungrateful shit.”
Latchy carefully climbed down the steep weedy incline to the Gardiner Creek below which had been concreted into an open drain. He could hear the cars crossing the bridge above his head as the peak hour traffic slowly made its way along Warrigal road. An unpleasant chemical odour struck Latchy which reminded him of burning rubber. The Holmesy crew were all sitting around a small smoky fire on old car seats which had its upholstery ripped and torn, the firewood they’d collected after the creek had receded after a recent flood was mainly cheap pine pallets and the occasional tree that had been uprooted. Most of it was shit wood and apart from a little bit of heat and light, anybody sitting close enough ended up with red stinging eyes from the noxious smoke. Someone had thrown on an old car tyre on the fire, it was well and truly alight with a golden yellow flame flickering up, above the flames a thick black cloud rose up rapidly disappear when it hit the underside of the concrete bridge. Latchy watched the black smoke briefly as several swallows took off to avoid being suffocated, he then turning to see what the crew were so excited about.
Stony had his iPad with him and was showing YouTube videos of previous Paul Wilder rallies where things got out of hand and a large brawl had broken out. The guys were yelling and laughing as they watch the brawl over Stony’s shoulder. Aussie looked up when he heard someone approaching.
“Hey, Latchy have you seen this? It’s fucking hilarious.” Stoney moved his iPad around so Latchy could see what they were all laughing at. It was hard to hear what they were saying there was so much shouting and yelling going on in the video but Latchy recognised straight away that it was a Single Nation rally which had been held the previous year. He’d watched it many times before.
“That’s gunna be us boys, tomorrow we’ll be there with our brothers, it’s time to show foreigners that us Aussies mean business.” Suddenly Aussie shouted out at the top of his voice which made everybody jumped.
“Aussie Aussie, yeah yeah, Aussie Aussie.” Everybody joined in. Latchy watched the video soaking in every detail.
The National Loyalists Movement was growing fast, their ranks stacked with young white Australian dudes who were attracted to the right wing extremist policies of anti-immigration with a particular dislike for anything Islamic. Although many of them weren’t born during The White Australia Policy they yearned for the day it would return. With strong loyalties to the Commonwealth and the British Empire, they were known to chant at rallies.
“Let the Crusades begin.” Which was rather strange considering they weren’t that religious, unlike the other group, Stand Up. They had a much smaller following, their leader was an evangelical Christian pastor by the name of Sector Belardo. Belardo claimed that God had selected the white British Christians as the chosen children to rule over Australia, to spread God’s word throughout the land. To convert the black naked heathens to Christianity as they’d lost their way with their pagan beliefs and superstitious behaviour. They need to be saved without delay. Sector Belardo’s right wing extremist group was pushing the policy that the Australian government should immediately make Christianity the compulsory religion of the land. That Islam as a religion is incapable of assimilating into the cultural fabric of Australia and that Sharia laws is incompatible with the law of the land, and as such should be prohibited. Those foolish enough to practice such religions should be punished with lengthy jail sentences.
Single Nation, being a legitimate registered political party with their views on immigration was somewhat quiet on these topics trying to avoid receiving the races tag, although Paul Wilder had no issue with accepting that his party was right wing but he wouldn’t accept that they were a racial motivated party. They didn’t want immigration to continue, but if for some reason there was a need for immigration then their party’s policy was English-speaking people from English type countries who Wilder believed would find Australia an easy country to assimilate in. The YouTube video showed the two right-wing groups, The National Loyalists Movement and the Stand Up group violently clashing with a group of left-wing, pro-immigration, Muslim loving greenies. Their protest signs were a mixture of,
“Refugees Welcomed” to “Keep Nazis off Our Street.” They seem to be a lot more women in their protest group but they weren’t scared to take on the two other right-wing parties which seemed to be made up of mainly angry white young men. The police were trying to break up the brawl by using capsicum spray when one of the pro-immigration women with bright purple hair received a direct hit to the face. The burning reddish-brown liquid penetrated her mouth, nose and eyes, there was so much shooting out it was like the capsicum spray was coming from a garden hose. The purple haired pro-immigration loving greeny girl was laying flat on her back with cops using water bottles in an attempt to wash the burning capsicum from her eyes. They kept pulling her hands away from her face as she screamed at the top of her voice.
“My face is fucking burning.” Over and over she screamed, her grieving didn’t stop as a big bloke dressed in black with his hoody over his head, his face partially covered by Australian flag scarf shouted into the megaphone.
“Ban the mosques, ban the mosques.” It’s all he said.
“Ban the mosques, ban the mosques.” Another guy, a skinny bloke ran out of nowhere and smacked him right on top of his head with a wooden pole with an Australian flag hanging at the other end. The big guy with the megaphone dropped to the ground like a stone, disappearing under the feet of the brawling crowd as they pushed and shoved each other. The guy with the wooden flagpole was immediately attacked from all sides, even though he was outnumbered he managed to keep standing, swing wildly until his mates arrived to help him out. Baseball caps and sunglasses were scattered everywhere on the ground as they were knocked or ripped from the heads of the brawling protesters. Suddenly out of nowhere the police horses rode into break up the fighting masses, along with the capsicum spray it seemed that both sides had had enough. The YouTube video came to an end.
“So we’re all set for tomorrow?” Said Latchy.
“Yeah, I got the flags man. I could only get the small ones.” Said Stony
“I got the masks.”
“Masks, what fucking mast?” Asked Aussie.
“I got some of those white masks, you know the ones from the movie.” Said Ollie.
“What that ghost mask from that horror movie?” Said Aussie.
“No, I got the ones from that “V” movie. I think they’re called Guy Fawkes masks, fucked if I know why but they looked pretty cool so I got some.” Aussie got his pipe out and started melting the crystal shards, by the time he’d taken his first drag the rest of the crew was either preparing their pipes or lighting up some weed. Stony had turned his iPad up as loudly as it could go and was now playing some thumping punk music as Ollie and Stony jumped crazily up and down around the fire shouting loudly the lyrics like they were some kind of tribesman celebrating a successful days hunting. They were high on the ice and weed, the drugs gave them a sense of invincibility, masters of their own destiny. No one would dare challenge the Holmesy crew. Aussie was busy texting on his phone, he was always fiddling with his phone, chasing girls most of the time.
“Those fucking bastards they reckon they’re coming down to Holmesy station to hook up with some of our girls. It’s that Sudo fucking grew.”
“Don’t they fucking know that the Holmesy station belongs to our crew, they can’t just suddenly show up?” Said Latchy with his face screwed up in the look of bewilderment and anger.
“It’s a fucking act of war, they want trouble, then we’ll fucking give them trouble.” One of the girls that Aussie had been texting madly for several weeks had let it slip that her girlfriends had invited some of the Sudos crew down for a hook up.
“Let’s head down to the station and teach those Sudo mongrels they can’t show up on our station.” Said Ollie.
“Yeah let’s get them, cheeky Afros trying to hook up with our girls, no fucking way can we let that happen.” Shouted Latchy as his ice affected temper increased, the surging dopamine in his brain making the thought of violence an acceptable solution. As the crew made their way to the Holmesy station Aussie with the ice stimulating his brain, spurring him on to break Davey’s roof flattening record. They’d come to a street lined with fancy vehicles where Aussie quickly climbed on to the roof of the first vehicle, in an ice induced euphoria he jumped madly up and down on the roof as if he was putting out a fire. The record for continuous roof flattening was held by Davey who had achieved an outstanding result of fifteen cars without ever touching the ground. He would’ve achieved sixteen except he misjudged the gap and completely mucking up the bounce off the bonnet and ended up plastering himself over the back of a Mercedes sports utility vehicle. It knocked the wind out of him with the result the crew had to carry him home, he was badly knocked up.
It was a game of nerves and timing, as once the roof was satisfactorily flattened, a jump from the roof onto the bonnet was required to enable the roof flattener to bounce up high enough onto the roof of the car in front. If required the roof flattener to keep his nerves as most modern cars are fitted with alarms so when the alarm goes off on one car it’s enough to wake the owner of the car, but when a street load of car alarms go off it’s enough to have the cops arrive fairly quickly. The crew would run alongside the roof flattener cheering him on as if he was a high performance athlete on his way to achieving gold as he headed for the finishing line.
They arrived at the Holmesy train station and walked up the platform ramp to a deserted station where Stony with help from Davey spray-painted the station’s security cameras. Stony knew from experience that Metro Trains used a security company to monitor all its stations and that they wouldn’t send a technician out until the following day to investigate the cameras sudden breakdown. They wandered around a bit giving the closed station office doors a bit of a kicking in a half-hearted effort to break in, but they wouldn’t budge. Stony and Ollie wandered around tagging the station building with the crew’s tag, the broad convict arrow pointing upwards. The broad arrow originally signified that a convict was the property of the British government, Latchy and the crew with a fair bit of research on the Internet by Stony had come to the conclusion that it represented their white heritage and where that arrow appeared was the domain of the Holmesy grew. It was a warning to other crews that trespassing through their domain would not be tolerated.
Even the toilets were all locked up so they couldn’t smash anything, they were all pretty frustrated and were about to leave when a train pulled in. At first, it appeared no one was going to get off and then all of a sudden right from the back of the train four tall Sudos got off. They were pretty big dudes and they didn’t seem a bit intimidated by the crew. So Latchy and the rest of the crew blocked the exit gate.
“You can’t come here.”
“Who says?” Said the tallest Sudo his dark skin almost blue under the fluorescent lights, his brilliant white teeth perfect in every respect.
“I’m going to tell you something, this is not your station, it belongs to us, the Holmesy crew.” Said Latchy.
“Well I say it doesn’t, and I also say that you and your little girls better move out of the way before you get hurt.” The rest of the Sudos laughed, they didn’t seem at all intimidated in fact they thought it was a bit of a joke.
“Come on dick brain get out of the way you’re starting to annoy me.” Shouted the Sudo who was standing behind the tall Sudo and looked the most aggravated. Latchy had had enough, he threw a vicious first punch connecting with the tall Sudo’s nose with a sickening crack. It caught the Sudo by surprise and caused him to stumble backwards with his hands over his nose trying to stop the rush of bright red blood. His eyes fought tears as his brain bounced back and forwards inside his skull. The punch was enough to send the average person to the ground but for some reason the tall Sudo kept his feet as he spat blood from his mouth. The other three Sudos charged in with lightning speed to deliver a hail of blows to Latchy’s head and shoulders, Latchy did his best to protect his face by bringing his arms up and leaning forward slightly to protect his stomach. He blocked several killer blows from connecting with his face but out of nowhere a white jogger came through his guard, the kick caught him under the chin. His teeth cracked together loudly as his head jolted back dangerously, Latchy’s vision faded as stars filled his view. A loud ringing sound in his ears blocked out all other noise.
Latchy fell backwards and if it wasn’t for the metal fence he would have fallen to the ground, but the fence kept him upright although he was struggling to stay conscious. Out of instinct more than logical thought Latchy turned sideways to protect his groin and stomach as several more violent kicks pounded Latchy’s upper thigh as well as receiving a pounding to the back of his head and shoulders, he was now a living punching bag as countless blows threatened to turn off Latchy’s lights. Davey and Aussie raced in with punches and kicks flying wildly in all directions on Latchy’s attackers, Aussie managed to land a wild haymaker to the forehead of one of the attackers which sent him reeling to the ground and then as the dazed Sudo attempted to get back up onto his feet, Aussie ploughed forward with all his weight hitting him in the chest with his shoulder. Once again the Sudo landed heavily on the ground and stayed down groaning loudly as Aussie took the opportunity to deliver a swift kick to his unprotected testicles. He screamed loudly as the pain shot through his body.
“Call me a girl hey, well this bitch just fucked you right up.” Laughed Aussie.
The Sudo that Latchy had punched on the nose had remarkably regained control and now in a blinding rage raced into beat the living daylights out of Latchy who was now free from attack thanks to Davey and Aussie. Latchy leaned heavily on the steel fence as he battled to clear his head and regain his senses, but there was no time. Latchy saw the tall Sudo with the bloody nose coming towards him with his fists held up in the boxing position, as he came towards Latchy he pulled back his right fist preparing to deliver a bone breaking punch to Latchy’s head. Latchy at the last minute duck sideways and avoided being knocked out, the Sudo swore angrily as his fist connected with the metal fence behind Latchy. Latchy went to kick the tall Sudo in the groin but he’d forgotten just how close he was to the fence so the kick without enough backswing was ineffective, his foot made contact with his attacker’s knee but bounced off harmlessly. One Sudo had Stony in a tight headlock and was punching his head repeatedly with his closed fist, Ollie was bobbing from side to side in front of the Sudo and was trying to punch him in the head, but his punches lacked power and the Sudo kicked out with his long legs several times catching Ollie every time. In the end Ollie kept his distance, he kept throwing punches even though none of them landed, he was shouting and swearing his head off in frustration.
Davey and Aussie were both laying into one of the Sudos, even with two fighters throwing solid punches at him the tall Sudo battled on dodging and weaving as best he could and at the same time still managing to deliver several well timed punches. He was strong and fit and knew how to defend himself but the odds were against him he. Within a short time he’d stopped throwing punches, he’d gone from attack to self-preservation. Just defending his face and body as he slowly collapsed to the ground exhausted and dazed. Davey and Aussie with the drug ice circulating through their system continued to fight on, their bodies unaffected by fatigue. The Sudo lay on the ground in the fetal position as Davey and Aussie gave his rib cage a good kicking.
Latchy was still dodging punches from the Sudo with a busted up nose, he was real angry and determined to make Latchy pay. Moon was bouncing up and down on his toes trying to throw a punch at the Sudo with the busted nose, the fact that the Sudo was fighting two guys didn’t seem to concern him he was hell bent on dishing out some big and powerful punches and every time Moon got near him he jabbed him with his left fist so quickly that Moon’s head bounced back and forth like a boxers speedball. At the same time he was throwing right punches that Latchy kept dodging waiting for an opportunity to step forward and land a heavy punch to the jaw. Latchy saw an opportunity and pounced forward delivering a powerful right punch to the Sudo’s jaw, it stopped him cold, he dropped his guard and that’s when Moon stepped in and punched him real hard in the stomach. He went down groaning and didn’t get up.
“Back off man we’ve had enough.” Shouted the Sudo who’d had Stony in a headlock, the fighting came to a stop with the Holmesy crew breathing heavily and the Sudo crew painfully helping each other to get to their feet just as a train arrived from the opposite direction.
“Fuck you we’re going.”
“You got no right being here, you don’t belong here.”
“All right man we’ll leave your shitty station, this time.”
“Fuck you.” Shouted Latchy.
“You fucking Sudos don’t scare me. You’re only good beating up old dudes who can’t defend themselves in their homes, you’re fucking cowards.” Shouted Aussie.
“Fuck off man you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Piss off Sudos”
“Fuck you white girls, next time we’ll make you eat your own lily white balls.” The automatic doors slammed shut on the train as the Sudos gave the one finger salute through the windows. Stony and Ollie ran alongside the departing train until they couldn’t keep up delivering a barrage of abuse to the jeering Sudos inside the train. As Latchy watched Stony and Ollie walked back along the platform a feeling of euphoria came over him, the feeling of victory of defending their patch. It was a great feeling, he loved the sensation of being invincible.
“We showed them.” Shouted Stony as he shadowed boxed for several seconds before leaning forward with his hands on his knees and coughing his heart out.
“Yeah we kick some arse tonight boys, they won’t be coming back in a hurry.” Latchy said as he reached up and felt the back of his head where the Sudos had given him a few good whacks, those dudes can certainly hit hard he thought to himself. The crew made their way back to the bridge to reflect on their clash with the Sudos, reliving every minute while consuming several joints and some ice, the sore muscles and bruises forgotten as each one gave their recount of their heroic act. Even Stony came out a winner even though he spent most of the brawl being held in a headlock, he’d seemed to have forgotten about that.