Homeland Defense

by Leo Nix

  The Wilson's had taken up the church doctrine very early in it's inception, recognising the power it afforded them to be under their protection - and the wealth it delivered. The Wilson family profited from the favours Fat Boy so willingly gave them.

  Recognised as a valuable church salesman, Fat Boy was paid handsomely for the first time without having to run drugs. Finally he and his sister could live without having to worry about someone trying to take what wasn't there's. The siblings became the church's preferred negotiators, setting up meetings between willing property owners and church leaders in every state.

  Their extensive gang connections proved even more useful and they soon had a network to procure weapons, drugs and sex. They also managed protection and even blackmailing uncooperative church members, civil authority administrators, police and politicians. Blondie and Fat Boy were soon making millions.

  They had their own property outside Mount Isa in north-west Queensland, it was a palatial mansion. That was where they were heading now, home. Unfortunately both the church and the bikie gang in Mount Isa had a price on their heads.

  Every year the church held a rally and conference in Mount Isa. The local bikie gang made a lot of money selling drugs and prostitution throughout the week long conference. Fat Boy and Blondie always attended. This was where they brought their contacts for sex and drug parties, essential for good business.

  Before the apocalypse was announced, Blondie was called upon to 'work' one of the church fathers, Reverend Albert, for the Tajna Služba. Albert was the head of the church in the southern hemisphere. With her sex appeal, model looks and charm she could pull anyone she wanted.

  After an evening of banquets and meetings, Blondie was invited by the Reverend Albert to be his escort. She already knew the church planned to bring on the apocalypse soon, but the Tajna Služba needed more information. There was a rift between the top echelon, and their secret service, which needed a little help to breach. Blondie was that bridge.

  Although she and Fat Boy often discussed church politics as part of their business, neither showed any interest in this mythical 'apocalyptic revelation' the church worshipped. This banquet was the one that made them think - these idiots really meant to destroy the world.

  That night Blondie spoke with her brother and they talked into the early hours of the morning. Not that it really bothered them, they'd be safe enough in Mount Isa. None of the church members ever tried to force them to adopt the churches cannon, ethics, rules or moral codes, they were Tajna Služba, they were protected. The siblings decided they would just sit tight, keep their mouths closed, and see what happened.

  The next day the entire tone of the church changed. The date was set and every member was given a role to play. Around the world there were millions, hundreds of millions, in fact some said a billion followers of the Revelationist Church. They would step out and proclaim the beginning of the Apocalypse, foretold in the book of St John, on the appointed day.

  The conference over, loyal members left for home, and the Reverend Albert decided it was too close to the apocalypse to fly back to England. He told the press it was because he was unwell, but in reality a modified SARS corona virus was soon to be released in every international airport in the world. So he shacked up in the church's penthouse and called on Blondie each night for entertainment.

  Blondie came home the night before the apocalypse to tell Fat Boy to stay away from the tap water and not to leave the property. She made him collect his weapons from under the house, and they prepared to defend themselves.

  That night the Revelationist Church announced the Apocalypse. Immediately Revelationist fanatics began to slaughter civilians and military personnel across the globe. Water sources were poisoned and people died in their houses, front yards, even on their way to work. In some parts of the country, bikie gangs were elected to control their township, as was the case in Mount Isa.

  The church now ran their program of extermination. The Raven's Claw and their sister battalion, the Crusaders of Light in Longreach, now controlled central Queensland. Their role was to exterminate the population and create a slave class to serve the church.

  The problem was that Fat Boy had morals, not many, but strong enough to know that what the church were doing was wrong. Within the first month after the apocalypse, he had worn out his welcome at both the church palace and the bikie gang headquarters. They threatened to kill him if he showed his face one more time.

  Blondie was ordered to stay in touch with the church hierarchy by the Tajna Služba, so continued playing their game with Reverend Albert. But even he was starting to grow tired of her beauty and sex appeal.

  Then came the night Blondie was assaulted on her way home from the Reverend's apartment. Or perhaps he set her up. The boys dragged her back to the club house where they bashed and raped her. This was the first time anyone had assaulted her since her brother beat up Brad, and it nearly destroyed her. It nearly destroyed Fat Boy too. He wasn't there to protect his beloved little sister.

  The giant of a man stormed into the gang clubhouse. With his bare hands he killed three gang members before they forced him out with a baseball bat blow to his skull. It should have killed him but he was made of tougher stuff than most men.

  Fat Boy took his sister and escaped to Birdsville, there he met the only bloke he had ever truly trusted. And now that mate was dying, and he was devastated.

  Blondie and Fat Boy stopped twice during the six hundred kilometre trip. Once to fill up from the fuel cans strapped to their bike, and the other time to eat the sandwiches Pinkie packed for them. They were starved and were grateful to the 'little pink lady' as they liked to call her. Blondie was quiet for most of the trip and Fat Boy knew why. They had discussed strategies but in the end they knew if it worked it worked, if it didn't then, well, it didn't.

  Fat Boy slowed to a stop in front of the teenager with his AK47 pointed directly at his chest. The boy's over-sized uniform was nonetheless immaculate, pressed and starched.

  “Who are you and what do you want?” the youth asked the huge biker. He twitched his gun twice for Fat Boy and Blondie to dismount. His mate was in a fortified stockade casually leaning on a machine gun that was also pointed at the bikers. The entire fortified position was well presented, and built to withstand heavy incoming fire.

  “And who the hell are you, boy?” asked Fat Boy already feeling irascible and annoyed from the long ride. He remembered to give the secret Revelationist hand signal for the regions army corps, the Raven's Claw Battalion of Mount Isa.

  “No one rides through here 'boy',” said the teenager sarcastically, “unless we permit them to. I won't ask you a second time. Who are you and what do you want here?” With that he cocked his rifle, the bolt action was loud in the still, evening air.

  Blondie stepped forward and raised her hand to show she was unarmed and peaceful. It was also another of the Raven's Claw hand signals.

  “Lord be praised, we've finally gained ascendancy over the heathen masses. The God of the Revelations can now descend to take that which is rightfully his,” she said, trying to remember the rhetoric she'd heard and recited a million times over the years.

  “You's Revelationists?” asked the youth now lowering his rifle to point at the ground.

  Fat Boy exploded, “Of course we fuckin' are! Can't you tell? You boofheaded moron! You didn't even bother to check to see if we gave the correct officer's hand signs, you stupid dick head!”

  The teenager took a step back, “I, I…” He wasn't so smug now. Turning to his mate in the fortified bunker he called out, “Corporal, what's the officer's secret hand signal for Raven's Claw?”

  The corporal called back, “You idiot. It's a hooked claw, with the ring finger pointing down.”

  “See, dickhead! You don't even know you're own battalion's secret hand signals. What sort of God loving Claw are you?” Fat Boy didn't let up.

  “I'm sorry, sir!” He stood to attention and saluted, stiff armed like th
e Nazi salute. “I didn't recognise it in the darkness. We've been ordered to escort officers to the Casa Grande…” before he could finish Blondie spoke.

  “Private, I'd be careful if I were you. We're not just officers, we're secret service officers - Tajna Služba. I suggest you and your corporal just forget you saw us. If not, you'll be executed. Not for stopping and questioning us, but for eye-balling us.” Blondie looked at Fat Boy who leaned over the now shaking youth.

  “Private, you didn't see us, you'll let us through and you will not go mouthing off that you saw the Tajna Služba pass through here. You do know who the Tajna Služba are, don't you?” she added.

  “Sir, yes madam, sir! Yes I know who the Tajna Služba are, well, I've heard of them. You may proceed. Sorry, sirs.” Once again he stood to attention and saluted stiffly.

  “One more thing, private,” Fat Boy said as he heaved one enormous leg over the seat of his bike. “We'll be needing supplies. Which of you will be coming with us to arrange our house and provide fresh food and entertainment? You didn't think we'd come all this fucking way, through enemy territory, just to be pissed on by the likes of you, did you?”

  “Sir, we aren't allowed to leave our post…” The private swallowed so loudly they could hear it.

  “What's your name, private?” asked Fat Boy softly.

  “Private Brinley, sir.” He saw Fat Boy begin to raise his leg to get back off his bike. “It's all right,” he said hurriedly, “I'll escort you and arrange food and supplies. Please give me a few seconds and I'll get my car keys.” He leaped into the stockade and came straight out with the keys to his car. “Sirs, follow me, I'll lead you to where ever you need to go.”

  Blondie called up to the other guardsman. “We'll be taking your Private Brinley, for the next twenty four hours. Do tell your officer that the secret service have need of him, and no more. No one knows we're here, not even your officers, no one. Don't divulge anything else, just say the secret service have need of him. We'll bring him back unharmed by tomorrow night. Did you get that or do I have to repeat myself, Corporal?”

  The guardsman nodded, “Got that, Tajna Služba, sir,” and he saluted, but it was a little too casual.

  The entire township was silent except for one place in the centre of town where the bikie gang were throwing their usual party. Fat Boy and Blondie passed it on their way to find the pharmacy. Fat Boy flashed his headlights and stopped his bike, waving for the youth to pull over. He needed to distract his old gang and now was as good a time as any.

  “Private Brinley, I'm heading into the club house. I've got a mighty thirst and I'm feeling pretty darn crook.” He turned to Blondie, “Tajna Služba, you have that list of medications I need? Give it to the private and make sure he gets them for me.” He then turned to the frightened young man.

  “If I don't get my medications I'll get very sick. If I get sick, I get mad, and when I get mad I rip people's heads off their shoulders.” He looked at the private and bent his head down level with his face. “Are you going to make me sick, boy?”

  The private's eyes opened wide and he shook with fear. “No, sir!” Then his eyes looked from side to side. “Sir, the chemist's been closed for months, what should I do?”

  “Do you know where any of their medications are?” asked Blondie.

  “They should still be in the chemist shop. I think so anyway,” he replied.

  “Then take me there and help me find Fat Boy's medicine. Now,” said Blondie.

  “Madam Tajna Služba, I'll meet you at the safe house in two hours. If not, send Private Brinley to find me,” said Fat Boy mounting his bike and revving it back into life.

  Turning to Blondie, Private Brinley said, “Come with me, madam Tajna Služba.” Together they walked the half block to the pharmacy.

  While Blondie and the private were going through the myriad drugs on the shelves and in the store room, Fat Boy was entering the gang's strip club, a block away.

  “Well I'll be fucked! It's Fat Bastard! Hey everybody, look who's here!” shouted the doorman shaking Fat Boys hand and walking him into the lounge area. Some of the gang members came over to shake his hand, and some held back, unsure how to greet him. Others fingered the knives in their belts or the pistols in their pockets. One went upstairs to call down Iceman Ed, their Sergeant-at-arms.

  Iceman Ed was busy. Trixie was on her knees giving him a head-job when the messenger entered. Ed listened, not breaking the rhythm of the girl at his waist, he then sent the messenger back down the stairs.

  “Hurry up, Trixie, darling,” he grunted, “I've got business downstairs.”

  While Fat Boy waited for the Iceman to show his face, he called for a beer - a long, cold beer. “I need to get one of them real beers in me belly!” he roared at the barman, “and if it's not here in three seconds I'm climbing over this bar and jamming your head up my arse!” The barman shrugged and with a laugh he poured the beer, slamming it down on the bar-top.

  “There ya go, Fat Bastard!” announced Smiley. “Never thought to see you again, mate. Where's the missus? Where's Blondie?” he asked.

  “I sent her home, she'll be warming me bed tonight.” He roared as he downed the beer in one gulp. “Another, Smiley, make it a full one this time, no bubbles or bullshit!” The second didn't touch his insides either. By Fat Boy's third beer Iceman Ed was on his way down the stairs and took the stool next to him.

  “Hey, Fat Bastard, how's they hanging?” asked the gang's tough-man. He wasn't afraid, in fact he'd never known fear, except the night Fat Boy took out three of his henchman.

  “Iceman! Well I'll be bashed with a beer bottle!” Fat Boy slapped him on the back amicably. “I'm damn good, mate. So how is the old dung-house going? Anything new since I've been gone?” asked Fat Boy, just as calmly.

  The Iceman nodded at Smiley, who magically produced crack, pipe and lighter. He lit up and sucked the fumes till he was red in the face. He held the smoke deep in his lungs while his eyes slowly dilated, he released his breath.

  “You knocked us up pretty bad before you left, Fat Bastard. But that's sweet now, we don't hold grudges. Those Raven's Claw pricks give everyone the shits these days. Hey, I've got some good ganga upstairs and some more of this if you want it. You're old favourite's here tonight too. You haven't forgotten Mary-Theresa?” Iceman Ed's head lolled a little as he spoke.

  “Smiley, grab me a beer too, will you, mate.” He grabbed Fat Boy by the arm. “Come on upstairs me ol' son and join me in some fun. I've still got Trixie waiting to finish me off.”

  He stood and called to Smiley, “Hey Smiley, call Mary-Theresa, tell her Fat Bastard's here and wants to give her something special.” Iceman stopped and looked at his old mate. “Fat Bastard,” he said warmly, “I missed you, old buddy.”

  Fat Boy loved the gang life, he really did. He could feel the atmosphere of the strip club soaking into his cells like insulin to a diabetic. He let the Iceman walk him up the stairs where they shared a couple of bongs. That, the ice and the beers, went down nicely after his long ride. Mary-Theresa sat on his lap and twirled his beard in her fingers like she did before things went pear-shaped. It was all so familiar and pleasurable, Fat Boy began to slide backwards in time and morality.

  It was midnight and both Iceman Ed and Fat Boy were laughing and drinking. Trixie sat astride Iceman while Mary-Theresa was riding Fat Boy like only a country cowgirl could. All too soon he'd forgotten about his 'mission from God'. He once was in hell but now he was in heaven, and enjoying it.

  Blondie sat quietly with Private Brinley in their mansion, the drugs were in her bag ready to go. They had lighting and electricity from the town's generator, and the Raven's Claw had cooked a meal and prepared the bed for his superiors.

  But Brinley was frightened. Blondie was so beautiful he was certain she was evil incarnate sent by the devil to tempt him. Beauty was a crime, a crime against the Lord, his church told him so.

  'Always watch for temptation, it leads to sin,' and a beau
tiful woman, the Tajna Služba, was temptation itself.

  “Damn bastard!” Blondie exploded looking at her watch for the hundredth time. “Private Brinley, go to that damn clubhouse and bring that fat bastard back here! Don't fail me or I will hang you up by your balls!” Her face was strained and despite her fuming anger the private felt a special warmth flood his being, he was head-over heels in love.

  “Yes, madam, sir! I'll do that right now. But.. what if he refuses to come with me?” he asked, his head bobbed nervously.

  “Tell the club Sergeant-at-arms, that Tajna Služba demands Fat Bastard come home. NOW!” she screamed at him. Brinley startled so badly his head nearly left his shoulders as he spun around and raced for the door.

  “Fat Bastard? Iceman?” Smiley held the door open as he called softly. He raised his voice, “Iceman? Fat Bastard?” but still there was no answer. He walked in and saw the girl's naked bodies draped across the two men. They were all sound asleep. “Come on, mate, help me carry the fat bastard down the stairs and I'll help you put him in your car.”

  Smiley had to call down for help. It took four of them to put some clothes on the fat man first, enough to preserve his modesty. They struggled awkwardly down the stairs bashing his head several times on the walls and stairs. Finally they dumped his unconscious body into the back seat of the car.

  “Mate, good luck, you might have to leave him in the car though. I suggest you not be around when he wakes up, he's a right bastard after a night like this.” Smiley chuckled and waved the frightened youth off.

  Blondie met him in the driveway and saw her brother in his usual pose - asleep and drugged to the eyeballs.

  “Bastard!” she said, turning to the private once more she spoke to him. “Private Brinley, I'm impressed with your manner and deportment. I'll be making a report to your superior and it should be favourable. It's late but I have one more task I need you to complete for our glorious church. I need some aeroplane parts for our Tajna Služba team, they're waiting just out of town. Right now we're preparing for a secret mission, to attack and annihilate the Sundown's Commandos. This bastard here was supposed to collect them tonight, but look at him.”