‘Chiii-cken,’ called Sally.
‘What?’ Pete looked horrified at the accusation. ‘Am not! It’s just that –’
‘Chiii-cken,’ repeated Sally, even louder. Then she started flapping her arms about and making clucking sounds. A woman walking past on the other side of the road glared at them.
‘But …’ Pete tried to protest.
Josh joined in with Sally, flapping and clucking and laughing.
‘Oh, okay,’ Pete finally relented, heading off towards the gate in a huff.
Sally leaned over to Josh and spoke in a quiet voice. ‘I can get him to do anything.’ Then, with a knowing look, she followed Pete.
Josh made a mental note to always stay friends with Sally, no matter what, and went after them.
There was a chain and padlock around the gate.
‘Oh well,’ said Pete, turning around, ‘too bad.’
‘Not so fast, Chicken Boy,’ said Sally, stopping him with a hand on his shoulder.
‘Hello!’ Josh shouted through the wire. ‘Hello! Anyone there?’
There was no answer. Nothing stirred within the drive-in.
‘See? No-one home,’ said Pete, an edge of desperation in his voice.
‘Hello!’ Josh shouted again. ‘Hello! Can we talk to you?’ Then he turned to Pete and Sally. ‘I saw someone again. But they didn’t hear me.’
‘Or she was ignoring you,’ said Pete. Then under his breath he added, ‘I know I would.’
‘Oh well, at least we tried,’ said Josh.
‘Gosh, you guys give up easy.’ With a huge grin, Sally reached over and pulled on the gate. The chain stretched out taut, leaving a kid-sized gap. Sally slipped through.
‘Oh … that’s not a good idea,’ said Pete.
‘Cluck, cluck,’ replied Sally.
‘I’m with him on this one,’ said Josh. ‘I don’t think we should go in.’
Sally shrugged and walked off across the drive-in grounds towards the building.
‘Now what do we do?’ asked Pete.
‘Nothing else we can do,’ said Josh, as he slipped through the gate.
‘I’ve got a bad feeling about this,’ grumbled Pete, but he squeezed through and followed.
The three friends walked slowly towards the old blond brick building that housed the amenities, candy counter and the room from which the films were projected. Josh felt nervous about having entered through a locked gate. We really shouldn’t be here, he thought. What if Ratchet gets angry at us? It’ll blow any chance of using the drive-in.
‘Hey,’ said Josh, ‘isn’t Ratchet the name of the bad guy in that Robots movie?’
‘Yep,’ confirmed Pete. ‘Sure is.’
‘Maybe we should go back,’ said Josh, wiping sweaty hands on his school shirt.
‘Oh, come on, guys,’ huffed Sally. ‘The drive-in owner isn’t plotting to take over the world. This isn’t a film.’
A gust of hot wind blew dust across the deserted grounds, making a weird howling sound through the scraggly trees along the fence. It swirled orange dust into their faces. Their shoes made crunching sounds on the gravelly ground with every step. The old speaker posts stood like eerie grave-markers, and the gigantic screen held up by a rusty metal framework towered over them like some kind of otherworldly creature.
‘Feels kinda like a horror film, actually,’ said Pete, walking on tiptoes in an effort to quieten his footsteps. ‘You know the sort. Serial killer hides out in a remote location. Then a bunch of people get kidnapped and chopped up into little pieces before being buried in the desert, where tumbleweeds roll over the unmarked graves and –’
‘Would you please shut up,’ demanded Sally, glaring at him.
‘This place is a bit spooky,’ admitted Josh, eyes darting from side to side.
‘Oh you two are unbelievable,’ snorted Sally. ‘There is nothing spooky –’
BANG!
The sound reverberated around the empty drive-in. The three kids froze.
‘Gunshot?’ suggested Pete.
‘More like a slamming door,’ said Sally, trying hard to sound casual. ‘Come on.’ She continued walking.
‘That was a really loud door,’ said Josh, smiling nervously.
‘I once saw this film about a haunted drive-in,’ began Pete.
‘Stop it!’ blurted out Sally as they reached the building. ‘Hello,’ she called out. ‘Anyone around?’
She was answered by a screeching metallic sound that grated across their eardrums.
They froze again. Pete whimpered.
‘Sounded like something being scraped across something,’ said Josh, his voice shaky.
‘There was this film,’ whispered Pete, ‘about a dead guy with metal claws who hacked people up. He’d scrape his claws across walls and pipes and things. And it’d make a noise kinda like that.’
‘You’re not helping,’ hissed Josh, his eyes wide and his hands sweating again.
BANG!
The door in front of them burst open.
The two boys screamed and grabbed onto Sally.
‘Whaddaya want?’
The owner of the gravelly voice stood in the doorway. She was enormous. Tall and broad and muscled. Tree-trunk legs extended from khaki shorts and ended in huge battered boots. Stomping boots, thought Josh. Biceps bulged from a matching khaki singlet. A belt, which was slung over one shoulder and crossed her chest like a bandoleer, was loaded with tools hanging from loops and clips.
The figure lifted an arm clutching a large, rusty ratchet. She scraped it down along the brickwork by the door. The sound made Josh’s teeth ache.
‘I said, whaddaya want?’
No prizes for guessing who this is, thought Josh.
Pete took a step back. Even Sally looked worried.
Josh cleared his throat.
‘S-S-Sorry to bother you, Ms Ratchet,’ stuttered Josh. ‘W-We just wanted to talk to you.’
Ratchet snorted. Josh thought it made her seem a bit like a bull.
‘So talk!’
‘W-W-Well, Ms Ratch –’
‘It’s just Ratchet,’ she cried, eyes wide and wild like some ravenous animal ready to pounce. ‘No Ms. No Miss. No Mrs. No Madame. No Mademoiselle. No nuthin’ like that. It’s just plain Ratchet. Got that?’
Josh nodded. His mouth was as dry as when he’d read out his essay in class. He could feel the sweat gathering on his brow and under his arms. He wanted to run away.
But he took a deep breath, tried to calm his furiously beating heart, and blurted out an explanation.
‘We’re really sorry to bother you. And we’re sorry that we came through the locked gate. And I’m really sorry I called you Ms. And I promise never to call you Rachel. But we’re here for a really good reason. We need your help to do some fundraising for the RFDS. The RFDS are really important and they saved my mum and my new brother, and our school is trying to raise money and we were hoping you’d let us use your drive-in, and … and … and that’s it, I guess.’
They all stood in silence for a few moments as Ratchet continued to glare at them.
‘R. F. D. S.’ She barked out each letter, pausing in between. ‘Why din’t ya say so? Them aerial medicos saved me once too.’ She scowled at the kids and the edges of her mouth twitched.
Is she trying to smile? wondered Josh. If she is, she’s not very good at it.
‘We can have a chat in the bio box.’ She turned around and stomped into the building. When she realised they weren’t following her, she looked back over her shoulder. ‘Allons-y!’
The three kids stared blankly at her.
‘Allons-y,’ she repeated with greater force. ‘Don’t ya kids study French in school no more?’
Josh, Pete and Sally shook their heads in unison.
‘Well, you should. It’s a pretty language. I used to learn it.’ She sighed, long, deep and loud. ‘Many moons ago. Allons-y! It means let’s go.’ She headed off past the candy counter to a door at the far end of th
e room.
‘You were right,’ Josh whispered to Pete. ‘She is scary.’
Pete nodded.
‘And she talks funny,’ hissed Sally.
‘Allons-y!’ bellowed Ratchet. ‘NOW!’
Josh, Pete and Sally quickly followed.
Josh took a sip of his warm, flat lemonade. ‘Mmm,’ he said. ‘Thanks.’
It tasted terrible and had a slight yellowish tinge to it that made him think of wee. But Ratchet had given each of them a glass and he was too scared of her to say anything bad about it.
Josh looked around the room as he forced himself to take a second sip. Pete and Sally sat on either side of him on a dusty old couch, clutching their glasses and trying not to look terrified. The ‘bio box’ they were in was the projection room. It was a dilapidated brick space with peeling plaster and a flaking ceiling. There were three glassless square windows in the far wall with projectors set up in front of them, pointed at the giant screen on the other side of the grounds.
The opposite wall was covered in framed movie posters and stills. Josh let his eyes wander over them – Fire in the Stone, Ground Zero, Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome, Salute of the Jugger, Stark, Pitch Black, Red Planet, Kangaroo Jack.
‘Like me posters?’ asked Ratchet, standing over the kids, chest swelling with pride.
The three friends nodded.
‘They were all shot here,’ whispered Pete in awe.
‘What?’ asked Sally, eyes widening with panic. ‘Shot?’
‘No, no, not shot with a gun,’ explained Pete, as he realised that Sally had misunderstood him. ‘Shot with a camera. Those posters. All the movies were filmed around here. Either in Coober Pedy, or in the areas around it. Lots of sci-fi ’cause the desert looks like an alien landscape.’ His eyes were alight with excitement. ‘That’s why there’s a spaceship in the car park next to the opal place. It’s a leftover prop from Pitch Black.’
‘I thought that was a tourist thing,’ said Sally.
‘Yeeeeeesssssss,’ growled Ratchet, squinting at Pete.
Pete sunk back into the couch and tried to hide behind his glass of lemonade.
‘How do you know all that?’ asked Sally.
Pete shrugged from behind his glass. ‘I like movies.’
‘Right-oh then,’ said Ratchet, planting her bulk down on a tiny stool. ‘Details!’
‘Well,’ started Josh. And he launched into the story of what had happened with his mum and new baby brother; how the RFDS had come in the night; how he had written an essay about it; and how his class was going to do some fundraising. And then he put forward his idea about using the drive-in to show a film. His mouth was bone-dry again by the time he finished. He took another swig of wee-coloured drink and immediately regretted it.
‘So, you kids want me to let you use the drive-in?’ said Ratchet. ‘For free?’
Josh nodded.
‘That’s one helluva ask.’ Her voice got louder. ‘Lucky! Youse kids are lucky. Lucky that I almost died!’
How can we be lucky that she almost died? wondered Josh. It was at this point Josh realised just how odd Ratchet’s speech was. It was a curious mix that seemed to lack consistency. Her accent was sort of American, but she used Australianisms like ‘youse’. And she sometimes smooshed her words together. But what does almost dying have to do with anything?
‘Back when I was your age,’ continued Ratchet, ‘I used to go opal hunting. Fell in a hole one day. Snapped me arm. Slashed me leg on a rock.’ She straightened out her left leg and pointed. There was a faded jagged scar that ran up the inside of her leg from the boot to just under the knee. ‘Lost lots of blood. Them flying docs came and got me. They saved me life.’ The stool creaked as she leaned forward. ‘I’d be delighted to help ’em any way I can.’
Delighted? Josh smiled. The word didn’t seem right coming from Ratchet.
‘You think that’s funny?’ Ratchet looked like she was about to pounce on Josh.
Josh’s smile evaporated as he quickly shook his head.
‘Now,’ continued Ratchet. ‘Any idea what youse want to show?’
Josh shrugged.
‘What about The Flying Doctors?’ suggested Pete.
Everyone turned to look at him.
‘It’s a TV show from the 80s,’ he continued. ‘I haven’t seen the series, but my mum is always going on about it. She reckons it was great because it was set in the outback. Showed things how they really were.’ No one said anything, so Pete blundered on. ‘Anyway, it’s about the RFDS. And I know it’s TV not film. But maybe we could show the first episode, since it was movie-length.’
‘Don’t be daft!’ roared Ratchet, getting to her feet and towering over the kids. She put her hands on her hips. Pete tried to disappear into the couch cushions. ‘Ya can’t just show ep one. That program started off as a mini-series. Three movie-length eps. All telling the entire story. You show one –’ she pointed an enormous finger at Pete ‘– you show all three.’ She crossed her arms over her chest, tools jangling in the belt. ‘And don’t think I don’t know who you are.’ She glared at Pete and he shrunk even further down into the couch. ‘You come here every Friday with your brother in that rundown Holden pickup.’
Pete breathed a sigh of relief and nodded.
Ratchet’s gaze narrowed. ‘And every Saturday night you sneak in here and sit behind the third tree on the right, from the back fence.’ She paused.
Pete’s face went white.
‘Without paying!’
Pete tensed, looking as if he was about to run.
‘But you’re not in a car. So you don’t get no sound. I figure since you’re that desperate for the silver screen, it couldn’t hurt to leave you be.’
The tension drained from Pete’s body.
Ratchet stabbed an enormous finger in Pete’s direction. ‘But don’t think I don’t know!’
Pete nodded hurriedly.
‘Um.’ Sally raised her hand as if she were in class. ‘Won’t all three episodes be too long?’
‘Work with me on this,’ said Ratchet. ‘We’ll do the screenings over three consecutive nights. We can advertise to the tourists. Make sure to let everyone know how it’s raising money for the RFDS.’ Ratchet’s eyes were glowing now. ‘It’s gonna take a bit of work to set up. Need to contact Crawford’s and get permission.’
‘What’s Crawford’s?’ asked Sally.
‘Holey moley, people!’ roared Ratchet. ‘Don’t youse kids know anything? Crawford Productions is the company that made The Flying Doctors.’
‘I knew that,’ Pete piped up.
‘Yeah, well, I know someone who works there,’ said Ratchet, voice dropping a little. ‘I can get him to speed things along and get us permission real quick. The fact we ain’t making money for ourselves makes it easier.’ The corners of Ratchet’s mouth twinged again. ‘You just leave it to me.’ Then her mouth hardened again. ‘But you kids need to do everything else. You need to make posters. You need to advertise. And you need to get food to sell on the screening nights. I’m providing the venue but I ain’t providing the snacks. You have to do that. Got it?’
Josh, Pete and Sally nodded.
‘She’s real tired,’ said Dad as he handed the phone to Josh. ‘So make it quick.’
Josh grasped the phone with trembling hands. ‘Mum?’
‘Hello, love.’
Josh almost burst into tears. He was so relieved to hear her voice. He bit his lip to stop himself. He couldn’t cry in front of Dad.
‘Miss you,’ he managed to say.
‘I miss you too, love.’
‘How’s Nate?’ asked Josh.
‘He’s stable,’ answered Mum. ‘They reckon he’s going to be fine. He just needs a bit of time for his lungs to get stronger. But he looks so small and weak.’
Josh thought that her voice sounded small and weak – exhausted. He glanced up at Dad, who looked like he wanted the phone back straight away. Josh didn’t blame him. Dad probably missed her just
as much as he did.
He desperately wanted to tell her about his essay, and the fundraising and his visit to the drive-in. Instead he simply asked: ‘Know when you’re coming home?’
‘No, not yet, love.’ She sounded disappointed.
‘Okay,’ said Josh, looking up into Dad’s impatient eyes. ‘I better go then. Love you.’
‘Love you, too.’
He handed the phone to Dad, who walked into the next room. Josh sat at the kitchen table and tried to listen in. They talked for about another ten minutes. Josh wished that he had gotten as much time.
Josh spent the rest of the evening thinking about Mum and Nate – about how much he missed Mum; about how much he wanted to properly meet Nate. How long before they come home? he wondered. And is Nate really going to be okay?
After Dad went to bed, Josh fired up the computer that sat on the old desk in the corner of the lounge room, right next to the two-way radio that he used to get his School of the Air lessons over. The computer was ancient and it took ages to boot up, but at least they had internet thanks to the satellite dish on the roof of the homestead.
Josh searched for ‘premature birth’ and ‘lungs’. The connection wasn’t great, so it took a long time for the page to load. But when the info came up, it really frightened him. ‘Infant Respiratory Distress Syndrome’, also known as ‘surfactant deficiency disorder’. It sounded dangerous. Didn’t Aunty Karen say something about a syndrome?
He tried to read the details, but it was full of words and explanations he didn’t understand.
‘Incidence decreases with advancing gestational age.’
‘Developmental insufficiency of surfactant production and structural immaturity in the lungs.’
‘Rising carbon dioxide concentrations in the blood.’
He eventually switched the computer off, more anxious than ever.
‘Done deal!’ growled Ratchet.
Josh dropped his schoolbag with a little yelp and almost fell over with surprise. He had not expected the drive-in owner to be waiting for him as he got off the school bus. The other kids disappeared quickly, giving the scary woman in the khaki get-up a wide berth.
Medical Mission Page 3