Red Dirt

by E. M. Reapy

  He hadn’t said much on the drive except ask John Anthony for a piss stop which he begrudgingly got. We pulled in at a dusty roadhouse and Hopper ran around the back of the cabin that said toilet. John Anthony had a smoke and me and Shane got out to stretch our legs.

  ‘Why’s he gone behind it?’ I asked.

  ‘The poor bastard,’ Shane said and creased one side of his face.

  John Anthony shook his head and blew smoke at us. ‘He’s a donkey, sure. We might as well swap for a while, Shane? Sound?’

  Shane agreed to take over. I was tempted to get a few beers but then I’d have to battle John Anthony to stop again when the liquid went through me.

  Hopper came bounding back to the car with a plastic bag. He opened it and offered us multi-coloured ice lollies.

  ‘Cheers, Hopper. When did ya sneak into the shop?’ I asked and tore the wrapper off. It was odd I hadn’t seen him pass. The ice pop was melting already. ‘And why did ya go round the back of the jacks?’

  Hopper slurped at his lolly. Sticky orange drops fell onto his hands and he wiped them off his jersey. ‘Didn’t want to go in it. D’ya know when a place is too small and ya don’t want to be getting your mickey out in case ya’d keel over inside from breathing too fast? Someone would find you with your lad in your hand and be talking about you to everyone and bring them out for the laugh at you?’

  I gave Shane a face and looked back at Hopper. ‘No?’

  He raised his shoulders.

  John Anthony bit down on his ice pop three times and it was done. I had a big grin, watching him, praying to fuck he had brain freeze but he just slapped the car and told us to get back in.

  ★

  We were about nine hours from Perth. John Anthony was resting in the back and didn’t notice Shane pulling in until he had done it.

  ‘Ah come on, what now?’ John Anthony said.

  ‘It’s the Tropic of Capricorn,’ Shane said, his eyes bright. ‘Class.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘It’s like the Equator. But lower. Just give us two minutes, John Anthony,’ Shane said and got out.

  I laughed and followed him and we went to the sign. Hopper came behind us. John Anthony got out and banged the door shut. He walked over to the sign and examined it.

  ‘Where is it?’ John Anthony asked.

  ‘It’s an imaginary line of latitude,’ Shane said.

  ‘Imaginary? Give me strength.’

  ‘Can we get a photo?’ Shane asked.

  I had the camera but I couldn’t remember where I put it because I was too steamed when we packed up in the hostel.

  ‘I can take a photo,’ Hopper said and whipped out a flip-top silver phone.

  Shane laughed. ‘Is that from the eighties? What level in Snake can you get to?’

  ‘Not sure. It’s an indestructible mobile. Swear. Got no coverage out here but it does have a timer. Give me a minute.’

  We stood around the sign. Shane read some of the graffiti and John Anthony kicked the rusty coloured sand and grit on the ground. Hopper went to the car and set the phone up on the roof of it, facing us. He ran back quickly, laughing. He jumped in between us and wrapped his arms behind our backs, pulling us closer together. ‘Quick, we’ve only ten seconds.’

  His excitement even made John Anthony smile. We waited for Hopper to check the photo. He gave a thumbs up and we went back to the car.

  ★

  Late in the afternoon, John Anthony and Shane switched again. We were sweaty and stone cold bored from the travelling. No one was talking anymore. It felt like the awful flight from Dublin to Melbourne. Only worse. We weren’t being fed by beautiful air hostesses every two hours, didn’t have a supply of free booze and no new movies to watch. Only thing to see was grey road, gigantic desert and a withering evening sun.

  In the distance, a road train came over the horizon. A big fuck-off truck carrying three huge trailers behind it. We’d heard about them and knew we were definitely in mining country now – the Pilbara.

  ‘I’d hate to try reverse her,’ Hopper said.

  ‘It wouldn’t be too bad except the blind spots,’ I said.

  ‘But I can’t even drive.’

  John Anthony pressed on the steering wheel and twisted around. ‘You can’t even drive?’

  Hopper shook his head. ‘Nah.’

  ‘What? Why in the name of Christ are you coming up here with us?’ John Anthony turned to me. ‘Did you know?’

  ‘I never asked.’

  John Anthony hit the car door with his palm but kept his eye on the road. ‘So what exactly were you going to do during your tractor driving job, Hopper?’

  Hopper’s face didn’t change. ‘I didn’t know what job it was.’

  ‘For crying out loud,’ John Anthony said. ‘What sort of merry band of gimps are ye?’

  ‘It’s only a fucking farm. He’ll be able to pick fruit or carry pallets or something,’ Shane said.

  ‘Aye, aye, only a fucking farm—’

  ‘John Anthony,’ I interrupted him. The road train was a lot closer now. ‘Don’t think the road is big enough for that and us.’

  The truck was coming at a good speed. I sensed the vibrations from it underneath me.

  ‘Plenty of room,’ John Anthony said.

  ‘No,’ I said, more solid this time. ‘Pull in. Let it pass us. I don’t think there’s enough space. This is a single lane.’ I could picture the exact gap between our vehicles when they met. It was too tight for comfort.

  John Anthony sneered and sped up the car. The truck got louder as we advanced towards it, it towards us.

  ‘Pull in,’ I repeated.

  John Anthony kept going. The truck gave us a warning honk.

  ‘Pull in, for fuck’s sake.’

  The other driver flashed his lights and honked again. His front cab was yellow with neon-blue splashes.

  It was too close. The sky was dusky pink.

  It was too close. My body went hot.

  ‘John Anthony,’ I shouted, ‘give him some space, if he swerves he’ll jackknife the load.’

  The lads agreed from the back and I checked my seat belt.

  The lorry’s headlights were on us now. I could nearly smell the diesel off its engine.

  ‘Pull the fuck in!’ I screamed at John Anthony.

  He waited till the truck was less than fifty metres in front of us, its engine and cargo booming before he veered into the dirt track beside the road, losing control of the wheel, the car spinning and shuddering till it stopped, dust rising. And then there was a loud thump.

  ‘Ye-haw,’ John Anthony said and clapped his hands.

  ‘What was that?’ I asked.

  ‘That was living, boyo. Fuck. I’m throbbing with adrenaline,’ John Anthony said. He hollered again.

  ‘No, John Anthony, what was the noise? The bang?’

  The sand was settling. I got out of the car and walked around the front and covered my mouth.

  John Anthony leaned out his window and shouted ‘What?’ over at me.

  ‘You hit it,’ I said. I bent down. It was panting and breathing shallowly. There was blood.

  The car doors shut and the lads walked over to me. We peered down at it. A small kangaroo. Its side bloody and its paw twisted funny.

  ‘You’re a fucking asshole, John Anthony,’ Shane said.

  John Anthony had his hands on his hips.

  ‘What were you playing at?’ I asked.

  ‘Back off. Look, I didn’t mean to hit it. I didn’t even see it.’

  ‘Too busy being Mad Max.’

  The kangaroo’s breathing had a whistle in it. He purred every so often.

  Hopper knelt down and checked its pouch. He rubbed its head. ‘Can’t leave him this way.’ He looked at us.

  Shane had his hands up. I stepped backwards. I wasn’t going to mercy kill a kangaroo. Not a fucking hope.

  ‘What do we do?’ Hopper asked.

  No one answered. The sky was melting to navy. I
scratched my stubble.

  ‘Since ye’re all pussies,’ John Anthony started.

  Shane interrupted, ‘You’re the one who hit it.’

  ‘I always keep a knife on me. In case things get out of hand.’ John Anthony reached down into his right pocket and pulled out a black rectangular shape. He clicked a switch. A blade shot up and shone.

  ‘Where are you going to get him? The temple? Would that go to his brain?’ I asked.

  ‘I’ll go for his gullet. Best place,’ John Anthony said.

  ‘Fuck. I’m not watching this. Give me the keys. I’ll drive for the next while,’ Shane said. John Anthony threw the keys at him and Shane walked back to the car with his shoulders tensed. Hopper’s eyes looked watery again.

  ‘Don’t be a bunch of fucking bleeding hearts. They shoot thousands of kangaroos every night here. Scourge. I’ll be doing the Aussies a turn.’

  John Anthony took a deep breath. He stood over the kangaroo’s head and tried to measure where the blade would have to go. The evening was silent except for some birds in the distance cackling and the click of the cooling engine.

  ‘On three,’ John Anthony said and raised his knife. ‘One.’

  Hopper winced. He put his hand on his shoulder, his elbow jutting out.

  ‘Two.’

  Hopper did the same thing with his other hand, bracing himself. The little kangaroo was shivering.

  John Anthony roared and upped his arm, ready to thrust his knife down but in that moment, the kangaroo’s paws scratched at the ground and the pads of his feet found a grip. He moved out of the way of the knife and shuffled on the ground as John Anthony speared at nothing.

  ‘Jesus,’ Hopper said.

  ‘Instinct,’ I said.

  ‘The wee gobshite,’ John Anthony said.

  The kangaroo was using its feet to propel itself further away from us. He staggered upwards off the ground, leaning to one side, limping. He took unsteady small steps for a moment before scampering off, hopping lopsided in the fading light.

  ★

  We were an eternity in the car. The city, normal people, decent radio stations and streetlights seemed distant memories. This was deep outback with nothing but brush. The straightest road to nowhere that didn’t twist or turn for hours. The odd railway track. The odd small village with buildings unchanged from the time the Brits ruled the Aussies and tried to ‘culture’ the indigenous.

  I didn’t know if we were friends anymore. Or what friends were. Or what fun was. I couldn’t even replay riding yer one from the hostel. It was too long ago. I tried to conjure her face up, her mouth and body but I only saw the wonky kangaroo.

  John Anthony slept. His snores sounded like a broken chainsaw. Shane had driven all the way nonchalantly, at a consistent speed, getting off the road if we met trucks. At Newman, we stopped at a petrol station and ate some fried chicken with salty chips. Tomato-sauced the shite out of them. It was the middle of the night when the lads switched again.

  ‘I’m done, John Anthony,’ Shane said. ‘Not swapping back. We’ll need to stop somewhere and sleep properly if you want me to drive again.’

  ‘No. I’m good to do the last leg. Only a few hours in it,’ John Anthony said and supped on his energy drink. The sickly sweet smell of it wafted.

  Then Hopper brought it up. I don’t know why the fuck he left it so late.

  ‘I have that acid ye know.’

  ‘What?’ I said and woke out of the snooze I was going and coming from.

  ‘Will we take it? There’s another six hours in the car, like,’ Hopper said.

  John Anthony looked at me and sighed.

  ‘Is it alright if we do?’ I asked him. Anticipation had me wide awake now.

  He stared at the road ahead, the night bursting with stars. ‘How long does that shit last?’

  I turned around. Shane was grinning as Hopper used the light from his phone to unwrap some tin foil.

  Hopper wiped his nose with his sleeve. ‘I don’t have any liquid, just tabs. Should be mild enough. Three hours maybe. Five max.’

  Shane dropped his straight away. ‘Been driving all fucking day. I deserve this.’

  I reached back to Hopper for mine. He was holding an edge of it by his fingernails.

  John Anthony didn’t try to stop us or go mental. He said in a calm voice, ‘Do what ye want but be fit for when we get to that farm or I’ll fucking kill yis.’

  I put it under my tongue.

  ★

  Stars bursting out of the night like spores from a flower like cum onto a London girl’s stomach like joy out of that perfect moment of ecstasy like colours everywhere even in the black sky of colours and stars and the stars about to explode about to spread their silver onto us and paint us silver and we’d be silver in the colours of life and night time and sex would be colours green and white and gold of home and love would be a colour and it is a colour like Ireland ’cause it’s all the one sky so we’re really at home still we’ll always be at home and I feel joy right now bursting out of the stars they are bursting out of me.

  Farm work. In this beautiful, big, beautiful, massive countryside. Under these same stars. The same ones as back home.

  No worries, mate.

  ★

  The waves of the trip washed over me but they drowned Hopper. John Anthony was enjoying it more than any of us.

  ‘It’s Wolf Creek land here in Western Australia,’ he said and chuckled. ‘Wolfy, Wolfy with his shotgun and his laugh. Out to eat Little Red Riding Hood and backpackers. Or Dundalk gobshites.’

  I looked back at Hopper. He had lost his face with the acid. His jaw was distorted and his eyes bulgy. The sweat was glistening on him.

  ‘Why ye changing colours so bad? Why ye echoing at me? Yer on my side though, aren’t ye? For when he comes. Ye won’t give him to me. I mean me to him. Ye won’t save yerselves by giving me to him?’

  ‘Jesus, Hopper, calm down. Breathe like,’ Shane said. ‘This LSD is a bad batch I reckon.’

  ‘I think Wolfy is coming straight for you, Hopper,’ John Anthony said and screeched laughing.

  His laugh cackled and groaned in my ears, going up and down in pitches. Stop. Sounds like the Lord of the Flies. Lord of the Fleas. The bed bugs. Chewing at us while we slept. Stop it. Munching on our white skin. John Anthony with antennae and eight mottled legs. A thick shelled body. Eggs hatching underneath him. More fleas.

  I didn’t know if I was talking out loud or not. I didn’t want to panic. John Anthony stopped laughing. I looked out at the stars again. They were bringing me home. Not listening to the teasing in the car. Like my mam crying when they snubbed her at mass. When they snubbed her in Centra. In the golf club. On the street.

  Mam, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for leaving you.

  I’ll come back to you in the sky, I’ll bring you over here with me. We’ll look after each other. You can make me dinners and I’ll bring home money from farming to buy some nice clothes and face creams for you.

  My head was roasting and the wave washed over me. I took a deep breath and tuned back in to the others.

  John Anthony was talking about when the psychopath killer from the movie tricked the backpackers at the petrol station. He talked about the petrol station we had stopped at earlier in Newman. ‘Aye, d’ya remember when that bit of petrol spilt onto me legs? When I got the paper towel to wipe it, there was this wee weird Aussie with a Crocodile Dundee hat watching us. I wonder if he’s got a Crocodile Dundee knife?’

  Hopper was looking out the back window and scratching his ears. ‘Ye wouldn’t give me away though?’ He chanted it. Yewongehmawaydoh. Yewongehmawaydoh. Yewongehmawaydoh.

  His chant reminded me of a show I’d seen with these two American chicks pretending to send psychic connections to each other. They were absolute fucking liars. Fooled no one. I started to laugh remembering them and Shane joined in though I don’t know what he was laughing at. Maybe we had psychic connections?

  Hopper looked even more terr
ified. ‘Not you two as well?’

  He tapped the door handle, there was a sound of it opening, a dull thud and the wind from outside as we drove. John Anthony braked hard, skidding, tyres squealing. It took me a second to realise what Hopper’d done because I thought I’d imagined it. I looked into the backseat. He was definitely gone.

  ‘Did he just…?’ I asked, my heart began raving against my chest.

  ‘Fucking header,’ John Anthony said and turned the car around.

  ★

  Why would Hopper jump out? What was he playing at? Why would he jump out? I was being pumped with pins and needles. They seared around my body, going in through my fingers and making my hands numb and cold. They rushed to the back of my neck, my shoulders, across my chest and spread down like a giant waterfall inside. I looked at myself and I could see the rushes lighting up where they gushed. I was glowing.

  ‘Are you okay, man?’ Shane asked. ‘You’ve been standing there looking at your hands for ages.’

  ‘Have I?’

  ‘We need to find him. He’s gone in past those trees.’

  Hopper. How did I forget him? We called him from the road. The gum trees were bare and crooked, like skeleton arms stretched wrong. Like paws.

  John Anthony roared into the nothing. ‘Hopper, get your hole back now. Stop wasting my time.’

  I found Shane and gripped his forearm. ‘Do the trees look like that kangaroo we hit earlier?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Where his paw broke? Are the events connected? Everything’s connected right?’

  ‘Ah here, you keep a hold of me okay? Till this passes. Okay?’ He shouted, ‘Hopper.’

  We couldn’t find him. Not a fuck’s clue where he was. It was so dark. My feet crept beside Shane’s further and further into the forest. When my body temperature felt normal again, I had a moment of clarity and let go of him.

  What were we going to do? I shouted into the woods. ‘Hopper. Derek. Finnegan. Dundalk. Fuckface. Come back will ya, we were only messing.’

  Shane called me over. ‘Don’t go off like that, we’ll lose you too. Stay close.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘Jesus, Shane, what are we going to do?’

  He took a deep breath. ‘I don’t know but I don’t think we can stay out here. Not with all this catastrophe around.’