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The Quokka Menace

Page 5

by Hercules


  They practised during the week. The two vehicles came to a screeching halt outside the now defunct Rosetown public baths, where the snatchers grabbed the auctioneer and got the hell out in less than a minute.

  'Why do I has to be the aspirational being kidnapped?' Dago had complained. 'An' I'm a better driver than Skip. I should be coming with yous.'

  'Because you're so strong and muscular and everyone listens to you. We need you on the ground to make sure there are no slackers and the path to the target is open,' TS explained and ran her hand down the thug's scarred and—definitely muscular— arm. Dago blushed and beamed a gap-toothed smile.

  The entire plan went surprisingly well. Tits and Metho—wearing balaclavas—flew out of the first car with Small Spaz jumping out of the second, camera at ready. They raced through the breaks in the crowd created by hooded members of the greater Crew, snatched the auctioneer and dragged him back to the waiting cars, where he was bundled into the boot of Skip's car. All the while, a hooded Small Spaz recorded and made sure he got a good, long shot of the Rosetown Baths sign so that there was no doubt about where the kidnapping was taking place.

  Skip's unmatched knowledge of the surveillance cameras set up by the Rosetown council to catch revenue generated by speeding drivers meant that he led the two-car convoy to a small laneway—where a third car was waiting—with only Small Spaz's camera recording the journey. The next phase of the plan was to torch the first two cars, then use a third to take the auctioneer to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Melbourne, but Metho's phone rang just as they entered the lane.

  'What do you mean, he's back,' Metho said and his surprise was evident even through the balaclava. 'Open the boot,' he said when the car stopped.

  'But we're meant to get everything ready for the fire before we open the boot, and all the fire stuff is in the other car.'

  'Fuck the plan, just open the boot,' Metho snapped, and jumped out of the car.

  Skip shrugged, looked back at Tits who shrugged as well, then did as he was told. The scream that followed almost caused him to defecate in his pants. 'What the fuck,' he said, and both he and Tits raced to Metho's side. 'What's happened?'

  'Look for yourself,' Metho said. Behind him, Small Spaz kept his camera rolling.

  Skip's jaw dropped as he looked down into an empty boot.

  'Dago just rang. He said the auction had started,' Metho said, as TS joined them at the back of the stolen car. 'The fucker must have jumped out, but how? I cuffed his hands and feet myself.'

  'We were right behind you the whole way, and we didn't see him jump out or anything,' TS said. 'Basset's got the whole trip on video.

  'The cuffs are still here, look,' Tits said and reached in to grab the two unbroken plastic ties from the boot. As he did so, he caught sight of a small metallic device, which he grabbed as well. It was fish shaped and had three small protrusions on either side.

  Small Spaz lowered his camera. 'He wasn't human, was he?' he said, in a leaden voice. 'That's the only explanation. First, the piss and now this. Almost no human would ignore piss flowing into his mouth, and absolutely no human could have got out of this car without us seeing him. The camera was on the boot for the entire trip.'

  'To be honest, the fucker felt weird when I grabbed him, like he was made from plastic or something,' Metho said. 'And he was light as a feather.'

  'Yeah, I thought he felt weird too,' Tits said, 'but I thought it was just my imagination.'

  Small Spaz shrugged. 'They do amazing things with mechanical devices these days. Maybe he was a robot?'

  'What, like the ones that is gunna take all our jobs an' that?' Metho said. 'Only, if I was to make a robot, I'd make one that does actual work. Why make a robot that talks bullshit all day like this auctioneer? It's fucking daft.'

  'Maybe it's a prototype. A test to see if robots could fool real humans,' Small Spaz said.

  'Yeah, but how did it get out of the boot?' Metho said.

  'I know, I know,' Skip said with his hand in the air, like a schoolboy with the answer to a particularly difficult question. 'I saw on the tele that there's these tiny robots that can join together to make all sorts of bigger things. Swarm robots or something like that. Maybe the auctioneer was actually a swarm of little robots that joined together to make a big robot. Then, when we put him in the boot, they came apart again and got the fuck out while the going was good.'

  'I know this is fucking impossible, but could those tiny robots look something like this?' Tits said, and held up the little metallic fish. 'Look, it's even got little stubs on each side where it's legs might of been.'

  Everyone crowded around to have a look.

  'It's got to be the fucken government,' Metho said, after examining the metallic ant. 'Maybe they've found the ultimate weapon for the war on drugs?'

  'Oh come on, this is Rosetown. No government fucker is gunna come round here,' Skip said. 'They only ever cross the river to score.'

  'Yeah, but this wasn't a person, was it? It were a robot,' Metho said. 'If they fill Rosetown with robots, then we'd go broke cos they don't need drugs, do they?'

  'That's an unlikely scenario,' Small Spaz said, 'but then again so are robot auctioneers that can magically get out of a car boot. I don't know what is going on, but I think we should go and talk to my old man. He's got connections that might be able to shed some light on what's been happening.'

  (iii)

  Deep under the earth, a massive door opened and disgorged a dozen or so humans into yet another cavern. This one was nearly as big as the mushroom cavern, but the walls, floor and ceiling were made of a strange metal that emitted a weird purple glow. If a lost council inspector had stumbled upon the scene while desperately searching for a way back home, his heart would have leapt for joy. 'At last, real people,' he would have thought.

  The inspector would have heard one of the people say, in clear, coherent English: 'They're getting annoying. They banged me up real good when they grabbed me. Smashed the translation chip right out of my ear. It was lucky we had a spare topside or the boss would have had our balls for breakfast.'

  What happened next, however, would have killed the inspector's joy and sent the poor man into a meltdown because the other humans in the room actually began to melt down. The decay began at the top of every human head in the room—except the inspector's—then moved downward, as heads and torsos disintegrated into a mass of metallic crumbs that scurried towards the floor like a lost colony of fish-shaped ants. But instead of blood and bone under the skin, there were Quokkas in shiny vests, sinking slowly downwards as their human legs disintegrated. The metallic ants raced down and melted into the strange metal that lined the room, until all that remained were a dozen or so marsupials, standing around and scratching at the fur on their bellies.

  Had the inspector not fled the scene in terror, he would have heard one of the Quokkas let out a heartfelt sigh and say, in perfect English, 'I hate these fucking suits. I had the sweat glands up as far as they would go and it was still bloody boiling in there.'

  Because he was an elite worker, and despite his fear, the inspector would have noticed that the Quokka's voice wasn't quite synced with its words, and there was a high-pitched chattering noise, akin to the Quokka language, just on the cusp of hearing.

  (iv)

  The Crew found Big Spaz standing in the laneway behind his house, admiring a newly completed graffiti artwork he had commissioned. Despite all that had happened, their boss' obsession with all things fowl made the Crew pause. Even his children were struck dumb.

  'Hey Poppy,' Small Spaz said after a while, 'we've got a bit of a problem. The auctioneer isn't human and we think the aspirationals that have moved in recently aren't human either.'

  Big Spaz continued to stare at the wall of art, oblivious to his son's startling revelation.

  'Boss?' Metho said, after a moment of silence. When there was no reaction, he tentatively reached out to tap Big Spaz on the shoulder, but the big man raised his ha
nd to stop him.

  'This is the only time I'll see this as it was meant to be,' Big Spaz said. 'The vandals will come soon. Small children with cans of spray paint and they will defile it. And even if they don't, time will ravage it. The colours will fade and the joy of creation will drain away.'

  Metho looked at the painting, then looked back at the Crew, then back at the painting again. 'What is it about chickens that you love so much?'

  'In the place where I was born, chickens kept us alive. Not only did they feed us and fertilise our crops, but they were our friends as well. To see these three dancing like this, without a care in the world,' Big Spaz paused and sighed heavily. 'It reminds me of the place I left behind. It was a hard life, don't get me wrong, but it was also a simple life with simple pleasures.'

  Metho looked back at the Spaz siblings, who both shrugged. 'Did you hear what Basset just said?'

  'Hmmm, oh yes,' Big Spaz said and turned away from his mural. 'I expected some shit like this when sales started to nosedive,' he said, sounding more like his old self. 'It's probably the government and their war on drugs. The bastards are never gunna give up.'

  'That's what I said!'

  'Let's go inside and you can tell me exactly how you came to acquire this knowledge,' Big Spaz said.

  Metho was about to reply, when Tit's telephone rang.

  'What the fuck,' Tits said when he saw who was calling, then answered. 'Hey Snake, how are you cuz?'

  'Unless he wants to buy something, hang up,' Metho grumbled.

  Tits went white. 'Sure, no worries, we can be there,' he said, and ended the call. 'That was Snake,' he said, to the surprise of no one. 'He's the lawyer for the auctioneer. He said his client wants to meet with us to talk about what happened today.'

  Everybody went white except for Big Spaz, who felt like he was missing out. 'What did you do?'

  'We kidnapped an auctioneer,' Metho said. 'But he got away.'

  'You what?'

  'It was my idea Poppy,' TS said. 'I thought it would spread the word that Rosetown is still a dangerous place to live. But, Like Gordon said, he got away.'

  'He managed to slip the cuffs on his hands and feet and get out of a locked boot of a speeding car. We watched the video of the whole trip and there's no sign of him getting out after we put him in,' Small Spaz said.

  Big Spaz looked as if he was going to say something, but changed his mind. Instead, he turned back to the mural of the three dancing chickens.

  The Crew stood around looking at one another for a few minutes. Metho was about to say something when Big Spaz spoke.

  'Where does he want to meet?'

  'At Socrates'n'Friends. In the back room,' Tits said.

  'Do you think we should go?'

  Tits turned to look at Metho. 'That's not for me to decide,' he said.

  'I think we should go,' Metho said. 'At least we'll find out what the fuck is going on.'

  'The city is not a simple place,' Big Spaz said. 'I agree, we should go, but the father in me does not want to put his children in harm's way. Then again, one day they'll have to run this business on their own. So yes, Gordon, we will meet them. And I will come as well, because if I can't keep my children out of harm's way, then I can kick harm in the balls if it tries anything stupid.'

  'Snake said 2am tomorrow morning. He's already made the arrangements with Tasos,' Tits said.

  (v)

  As a space for human interaction, Socrates'n'Friends was never particularly welcoming. It was as if Tasos had found a way to instil a bugger-off vibe into the very bricks and mortar of the building itself. Even on warm and sunny afternoons, customers felt as if they were intruding, and that the cafe didn't like them very much and wanted them to leave. It was even worse during dark and moonless nights, such as the one which found the Crew waited on the doorstep for Tasos to let them in. The cafe had made it abundantly clear that they were not welcome, and the air of sullen menace rose a notch when Tasos opened the door and added the human touch.

  'All this secret midnight bullshit is bullshit,' he said to Big Spaz. 'You lucky my nephew want this to happen.'

  'Thanks theo,' Tits said.

  'Not you, malaka, the other one. The good one that is lawyer,' Tasos snapped.

  'You shouldn't forget who your friends are, Tasos,' Big Spaz said. 'Family is wonderful, but it wasn't your family that lent you money when you needed it.'

  Tasos harrumphed. 'The room is ready,' he said, and pulled open a section of wall in the kitchen to reveal a large room on the other side. 'There is machine for coffee if you want,' he added. 'Fridge is broken so milk no good. If you has to has milk in you coffee, there is long life stuff in cupboard. I be in back for when you want to leave. Knock on door loud because sometimes I sleep in night. Only those bad ones stay up all night, how you say, things that suck blood?'

  'Vampires?' Metho said.

  'No, no, starts with one P.'

  'Parasites?' Small Spaz said after a moment's thought.

  'Yes, yes. smart boy, this one. Yes. I sleep because I am not one parasite. Knock loud so I wake up.'

  The Crew and Big Spaz arranged themselves on one side of a huge, round table at the centre of the room.

  'Nice place, this,' Metho said, admiring the gaudy furniture and tacky paintings on the walls. Everything was gold plated: picture frames, coffee cups, even the bowl full of wax fruit on a side table. 'So, what, Tasos runs card games in here?'

  'Yep,' Tits said. 'Much more lucrative than selling coffees.'

  'And it's me that keeps the cops away and makes sure his games continue to run,' Big Spaz said. 'We may have to have a word to your uncles about gratitude.'

  'They're just grumpy old men,' Tits said. 'It happens to all Greeks in the end. Their tempers get shorter and their voices get louder.'

  'Hopefully that won't be our fate, cuz,' Snake said, as he came through the door followed closely by the auctioneer. 'Gentlemen,' he said, and then saw TS, 'and lady,' he added. He and the auctioneer took a seat opposite Big Spaz and the Crew.

  The air in the room thickened. The Crew were still upset at the auctioneer for ruining their kidnapping. They'd put hours into planning and practice, even going so far as to muster the greater Crew, and they were a bit miffed that the auctioneer had just vanished without so much as a by-your-leave.

  'Well, well, if it isn't George Fithopoulos,' Big Spaz said. 'How is you father, George? We go back a long way, your dad and I, did you know that? We arrived on the same boat in, when was it, 67 or 68? I always forget the year.'

  'He's doing well, Mr Spazefski,' Snake said, who much preferred being Snake to being George. 'He and my mum moved out of Rosetown recently. Bought a house in Doncaster.'

  'I knew he moved out,' Big Spaz said, and there was an edge to his voice. 'I'm sure your sweaty friend here is the one who sold his house. Doncaster is a nice town. A bit far out for my tastes, but I'm a city person these days. So, how did you get mixed up in all this?'

  Snake swallowed his nervousness down. Big Spaz was an intimidating figure. 'I'm acting on behalf of my clients, sir,' he squeaked, then pulled himself together. 'First, I'd like to apologise for the lateness of the hour and the suddenness of the meeting,' he said in a more normal tone, 'but we thought it best we act as soon as possible to prevent any...unfortunate incidents that could sour the relationship between my clients and yourselves,' he paused and gave the Crew a brittle smile. 'Now, what I'm going to tell you may sound fantastical and unreal, but believe me, it's all real and true. My client is not, as he appears, a simple auctioneer doing his job in and around Rosetown. In reality, he isn't anything at all like he appears,' Snake paused again and drew a deep breath. 'He isn't even human,' he added, dramatically. 'He's an intergalactic guest on our planet and represents a group of similar beings who are now residing in Rosetown. His real name is unpronounceable by humans, but you can call him Nigel.'

  'That's all bullshit,' Metho said in an angry voice. He was convinced that Nigel was a robot sent by th
e government and it was going to take a bit more than a few words by a slimy lawyer to change his mind. 'We know what you is and we know who you is working for. You can tell your bosses that there is no way they is ever gunna win the war on drugs. You hear me? Never.'

  'What we do isn't even a crime in my books,' Skip added. 'We is doing a public service by providin' bloody good products at reasonable prices. You fuckers should be thankin' us, not trying to arrest us.'

  'Yeah, that's right,' Metho added. 'An' we're keeping crime down. If we didn't have drugs to sell, we'd have to do something else.'

  'Too right. I was always a bit partial to a bit of fraud myself, with the odd burglary to break the week up,' Skip said.

  'Please be assured that I do not represent any formal authorities. Quite the opposite,' Nigel said, in the familiar auctioneer's voice that the Crew had grown to hate. Now that they were closer to him and away from the hubbub of the auction, they could hear that his words were accompanied by a faint chattering on the cusp of hearing.

  'Well, you would say that, wouldn't you?' Metho said. 'Now that you is rumbled.'

  In response, Nigel began to disintegrate. The top of his head broke into a multitude of little black crumbs that looked very similar to the fish shaped object Tits had found. The human melted away and exposed the Quokka beneath, wearing a shiny vest that absorbed the tiny scurrying robots with faint little popping sounds.

  The Crew did a collective gasp. 'What the fuck? You is a giant rat?' Metho said.

  'A Quokka, actually,' the auctioneer said.

  'Nigel is one of a community of galactic citizens who have sought refuge on Earth after their home planets were devastated by war,' Snake said. 'They have been using their advanced technologies to blend in with the native population of this planet.'

  'That makes sense,' TS said, 'new immigrants always move into Rosetown when they first come to Melbourne. Ignorance is a terrible thing.'

 

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