Westpoint Tales
by Kiwi
Entangled Tales - 66 - Tony
A car stopped at last! It was the 4WD that had been going the other way earlier. They pulled in and stopped underneath the verandah.
One of the big guys got out. "Still here Kid? Come on, hop in and we'll give you a ride."
Oh joy! He didn't hesitate; he ran and jumped in next to the driver. The other one got back in, sandwiching him between the two of them, and they moved off. Great! The 4WD left Springs Junction behind in its soggy, green, valley, and they climbed a hill and into the bush again.
There wasn't much conversation beyond the, "Going to Westpoint?" "Where are you from?" "Where's your luggage?" And they drove along in silence.
The driver hadn't spoken at all. Couldn't he? The red-neck types were both drinking from long, brown, beer-bottles. Tony didn't want any and they never offered anyway.
They drove along in the dark, eating up the kilometers. The unbroken lines of trees were flashing past on either side. The rain had stopped at last; things were looking up.
They came up over another small hill and the driver slowed down and pulled over towards the wide grass verge. "Here?" he said to his companion.
"Yeah. Looks all right. This will do." They stopped at the side of the road and killed the engine, and the lights.
Tony had a bad feeling about this, and, sure enough, the talkative one said, "Right, Boy. Time to pay for your ride."
"To pay?" He squeaked nervously. "But, I haven't got any money - not a cent."
"We can see that. Of course you haven't got any fucking money."
"Look - you can have my watch. It's got to be worth something."
"We don't want that. What would we want with a little boy's watch? We're just going to have some of your pretty little arse. You can suck some dick and then we'll fuck ya. Be nice and we might just get back in and take you to Westpoint."
He opened the door and got out. Tony shrank away from him, but the driver shoved him over to the big hands reaching out for him.
"No! You can't! Please. Don't do this. I've got Aids - I'm HIV positive, you might catch it."
"No we won't, Darlin'. We'll just have to use rubbers won't we? Come on, Pretty Boy. Turn it up."
"No! Please."
Tony was crying now, in fear. The driver got out of his door and the other one had hold of both of Tony's arms, pulling him out of the vehicle. As he slid off the seat, his flailing feet connected with the edge of the doorway and he pushed with all his strength. He shot out and the redneck overbalanced with the sudden release.
He fell over, backwards, and Tony went with him, landing on his soft gut. He lifted his right leg, bent it and kneed the guy in the groin, as hard as he could. The big guy screamed like a girl and let him go. Tony scrambled to his feet and ran straight off the road and into the dark wall of trees.
In blind panic, he fought his way through the tangled undergrowth. Things caught on his clothes and there were several rips as he pulled free. He clawed his way along until he came to a big, old, dead tree. The trunk was split and he threw himself into the gaping cavity in the dark.
He curled up on the ground, head down on his knees, making himself into the smallest ball that he could. He lay there, trying not to breathe too loudly.
The others didn't even try to follow him into the dense bush. They just paced about on the side of the road, shining a spot-light into the trees and calling out to him.
"Come on,. Pretty Boy. It's not that bad. Come out, Kid. We're just joshing you. Nothing's going to happen. Get out here, Kid! We're going. We'll leave you here. You might die, Boy!"
Tony lay there, trying to shrink into the ground. Eventually, with a lot of cursing, they gave up - slammed back into their 4WD and drove away leaving him there - alone, in the dark, in the bush, and curled up inside a tree like a possum. Like a frightened, panicked, little possum.
He stayed there, curled up in his hole on the ground. It was so dark that it made no difference whether his eyes were open or not. It was almost silent, just the occasional noise of trees creaking and branches rubbing together.
"Fuck you, Jerks. I'm not going to die. I'm a survivor and I will survive. I'm going to Westpoint and I'm going to see Danny. Fucking Wankers!"
The occasional car went past, out on the highway, but he wasn't interested. He was having no more of that! What if They came back?
It wasn't too bad in there, actually. Soft ground, rotting wood, it was kind-of, a shelter and, sort-of, warm.
"Time to take stock again. What have I got? Torn, ragged clothes and a watch that no-one wants. Man, I'm so rich!"
He stayed there. He laid there, and - he went to sleep there.
He woke up in the morning to the sound of the birds singing in the trees. When his brain got into gear, he uncurled, painfully and stiffly, and staggered out to the roadside. He stood there stretching his bones and looking around. Nothing but trees. Trees, trees and more trees everywhere.
But. There was blue sky above and he was closer today than he was yesterday.
"Only about 100k now. I can do it. I will survive and I will get there."
He had a drink and washed his face and hands in the roadside drain. "Water's clear. It looks clean and it tastes great."
Then he started walking down the road. His limbs were freeing up as he moved and warmed up. There was hardly any traffic and no-one stopped for him.
"Do they think I'm out here for fun or something?"
But in his dirty clothes, matted hair and tattered anorak, he must have looked like a tramp. "I could be a street-person, if I had a street."
The scenery was spectacular, if you liked trees. Bloody trees.
It was a long, quiet and lonely morning as he tramped along. Singing didn't help. He didn't feel like it anyway. But, "I'm going out West, where I belong. Step by bloody step, I'm going out West."
They would be bloody too, soon. It felt like he was getting blisters. At lunchtime, well, 11.30am, he had a sumptuous repast of - water from a small creek. There was plenty of fungus around, but he didn't know whether it was poisonous or not and didn't want to find out. He kept on walking, it was something to do.
The sky was clouding over and, (Oh, joy, oh, joy!), it was going to rain. The trees stopped suddenly on the right-hand side and there was a big bush-clearing. Green grass, a few sheep and a couple of cows, hemmed in by the bush and a wire fence. A farm? There didn't seem to be any buildings around though, just an old derelict shed - a rusty roof and two broken walls struggling to hold it up. And, it rained. Oh joy!
He climbed the fence and ran over to the shed, but he wasn't going in there - no way! The floor was nothing but 6 inches of wet, sloppy, cow-shit and the rusty roof leaked like a sieve.
Looking around, he saw a pile of sheets of plastic - old wrappers off the hay bales. He pulled a couple out, found a large piece that wasn't too badly torn, and squatted down, holding that over his head. It worked fine, so he went back to the road and walked along holding the plastic roof above him.
His legs and feet were getting wet, but nothing else. The trees started again - boring!
Rain showers came and went. He kept his plastic, shaking it off and folding it up when he didn't need it. It was late afternoon and starting to get dark. He'd better start looking for somewhere to spend the night.
"What's the next step down from a hole in a tree?" He was tired enough to sleep on the road.
A car stopped! A little old, rusty, Toyota pulled up ahead of him and waited. It looked a bit rough and he was a little wary, but when he bent down and looked in the open window, he saw two little old ladies smiling up at him. They were about 60ish, gray hair, spectacles and round, smiling faces.
"Hello there. You need a ride? Or are you just having a stroll in the rain?"
"Oh. Yes. Please." He sobbed, the relief almost overwhelming him. "I so need a ride! Please."
"Hop in the back then. We've got room for a little one."
He hurried into the welcome warmth and sat hugging himself in the corner of the seat.
"Where are you going to? We're going as far as Brownsville."
"I, ah, Westpoint. I have to go to Westpoint."
"We'll let off at Riverston then. The road turns off there."
"It's almost dark, Anne." The other one said to the driver. "We could take the boy to Westpoint and go home the long way - down the Coast Road."
"Don't be silly, Margie. We haven't got time for that. We'll drop him off at Riverston and he can find his own way from there."
"I can. I will. Thanks for the ride - that far will be fine."
The other one in the front - Margie - looked back at him. "Look at you! What a mess you're in. Did you sleep under a tree?"
"I did actually. In a tree - in a hole in one."
"That's an adventure then! Have you eaten today, at all?"
"No. I, ah, I'm supposed to be on a diet anyway."
"Stuff and nonsense, Boy!" The driver, Anne, snapped at him. "What's a skinny little thing like you doing on a diet? Give the boy some food, Margie. Pass the basket back to him."
"Here you go, Boy. What's your name anyway?"
"Tony. I'm Tony Duncan." He took the basket from her.
"Nice to meet you, Tony. I'm Margie and this is Anne. We are nuns actually - with the Sisters of Mercy Mission in Brownsville."
"Really? You don't look like nuns."
"What do nuns look like? The old wimples went out years ago. Eat up then."
"Thank you. You've got no idea how nice it is to meet you."
"A friend in need, eh? Well, eat up, Tony. Help yourself, there's plenty there. We've finished with it - don't want it and certainly don't need it either."
They were nuns and he was in heaven! He opened the basket and looked in. Biscuits, pieces of cake and squares of cold, home-made, bacon and egg pie. Bliss! He loved bacon and egg pie. He ate a couple of pieces and some cake. He didn't want to be greedy, but it was so good! So, he had some more. Happy now, he sat back smiling and closed his weary eyes for a minute.
He woke up with a start and looked out at trees flashing past in the dark again.
"There you are, Tony. Feeling better now?"
"Yes. I, ah, I must have dozed off there. Sorry. Is it far to Riverston now?"
"Far to Riverston!" Anne snorted. "Wake up, Boy. We're well past there. We'll be in Westpoint in a few minutes."
"In Westpoint? Great! Oh, thank you so much. You didn't have to."
"We're nearly there. We couldn't wake you up and put you out in the rain."
"I'm sorry. But, that's so good of you - so nice. Thank you."
"You're welcome, Tony. No trouble at all. There's Westpoint there."
They could see the lights of Westpoint in the distance, getting bigger and spreading out as they approached the town.
'Westpoint. At last!' But, where could he go? It was getting late - the clock in the front read 11pm. He couldn't disturb anyone at this time. He didn't know if they'd want to see him anyway.
As they drove over the wide bridge and into the town, Anne read his mind. ('What is it with these old ladies and reading my mind?')
"Where do we drop you off then?"
"Oh, thanks. Anywhere will do. Just on the main street will be fine - I can walk from there."
"Don't be silly, Boy. We've come this far and we'll take you home. Give me an address."
('An address? What address?') "Um, Romney Street. 88 Romney Street."
(Lucas' address, it was all he could think of. He wouldn't go in there; he'd just get out of the car and wait until they'd left.) Westpoint! Beautiful Westpoint. Danny's town. Tomorrow he might see Danny somewhere.
The car went through the streets of the town, into Romney Street and stopped outside no.88 - Lucas' house! They stopped at the end of the driveway, the lights shining down the side of the house.
It was all in darkness. Nobody home? Good.
"Here you are then, Tony. Welcome home is it?"
"Oh, yes! Home at last. Thank you, Ladies, thank you so much."
He got out of the car and stood there, but they didn't move. They must have been waiting for him to go inside. So, he walked in, down the drive towards the back.
The car pulled out and drove away. He stopped and waited in the dark until they'd gone, and then walked back out to the street. He was about to come out in front of the house, when a tall figure stepped off the verandah and shone a torch in his eyes.
Startled, scared, Tony stood there, blinded and blinking at the light.
"What do you. . ." the figure started, then stopped.. "Tony? Ohmigod! Tony is that you?"
"Lu - Lucas? I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I was just going."
"Going? What are you talking about? Tony, come here!" Lucas dropped the light and flung his arms around him, hugging him tight.
Now he couldn't hold it in any longer and the tears flowed in earnest as he sobbed against Lucas' chest.
"I'm sorry, Lucas. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you. Oh, Lucas!"
"Tony! You're not disturbing me. It's so great to see you! Stop saying you're sorry."
He pushed him back at arm's length - trying to look at him in the dark. "Oh, Little Boy, you're going to be in SO much trouble! Where the hell have you been? Come on. Come inside where I can have a look at you. Boy! Are you in trouble!" He grinned and pulled him by the arm, he wasn't letting him go.
Lucas towed him inside and in to the living room.
"In here, Kid. The fire's still going. Let's have a look at you - what a mess! What happened to you?"
"Everything. Everything happened to me. It's so good to see you Lucas. But, why am I in trouble? Is it the Gibsons?"
"The Gibsons? Who are the Gibsons? No, it's Daniel. The Guitar-man is SO going to kick your arse, Boy. You won't sit down for a week."
"Danny? But, where is Danny? Is he here?"
"No, he's not here. He's at home of course, at the Peters', but he won't be for long."
Lucas picked up the mobile phone from its cradle and dialed a number.
"Lucas! What are you doing? You're not ringing him, are you? You can't!"
He looked around wildly, but Lucas walked across the room and leant on the door, blocking the only way out "Shut up, Tony. Of course I'm ringing him. If Daniel found out that you were here and I didn't tell him, it'd be my arse that he'd be kicking. Besides, I really want to see this!"
'Danny! Lucas. Lucas is not happy to see me at all - he just wants to see Danny kicking my arse! I'm in it now.' He slumped, miserably, by the fire, looking at the flames through his tears and listening to Lucas on the phone.
"Hello, Mrs. Peters. Lucas Sheridan. Sorry if I woke you. I've really got to talk to Daniel. Is he there? It's important. Okay, thank you.
Guitar Man! Daniel, this is Lucas. I think you might want to come around to my place. I've got something here for you. Tony just walked in here. Yes, Tony - Tony Duncan. Hello? Hello, Daniel? Are you there, Guitar-man? Are you there?"
Lucas stood there, still leaning on the door and grinning at Tony's frightened face. "Well. That went well, didn't it?"
"He hung up on you, didn't he? He doesn't want to know."
"He doesn't want to know? He didn't hang up on me - I think he dropped the phone. I can hear it banging against the wall, and a door slammed. We'll just wait and see what happens, won't we?"
Lucas, still grinning widely, turned off the phone and stepped out the door. He banged on the door directly across the hallway, and called out. "Mum! Mum are you awake? Good! Get up Mum. Come out here and see what I found. I think we've got some work for you to do."
He came back into the living-room and hung up the phone. Mrs. Sheridan came in behind him, blinking at the light and tying the cords of her dressing gown. "What is it, Lucas? And. Oh my God! Tony! What happened to you? Where have you been boy?"
She looked around at Lucas as she pulled Tony up off the couch. "Daniel! Does Daniel know? Have you told him?"
"Oh yes, Mother. I've told him. I rang him. In fact-" The front door crashed open. "Here he is. In here, Guitar-man! We're in the living room!"
Daniel burst into the room. Lucas grinned. "Wow! Justin Reynolds, eat your heart out. What took you so long?"
Mrs. Sheridan let go of him and Tony stood up, looking at Daniel's red face. He was really frightened now. He knew he'd hurt him, but that was months ago. What was he going to do?
Daniel stood there, staring at him, leaning forward with his hands on his knees as he gasped deeply, straining to breathe. He was barefoot and wearing red boxers and an old t-shirt.
He straightened up, came across the room and stood in front of him. "Tony Duncan!"
He raised a hand and, for an instant, Tony thought that he was going to hit him. But then, he grabbed both of Tony's shoulders and shook him as he yelled in his face.
"Where. The. Fuck. Have You BEEN?"
He hugged him and burst into tears, crying over his shoulder. "Tony! Tones. Oh my Tones. Where were you? I thought you were dead. I thought you were dead!"
Stepping back, he looked into his eyes as he brushed tears from Tony's cheeks. "If you ever - EVER! Do that to me again, I'm fucking going to kill you man! Oh Tones, I love you so much!"
"Daniel? Danny. Oh Danny! I nearly was dead. I need you Danny. I really, really need you. I love you, Danny."
"Of course you do!" Daniel looked up at Marcie, over Tony's shoulder. "Sorry about this, Mrs. Sheridan. Sorry."
"Hey, no worries, Daniel. You go for it - tell him off! Where have you been, Tony? Half of this town, half of the bloody country has been looking for you."
"For me? But, why? I didn't know."
"How could you not know, Tony?" Lucas was still grinning from ear-to-ear. "Your ugly mug's been everywhere. Newspapers, magazines, posters, the television even. Mind you, we were looking for a dark-haired, fat boy. What happened there? But where were you? Sitting on a mountain-top or something?"
"Well, close, yeah. I've been living up in the hills, in a cabin, with Flossie. Flossie! She must have known something; she got me to dye my hair. And, I've, ah - I've been on a bit of a diet - a crash diet."
"Bloody Mega-diet," Daniel grinned. "You're skin and bones, Tones. Now we'll have to fatten you up a bit. And, who's Flossie? You haven't turned straight on me, have you?"
"No way, Danny. No way! Flossie's just a friend, a really good friend. She helped me so much - she saved me. I've got so much to tell you, I could write a book."
"Well not now," said Marcie. "You've got all the time in the world for that. For now, I'll get some food started, Lucas, go and get some clean clothes for these two, and Daniel go and put your friend in the shower. As a matter of fact, you'd better get in there with him - he's got you all mucky now as well."
"I have, haven't I? And I've mucked up your couch too. Sorry, Mrs. Sheridan."
"Everybody stop saying, "sorry Mrs. Sheridan," okay? You think I'm a monster or something? Tony you can come and mess up my couch any time you like. Now, go and get cleaned up."
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