(Previous chapter can be found below) 

II. Coolbellup

The worn-out valves in Tyler’s car engine cranked and complained as he struggled around yet another roundabout. The sun-eaten red vehicle turned in discomfort as a queue of cars behind looked for ways to overtake the dying pace of the trap on wheels. Sweltering heat made it all more intense as sweat clung to the back of Tyler’s shirt. The bald tyres finally made it up the kerb outside an apartment complex and he sighed in relief.

‘Get that piece of shit off the road!’ A man yelled as he roared past in a shiny red V6.

Smoke slit through the cracks of the bonnet of the overheating hatchback. Yells and threats echoed around the neighbourhood as a young couple shouted at each other from the top of their lungs. Dog, maggot and other unfriendly metaphorical appropriations were thrown around as the despair of shouting voices painted a common picture around these parts. The loud bark of a dog raised the alarm as a police car rolled quietly into the complex, a recurring event in Coolbellup. Tyler popped the bonnet open, and the neighbourhood suddenly fell silent as law and order arrived. Two ravens perched on a gumtree exchanged opinions as another cop car roared up the road.

Tyler gave up on pretending to be able to do anything about his car’s demise and walked up the carpark. A young man was being searched against a limestone brick wall. One of the cops cast Tyler a glance that hinted Walk along, mate, before any question or exchange was uttered. He carried on with a subservient nod of the head and walked up the stairs towards Loz’s apartment. He knocked, and the metallic clang of the flyscreen echoed. The rustle inside the house came to a complete halt. Listening. A man popped his head out the side of the inside wall where a cricket bat was strategically placed; Tyler recognised the slim patch of hair running vertically along the shaved scalp.

‘Police are here,’ Tyler said.

‘Really?’ the man with the mohawk said, approaching the door with a slight sideways walk whilst scratching the cast covering his right wrist. His needle-sharp baby blue eyes pierced through the tiny gaps in the flyscreen. ‘That’s a first.’

The man whom Tyler had been introduced to as ‘Feral’ before cast an up-and-down glance at him and finally opened the door.

‘Come on in, little fella.’

‘Is Loz in, or nah?’

‘Yeah, he’s here, have a seat. D’ya’ have any durries on ya’?’

Tyler handed the man his tobacco and sat down on the couch.

‘Good ol’ Winnie Blue; Loz, ya’ mate’s ‘ere!’ Feral yelled, as he peered inside the worn-out Winfield pouch.

Loz walked in, looking restless. Tyler got up to greet him.

‘How are you, Big L, alright?’

‘Settle down mate, something happened.’

Tyler sat back down and wriggled around in the faux leather couch, its squeaky smooth surface overcrowded with pillows printed with mottos of Keep calm and smoke weed and the like.

‘Everything alright?’ Tyler asked, as an inkling discomfort bubbled under his itchy skin.

Loz paced around in a paranoid trance as his eyes turned and searched.

‘He can’t find the pong,’ Feral said, as he rolled himself a cigarette and pocketed the tobacco. He seemed to sense the incoming return request and beat Tyler to it. ‘Hav’ya’ seen they’re talking ‘bout going back to the moon?’

Loz kept on moving around the apartment, opening drawers and cabinets. A bright red mechanic’s toolbox with seemingly hundreds of little sliding drawers was now the designated search area.

‘This fuckin’ thing.’ Loz muttered as his hunt continued.

‘Cool toolbox. Where did you get it?’ Tyler asked.

‘Some mechanic apprentice left it here as collateral and never came back. Can’ya’ really believe the yanks were there in ’69 and we haven’t been back since?’ Feral proceeded, lighting his cigarette.

Tyler looked out the balcony overlooking the street, half-listening. This part of Coolbellup was surrounded by a thick bush of natives: the bright reds of kangaroo paws and the spiky greens of grass trees, banksias and willows, as well as long-gone hollowed-out eucalyptuses towering into the sky. The shades and textures of leafy browns and tired greens under the baking sun contrasted with the orange of the brick walls adorning Lawrie’s balcony. A flock of black cockatoos glided past and squawked their two cents. The verge on this side of the road was littered with table chairs, a couch, washing machine, two old fridges, a foosball table, along with several scattered bags of clothing someone had gone through already. An old ute with two rough-looking scavengers pulled over and shifted the washing machine around, looking for parts to sell. One of them grabbed a couple of tools and the seasoned foragers started pulling the back of the machine apart.

Tyler was brought back into the room as Feral’s frantic agenda bounced around in his weary brain. He hadn’t been sleeping much; the repetitive gliding sound of the little drawers continued. A discomfort against his back between the pillows increased his uneasiness. Loz’s paranoid scavenging in the background increased his unrest, and the thought of the car and the heat and the possibility of not being able to score today – all whilst trying not to break eye contact with this mohawked madman – only increased his urge to unwind.

‘It was the start of the whole Hollywood sham, I mean, think about it, the end of the 60’s when every drug became illegal so that they could control the conscious objectors and freedom fighters…’

‘Fuck’s sake!’ Loz yelled, scratching his head and looking around in a confused haze.

‘Same with 9/11, another staged coup at the turn of the millennium that would change…’

‘Feral, for fuck’s sake!’ Loz shouted with a feral look in his protruding eyes.

 ‘Shut up for a fuckin’ second for once and lemme fuckin’ think, you fuckin’ madman!’

Tyler reached out for the source of discomfort between all the pillows and his heart skipped a beat when he saw it. Feral was immersed in the spectacle of his raging mate in silence whilst inhaling his cigarette with a blank stare, holding himself back from splurging the next layer of conspiratorial rabid rant. Tyler saw the palm-sized transparent bag filled with clear crystal and leaned back against it.

‘Night and day, I hear ya’ go on and on about this shit… How ‘bout you fuckin’ help me find this stuff so we can fucking kick back?’

Feral ran a hand down his slim mohawk and inhaled the last tokes of the cigarette.

‘We can always get more.’ He said, looking for an empty beer bottle to dispose of his butt. As he did, Tyler grabbed the bag and stuffed it in his pants. A massive surge of adrenaline ran through him, and his only thought was to get out of there as soon as possible.

‘Anything I can do to help?’ he asked, in a valiant attempt to keep his cool in that inferno of a summer’s day.

‘I might not be able to sort ya’ out today, kid.’ Loz said as he continued to turn his apartment upside down. ‘Ya’ might have to come back later. I’ll ring ya’ back when I find the shit.’

Tyler got up and pulled the back of his sweaty T-shirt from his skin.

‘Yeah, no worries. Hm, actually, fuck, about that, my car kinda’ cooked on the way here, and I can’t really go anywhere.’

Lawrie now checked the inside of the bin as if processing his thoughts, gauging his luck as he cursed someone under his breath.

‘I can tow ya’ down to the shop mate, mate’s rates and all.’ Feral said with a twisted wink as the yellow in his teeth shone in anticipation.

‘It was right fuckin’ there on the table last night, fuck’s sake!’ Loz said as he searched in one of the cupboards. ‘How is it fuckin’ possible?’

‘I don’t wanna be the one to state the obvious here, but have ya’ checked the safe yet?’ Feral said. ‘Or what about that bitch that was in here last night?’

Loz got upright and locked eyes with his best mate.

‘Yeah, I’m gonna need ya’ out of here ASAP, Tyler. Take my car and come past the shop after we tow it. Leave ya’ keys, and we’ll sort it for ya’.’

‘You sure?’ Tyler said, swallowing deep as Feral’s bulging pupils analysed his prey.

‘Yeah, see if I can find the fuckin’ keys first!’

Loz pushed several layers of HJ’s and Domino’s off the table and uncovered a tabletop full of half-cigarettes, pill bottles, papers and roaches; the roundness of a small pill stood out amongst it.

‘Score!’ Feral said, as he stuffed it into his mouth and clinched it with his small, ground-up fangs in a mad grin towards Tyler before swallowing.

‘Here ya’ go, kid.’ Loz said as he threw the keys across the room. ‘Scratch it and I’ll kill everyone you love.’

‘Not many on that list,’ Tyler replied. ‘Thanks, mate.’

He motioned towards the door in discomfort, trying to act normal with the bulge in his pants. Feral followed him out, eager to keep on with his preaching.

‘Ya’ lucky, he never lets me drive unless he is fuckin’ gonski.  When ya’ come past the shop, I’mma show ya’ a Zeitgeist video that is gonna blow your feckin’ mind. Once you go down the rabbit hole…’

Tyler stepped out of the apartment onto the landing and turned back to say thanks, but Feral had already slammed the door behind him.