The Outback Read Free

the
question. Instead, he put a set of earphones into place and reclined back into
his seat with a triumphant grin on his face. Once again his mischief making had
proven successful. The journey was going to take seven hours, and for Matt,
each and every one would be filled with the terror of wondering what horrors
awaited him at the end of the road. He was headed into the outback and there
was no turning back.

 
    Chapter 2
     
     
    The coach arrived at its
destination just after sunset. Main Street was deserted, but Matt could not
imagine it ever being otherwise. He could make out just two recognisable
businesses; a hardware store and grocers. The other buildings all appeared
fairly nondescript except for the town hall and what was possibly a contender
for the title of the world’s smallest police station.
    Despite being one of the
first to dismount, Matt had to wait a short while to retrieve his backpack. The
conductor opened up the luggage compartment from the other side of the coach so
even though his bag had been one of the last ones on it was still at the rear
of the pile. This meant that he had to stand aside and wait for the mob to
clear away before he could get to it.
    Once they had collected
their belongings the locals soon shuffled off to their homes or wherever it was
they were headed. This left behind four very confused backpackers, although
they were now technically migrant workers, which did not sound quite so
appealing.
    The group endured
several tense minutes of waiting on the deserted sidewalk until a medium sized
bus pulled up alongside of them. Its bodywork was completely white and a thick
bull-bar over the front grille lent it a military like bearing. Peering through
the windows revealed that the interior furnishings had been stripped to the
bare basics, in some cases even exposing the metal framework underneath. It was
harsh and uninviting.
    The driver of the bus
was a heavily set man in his early to mid sixties. He bore no uniform or
nametags so it was impossible for the group to discern who he was or where he
had come from. Leaving the engine running, he applied the handbrake and stepped
off to greet the new arrivals.
    ‘Welcome to Birribandi,’
he said. ‘My name is Joe. I run the local caravan park and I will also be your
employer for the next three months.’
    His accent was English,
but his copper coloured, leathery skin suggested that he had spent a long time
living in Queensland’s punishing climate. He directed the four travellers onto
the bus, where they were careful to choose the least worn seats for fear of
sustaining an injury. They were each too apprehensive to start a conversation.
    After about five minutes
the bus took a detour from the main road and brought them to the caravan park.
    ‘This is the oasis in
the desert that you’ll all be calling home for the foreseeable future,’ Joe
said, as he brought the bus to rest.
    Matt counted more than a
dozen small caravans. They had all fallen into varying states of disrepair and
it was impossible for him to ascertain which were in use and which were
available as none emitted any interior light. If they had Butlins in Beirut
this is how Matt would imagine it to be.
    ‘Do we get to choose
which we want?’ he asked.
    Joe stood and turned to
address the group from the front of the bus.
    ‘Numbers one to three
are already taken. You lot will take vans four and five, as it is more
economical to share. All of the vacant vans have had the mains disconnected so
don’t get any ideas about switching once I’ve gone.’
    He spoke with weariness
in his voice, which suggested that he had conducted this orientation many, many
times before.
    ‘I take it that they
aren’t en-suite,’ said Colin.
    ‘There are toilets and a
shower block on site,’ replied Joe. ‘The hot water does not last long though,
so if you’re selfish everyone else will suffer. There is also a dining room
where you will be provided with an evening meal and can buy