Suburban Cowboys
Copyright (C) 2011 Natalie J E Potts
Originally published in 2008 in Midnight Echo, the official magazine of the Australian Horror Writers Association.
This story appeared in volume 1 edited by Kirstyn McDermott & Ian Mond
This edition has been updated for 2011.
The characters, locations and events depicted in this novel are fictional.
Any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental.
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Suburban Cowboys
by
Natalie J. E. Potts
Richard was late. He turned his old, dented Landrover into the parking lot and stopped behind a familiar BMW four-wheel drive, hemming it in and covering it in its first off-road dirt in months. He had a feeling its owner would not be leaving early this meeting; Jarrod would want to bask in his moment of glory for as long as he could. The first newbie to head the leader board.
Pausing only to lock the car, Richard hurried over to the entrance of the veritable fortress that was The Club. Using his signet ring, he tapped out a clandestine code on the plate-metal door. The knock was little more than ceremony these days, he had been spotted, identified and cleared on the CCTV the moment he’d arrived.
A peep-hole swung open, revealing a set of blood-shot eyes and allowing the smell of a thousand beers, past and present, to waft out.
“State your name,” a deep voice asked.
“Richard George.”
“Are you, or have you ever been in any way affiliated with any law enforcement agency, either locally or abroad?” the voice asked.
“No,” Richard answered and the peep-hole slammed shut. He knew better than to play around with this archaic protocol, even though he did not believe that the question was of any use. A lawyer had assured the club that any person assisting the police would have to answer in the affirmative to the question, or risk any resulting evidence being refused in a court of law. Richard was not convinced. What he did have confidence in was a stout metal bar hefted by club security if the question failed to deliver the protection promised.
The door shuddered as the locking mechanisms disengaged, then swung open. It would breach all occupational health and safety regulations, but the door could stop a point-blank round from a shotgun without so much as a dent.
As Richard stepped into the squat building he was instantly enveloped in a miasma of cigarette smoke and stale beer. He resisted the urge to cough as the door closed behind him, shutting out the daylight and dropping him into darkness. With his eyes still adjusting to the gloom, he faced his interrogator.
“Slider,” Richard greeted him, with a quick jut of his jaw.
“Dick,” the man replied as he re-bolted the door. His steroid enhanced bulk strained against the locking mechanism, making the tattooed snakes on his arms writhe briefly to life. “You’re a bit late.” He lifted his eyes from the task in front of him, and a smile slid onto his lips. “Get caught in traffic?”
“Had some business to take care of,” Richard said. “Is Kat here, I’ve got one to call in.”
“She’s up the back, but you’ll have to wait until after the meeting, we’re about to get started.” Slider turned his attention back to the panel of security monitors that showed the crowded car park outside.
Richard walked deeper into the club, pushing past several unfamiliar new members. Due to changes in fashion, the club’s numbers had swelled in recent years. There had been talk of changing the entry requirements, but Angus, the club founder, was adamant that a growth in their numbers could only be a good thing. As a result, the club had broken into two distinct groups with the poseurs never featuring highly enough to be worth worrying about. Until now.
Richard looked around the dark room, trying to find a familiar face. The windows of the former boy scout hall had been bricked over years ago, so the only light in the room came from the bar and the two pool table fluoros up the back. It was futile trying to see anyone clearly.
“Did you hear about Jarrod?” A woman asked the person next to her. Richard stopped to listen. “Eighty-five points in one go! That puts him in front by forty-five points.”
“I can’t even see how that’s possible,” her fellow gossip responded. “It makes my six points for the year look pathetic.” The women laughed. Richard walked away before they noticed their eavesdropper.
“Dicko,” a familiar voice called out. Richard spotted Daniel, a fellow founding member, beckoning him over. “You hear about Jarrod?” Daniel said quietly.
“Old news, mate,” Richard said as he squeezed in beside him.
“Old news,” Daniel mocked. “It’s the only news!”
“Luck is what it is,” Richard said, angered by the admiration he detected in his friend’s words.
“Not the way he tells it.”
“Of course not. Where is he anyway?”
“Over at the cabinet.” Daniel pointed across the room.
Richard peered through the haze, his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness. He could see the cocky, young man staring at his prize.
“Probably picturing his name on the cup,” Daniel said.
“There’s still another month to go,” Richard replied coldly.
“He’s beating you by forty-five points, Dick, even you can’t make that up in a month.”
“Jarrod’s not the only lucky one.”
“But that’s the thing, Dick, you’re not lucky. You’ve earned every point you got, you’re the best we’ve ever seen, but you just can’t beat Lady Luck.”
“He’s not getting his name on the cup.”
“How many points did you get last month?” Daniel asked, though Richard suspected he already knew the answer.
“I was interstate, for work. Rules are rules. You can’t acquire points in other jurisdictions, you know that.”
“So how many points did you get?” Daniel asked again.
“None.” Richard looked back at the cabinet. “At least none that could be counted.” Jarrod was still staring savant-like at the cup. Richard suspected it was now the man’s own reflection that had him captivated.
“Let it go, Dick,” Daniel said.
“I won’t let it go. Not for him, anyone but him.”
A flash of daylight cut through the room as the door opened again. Richard’s night vision vanished and he was grateful that he could no longer see his enemy’s face.
“Hey, Dick.” A friendly voice came from behind him. He turned to see Kat approaching. Her love handles and massive breasts were like dark blue Michelan Man rolls as they strained against the navy singlet she was wearing. The feminine scent of Red Door perfume was at odds with the equally strong stench of stale sweat coming off her body. “How you holding up?” she asked kindly.
“I’ve got one to call in,” Richard said, pointedly ignoring her sympathy.
“Sure you have, Hon, but it’ll have to go against your December tally.” She pointed at the stage. “It looks like the meeting is about to start.”
The dimmed lights of the stage came to life, changing the ambience of the room from sepulchral to theatrical. In Pavlovian response, the masses feel silent and faced forward.
“Okay, it looks like we’re all here now.” A voice boomed from the small stage. Everyone jostled for viewing space as their attention turned to Angus, their bearded leader. Satisfied that the room was now his, Angus began. “As some of you have already heard, we’ve had a change in the leader board since last meeting. With just one month left of the season Doctor Jarrod Sinclair has jumped ahead, thanks to his November tally of eighty-five points. What is even more impressive is that eighty-four of those points were earned in the one event. So, in the interest of helping you all improve your scores, I would like to invite Jarrod up here to tell us exactly how he did it.”
The crowd cheered as their new champion took the stage.
“This should be good,” muttered a sarcastic voice behind them. Richard turned to see Colin, his main competition until now, seething. The pretty-boy doctor had relegated Colin to third place, and the insult was not sitting well. Richard brought his attention back to the stage in time to see Jarrod’s manicured hands rise in an unconvincing request for silence; he was clearly relishing the adulation.
“Thank you, thank you,” Jarrod began. “I really do appreciate this. But before I get started I would like to thank our former leader board number one, Richard George. He has been such a great mentor to me over the last two years, and without his fine tutelage, I would never have gotten so far so quickly.”
“You ain’t there yet!” Richard yelled out. Misunderstanding his venom for jest, everyone laughed. Including Jarrod.
“Using the word tutelage alone should be grounds for expulsion,” Colin murmured. A few anonymous grunts of agreement came from the crowd.
“It was really quite simple,” Jarrod was saying. “I used the classic ‘late-change’ manoeuvre at a crossroad. I set it up perfectly: the intersection was at the top of a hill, meaning everyone was entering blind. A coupé ahead of me had stopped to turn across the traffic and had made the typical mistake of turning its wheels into the intersection while he waited for a gap.” Jarrod paused to allow the scene to be set in everyone’s mind. Richard wondered how it was possible for Jarrod to have seen the turned front wheels if it was a hilltop blind crossroad, but did not bother to comment.
Jarrod continued. “There was no one in the lane next to me, giving the Volvo behind me a false sense of security. The true beauty of the set-up, though, was the concrete mixer barrelling down the road on the opposite side. By the time I’d changed lanes the Volvo behind me didn’t have a chance. Bam! Directly up the backside of the coupé, which of course went straight into the line of oncoming traffic because of its afore-mentioned wheel placement. When the cement truck hit the coupé, he lost control and took out the Volvo as well! Four in the coupé, two under ten years old, two in the Volvo, all flat as pancakes and not a thing to put me in the wrong.” Jarrod beamed at the other four-wheel drive owners. “I even used my indicator!” He started to laugh.
Angus stepped back onstage, a proud smile on his face as he slapped Jarrod on the back. “And that, everyone, is how you get eighty-four points in one go. Ten points for each adult, double points for the kids and a bonus four points for the maimed cyclist.”
“Who I didn’t even know about until I read about it in the paper,” Jarrod chimed in, still laughing.
A spontaneous cheer went up across the gathering. Even some of the old-school crowd clapped their approval. Colin and Richard now stood side by side, their arms firmly crossed.
“Sounds more like luck than skill to me,” Colin said. Richard smiled coldly, not moving his eyes from his target. Colin saw Richard’s smirk despite the darkness. “What are you grinning at?”
“Just wait until Jarrod gets home.” Richard said. “He might be surprised to find the police waiting for him.”
“Waste of time, Dick, he can’t be caught for that move. He probably wasn’t even named in the report. The only ones who knew he contributed were in the Volvo, and they’re all dead. The police would never believe it if you told them what really happened. At least not without exposing the club. We just have to admit that he got lucky.”
“That’s not what I mean.” Richard’s smile broadened as he glanced at the man beside him. "I got myself seventy points on the way here. I had to make up for the month off after all.”
A look of confusion spread across Colin’s face.
“Jarrod saves the four-wheel drive for himself,” Richard explained. “The Missus drives their three little girls around in some European compact. Easy to park, economical, but not real good on the visibility.” The smile on Richard’s lips proved infectious as it became obvious that Colin was catching on.
“They should give you bonus points for offing one of our own!” Colin sniggered.
“Whatever,” Richard said. “I don’t need them. Seventy points will still put me twenty-five ahead of the good doctor, and I doubt he’ll have much of a mind for the competition over the next month.”
Richard stole another look at the beaming doctor up on stage and laughed. A couple of new members turned to see what the noise was about, their wide eyed indignation clearly intended to silence him.
“When you dance with the devil, you’re gonna get burned,” Richard said, and laughed even harder.
The End
Natalie J E Potts is an author of speculative fiction for both adults and teenagers. She recently released her young adult novel, Paragon, and has several other novels in production. For more information about these and other publications please visit her website: www.nataliejepotts.com