Sugarloaf Mountain - Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE: A HUNTING WE WILL GO.

The following Saturday, Josh goes once more to visit the Steps. Safely tucked under his shirt are the two obligatory packets of cigarettes he must deliver in order to satisfy the conditions of his unwritten contract with them.

Because the Steps are eager to trial different brands, on this particular occasion he is bringing one packet of Marlboro and one packet of Benson & Hedges.

His willingness and ability to steal these cigarettes has demonstrated his usefulness and has earned him acceptance. His usefulness has even made him something of a junior partner in the firm of Bird-wingers Inc, for which he receives no tangible form of payment, but he is now nevertheless the officially designated birdcage carrier.

It is a crisp and sunny mountain morning. The temperature is just nudging sixty degrees. The trio sets off walking south down the town’s most westerly road: the side road that connects Cadmium Avenue, Wolfram St and Iridium Road.

Continuing south beyond that point is a dirt road that wends its way through some thinly wooded terrain and ends up coming out again at the Copper Road. That region is thinly wooded because it was extensively logged at some point in the past--probably to provide a portion of the lumber needed to build the town.

It takes about twenty minutes before they get within shooting range of green rozella's. With most shots fired, on this and other occasions, the birds simply fly away.

"I can't believe I missed all them birds. The gun just ain’t powerful enough." Said the blond one.

A little later, it seems the dark Step has hit one. It flies downward and into a lower tree. That loss of altitude suggests its ability to fly has been impaired. This is confirmed when they are able to get as close to it as five feet without scaring it into taking flight.

"Beauty! Finally got one. Take your shirt off and throw it over it," said the blond Step to the dark one."

The latter is reluctant to comply with that request and delays doing so, but the parrot's head is beginning to droop in any case and continues to droop until, mere seconds later, the bird falls dead to the ground.

"Fuck this!" said the blond Step. "This is givin' me the fucken shits. You're a piss-weak fucken shot, you are."

"No I'm not. I'm as fucken good as you any day," said the dark one.

"You're fucken hopeless! You can't shoot for fucken shit! And we're gettin' fucken nowhere with this!"

"Well, let's fuck off home then." said the dark Step.

They continue walking along that track until they reach the Copper Road. At that point they turn north and head for home. In the distance Josh thinks he can see the group of urchins who had once given him grief, but he isn't sure, because they are at such a distance and continue to maintain such a distance that he cannot make a positive identification of even one of them.

Halfway home they see a car parked on the side of the road with a 'For Sale' sign on the windscreen. The price isn't displayed but it is obviously an expensive car. It is a Holden, like Kathy's but it is a Kingswood, which is a much bigger and newer model. It is possibly a HT, a HK or a HG model. Josh is unable to differentiate between these because the basic body shape is the same in each case.

This means it could be as much as eight years old but it might also be as young as three, and the latter seems the more likely estimate because of the condition and shine of the paint work.

"Let’s ask if we can go for a ride in it," said the blond one.

"Yair, here, hold my gun." Josh ends up holding both guns, but must first place the birdcage down on the ground at his feet. The guns feel really big and heavy. From the perspective of a nine-year-old, they appear big and powerful and expensive.

They are actually a handful for Josh to carry, but he doesn't mind--on the contrary, he feels good, he feels proud, he feels good and proud, he feels like a big guy.

Holding those guns makes Josh feel older than his years, precocious, cool, superior. He is not just a little kid any more. He is better than that. He is more important than that, and the feeling this gives him is pleasing indeed.

He is engrossed in the task of feeling good until a lady comes walking down the sidewalk toward him. She is old in his estimate but not quite elderly--she could have been anything from fifty to seventy-five years of age.

"Off with you!" she snarls, in a rude and aggressive tone of voice, which takes Josh totally by surprise and strikes some fear into him. Her hostile outburst also has a shattering effect on the fantasies of coolness, which he was reveling in right up until that moment. He is taken aback by the intensity of her anger.

He wonders if she is serious about expecting him to leave the area. It is a public place after all, so he has a right to be there, but she is an adult, and he would have to obey her orders if they were issued forcefully enough.

"Off with you! Maiming little birds!" she reiterates.

But, to his relief, she doesn't stop walking but begins to pass him by. Her failure to press the matter further gives Josh the feeling it will be okay for him to remain standing where he is.

"How would you like to be shot and then locked up in a cage," she said, turning her head to look back at him. Josh is unable to provide an adequate answer to that question.

Thus placed on the spot, he is unable to think. He is unable to formulate any kind of verbal response. All he can do is choke up and gulp nervously. He feels increasingly relieved as the lady continues on her way down the road and out of sight.

In a matter of a couple of minutes, the Steps return.

"Fuck the cunt! He asked to see our driver's licenses. Do we have driver's licenses? No fucken way!"

The blond Step pulls his hunting knife out of the scabbard on his belt and runs it with full force along the entire length of the car, cutting deep into its neat paint-job.

Josh is now terrified. He feels like running away. He feels like running for his life but he is still burdened with the task of holding two big and heavy air rifles.

He feels certain the man in the house is now looking out at them through a window; will see what's happening, and will come running out in a rage. Josh fears he will be blamed and maybe beaten up by a huge and ferociously angry man.

After the briefest period of time, which Josh experiences as dragging on for about ten minutes--but which was likely closer to twenty seconds--the Steps unburden him of their weapons.

Without further ado Josh picks up the carry cage and begins to walk quickly away. He walks a good distance ahead of the Steps, thereby creating a margin of safety by placing them between himself and the owner of the car. This has a mitigating effect upon his galloping anxiety.

But nothing happens. Perhaps the car owner had failed to anticipate such a negative reaction on the part of the Steps. Perhaps he had no idea his refusal would lead to vandalism. That would explain why he didn't even bother to look out the window so as to keep tabs on them.

Perhaps he was so trustingly naive that the possibility of damage being done to his car might never even have entered his head. If that was true, it was also conceivable that he might not even subsequently make the connection between the Steps and the vandalism but might simply view the occurrence as a random act.

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