Car Wrecks of the Great Central Road

CAR WRECKS OF THE GREAT CENTRAL ROAD

A novel

by Martin Chambers

Smashwords edition

ISBN 9781301890521

copyright 2011 Martin Chambers

http://www.martinchambers.id.au

https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/martinchambers

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Table of contents:

Toyota Hi-Ace

Holden Ute

Wicked campervan

Isuzu Flatbed

Commodore Monaro HQ

Nissan Patrol

Datsun 120Y

Landrover

Leyland P76

Hyundai Excel

Mazda B2600

Torana XU1

Chrysler Valiant Hemi

Ford Fairlane

Mercedes Sprinter

Volkswagen Beetle

Vauxhall Bedford Wagon

Uluru

About the Author

Shark Bay

The People Smuggler

Bulk Goon

Toyota Hi-Ace

Angel stood back in the shadows to watch as Charlie slid the blade into the gap and turned the knife, silently flexing the aluminium frame until the catch slid open. They might put security screens on these old houses but until they made decent frames getting inside was always gunna be easy. Charlie leaned through the narrow gap and shone the torch, quickly at first, like passing car-lights might reflect, then seeing it was an empty bathroom; he shone for a longer look. There were no cars in the carport and no lights on so it did seem as if the owners were away on holiday but it was always good to be cautious. It was not just luck that he and Angel had never been caught.

‘Bathroom,’ he whispered back to Angel. Good. It was always better to enter via a bathroom as these were never alarmed, and although their scout around the outside had revealed no house alarm you could never tell for sure.

Underneath the window was a vanity and basin, cluttered with small bottles and jars, toothpaste, jars of face cream. He hung half inside, as far as he could get, and with a long reach carefully shifted the stuff to the side of the vanity so there would be room for Angel to move without making a noise. As he shifted one glass he saw it contained false teeth. He dropped back outside.

‘Shit.’

‘What?’

‘Teeth. False teeth in a glass. Someone might be home.’ People didn’t go out or on holiday and leave their teeth behind.

‘Be old but,’ she whispered. Charlie took this as it to mean there would be less risk but Angel had meant that perhaps they ought to try at another place, but here and now was not the place to argue that point. Angel knew that recently she was finding more and more reasons not to enter particular houses. Already tonight she had insisted they move on from one house with kids’ pushers and tricycles littered around the front yard. She had whispered to Charlie that young families never had any spare money lying around and he had agreed to leave the place untouched, but her real reason was that she didn’t want to deprive children of their childhood, of toys and bicycles and special treats at the shops, all the things she had never had herself because there was never any money. Taking spare change left on a dresser from the house of a young family was stealing the little treats all young kids deserved. And now old people. Taking a little bit of cash off those who had a job was different to stealing from old people, those who might be on the pension and barely able to make ends meet. She wished to move on, find some place where a tradie with too much spare money left it carelessly tossed after a night at the pub. That sort of place.

Noiselessly Charlie slid back to the ground and motioned Angel to the window.

‘Yeah. But be quiet, there might be someone home.’ He didn’t need to tell her.

Reluctantly Angel wormed through the window and silently lowered herself to the floor, slithering belly-first like a snake. She stood, and Charlie handed her the torch and watched as she eased the bathroom door open. The house was completely dark, not even the red pinpoints of light from stereos, TV’s, or a digital clock that usually gave enough light to guide her around.

She turned off the torch and stood still for a while. A hallway. No sounds. When her eyes had adjusted she held her hand over the torch and turned it back on so there was just the red glow from light through the flesh of her fingers. She found the back door and let Charlie in.

‘It’s so dark,’ she whispered.

They were in a backroom that appeared to be a kitchen. Charlie closed the hallway door so they could use the torch properly. Angel opened a couple of drawers, cutlery, kitchen stuff. Another drawer near the phone had papers and bills. Charlie reached up and inspected some terracotta containers on top of a sideboard, the sort of place people hid valuables, but there was nothing of interest.

Wordlessly they moved towards the hall but as Angel eased open the door it squeaked, not loudly, but unmistakably in the quiet house. Instantly they froze motionless and listened for any sign of movement in the dark unknown. Nothing. She slid her hand over the torch again and made her way in dim red light along the hallway. There were four doors and they were all closed. At the far end was the front door with panel of stained glass in the old style, the type that rattled when moved. Lights from outside, the streetlamp or the moon, projected subtle colours onto the walls and a hall table. Some bags and things were collected there, thrown down after a day of shopping, or emptied from pockets, unloaded on the way in. Car keys. Unopened letters. Some loose change and a few banknotes. A camera. On the floor next to the table was a shopping bag so white it seemed to glow in the dark. PLAZA CAMERAS in big dark letters on it.

Angel walked to look at the bag and Charlie was about to open the first door but as Angel stepped a floorboard creaked and suddenly between them in the hall a door burst open and sudden light came from the room behind.

‘Who’s there?’ A mans voice. His outline was silhouetted huge from the light behind and he sounded young, agile, ready to fight.

Angel swung the torch around quickly, aimed the beam squarely into the man’s eyes. He turned to her. He had a cricket bat and was raising it to strike towards the torchlight.

‘Who’s there! Get out. Go on, Get out. I’ll teach you bastards.’

He moved towards Angel raising the bat. She backed away towards the front door but still held the torchbeam at his eyes. Charlie lunged from behind, pushed the man so hard that he stumbled, lost his balance and fell heavily against the table and onto the floor. Something cracked. A muffled cry. An older woman’s confused scream came from inside another bedroom.

Charlie grabbed the bat that had fallen next to the man who groaned and rolled over but didn’t get up. Angel grabbed the camera and the shopping bag and as Charlie swept by he took the car keys and money from the hall table. The stained glass panel collapsed with a single hit from the bat and they were outside running without even opening the front door. They ran. Angel ran left. Charlie to the right. He dropped the bat only after a few blocks.

Angel knew where she was. She ran fast and hard but always in the right direction. She turned left, crossed a park and ran three more blocks to the golf course where the bush provided perfect cover. She turned left again and slower now jogged back the way she had come, weaving in and out along the edge of the trees, running smoothly and easily along the grass. She found the fourth tee and hid in the bush behind the sand bunker.

She could hear sirens nearby, two sets converging towards where they had been. Shit. If only that dickhead hadn’t had a bat. The police took assault far more seriously than a simple break-in. They had been so careful, too. It hadn’t seemed as if anyone was home and then when they saw the teeth they thought it might have been just some old person. Perhaps they were getting careless. She should have spoken up, argued with Charlie, got him to move on to a different house. Before, when they first broke into a house together, the thrill fuelled her for days and it wasn’t the cash they stole but the adrenaline that drove her back to do it again. Now, it just made her sick. Was it time to do something else entirely? Something legit, even if not totally legal something not so entirely wrong. For she knew this was wrong and there had to be other ways to get money, things where no-one lost out. Like the time they had rented a schoolyard for parking, charging five dollars per car.

She and Charlie had just happened to be there, hanging out by the school gate watching the traffic. It was school holidays and a circus had set up their huge tent in the nearby park, traffic was heavy and there were cars parked all up and down the side streets. A car drove up and the driver asked if he could park in the yard. ‘How much?’ ‘Five bucks,’ said Charlie and calmly pocketed the cash. As soon as the man drove in other drivers saw and suddenly there was a queue of cars and soon they had the school yard full and pockets full of cash. They ran off before anyone could ask or discover they had no right to rent out the schoolyard. It wasn’t even their school. Angel suspected no-one was ever the wiser, they could have stayed and filled the sports oval too and no-one would have questioned them. Schools after hours were like that. Full of ghosts.

After a while and she had caught her breath she looked through the bag at the camera and other things. Obviously it was all brand new, there were still boxes and manuals, some accessories. She carefully went through the bag and removed all the packaging. The sirens had stopped but as she sat leaning against the tree trunk she could see in the distance two cars spotlighting the far end of the golf course and then to patrol the perimeter. Stupid. There were enough hollows and dips in the greens, and trees and shelter belts between, for someone to hide beneath the beam. Angel should have easily avoided them but as she watched the cars stopped, doors slammed and she heard voices, footfalls on tarmac. Shit, they got him! But then another alarm started, one of those loud cascading car alarms, and the police cars sped away with a slam of door and lights and sirens.

Angel walked across the golf course and then along the cycleway towards the city where there were plenty of dark hiding places or hidden shortcuts to escape by. With the camera bag she didn’t want to risk a ticketless train ride for even late at night there was a chance of being questioned and she knew that all the stations had video. Days later if they reviewed the tapes she might be recognised. It was a nice night for a walk anyway and along here she would see or at least hear if anyone was coming.

Charlie ran. He was a fast runner. He covered the route to the north end of the golf course quickly and sat on a park bench behind the clubhouse to catch his breath. He would be way in front of Angel and had plenty of time to walk among the shelter of trees to their meeting place at the fourth tee. He noticed a pain in his fingers and looked down to see he was still gripping the keys and money tightly and the metal of the key had dug into his skin. He put them in his pocket.

He was about to move off to meet Angel when he saw spotlights and heard car doors nearby, on the other side of the building, and the voices of people walking around. Noiselessly he slid into the cover of bushes and watched as a policeman with a torch circumnavigated the building, swinging the beam systematically but ineffectively along the building edge and even over the shrubs where Charlie was hiding. Quietness for a moment, then, voices again, then the cars and spotlights panning the grounds and moving slowly along the perimeter road towards where Angel would be hiding. Charlie ducked the opposite way through the car park and then sneaked out onto a side street. The first car he came to was a BMW. He left it. He jogged further along and passed a few minor cars, Hyundai, Ford, a Pajero. Then there was a Merc, it might do. In the driveway opposite there was a pile of bricks and as he went to grab one he spotted a Nissan Supra with a fat exhaust. Hotted up, these always had good alarms. Even better. He swung the brick at the side window. It took several attempts but sure enough, as soon as the window broke and he unlocked the door the alarm sounded, one of the cascading ultra alarms that was linked to the headlights. Perfect. He left the door open and sirens and lights flashing and ran.

He ran the opposite way, in shadows down the street and then across the highway and to the railway station. Out of habit he checked the ticket machine for missed change. He pressed the button.

‘The next train to Perth is in two minutes.’ The metallic voice was shocking in the lonely gloom but at least the train would arrive before anyone came looking for him. The police and the homeowner would be distracted for some time and he hoped Angel would figure it and meet him soon.

On the train he counted the money. $22.65. In the city at McDonalds he had a Big Mac meal and ate it slowly while waiting for Angel. They might have got her but he thought it unlikely, especially after he had set off the car alarm to distract them. How could they have anyway? She was a fast runner. Not as fast as him but certainly faster than a plod in boots. And maybe if they somehow did catch her she had talked her way out of it. She was good at that, too.

When Charlie first met Angel she was ten and Charlie had just turned eleven. Auntie arrived in the early afternoon with Angel and announced that this new girl would be sharing one of the beds in the girls’ room. Charlie knew it was best not to ask questions even though the house was already crowded and he had overheard Auntie on the phone saying she could not take any more. So this one must be special, but he had seen enough kids come into the home to know it was better not to ask the girl anything directly about how she came to be there.

‘This is your new sister,’ Auntie had said. ‘She’s staying until things get better at home.’ He also knew things never got better at home, that this was Auntie’s way of giving the newcomer hope that this was only a short stay. She had said the same to Charlie when she introduced him to the house. ‘It’s only a short stay till things get better at home’. But his Dad was in jail and no-one knew where his mum was. That was years ago. Most of his life.

Angel didn’t talk much at first. The only time she showed any eagerness for anything was at mealtimes when she would gobble up everything that was put in front of her. She and Charlie, being of similar age and the two oldest, began to hang out together. Charlie tried to impress her, at first by lifting mars bars and snickers from the deli. Angel was hard to impress. She would gobble the chocolates hungrily without saying much. Later, when she had been at the house for a few months and began to trust that there would be food every night, she would take the chocolates back to share with the other kids, often going back into the shop to take more so there was enough to share around. She had a youthful feminine innocence and beguiling eyes, so shopkeepers trusted her. Often she would come and go a few times without raising alarm. Charlie only had to loiter near the front door for them to be watching him suspiciously or yelling at him to move off before they called the police.

A few weeks after Angel had began stealing and sharing her own chocolates Charlie was just hanging around the shopping centre and a woman left her trolley outside the bank. While she was inside on business and without really thinking about it or planning what he was doing, Charlie wheeled away the trolley and pushed it all the way home, the whole time expecting cries of ‘Stop, thief’ from behind. He could tell Angel was impressed even though she didn’t smile or say anything. In fact it was because she didn’t smile or say anything that he could tell he had done something in her eyes worthy and he just knew that in the next few days Angel would turn up with her own hijacked trolley.

There was always enough to eat at home, just never too much and never anything different or special. Auntie shopped each week, walking the three blocks to the centre (often now wheeling the empty trolley that either Angel or Charlie had left in the front yard) and returned piled high with all the same things she had bought the week before. Even with the regular addition of the stolen food she still complained that this was all she could afford, the basics and nothing else. One time Charlie had argued with Auntie that she only took them all in for the money, she didn’t really care for them, that each day she couldn’t wait to get them off to school so she could get to the pub or the casino and that it wouldn’t matter how much housekeeping money she had she would only ever buy the same old stuff and spend the rest on herself.

Instead of getting angry, as she might have done, screaming ‘How dare you!’ or ‘After all I’ve done for you,’ instead of that Auntie just said she did what she could do, to give them a home and a meal every day, a new chance.

‘I can only do what I can do. I give you a home, what you make of the chance is up to you. All of you. That’s all I can do. What you make of the chance is up to you.’

Later she had added that during the day, at the casino, that was her time. And that she put a little aside, for them, for when they might need it.

‘You never know, one day we might need to buy a car, or fix something, on the house, stuff like that.’

Charlie had obviously hit a raw nerve with her, for later, as she was serving the evening meal, Auntie said again, easily at first then breaking down at the end.

‘Have I ever not provided for you? Has it ever interfered? And if I won big time, what would I be doing, eh? Running away to an island and leave you all? Spend it on a better place? A bigger place, with bedrooms for you all, that’s what. Bedrooms for you all.’

It was the only time she had ever cried in front of all the kids and out of all of them it was the newest and quietist, Angel, who went to her and hugged her. When she had calmed down Angel pulled a chocolate from the pocket and gave it to Auntie.

Thus became their weekly shopping trips. He discovered people often left their trolleys unattended, outside the bank, the chemist, the newsagent. The best was the hairdresser, where trolleys lay unattended for longer and the housewives would sit reading magazines and oblivious to what was going on around them. He would casually wheel the trolley away, rearranging the top items so that if someone did notice their trolley missing and come looking they might not recognise it. Only a few times was he accosted. He would just say sorry, I thought it was mine, and simply hand it back. Whether they believed him or not he was never questioned further. In fact the most embarrassing questions came one time when he took the complete trolley back to the house and had to explain why he had bought amongst all the foodstuffs, cat food, nappies and multivitamins for pregnancy. They didn’t have a cat or babies, but was someone pregnant? Auntie seemed to understand, though, and didn’t press. She must have known that he was stealing the trolleys as she knew he had no money, but she never said anything and the extra food was always accepted. Auntie was like that, she had her own internal set of rules about right and wrong that often didn’t match perfectly with the rest of the world.

Charlie was tall enough even at that age to wheel full trolleys but Angel was smaller and had to look carefully for the right trolley to take. The key was to wait until there were several trolleys, the centre was busy and the shoppers unlikely to notice, or if they did, be prepared to forgive an honest mistake. The first time Angel did it she ignored several trolleys that were only half full, preferring to wait for a trolley stacked high, but she lost control of it and in the confusion that followed her colliding with a hat rack outside the chemists she calmly walked back to take a lighter one. She quickly rearranged it so the load looked different and outside in the car park she took out all the things they didn’t need and left them in a second trolley, so there was less chance of it being recognised on the long walk pushing the trolley to the house. For Charlie, that walk was always the longest time as a security guard or even the police if they were called could drive past and stop. They never did, but he imagined the impossible situation he would be in if they had. Angel solved that problem on her very first time, and she seemed to have no guilt or remorse about it. Charlie only took trolleys when Auntie had run out of money towards the end of each month and at other times when the pokies were unkind. But Angel had enjoyed it, took trolleys for just the sheer pleasure, the thrill, the sport of releasing a trolley of food into the wilds of their own backyard.

It had been Angel who first suggested they climb into a house one night and see what else they could get. Some cash mostly, just small change and the occasional handbag or wallet. They never used the