I would soon come to find out that Shogun was the nickname of Fred’s personal shotgun. It was a double barrel. Fred grabbed it from a top rafter in his shack, complete with an old box of shotgun shells.

Jasper carefully snatched Shogun from his uncle's grip and walked around to the back of the cabin, and hopped on the back of a quad bike.

Jasper turned it on and drove it to the front of the shack where myself, Michael, Wesley and granny were still standing.

Uncle Fred appeared with a large leashed dog, its breed of which I was unsure.

“We’ve only got two quads, y'all might as well make yourself comfortable inside.” Jasper said to us.

“Let us hop on the back, we’ll cover more ground.” Michael insisted, stepping towards Jaspers quad bike.

“Nah, wait here. We’ll be quick.” Jasper replied, as Uncle Fred jumped on the back of the quad bike with his dog curled up beside him.

“Take it easy, neph, can’t have Mutt getting a broken leg.” Fred replied, rubbing his dog's head.

Jasper ripped up the big with the quad bike wheels and off they went deep into the bush.

The quads noise began to slowly disappear and be replaced by a symphony of song birds tweeting and clicking in the trees above.

“What now?” I asked, looking at our group.

“Let’s go inside.” Wesley replied, plucking the rusted machete from the car.

Michael and I kept an eye on Wesley as he walked towards the shack doors and pushed them open before disappearing inside.

“Mind if I pinch a smoke there Nan?” I asked.

Granny passed me a cigarette and I lit it up. My heartbeat began to slow down. I sucked it like it was my very own lifeline.

I checked my cell phone reception, and noticed that I didn’t have any bars. Granny walked inside. Michael stayed with me.

What were they going to do if and when they found the truck thief. The way I saw it they were either gonna keep him a hostage, or kill him. Either way it would’ve been wise not to have been around when the cops arrived.

I could already see the boys in blue beating me senseless, tightening cuffs around my wrists and stomping their thick boots into my head. Less the sentencing.

Or maybe we wouldn’t need to worry about sentencing because after all, Michael and I were loose ends. What was the point in keeping us around? So they could make chump change shovelling dirt for us instead of stealing shit off people?

No, we weren’t going to face prosecution, we were going to face imminent death when Wesley struck that Machete down. Hell, that was probably the same machete their Uncle Fred had used on his victim all those years ago.

“You alright there, Percy?” asked Michael, bouncing on his heels.

“Nah man, I’m pretty fuckin’ far from okay.” I replied, sucking deeply on the cigarette.

“I thought you said you were gonna give that stuff up?” Michael said, watching me feign more than any feign had ever feigned before.

“I never said that.” I replied, noticing I was down to the filter.

“Yeah well, maybe now’s a good time.”

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“Now is not a good time. That guy Wesley is up to something.”

“What makes you think that?” Michael cleared his throat.

“We’re loose ends Michael, we gotta get the fuck outta here!” I urged quietly.

“What? And lose the truck for good when we’re already this close? C’mon man.”

“No man, we won’t be getting the truck back anyhow these guys will kill us, torture the thief until he takes them to whatever warehouse he’s keeping all these stolen vehicles stored and then kill hik to.”

“What makes you think they’ll want to commit a triple homicide, Percy?”

“Look at them man they’re nuts, their uncles a convicted murderer for Christ sake. Not to mention they make earns for a living. What’s to stop them from torturing that car thief and cashing possibly 6 figures.”

“If they were going to do it they would have done it by now. Now relax. Let’s go inside.” Michael insisted as he began to walk inside the slanting shack.

“I don’t know Michael, I don’t like this.” I pressed, but my words fell on deaf ears.

I conceded and followed him inside the shack and found the inside to be just as depraved as the outside.

God knew how long the shack had been decaying in this bush for. Green moss had grown into the wall boards, the floor was soft orange clay, the roof looked to have a couple leaks, the shack in its entirety looked as though it was one hail storm from complete collapse.

A foul odour that I could only chalk up to wet socks and mouldy clothing permeated the air. Despite the pleasant songbird choir surrounding us this is what I figured the end of a very dark road looked like. Perhaps literally.

“I don’t see why Fred doesn’t just come stay with us.” Granny stated, as she lit up yet another cigarette.

Wesley stoked kindling inside a fireplace which had a stove on top, “Because Nan, we need to keep him away from some pretty bad people.”

“I have barely seen him these past four years and then I see that he is living in a dump like this…” Granny began to break into tears.

Wesley didn’t pay much mind, “Can you pass me your lighter please.”

“How has he been getting food out here?” Granny continued, passing the lighter over to Wesley.

Wesley grabbed the lighter and lit the fire, “Uncle Jase drops him food parcels on his way through.”

“He should be with us!” granny argued, blowing out a smoke ring with tears.

“That’s not possible unless you want us all killed.” Wesley replied, acting as though this was a routinely get-through.

“Well maybe we should move out here, so he doesn’t feel so alone.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“I will! I’m not going back!”

“Alright then, but I’m staying at yours and I’m pretty sure Jasper will too.”

Granny let out a violent cry and made her way outside, sobbing as she went.

“Don’t mind her, she just gets a bit funny sometimes.” Wesley spoke to us.

“No worries.” I replied.

“She’s not wrong though, this place is a shithole. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.” Wesley said, searching a chilly bin, “Yessir.” as he showed us an unopened packet of bacon.

Wesley slapped a few streaks onto the stove and shuffled them around with his machete. The rusted one.

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to be using a machete that has rust on it to cook with?” Michael asked, pulling a face.

“This ain’t rust, it’s heat damage, we use it all the time.” Wesley replied, flipping some bacon.

“Why’s that?” I said curiously.

“I don’t know man, it’s different, fuck it, why not.” Wesley laughed, “First in first served.” he said as he plucked a strip of bacon off of the stove and shovelled it into his mouth, “aaAa Fuck!” as it burned his mouth.

“I’m good man.”

“Same.” agreed Michael.

We sat in that shack for another couple hours and still no sign of Fred or Jasper, not even a distant hum of the quads motor. I could see through the cracks in the wallboards that the sun was beginning to set.

“So how do you know Charlie?” Michael prodded.

“That guy? He was mates with our cousin Jay.” Wesley answered, blowing on a second strip of bacon.

“Oh no shit? Charlie’s our brother. We knew Jay back in the day he was crackup.” I shared, and all of a sudden that bacon looked moreish.

“Oh yeah? Trippy.” Wesley said shortly, chomping down on more bacon.

“Is he named after your uncle by any chance?” Michael asked.

“Uncle Jase, yeah.” Wesley confirmed, pointing at the bacon, “Get in quick or I’ll eat it all.”

Michael walked over to the stove and carefully plucked a strip of bacon, shook the grease off and ate it bit by bit. “Yeah that’s not bad aye.”

Suddenly a light humming of a distant quad bike could be heard. Followed by the distant cheers and celebration of Jasper and Fred.

Wesley tucked away the remaining bacon and put it back inside the chilly bin.

All three of us walked out to the front of the shack and watched as the Quad rolled up with the presumed thief tied to the front, stripped down to his jocks, blood leaking from both nostrils, and duct tape wrapped around and over his mouth.

“We got ‘em boys!” Jasper Cheered parking the Quad beside Wesley’s car.

Wesley approached the Quad and knelt down to face the thief.

“Did you heat up the machete?” asked Jasper, wiping his bloodied hands with a rag.

“Yeah, it should be on the stove.” Wesley replied, smacking the thief with an open palm.

“Alright cuz, I’ll be back.” Jasper stated, walking towards the barn door. As he passed us he asked, “Any beer in there boys?”

“No idea.” Michael replied,

I gawked with my jaw slack. Any ounce of companionship I found in Wesley was evaporating quicker than the bacon lard on the cooking machete blade. My mind racing a thousand miles an hour. I had no clue as to what to do next.