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Last Fifty
6. Line Shopping & Door Dashing

6. Line Shopping & Door Dashing

We rode our dirt bikes along a winding gravel country road, flanked by farm paddocks either side. The storm had begun to subside, paving way for a somewhat cloudy yet blue sky.

It had been a good hour since we had left that pine maze of chaos, yet I was still wearing this burlap sack for clothing. I wiggled my toes to make sure I could still feel them, and then sped up to join Maverick’s side.

The wind blowing against my bare face I yelled, “Let’s stop off at the next town, I need to get some proper clothing!”

“Next town probably won’t have any clothes shops. we’ll have to go line shopping!” Maverick yelled back.

“What’s that?” I yelled.

“You’ll see.” Maverick answered, as we passed into a small farm town named Lightville.

The town was situated as a pitstop for northern travellers heading up to Cape Reinga. All of the shops lined along state highway 1, which ran through the centre of town.

I noticed a small supermarket, a library, an information centre, a motocross shop, a bakery, a fish and chip shop and a hunting and tackle shop. Not a single vehicle parked outside any of them. Not a single person wandering the streets either.

We parked our bikes outside the fish and chip shop, and I began to wander towards the hunting and tackle shop next door.

“Have you got cash?” asked Maverick, securing the seat latch on his dirt bike.

“Nope, but I doubt they lack compassion.” I replied, stopping and waiting for him.

“Are you scared to go line shopping?” Maverick said again, joining my side.

“What is it?” I said, folding my arms.

Maverick looked towards a line of houses across the street from us. Paint peeling off of their exteriors, backyards with high fences, not a single house light emitting from within.

Maverick took a step towards them, and I followed after him cautiously. He snuck towards a fenced off back yard, pepped over the fence, “There’s one right there, no dog either, I’ll give you a boost.”

I frowned, “What? You want me to steal their clothes?”

Maverick nodded, “You’re the one that wants clothes.”

I stood there silently, then peered over the fence.

“Don’t be a pussy, you’re the one that’s been bitching about the cold, now get in there!” Maverick insisted, rolling his head towards the fence.

I pressed my numb foot into Mavericks interlocked fingers and he heaved me up and over the fence. I fell onto the soft grass yard and began to creep towards the clothes line.

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I peered towards the back porch of the old home. It looked to be an old family home. Barely renovated since being built. I could tell by the muddy redband gumboots and the large sieved hunting knife resting on a pile of cray pots that this home belonged to someone that knows how to survive with little.

“The way it should be.” I thought to myself as I began to carefully unpeg some clothes from their line.

I collected a large red swanndri hunting jacket, some old Levi jeans and a tattered white singlet.

I then made my way back towards the fence, and tapped against it to figure out where Maverick was. “Maverick? Maverick, where are you?” I whispered. There was no answer.

I then tossed the clothing over the fence and pulled myself up and over, landing on the hard red rock driveway when I landed.

I then hurried down the driveway towards the block of shops in search of a bush to change.

Suddenly, a firm hand dropped on my shoulder, “waddya doin!” laughed Maverick.

I jumped out of my skin, “What the fuck man!? You gotta stop doing that!”

“Look what I found!” he said, holding up a pair of mud encrusted boots.

“How’d you get those?” I already knew the answer.

“Door shopping.” answered Maverick, spitting on the ground. “Hope you’re size 12!”

I shook my head, “Size 10.”

“Ahwell, looks like you’ll grow into ‘em.” Maverick laughed.

“Also found a couple bucks in the ashtray, should we get some chips?” Maverick offered, shifting the coins around in his hand.

“I think I should change and then we get on the bikes and leave.” I advised, looking up from the ground.

Maverick dropped the boots, “You took the keys didn’t you?”

Upon instant observation I realised that the bikes had indeed been moved from where we had parked them. As in they had been stolen right under our noses.

“I thought you took the keys?” I muttered in disbelief.

Maverick threw his head in his hands, “Obviously not otherwise they’d still fuckin’ be here.”

Maverick looked up and down the road. “You’d think we would've heard them being started.” Maverick muttered also, “This is your fuckin fault Hunter!” he yelled

“My fault? How is it my fault!?” I yelled back.

“If you hadn’t got all pissy about needing clothes our bikes wouldn’t be gone!” Maverick cursed, patting his pockets.

“Yeah? Well if you hadn’t scammed me fifty bucks maybe i’d be at work right now Instead of some buttfuck nowhere town!” I argued, walking towards a short bridge beside the fish and chip shop.

Maverick hurried beside me, “Do you have any idea how much dosh I coulda made from that weed? You woulda got a grand!”

“Those rednecks could have our necks if they catch up to us! Now piss off Maverick, I’m getting changed!” I scoffed, sliding down the mudbank on the side of the bridge.

I quickly changed into the Levi’s and chucked on the filthy singlet, “Once it’s yellow it’s time to go.” I muttered as I looked at the beer ring stain along the head hole of the singlet.

Finally I slipped on the Swanndri jacket and re-emerged carefully up one side of the muddy bank towards the fish and chip shop entrance.

As I approached the boots and caught a whiff of those crisp golden chips frying away I could help but feel my hunger tap my shoulder.

I made way towards the discarded boots and began to slip them on without socks.

I wandered towards the boots and chucked them on with no socks. They fit like clown shoes, so I tied the laces extra tight and then tied them again.

When I stood back up and looked at Maverick I noticed him handing over his coins to a local farmer as he received a single cigarette. My stomach rumbled as I watched him spark it.

Maverick raised his eyebrows, “Don’t look at me, you’re the one that quit remember?” he said.

“Yeah but we coulda got something to eat with those couple bucks. I haven’t eaten all day.” I replied.

Maverick poked my stomach, “Maybe you should lay off for a while.”

I wrapped my thumb and index finger around Maverick’s wrist, “Maybe you should start.

Maverick inhaled his cigarette deeply, as a car began to approach us on the main road. He slipped the cigarette between his lips and stuck his thumb out.

I stood where I was, “Might wanna put that thing out if you wanna get a ride.”

Suddenly a Navy blue van pulled over.

Maverick opened the door and asked the driver;“Where ya headed?”

The driver was wearing thick black sunglasses,had a beard with orange flecks in his goatee, a trucker hat that read “Nazi Psychiatry”

I began to feel a sinking in my stomach as I watched the driver pop a pill of some sort.

“All the way to Hamilton brother.” The driver responded.

Maverick turned his head towards me, “Safe that’s us Hunter! Hop in, I’m not sitting in the middle!”