I sat in the middle, while Maverick took the window seat. This was an extremely poor choice of seating since Maverick was the one most adamant in speaking.

The van driver (who I would later find out to be called Lance) had a filthy vehicle interior. The cup holders sticky with energy drink spillage, dog hair stuck in the non working air conditioning vents, the stench of stale cigarette smoke lingering in the air.

I reached across to Mavericks side to try and unwind the window, but he quickly shoved my arm away.

I looked into the back and noticed coils upon coils of raw copper wiring. I turned to Lance and asked, “What do you do for a living?”

Lance dropped his handbrake, “I’m an electrician,” her replied, as we pulled off onto the main road.

Lance, the driver, tossed me an old metallic tin. The tin was scratched up and dented and a mixture of the colours pink and white, the word Kauri marked in the centre.

“Open that up and roll me one.” Lance ordered, as we made our way across a rural section of state highway 1.

I opened it up and found a small nest off cannabis. The buds didn’t smell overly strong. Back in my smoking days I always felt it was right to judge the quality of a man based on the quality of his weed.

And if I was to go by that metric I would assume that this guy was the runt of his litter. However his faded knuckle tats and thick beard told me otherwise.

I rolled up a small joint and passed it to Lance. Lance sized it up optically and then slipped it between his lips.

He gestured for a lighter, so I thumped Maverick.

Maverick looked over and passed his lighter over to Lance, “After you.”

Lance inhaled deeply, exhaled deeply, then inhaled again. He then passed it to me and I passed it to Maverick who had a hefty toke and when I turned back to Lance I noticed that his cold stare had not left me.

“Do you know a guy named Jeffrey?” Lance asked.

“Jeffrey?” I returned, passing the joint from Maverick to Lance.

“Yeah, Jeffrey.” Lance confirmed, his eyes locked onto me.

My eyes flickered to the road and noticed that we were beginning to drift to one side, so I gave the steering wheel a nudge.

“Don’t touch that, you little shit! I asked you a question. Answer it.” Lance spoke again, inhaling another toke and sipping it before passing to Maverick.

I began to feel myself become light headed. It’d be a short eternity since I’d smoked weed. I sure as hell did not wanna relapse inside the cramped interior of some washed out electrical junkies van.

“Jeffrey? Doesn’t ring any bells.” I answered, rubbing my knees with my palms.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

“Surely you know Jeffrey.” laughed Maverick, passing the joint to Lance.

“Yeah.” Lance muttered, sipping the last of the joint before stuffing it into his full ashtray. “Roll us another. Don’t be shy with the green now!”

I didn’t say a word. Instead I broke apart some nugs and tried my second attempt at constructing a joint that would shut both of them up. Extreme paranoia be upon them.

I passed the joint over to Lance who sparked with my zippo, “You look just like him, no relation?” Lance prodded further.

I shook my head, “Not that I know off.”

“That’s funny.” Lance continued, sipping on his joint before unloading a story that was fit to peel paint.

‘Jeffrey was a guy my mum knew. My mum knew a lot of people. But this guy was easily the most bizarre.

One night we found him digging through a recycled clothing bin. I was sitting in the backseat with my siblings, mum was in the front by herself, smoking a cigarette.

I watched as she approached Jeffrey. He was wearing a leather jacket with the sleeves rolled up above his elbows. He pulled a flower dress from the grave of clothing for which he was digging and presented it to my mother; “Could be good for you? Or maybe me?” he said, pressing the dress against himself.

They exchanged a few sentences and then he hopped in the car. He reeked like sour milk and something rotten.

We drove over to the local supermarket and he opened his car door, “Same as last time?” he asked my mother.

“Yup, same as last.” she agreed, passing Jeffrey a couple reusable shopping bags.

Jeffrey left, leaving a sinister trail behind him as he strolled. This was how my family and I got our weekly meat. Jeffrey would go inside and steal meat for us for a rock of crack.

At the time it never dawned on me that Jeffrey was once a child that someone had loved. Or perhaps he was never loved. That sure as hell would explain why he had found himself in such a predicament.

“How will we know if he’s been caught?” I asked my mother.

My mother dragged deep on her cigarette, “He’ll send us a blank text.”

I sunk in silence, waiting to see if Jeffrey would return.

About half an hour went by until Jeffrey came out pushing a trolley in front of him.

He began loading the groceries inside the back of our minivan. His stench still thick and putrid.

Jeffrey then sat in the front seat and began tapping to my mother about something to do with working girls a.k.a prostitutes.

We then dropped him off at a dumpster behind the old video store in Glenfield, and off we left.

That was the last time I saw Jeff. Last I heard he was serving time. Never found out what for.’

I swallowed my tongue. Even Maverick had decided to shut up.

Lance then turned to me and said, “You look a little like him, thought he’d be your uncle or something.”

I sat and let a wave of unease wash over me. A disturbance in the air greeting my soul.

Lance’s fingers began to burn from the joints ember and he quickly stuffed it into his ashtray. I don’t know what for, after all what was left was nothing worth salvaging.

“If I squeeze your balls will you squeal?” laughed Lance.

I remained silent.

“How about if I drove like this?” Lance began to swerve from one side of the road to the other and then back again.

“Can you stop that?” Maverick scoffed, tapping his knee with a row of knuckles.

Lance caught note of this, “Just kiddin’”

We rode in silence some more.

“So you guys say you’re headed to Auckland?” Lance asked, plucking a Taylor made cigarette from a possum fur pouch.

“That’s right.” Maverick replied, his eyes locked onto that pouch.

“Well if you guys wanna get all the way to Auckland I’m gonna need a hand with something. You know, for payment.” Lance began, sparking his cigarette with my zippo.

“What kind of thing?” I asked nervously.

We reached a crossroads and Lance took a left turn heading off course. “There’s a client down the road abit that hasn’t paid for my electrical work. We’re gonna go in and steal his copper wiring.”

“How much copper wiring does he have?” Maverick asked Lance.

My nerves began to twitch,’ just shut up and go with it Maverick!’ I wanted to say.

“A fair bit. If you two follow my instructions we’ll be out of here within the hour.” Lance replied, pulling into a gravel driveway.

“As long as it’s not too long, we’ve got people waiting on us.” Maverick replied, nudging me.

“We won’t be long. In, and out.” Lance finished, pulling up his handbrake outside of a lonely yellow farmhouse.