Room 46 & Short Story Collection Read online

  Shovelling another handful of cereal into his mouth, Jake pondered briefly the whereabouts of his former “investment partners”. Although convicted of fraud, they had all managed to avoid actual jail time but had been banned from associating with each other ever again. Jake was happy enough to comply after being hung out to dry by the same people who had lured him into the whole mess in the first place.

  Why did he always do that? Why did he let other people lead him into trouble? Why wasn’t an honest job in corporate finance enough?

  Emptying the last few cornflake crumbs into his mouth, Jake crushed the box and kicked it aside. The four hundred and eighty-five dollars currently in his possession was all he had left. It was another ten weeks before he was eligible for Centrelink benefits and his chances of obtaining employment were less than nil.

  Leaning back against the fibro wall, Jake banged his head in frustration. He had spent the last two weeks desperately trying to formulate a plan to end the spiral his life was in. And unfortunately, amid all the possibilities, there was only one scenario that might work.

  It wasn’t something he wanted to do, who in their right mind would? But desperate times called for desperate measures.

  Wriggling into his sleeping bag Jake exhaled sharply. ‘I can’t believe it’s come to this,’ he muttered aloud, wishing the whole ordeal was over and his life could begin again.

  • • • • •

  When the weekend arrived Jake had finally psyched himself up for the task at hand. Working quietly in the dim light of the garage, he loaded several items into a small black backpack. He’d even made a list to make sure he didn’t forget anything. Beanie, check. Cigarettes and lighter, check. Gun and bullets, check. Was this something only truly desperate people did? Jake wondered.

  He had timed the journey at two hours and ten minutes and was aiming to arrive at 3.30 am when the service station and its surrounds would be quiet. Although he hadn’t lived in the area for more than ten years, Jake had rung and confirmed it was still a twenty-four hour servo.

  Glancing up at the house, he could see the lights on in the front and hear the TV blaring. A mad keen rugby league fan, Mrs Swinson would be immersed in the test match, which at least made leaving easier.

  Zipping up his backpack, Jake eased out the door and closed it silently, before creeping down the driveway and out on to the street.

  Arriving at his friend Glen’s place at eleven thirty, Jake was relieved to see the car sitting in the driveway as arranged. With some time still to kill, he perched on the bonnet of the Falcon sedan. Twenty-five years old, it was technically un-roadworthy due to the rust patches that had begun to eat through the exterior and chassis, but was still registered.

  An amateur mechanic and panel beater, Glen had got as far as replacing one of the doors and the top of the boot with panels sourced from the wreckers. Given that the original paintwork was an oxidised red and the replaced portions were white and canary yellow respectively, the effect was like a badly made patchwork quilt. However, the six cylinder engine was solid and according to Glen still had plenty of power, so Jake was prepared to overlook the aesthetics.

  Glen had eyed Jake curiously when he had asked to borrow the car, but seemed to know better than to ask any questions beyond how long he wanted it for.

  A black cat wandered into the yard and jumped on top of the wheelie bin, its bright green eyes watching Jake warily. He didn’t know if its presence was of any significance as he ran through the sequence of events again in his mind. Jake knew he had made adequate preparations and like a student facing an exam, there was nothing more he could do but hope for the best.

  The interior of the Falcon was in marginally better condition than the exterior, but only just. While the driver’s seat was intact, the passenger side was a jumble of springs and foam and was jammed forward almost touching the dashboard. A selection of wires hung ominously beneath the steering wheel and the rear-view mirror was fastened to the roof via a piece of metal and a series of thick rubber bands. After poking it delicately with one finger and getting an impression of how fragile the structure was Jake decided to leave well enough alone.

  Surprisingly the powerful engine started first go. Remembering Glen’s warning about the tricky clutch, Jake eased it into gear and nosed on to the suburban street. Not wanting to draw attention to the un-roadworthy car, he was cautious with his speed as he made his way out of the suburbs but put his foot down once he made it to the highway.

  Cruising along at a steady hundred, Jake selected a tape at random from the storage console between the two front seats and shoved it into the slot. Paul Kelly’s Dumb Things blasted through the front speakers. Jake laughed at the appropriateness of the song title and started to sing along, ‘In the middle, in the middle, in the middle of a dream. I lost my shirt, I pawned my rings I’ve done all the dumb things…’

  Jake’s off key singing was interrupted by a burst of static and the sounds of a tape being mangled.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ he exclaimed and hit the stop button. When that had no effect he pushed eject and the edge of the cassette appeared. Grasping it as best he could Jake pulled it out, relieved to see the trail of audio tape was still intact and could be wound back into the case. Throwing the tape onto the passenger seat, he flicked the stereo back to radio and spent thirty seconds moving through the pre-programmed stations, finally settling on the Saturday night request show on Cool Rock 105.3.

  There wasn’t much traffic on the road and each time another car appeared Jake wondered where they were going on this clear August night. He was fairly sure none of them were doing what he was.

  Exhaling loudly he shook his head. Jake had always thought that criminals were evil people, who did bad things just for the hell of it. Now he realised that wasn’t true. Sure, some of them might be evil, but most were probably just like him, victims of circumstance. One bad decision had led to a downward spiral that couldn’t be reversed without a bold move on his part.

  Although it had been a long time since he had been in the area, when Jake passed the abandoned sawmill he knew he was almost there. He had spent many hours of his childhood playing there, diving into piles of sawdust and building cubby houses with timber. It was now fenced off and there didn’t appear to be much of the original structure left.

  Although there were no cars on either side of the highway, Jake dutifully indicated as he turned into the driveway of McGill’s Service Station. It had been upgraded and now had modern bowsers instead of the old fashioned ones he remembered. The shop had also been enlarged and fully renovated.

  ‘Damn!’ Jake exclaimed, as he pulled into one of the parking spots. There were people here. A red Daihatsu Charade was filling up at bowser four and a blue Torana was reversing over to the air pump.

  Although he wanted it all over and done with, Jake found himself willing the other customers to take their time so he didn’t have to make his move yet. He watched the overweight forty-something man with a drooping handle-bar moustache climb out of the Torana. Picking up the tangled air hose, the man grappled with it for several seconds before unravelling it, then squatted down and attached it to his back left tyre.

  The view at bowser four was much better. A young blonde woman wearing tight jeans and a white halter top was filling her tank and text messaging at the same time, obviously having never received the email about mobile phones and petrol pump explosions. Neither of them seemed to be in a hurry nor did they appear to notice Jake sitting in the dark. The young woman drove off first, gunning her engine and squealing her tyres as she sped out the driveway heading north. Mr Air Pump fiddled around for another five minutes, apparently getting each tyre to its perfect PSI before also heading north, albeit much more sedately.

  Unzipping the backpack, Jake pulled the gun out and took a close look at it. Sure, it was nearly thirty years old but it was still in mint condition. In fact it had never been used. As a child he had longed to play with it, to shoot Coke cans off the fence like
the other kids did, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. Subconsciously he had always known it was cursed. But now he had to look beyond that.

  Jake pulled his beanie low over his forehead and took several deep breaths before cracking the door. Once outside he stood there for another minute or two, scanning the outside road and straining his ears for any noise in the silent, clear night. The stars stood out in the sky like diamonds in a black velvet box and Jake made a wish upon one before walking over to the servo shop and opening the door.

  The young attendant was engrossed in whatever he was watching on TV through the open office door and only glanced up briefly as Jake strode purposefully in … and headed for the drinks fridge. Staring through the glass door at the bottles of Pepsi, Fanta, Sprite and Mount Franklin Water he shook his head in disgust at his own cowardice. So much for heading straight to the counter!

  Glancing at the teenager at the register, Jake’s stomach knotted. He couldn’t expect people to understand that he HAD to do this; it wasn’t just something he had decided on the spur of the moment. He had tried other ways to solve his problems but they hadn’t worked. In truth when he’d finally made the decision to go through with it he had felt a sense of relief. But he hadn’t expected to be this nervous.

  The phone rang. Jake jumped violently in fright. The attendant answered on the second ring and launched into an animated conversation, apparently with his girlfriend going by the comments he was making.

  ‘Yeah, yeah you do that. No, wear the red one.’ He laughed heartily at something and then whispered into the receiver.

  Jake willed the conversation to go on and on. He couldn’t really be expected to hang around for an hour if they kept talking, could he?

  But, of course, then attendant became a diligent worker and curtailed the conversation. ‘All right, see you in the morning,’ he said, before hanging up the phone.

  Another customer came in then, a truck driver this time, decked out in King Gee workwear and a Brisbane Broncos beanie. Grabbing a cellophane wrapped pie out of the warmer and a bottle of chocolate milk from the fridge, he threw a suspicious glance at Jake before heading up to the counter.

  Right Jake, you’ve got two minutes more and then you’re doing it!

  After studying the selection of road maps, then meandering around the chips display (and noting the two new Smiths flavours on offer), Jake pulled himself together. It was now or never and he hadn’t come all this way for nothing. Pulling his beanie even lower over his face, Jake marched across the shop, looked the attendant right in the eye and dumped the contents of his bag on the counter.

  Staring at Jake in shock, the attendant threw his hands into the air. ‘Ooooh M-m-man,’ he stammered, ‘not again. Take it easy there mate.’

  ‘I’m cool,’ Jake replied. ‘But I just need you to listen to me.’

  ‘Oh, I’m listening, but to save us some time here I need to tell you the safe is on time lock. I honestly cannot open it. You can have what’s in the till and the smokes, but seriously it’s not that much.’

  ‘I don’t want anything – I want to give you something.’

  ‘Let me guess, a bullet in the face just for the hell of it?’

  ‘No, no, you’ve got it all wrong.’

  When Jake made no move to pick the gun up, the attendant peered at it more closely, dropping his hands as he did so. ‘All right, you had me there for a second, but we both know that’s not a real gun.’

  ‘No, it’s not, it’s a toy.’

  Relaxing a little more, the attendant looked at the gun again. ‘It’s a beauty though, I’ve never seen one quite like that before.’

  ‘Yeah it was top of the line in its day. All the kids wanted one.’

  ‘I hate to break it to you buddy, but that’s a pretty lame hold up attempt. You didn’t even point the thing at me.’ He motioned to the ceiling, ‘You should know that we’ve got security cameras, and the cops don’t take too kindly to people who bring guns into servos, even toy ones.’

  Jake shook his head. ‘I’m not trying to hold you up.’

  ‘Okaaay, glad we’ve established that. So what’s with all this?’ the attendant asked, surveying the items on the counter. ‘Liquorice bullets, two packets of Benson and Hedge’s Extra Mild, a lighter and some cash. I take it there’s a reason behind all this?’

  Jake nodded. ‘Twenty-eight years ago one of my friends and I came in to this service station one night. The guy who was on duty had to go outside and help someone and we stole this toy gun, a packet of liquorice bullets, two packets of cigarettes and a lighter. The guy didn’t even see us leave and we never got caught.’

  The attendant raised his eyebrows. ‘Great story and really not that exciting. I’ve stolen way more than that and never been caught either. Despite what those security posters say most shoplifters do get away with their crimes.’

  ‘Ah, but not being caught and getting away with it are two different things. If you believe in karma, then you know that any wrong deed will return to you in some form.’ Glancing at the young man’s name badge Jake continued, ‘You see Angus, I’ve completely trashed my life in the past two years and the only way I can get it back to rights is to confess to and make amends for every bad deed I’ve done. This was where my life of crime officially began.’

  ‘Let me guess, your name is Earl?’ Angus quipped.

  ‘No, it’s Jake, but I see you’re familiar with the concept of karma?’

  ‘Sure, kind of.’

  ‘Then you know what I’m trying to do.’

  ‘I guess so,’ Angus replied. ‘I’m assuming you want me to keep this stuff?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘But I don’t own the place, I just work here. It wasn’t my stuff you stole.’

  ‘I know,’ Jake explained patiently. ‘This is kind of symbolic. I tried to find the owner but I couldn’t, so I just had to bring it back to the place.’

  ‘What do I do with it?’ Angus asked.

  Jake shrugged. ‘Put it on the shelves to sell?’

  ‘We don’t stock any of this stuff. You’d have to be nuts to sell a toy gun in a servo these days, we only sell Allen’s confectionary and my boss hates Benson and Hedges. Apparently they screwed him over on some promotion twenty years ago. Something about a box of fake gold lighters that never arrived.’

  ‘All right give it away, keep it for yourself, you choose.’

  ‘What’s with the cash? You didn’t get any fuel.’

  ‘The money is the cost of the things I stole at the time multiplied by the CPI and adding in a fair rate of interest if the money had been invested over the past twenty-five years.’

  Angus counted the pile of notes and coins. ‘Two hundred and forty-seven dollars and forty-five cents’

  ‘It was actually forty-one cents, but I rounded up.’

  ‘Awesome.’

  ‘Hey just humour me here will you Angus? Obviously you think I’m nuts and that’s your prerogative, but believe me the only way to cancel out negative energy is to create positive energy to go in its place. The universe doesn’t forget.’

  Angus raised his eyebrows. ‘Whatever you reckon. Looks like I’m in for some tough times then.’

  Jake shrugged. ‘You don’t have to be, it’s all about choices.’

  ‘Cool, I’ll remember that.’ Angus eyed Jake again and smirked. ‘What’s with the beanie?’

  ‘I was wearing a beanie that night, just trying to recreate things accurately.’

  ‘Right,’ Angus said, still smirking. ‘I reckon this cash is going to go right in my pocket.’

  ‘That’s okay. I’ve done my part giving it back; the karma ball is in your court now.’

  Angus stood in a way that shielded him from the security camera, folded the notes and shoved them under the counter. ‘That’s a nice stash of drinking money.’

  ‘Like I said, it’s your choice,’ Jake said, extending his hand. ‘Thanks for letting me right a wrong.’

  Angus shook Jak
e’s hand exaggeratedly. ‘No problem I guess, and good luck with all your other good deeds,’ he said in a tone that Jake thought to be rather insincere.

  As he walked out of the shop, Jake could feel the Angus’ wryly amused gaze upon him, but he didn’t care. He’d actually done it!

  Feeling like a weight had been removed from his shoulders he smiled and nodded at the imposing bald cab driver who was filling up at bowser three. The cabbie ignored him but Jake shrugged it off.

  Tomorrow was a whole new day.

  # # # # #

  Sylvia was smiling as Grace finished reading. ‘Oh my goodness, what an interesting little story! I really didn’t see that ending coming, did you?’

  Edith shook her head slightly but Grace raised her eyebrows. ‘Well to be honest, I sort of did.’

  Sylvia’s expression conveyed her surprise. ‘Wow, you must be a very astute young lady. I guess I just followed the clues laid out and didn’t consider any other possibility.’

  ‘Yes, well I was like that at the start too, but then each week I’ve come to realise that each one of these stories has a twist somewhere. I didn’t guess exactly what was going to happen but I was fairly sure he wasn’t just going to rob the place.’

  ‘So you’ve enjoyed the stories then?’

  ‘Yes I have,’ Grace admitted. ‘I mean I wouldn’t have minded whatever Edith wanted me to read, but it was a bonus to actually really invest in each story and try and work out where it was going to lead.’

  ‘That’s wonderful Grace! So you would say you’ve gained some wisdom along the way?’

  ‘Yes,’ Grace said. ‘I suppose I have.’