‹ Prequel: Going Bush

Going Bush 2: Suburbia

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He was sure it was nearing midnight when Taylor saw Carlos and Juan walking into the yard, accompanied by a few other men. He struggled to sit up properly – his wrists pulling on the chains – as his eyes locked to them. When he saw that they merely glanced at him on their way to an outer shed, he wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or not. The usual yard party seemed to have been put off for the night due to the rains, which now had him soaked through but had at least washed a lot of the blood from his back away and cleaned out his wounds.
He didn’t sleep all night. The steady hum of the rain on the ground made him drowsy, but between the pain in his back and the fear that someone would come for him in the night he couldn’t close his eyes for very long at all.
The yard began to come alive just before sunrise as the workers began their day tending to the horses and general yard duties. Still, no one paid Taylor any mind. It wasn’t until after breakfast – he assumed – that he saw the woman again. Making her way over to him under a wide umbrella, Ibby trailing behind in the light rain.
“Taylor,” she nodded.
Taylor didn’t bother replying. He wasn’t even sure if he was able to yet.
“I’m sorry we couldn’t account for the weather. Have you considered my proposal?”
Taylor averted her gaze, giving her the answer she needed.
“I hope you truly believe that the reason you’re hiding something is worth the trouble,” she huffed.
“She is,” Taylor closed his eyes.
There was a pause as the woman registered his wording, before she turned and spoke in Spanish to Ibby. He nodded, gave Taylor a regretful glance, then took his leave.
“Perhaps another day under the clouds will change your mind,” she suggested before turning to leave herself.
Taylor looked skyward as his matted hair clung to his face, wondering just how long this punishment was going to be drawn out for.
“And that means no food, water, or medical attention,” she added as she continued walking.
Taylor closed his eyes. He’d gathered that. But maybe the pain would subside enough now that he could at least sleep some of it off during the day.
He shifted himself so that he was straighter against the pole – without it touching his back – and tried to send his mind blank. It wasn’t long before he fell into an uneasy sleep. He woke every now and then as someone passed by or some noisy work was being done, but he managed to sleep most of the rainy day away.
Toward the late afternoon the rain subsided and the sun made a few brief appearances. He was about to nod off again when he suddenly felt something hit his leg. When his eyes shot open and spotted the large black bird beside him, he took a moment to gather his thoughts before he realised what was going on.
“Oh no. No you don’t!” he kicked out at the bird as he struggled to pull himself to his feet for the first time.
He glanced skyward only to see two more circling, and when he made it to his feet – slightly hunched over by the chains holding his wrists lower on the pole – he spun to see another one behind him on the fence. Flinching as the tips of his hair hit the highest cuts, his mind raced for a way to scare the birds away. They were evidently drawn by his wounds and lack of movement.
Black vultures.