Daily Prompt, driving, humor, serial fiction, Stories, writing

Outback Rescue: Someone In My House

For anyone who is slightly concerned for my well being, trust me when I say what happened that night Nick and I returned to his place at the back of the police station will not in the slightest change anything between us. What happened that night had happened before, will probably happen again and we’ll no doubt enjoy it just as much.

I’m not going to tell you how many times we’ve done the deed or the details of those deeds but rest assured Nick and I remain close friends and a little roll in the hay, the odd romp in the sheets, or a bit or rumpy pumpy wont change that. At best Nick and I are probably what fashionable people call fuck buddies, but we just think of it as being good friends.

So now that I have settled your mind a bit and you know nothing serious is going to happen between Nick and I just because we shared a bed I can also tell you that there is no wedding bells in the future. Too bloody hot and dusty up here to wear a wedding gown, although think of how cool a wedding with Mick Taylor as the marriage celebrant could be!

Okay enough of all that talk, before I offend everyone!

It was a quiet drive home the following morning, I had two tanks full of diesel and apart from replenishing the water supplies in the fridge the Beast was ready to go if I got a call. Because I didn’t have any other jobs on the cards I was thinking that my morning would be spent washing the Beast down.

I think I might have told you before that the red dirt and dust that gets stuck to vehicles in the outback is a bugger to remove. Well not only that, it gets stuck in every damn crevice and crack you can imagine, so much so that you could remove every panel, all the interior and strip the car down to bare bones and still not remove it all. I wasn’t worried about trying to get rid of all that red dirt on the Beast, but giving the old girl a hose down and washing the crap out of the hubs and rims, the winch and the hydraulics etc was my goal for the morning.

Well that WAS the goal as I headed home without any plans for a rescue, but things changed the second I pulled into my own driveway. As I passed through the gates and under the large tree I could see a four wheel drive reversed up to the veranda at the front door of my house. As I have said before I don’t get many visitors at home so when I do it’s quite a surprise.

While I don’t get too many visitors the majority of them I get wouldn’t hang around waiting for me if they called as I wasn’t home, they’d go into town looking for me. If they couldn’t find the Beast in town their next port of call would be Nick, he was the local cop after all and most people knew I let him know if I was going out for a rescue. So seeing another vehicle at my house was also a fair surprise, especially since I couldn’t see anyone around it

Living in such a small town you get to know the locals and what they drive but the four wheel drive at my front step did not look familiar. I could tell it was a relatively new sliver Toyota Prado, the city person’s four wheel drive. I know that’s not entirely fair Prados are very capable Toyotas built on the Land Cruiser frame with the Land Cruiser running gear, however we do laugh at them a little bit in the country because they often come with wanker items like leather seats, carpets and automatic everything.

Honestly there is nothing wrong with Prados, but just like we pick on the English by calling them Whinging Poms and the Americans by calling them Septic Tanks, we laugh at city folk who spend three times as much on fancy electronically controlled four wheel drives only to have them break down on as soon as they get off the bitumen.

Anyway enough digs at the city folk and their choice of cars and back to the vehicle I didn’t recognise sitting in front of my house.

It’s hard to sneak up on anyone in the Beast, the roar of the engine proceeds it under most circumstances so the chances of me arriving at the house without being seen were slim and whoever owned that silver Prado had to know I was there. Not that I was trying to sneak up, it was my house after all.

Several second later I pulled the Beast up in front of the Prado, I parked it close enough that the Prado was going nowhere without me moving first. Although I switched the engine off I sat in the driver’s seat looking at the four wheel drive in front of me. No one was in it, I could see the dirt and dust that was stuck to it was road grime and not mud stuck from river crossings or the like. The registrations plates told me it was originally from the state of South Australia but given there was no real boundaries when it came to driving and the law of changing registration when one moved state wasn’t often enforced the state of registration meant very little.

With no one in the vehicle I had to assume my surprise visitor was inside my house, it wasn’t like there was many other places to hide, unless of course they were behind the shed having a leak or something.

I climbed out of the Beast and onto the dusty ground. I suppose some people are thinking “why the hell didn’t she call Nick?’, when someone is in your house uninvited you don’t go in and see who it is you call the cops and let them deal with it. But in reality out here the kind of idiot that would do over someone’s house is not you city drug addled moron. Out here if you’re unlucky enough to get burgled it’s by some idiot with little or no ability to protect themselves.

I’d never been broken into before myself but to be honest I wasn’t overly worried by someone driving a Prado. Foolish maybe but as I say we do things differently out in the bush.

No sooner had I stepped up onto the verandah than I was greeted by a huge ugly beast of a man. Six foot five in the old scale, shaved black hair and a beard that kind of looked like he was still working out how to grow one. He was wearing one of those muscle shirts, but despite his big frame didn’t really have the muscles to fit the shirt, and he wore jeans and commando boots. The guy looked like a first class fool.

“Hey sis, hows it going?”

Previous Desert Story here.


  1. That was awesome! Mysterious, suspenseful with a kicker ending. Bravo Mate. Just don’t call me a septic tank and all is good. : )

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