Having not endured a great deal of difficulty in getting himself the wildlife ranger’s uniform minutes after arriving on Rottnest Island Rigabold knew that leaving the island with his own pet quokka was hardly a challenge. It was a task made easier by the fact that he was able to relax the animal and keep if from making a fuss whilst hiding it in a bag he’d bought at the gift shop on his way back to the ferry.
When Rigabold returned to the mainland he made his way, with his bag of quokka, directly back to the Dodge. As he stepped up to the driver’s side door he noticed a stubby piece of whitish flesh sticking out from the underneath the door handle.
Rigabold knew exactly had happened and why there a piece cauterised human finger sticking out from under his door handle. He was not at all worried by it but upon seeing it he immediately knew three things. Firstly what had happened, secondly that it happened only a few minutes before his arrival and thirdly that he needed to make his exit from the car park quickly before the owner of the finger tip returned, possibly even with the police.
Knocking the finger tip to the ground and opening the ute Rigabold placed his bag on the front seat and climbed in, he then opened the bag and allowed the quokka to get out and choose his seat. Wasting no time he then started the big Dodge and headed out of the car park. Originally Rigabold had wanted to head over the the maritime museum and have a look at the ship from the 1600’s but after what he knew had happened in the car park he knew getting out of Fremantle was a much better option for him.
As he drove out of the southern end of the car park Rigabold requested the GPS play him back the video footage of what happened in the car park only moments before his arrival. The Dodge took over driving as Rigabold paid attention to the screen, at the same time a single police car with three occupants, the one in the back seat holding his right hand, pulled into the northern end of the car park.
The car drove on through traffic and Rigabold watched the screen. Four internal cameras had picked up the well dressed man, he was wearing both a collared shirt and a tie, as well as pressed trousers, as he had several attempts at opening the Dodge’s doors. Even if the vehicle had been unlocked such a thief would not have gained access, not with the computer watching, but the increased level of violence the man showed when he realised his impossible task was uncalled for.
The cameras showed the man punching the windows in an attempt to break them, they showed him kicking the door panels in frustration and they showed him trying to slash the tyres. It was a violent act unbecoming of such a well dressed man but Rigabold suspected that it wasn’t necessarily the attire that told the man’s story but the track marks that would no doubt be found under the sleeves of his shirt.
Although the man’s violent actions had not damaged the Dodge, and the man was probably only attempting to gain access to pilfer anything of value to buy his next hit of smack, the security system still took control of the situation by slicing off, and cauterising, the man’s index finger when he grabbed the door handle for a second time.
The video was relatively short and by the time the Dodge’s automated system was turning onto the freeway Rigabold had finished watching and he took over the controls. Even if the wannabe thief was able to remember enough details to tell the police Rigabold knew that the police would stop searching for him once they checked all of the CCTV cameras and found no trace of a Dodge Ram, or the drug addled man anywhere near the car park.
Driving on and heading out along the highways Rigabold headed east, then south, then well out of the burbs he turned again at headed west. He had about a four hour trip ahead of him and hadn’t had a Chiko Roll in nearly twenty four hours, it was something he knew he’d have to rectify quickly, not because his needed it but because he wanted it.
He looked over to the passenger side foot well and saw that his new pet quokka was having a snooze, he knew it too would be hungry when it woke up so he asked the GPS to plot him a course to the nearest place he could get a Chiko Roll.
No sooner had the GPS plotted his course than he realised that he’d not had a chance to find himself the source of the Spearmint Moo Juice flavouring he’d discovered when he’d gotten his first batch of Chiko Rolls. Sensing his disappointment the GPS automatically brought up some alternative options for where he could pick up the Spearmint flavouring he desired, he was happy to see that he still had options, they were few, but they were available to him a few days travel from where he was and in the direction which he was headed.
On the GPS screen in the dashboard there was two locations listed. The first one less than ten minutes from where he was and the place he would get his next feed of Chiko Rolls and the second one a spot on the map seemingly out in the middle of nowhere, but kind of on the path to where he was headed, called Wave Rock.
Rigabold looked down at the napping quokka, smiled and drove on with the sun setting behind him.