Quote:
Originally posted by replicant_008
However, in the context of the events of the past month - it was going to make things a lot more convenient. After all, he thought to himself as he sped along the black sands of the beach - there was no one around for miles. The nearest neighbour was at beast an hour's drive down the rugged track - which in summer was barely passable and in winter well that was what the jetboat was for.
And it would take a long time for any outside help to arrive - and even then only a handful of souls knew the location of the bach. And none of them knew what he had planned for this wintry weekend.
He slowed as he neared his destination. He carefully drove up the treacherous, soft sand away from the waterline and parked the 'cruiser in a patch of the coast thatched with marram grass. He then hopped out of the old truck, grabbed his duffle bag from the tray, paused for a moment before reaching into the cab. From behind the seats, he dragged out his 308 calibre carbine rifle and a box of ammunition. No sense leaving it where it could be found he thought.
He drew back the bolt and a single spent cartridge flipped out of the breech. He carefully picked it up off the sand, deposited it into his pocket before he made the short walk from the beach over the small hill and down into the small valley.
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He didn't know why he did it.........but whatever the case the barstard deserved it- as he came to the top of the valley- he took a final look back- a man could see forever from here.......He hobbled back to the Landcruiser and after what seemed like ages- got the door open- much to the piece steels protest- he climed into the tattered old seat and tried to chug the ignition to life- suceeding only after completley flooding the cars humble diesel engine- he drove off back to his house as fast as the hmble tank would take him- He never realised how fast he was running away from his problems- until he almost pranged into the Jaffas Commodore convienently hogging 3/4 of the drive way.......