Davo

by N.R. Walker

“There’s a spring in that seat you’re about to become real acquainted with,” she said with a laugh. Oh my god. She wasn’t wrong. By the time we drove onto a better-maintained road, I felt somewhat violated.

How could the cold water be hot? Lord. But at least it washed the dirt and sweat off my body. It also made me sweat, which was the opposite of what I’d wanted. It was the quickest shower of my life.

Chappy was a pastor of sorts. Did readings on Sundays if I was interested. My religion didn’t matter because apparently, he covered them all.

He had short, dark-blond hair and the body of an athlete: muscular and fit. He wore work boots like everyone else here, a too-tight white tee shirt, and a pink tiered skirt.

God, the skirt. He had the body of a footballer, grease-stained hands, work boots, and a pretty skirt. It was an Achilles heel I didn’t know I had, apparently.

“What do you look for?” He whipped his gaze to mine. “Gold.” Okaaaay. I suddenly felt like Bilbo in Smaug’s lair.

He had a sulphur-crested cockatoo perched on his forearm. “Oh, hello again,” I said. To Truck, not the bird. The large bird squawked, his yellow crest perked right up. “What the fuck do you want?” I was stunned. Truck laughed. “This is Hooker. He has no manners, sorry.” I was still startled at the language and the decibels with which it was delivered.

He smiled. “Was it Maisie? And Lizzie Taylor?” “Not sure I should divulge patient information.” He chuckled. “True.” “And then I was accosted and verbally assaulted by a cockatoo.” “Oh. You met Hooker?” “I did. Lively fellow. Limited vocabulary, but he uses it in context, so that’s nice.

“And my legs are so white that NASA needs to be notified before I wear shorts for possible light reflection so bright it can disrupt the International Space Station.” Davo laughed. “You’re funny.” “It’s a defence mechanism often found in nature in most redheaded mammals. Deflect the inbound insults so the predator loses the advantage.” His smile faded and he nodded slowly. “I see. An effective defensive tactic without using violence. As a male of my species who likes to wear skirts, I’ve found removing the teeth of a wannabe predator with my fist just as effective.”

His gaze pierced mine and we sat there staring at each other. Not speaking, just staring. I couldn’t have looked away even if I’d wanted to. And I didn’t want to. What I wanted to do to him was quite pornographic.

Would I go into his cabin with him if he’d asked? Did I want a quick physical encounter with him on my second day at camp? If you say no, Fergus, you’re a lying liar who lies. You know you would.

“Some things thrive out here.” He watched the sunset, the brilliant display of colour across the sky. “They adapt and find a way.”

“If you don’t want—” “Oh, I want.” His grin was immediate. “Give me half an hour.” “I thought you said an hour.” “I was trying not to sound desperate.”

Junie beamed like a proud mum. “I put condoms in the bag with his sandwich. Just so you know.” “Oh my god!” “No need to be embarrassed.” “I’m not embarrassed. I’m mortified. Why would you assume we’d need those?” “Because I was young once, and the roadhouse closes at eight. Did you want to get caught out?” “Well . . . no, but—” “So don’t keep him waiting.” She winked. Actually winked. I wanted to die.

“Oh, speaking of which,” I said, taking a packet of condoms from the hygiene section. “Might need more of these.” And then, of course, Bill happened to walk in. “Oh, thought Davo looked a bit happier this mornin’.” I looked at Junie, horrified. “Oh god. Does everyone know?” She shrugged. “Probably not everyone. Give it till lunchtime today.”

Creepy’s

“Can I ask why you call him Creepy? He doesn’t look creepy. He’s been super nice to me every time I’ve spoken to him.” Davo chuckled. “Nah. His first name is Tim. He gets called Creepy because his surname is Crawley.” I laughed. “Creepy crawly. That’s kinda funny.”

“Can I ask about the cockatoo? I hear it screeching bad language every so often. Why is its name Hooker?” I regretted asking as soon as the words were out of my mouth. “Because it’s seen a cock-or-two.”

“What about Truck? Because he’s a diesel mechanic?” “Nope. Truck’s real name is Laurie.” Oh dear. “You know, as in lorry.” “Yeah, I got it, thanks.”

“And JC is short for Jesus Christ.” “Because of his long hair?” “Nah. Because he put a metal spike through his hand. Crucifix style.” I had to swallow back a laugh. “Right.” “His left...

“It’s so much better than any food you can get at 3:00am. You need to feed the soul too.”

“If anything makes you feel good about yourself, then it’s not silly,” I murmured.

he called out, “Don’t forget it’s international food night tonight.” I smiled and waved, though I had to wonder what horrors of cultural appropriation I was going to walk into.

“Hey, Davo,” a guy interrupted us. I’d seen him around but didn’t know his name. He was the guy who looked like Ned Kelly. “Hey, Ned.” I withheld the sigh—or the laugh—that tried to escape.

“Okay, look. We’re gonna have ourselves a little English lesson. You and me. Starting now.” “Fuck you, fuck you—” I held up my finger. “No. No, fuck you. No. I won’t tolerate that language.” Hooker was quiet for about five seconds. He stared at me with his beady little black eyes.

“Good boy,” I said quietly. “Quiet boys don’t go in the fridge.” I sounded like Hannibal freaking Lecter.

He began to bounce up and down again on the back of the dining chair, so I poured him some water and gave him some of his sunflower seeds. Which he tore into and left the casings all over the chair, table, and floor. “No, please,” I said. “Go right ahead. I’ll clean up after you.” He held another seed in his little grey claw and looked me dead in the eye as he ripped into it, ate the seed, and spat the casing onto the floor. “Thanks.” “Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.” “Do you want to go into the fridge?” I pointed to the fridge. “Wanna have a nap in there?” “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.” “I didn’t think so.” “What the fuck do you want?” “Manners! I want some manners. And a little appreciation here. I’m trying my best—” I stopped. “I’m talking to a bird. Oh my god, I’ve lost my mind. I’m talking to a bird.”

“You like apple?” I asked. “Good boy. Quiet boys are good boys. Quiet boys get apple.” And now I sounded like a creepy sex offender.

No, no. Wait . . . I wasn’t ready to leave. “What?” I asked. This word, of course, was all the permission Hooker needed. “What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck?” I shrugged without a hint of apology. I pointed my thumb at Hooker. “What he said.”

“I can explain,” I said, with zero idea of what I was about to explain—it was a life preservation response—when she threw out her arms and picked me up in a crushing bear hug. “Oh my god,” I squeaked. Everyone was silent, waiting. The only sound in the huge room was every vertebra in my spine popping like bubble wrap.

“Bach. Not tree bark like we thought Wally meant. But Sebastian Bach. The guy from Skid Row. Didn’t even know he did classical.” Oh, good heavens, no.

Bronnie walked out the door with her hands raised, Rocky-style. “No more psycho chicken!” I sat back down, somewhat violated, more so flustered. “She has great upper body strength. My spine is now pebbles.”

“What was his name?” “Gary. But his nickname was Sensor Light.” “Why?” “Because he only ever worked when someone walked past.”

“What if I roll off?” I asked. “Or forget where I am and get up to take a leak and take a two-metre step to the ground.” “Well,” he replied. “We can keep it on the ground, but I thought maybe to avoid any snakes or lizards—” I stared at him, waiting for him to tell me he was joking. He didn’t. “The two-metre fall in the middle of the night is fine.”

When I was sure I’d adequately sunscreened myself, I walked into the water. “Don’t splash too much,” Davo said. “Attracts the crocodiles.” I shrieked, and he cracked up laughing. “I’m kidding! There are no crocs here.” “Davo!” I grabbed my dick. “I peed a little!”

This place is old. Millions of years. We are but a speck of dust in the time of this place.”

“And now here we are, three billion years later, and I’m lucky enough to exist at the same time as you.”

“Which do you prefer?” “Both. Equally. I’ve told you before. I find both equally attractive. Both turn me on. But you carry yourself a little different when you wear a skirt. Not out in public but at home. You sway a little like you feel sexy, and that, you feeling good about yourself, is the sexiest thing.”

He might not have been able to say the words on the tip of his tongue earlier, but my god, when he kissed me, I sure could taste them.

“So what am I even doing here? What difference can I make when they don’t even care? Their reports would’ve been done by someone paid by the mining corporation to give them the answer they want, to justify decisions already made.” I was so mad, I could have spit. “It’s bullshit and you know it!”