Auspocalypse Now

4. Tuesday night's the night I like, get a little action in

The stag trip lads were due to arrive at lunchtime. So after a run on the beach, a quick dip in the surf, a coffee at the same Italian restaurant he was at last night; he booked several tables there, for an early dinner and arranged three taxi buses for the lads to pick up at the airport. He text-ed a few of his mate to let them know and went back to his apartment to wash the bugs off his bike.

After a leisurely lunch and beer soaked afternoon with the lads, a few of them had returned to the apartments for a break, the others were kicking through. Freddie was a bit older than most of the lads so decided a break would be good. He had paced himself so wasn't feeling too bad. They all met up at five oclock at the Italian restaurant, had an excellent feed and then walked around the corner to have an early evening start at one of the popular night spots, the Octopus Bar.

Yasin woke up early, refreshed and over the jet lag. His day was spent watching tv, praying then more tv and more praying. He did go for another short stroll to have some lunch. Shortly after lunch he received the text, asking him to meet at a cafe in Surfers Paradise at 7pm. The text hadn't been sent by his cousin, but by the zealots agent, Mostafa. At six oclock, Yasin made his way to the cafe to meet with his cousin.

As Yasin was walking towards the cafe, thirty minutes earlier than planned, he saw that it was closed. That troubled him. He looked up and down the street and a few doors along saw a bar, he made his way towards that. Yasin wasn't a regular drinker, the alcohol laws in Iraq had kept changing over his adult life which made it too inconvenient to enjoy. Technically, his religion was against the consumption of alcohol, but it was not enforced until a few years ago as the Muslim teachings had become stricter. But, the past few days had worn him down. He made his way into the bar and sat down and ordered a beer from a passing waitress. By 7pm he was on his second.

There were a group of guys at the bar that were over-enjoying themselves. One spotted Yasin drinking on his own and made his way over to him and within ten minutes he was part of the group having his third beer in less than an hour.

The guys were intrigued why an Iraqi was drinking in a bar in the Gold Coast and Yasin found himself fielding questions about his homeland from a group of guys who had been stationed there.

Mostafa had arrived at the cafe just after Yasin had gone into the bar. He stayed hidden, away from the cafe and kept it under observation until 7.30pm at which point he started to get worried, where was Yasin? He then walked out onto the street and noticed a bar, the Octopus Bar. It was the only place on the street, that was open. Could Yasin be in there? Worth a look, nothing to lose.

Yasin was feeling more relaxed. He had drunk a few beers and met several soldiers from the Australian Defence Force who had served in the second conflict and were genuinely happy to talk with him. He comforted himself that he had followed his mother's advice and learnt English. Bringing himself back to the present, he suddenly realised that his cousin wouldn't know where to find him. I will send him a text, he thought to himself. His hand went to the wrong pocket and touched the small bottle of water that contained the virus. It starkly reminded him of the position he was in and felt a rush of guilt drinking alcohol when he should be working out what to do next. He found his mobile and texted his cousin.

The night had started easily, the lads were full of banter and being over friendly with the other patrons and the security doormen in order to avoid any trouble. The two doormen in their club, Frank and Brad, were happy as they recognised them as mostly military, so better being on their side than facing them down.

Mostafa walked through the door of the bar and walked over to order a drink to blend in with the other people there. As he was waiting for his beer and scanning the people inside, the mobile he had taken from Yasin's cousin beeped. He glanced at it and coldly smiled, it was from Yasin, he was in this bar. Allah had smiled on him, not that Allah condoned what he did.

Yasin saw that the text had gone and felt a little relieved. He then heard a beep and glanced over to the bar area and his eyes locked with another Iraqi, Mostafa.

Mostafa, having locked eyes with Yasin, smoothly made his way across the bar and confronted Yasin, seizing his arm just above the elbow. "Hello Yasin, I have been looking for you." Yasin panicked and said "What are you doing with my cousins phone?" Seeing the look on Mostafa's face, Yasin's heart sank. "You haven't hurt him?" hoped Yasin, not expecting a good response. "Your cousin is with Allah," said Mostafa, "with his wife and children." Mostafa couldn't help smiling as he was saying this. Mostafa tightened his grip on Yasin's arm intending to walk him out of the bar.

At that moment, Freddie looked across the bar and saw the Iraqi his mates had been talking to. It wasn't a good scenario, he was being manhandled by a sinister looking guy. Freddie quickly summed up that the Iraqi was in trouble and made his way to the pair. Mostafa was too focused on Yasin to see Freddie coming towards them. The first he knew was feeling the pressure of Freddie's hand squeezing his clavicle, painfully.

Mostafa was hyped up as he had planned in his head what he was about to do with Yasin, that plan was falling apart. He let go of Yasin, pushed him away forcefully and spun around looking to slam a fist into the face of the guy who had his hand on his shoulder. Freddie has anticipated this and had let go of Mostafa and stepped back. Having opened up a space between them, in that space, Mostafa spun in a half circle and crashed into Yasin who had rebounded off a table when Mostafa had pushed him away. Yasin fell to the floor with Mostafa on top of him.

Mostafa was not thinking straight when he picked himself off Yasin, intending to take the fight further and he reached for his gun. But that was where it ended. Two of Freddies mates grabbed him by the arms and marched him over to one of the doormen, Brad, who informed Mostafa that he wasn't welcome in the bar and needed to leave, whilst grabbing his jacket and forcefully walking him out of the bar. Mostafa left the bar, very angry that he had failed in this part of his mission and walked back to where he had been observing the cafe and sat on a bench lost in angry thoughts of waiting for Yasin to leave the bar, recover the virus and send Yasin on to Allah. Mostafa hadn't noticed the front of his jacket was wet, oddly he was feeling sleepy and dozed off on the bench.

Inside the bar the stag lads had put another beer on the bar for Yasin and his rescuers were congratulating themselves for quietly dealing with an incident that would otherwise have spoiled their night. Yasin gratefully picked up the beer from the bar and as he took his first sip, noticed his shirt was wet. He looked at his hand, also wet, he felt the sense of doom and hopelessness sweep over him and he dropped the full beer glass. The glass shattered on the tiled floor, beer foaming everywhere.

Brad the doorman had come back to stand by the open door and heard the distinctive sound of a beer glass smashing on the tiled floor of the bar. He was a little irritated with his bar having two problems in as many minutes. In seconds Brad had walked over, picked Yasin up by his shirt front and half carried, half walked him, out of the bar. Yasin was in too much of a state of shock to protest.

Brad the doorman returned to Freddie and the group, apologised for the foreign visitors upsetting their night and told them there would be a round of drinks waiting for them on their next round. Although a little distracted by Yasin having been thrown out of the bar, the promise of the free beer pushed the previous encounter out of their thoughts and the stag night continued.

Shortly after, Brad the doorman was feeling very tired, he told his mate Frank, that he was taking his break. He went to the staff break-room at the rear of the bar, made himself a coffee, but before he picked it up, he slumped sleepily onto a nearby sofa.