The Last Swagman's Son

Chapter 1 :- The Long Road To Hell

"So what do you think of the burqa?"

Jimmy had been quiet for hours and it irritated Malcolm to no ends. He knew Jimmy was an introspective man, despite his truly enigmatic charisma. But it was in times like this that Jimmy would turn in on himself, philosophising and struggling with his own feelings and beliefs. Conjuring up his next dramatic crime spree, his next you tube sensation.

"Burqa? Whats a burqa?"

"You know, that muslim head dress which covers the entire face."

Malcolm knew the response he would get, but he just had to break the monotony of their car trip. They had driven 600km today, swapping at the last petrol station, and Malcolm simply needed to talk about anything to keep himself awake.

It was then Jimmy's interest was piqued by a car up ahead.

"Just shut up and speed up a little more."

Malcolm did as he was told, as he had always done since they had been in high school.

The car ahead was an old clapped out commodore which had seen better days and it was spewing out dark smoke.

"Fucken lungbuster," Jimmy remarked as he opened the glove box and retrieved the handgun in it, checking it was still loaded and releasing the safety catch.

Malcolm felt a rush of excitement and fear course through him, but knew he had to maintain his cool or else Jimmy would give him that look of disgust, the look that questioned his loyalty and made Malcolm wish he were dead.

Anything for Jimmy Duggans.

"Yes, the burqa," Jimmy responded with a matter of fact like, almost cheerful tone.

"Well the burqa is fine to me. Whats the difference with talking to a person wearing a burqa and someone on a social website? People these days get so uptight about not seeing a human face. As though they need to see a face to talk to it."

There was a click of the gun as he loaded for firing.

"Exactly," Malcolm said as he pulled up behind the car and scanned ahead to make sure it was all clear to overtake. "Burqa's, no burqa's. They are all the same right?"

As Malcolm began to overtake, Jimmy pressed the button to bring his side window down. A blustering heat engulfed the cabin. "Muslims. You gotta give credit to Osama. He showed the world how to get what you want. He is a true hero for that."

Inside the polluting commodore was a man at the wheel smoking a cigarette. He was alone. Malcolm cringed at the thought this man couldn't even carpool it. He felt no remorse at this man's impending end. All polluters deserved death.

Then a small boys head popped up in the backseat.

Malcolm was suddenly overwhelmed by a desire to do something to stop Jimmy. Put on the brakes. Swerve his car. Something. Anything. But he kept driving beside the car, knowing if he didn't Jimmy was liable to shoot him right there. Jimmy had become a dangerous man since breaking out of prison.

Jimmy ignored the kid in the backseat, and focussed only on the driver, smiling to grab his attention before taking aim.

There was the ear peircing sound of death and glass being shattered. The commodore fell behind and drove off the road behind them in a cloud of dust, and in the rear view mirror he saw the car roll over once, then twice, before coming to a halt.

Jimmy simply grinned back at Malcolm as he drove on. "The burqa is a symbol of aquiesance to the powers that be. I like people who wear them. Their alright in my book." Jimmy just put the gun back into the glovebox and the window to their car rolled up to close. He took a towel on the back seat, fashioned it into a pillow and adjusted his seat. "Wake me up when we get to Alice Springs will you?"