TWO SHEPHERDS TARRY



A road-train is a mighty thing, and here in the Territory we take ‘em seriously; even when they’re only carrying sheep. My Boss drives ‘em, has done all over the place ‘cause when they sack him one place he just goes someplace else. At first I thought it was gonna happen again, just getting sacked I mean; until the priest came in to raise the stakes. After all, it was very early on a Sunday morning.
The stinking things'd been loaded since late Friday so the persistently pathetic bleatings of the thirsty sheep slowly dying were probably carrying all the way to town. It was only about a kilometre of hot tar away and nothing much stood in the way; girded by dry scrub and a few whirly  winds swinging round full of dust and leaves..
The priest probably didn’t realise it, so perhaps he shouldn’t be considered for the credit, but he must have become the bravest man in town. The “cowards” had said they thought it better to wait until the driver drank himself into a stupor so they could easily lock him up and water the load of stock. What was left of it!
But they hadn’t been around for as long as me. I might be small and funny looking, but I’ve seen a few things happen.
During the night there’d been two fist fights but no-one was anywhere near killed. Just a bit of fun for the Boss on a “bender”; until the morning when the priest came in and started telling him right from wrong.
I’ve never been sure now, but it might’ve been something that happened to him when he was just a boy; who could say? But the Boss didn’t like priests and he absolutely loathed them when he was hot, dirty and drunk.
“You should be ashamed of yourself!” was the priest’s first major mistake. That and the way he rested his hands on his hips. But for the sake of one or the other it didn’t really matter much. The Boss is big. His shoulder topped the clergyman’s slick looking hair cut to the style for viewing the dead.
The Boss reacted appropriately, according to his perspective, by grabbing him by the throat with one hand and squeezing until the flailing arms stopped and the Preacher dropped to the floor.
“Mmmmm….”
Now nothing much effects beer-drinking believers more than someone assaulting their priest, especially when it is the only one they’ve got, but except for a couple of the stayers moving position down the bar this time no-one had really reacted. They were only still there because the barman had decided to avoid any more disputes by declaring that the drinks were thenceforth free, and he hoped the smooth flow of shouts was destined to topple the Boss from his stool, but it never came, because something else always happens first.
The Boss sat there looking at the priest with a morose expression. I tried to get him to leave. To drive the load of lambchops down to Widgeribar meat-works and be done with it. They could be there by tonite! But I could tell by the set of his mouth and the way his nostrils changed shape that he was trapped in his thoughts, the kind he never told much about. cause his confusion was pacing a cage.
The publican was the next hero. He reckoned he’d put up with “Just about enough!” But then he made an even bigger mistake than ordering my Boss out of the bar at gunpoint. He tipped his half-drank beer down the sink!
Well you know, my Boss is kind of lucky because he doesn’t care if he dies, like he says, “I’m livin’ in hell!” so it was almost fun for him to jump the publican and struggle for the rifle which he soon had in his hands. And only his hands.
The fishbowl had taken on a shark.
Everyone watched him circle, stepping sideways like a wary crustacean. His claw was a shiny under-and-over, nine gauge and thirty/thirty. Unlike a crab though, the Boss wasn’t looking for a hole to hide in. No way. He was looking for a decent argument.
The priest had regained consciousness and was leaning against the wall, sitting in a small puddle of spilt beer. All the rest had bunched together behind some tables that afforded a two inch strip of protection across the level of their groins. They hadn't tipped them over yet.
The Boss looked at the priest. “Come here you!’ He didn’t point the gun.
The priest got to his feet and walked a few steps towards him with his hands palm down like a sleepwalker, “Don’t shoot. I am just trying to help you. You need help. You know you do.”
The Preacher had made the further mistake of believing in his power to convince and console. The Boss appeared to hear no exomental reason, but that was just a front, he’d hear it alright, cause sometimes he thinks aloud at me when we’re alone in the cab late at night on the empty back roads.
What made him angry, what he could have done?
It was looking like the curtain was calling for someone cause when my Boss takes a bite he sure as hell chews it, and then spits some of it out. The priest would get it. There was no two ways about that.
But out of character the Boss replied with a coherent question.
“Tell me exactly what kind of help you are offering, Father?”, he enquired lightly.
“Well, err, you seem to have a drinking problem, and, even if you don’t mind to suffer, those poor animals outside surely do!”.
As though it was pre-written the six people present turned their ears to the mournful half-formed bleatings and death-rattles coming from the double story trailers cooking in the heartless sun outside.
“Well Reverend, you’re probably right, and I bet you think you are a great guy too. But. What exactly are you doing with your little flock? Seeing how you’re so concerned about mine.”
“Just the usual, really. The congregation of Davies Creek looks to me for spiritual guidance. I carry out the duties of any small town clergyman. I say Mass, perform weddings, christenings and funerals. To mention just a few things.”
“But do you still believe in your God?”
“What?”
“You heard me!” he said sharply but continued in a soft clear voice, “Now that you are older do you still believe in your God?”
The priest stepped back.
“You must be mad” he said recklessly. “How could you ask such a question of a man who has devoted his life to the teachings of Christ!”
“Piss off.” muttered my Boss, looking away, then gaining amplitude and looking straight at him. “It took Christ until he was nailed up on a bloody cross before he’d figured out that he”d wasted his time on the human race. And who was there to help him out? Three people! And one of them was his mother. So what does that tellya?"
"Jesus didn’t say go forth and create institutions to appease the guilty! He spoke of virtues and trust in the benevolence of the creator!"
Listen to my sheep, priest. Many of them will survive so they can be killed, but at least they know their destination. We are only talking about here or three hundred miles away. Meet your maker now, or Tuesday. Not all that much difference really. So I’m just giving them some time for those last minute prayers. Can’t you hear’em praying father?
There was a pause as the two men looked each other in the eye.
“I hear them thirst and pity them.” the priest countered.
The phone rang so the Boss reached over and picked it up.
It was a spokesperson for the congregation. They’d arrived at church and somehow found out Father Seymour was being held hostage, so they decided to hold a candlelight vigil and communal prayer session which will continue until his release.
He hung up.
“Well, tell me Reverent One. Do you go by the writings in the Holy Book and take heed of it in your daily life? And don’t ye thirst? For the Kingdom of Heaven?”
I loved it when the Boss put on that kind of Irish barrister tone.
“Of course I live by the scriptures.” the priest replied. “I am a man of faith. And of course my time shall come!”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“And you live your life by the Commandments?”
“Yes I do!”
“Good show! You’ve won a trip to heaven and today's the day!”
The Boss looked amused, “So, Father, where’s the Church?”
The priest could say nothing.
“Let’s bid these chaps farewell and take a ride!” The other guys kept drinking. "It won't be that hard to find."
Outside, the sun baked the red earth. Stiff white legs stuck out through the mesh crates while the sheep still on their feet writhed together like maggots. The Boss pushed the priest up into the cab, and once the truck started moving he became agitated like he’d just worked something out.
The Boss spoke soothingly, “You’re right priest. Heaven is the best place for a good human to be. I mean, you couldn’t be afraid of dieing, because of the righteous way you’ve lived. There will be a smooth chair waiting with your name on it. But how do you rate your congregation, Priest? Out of ten, what would you give them? Many sinners amongst them? Or a vrituous flock of citizens? Your spiritual guidance and courageous example must have been an inspiration to them all.”
“Yes, they are all good local family people. The candle-light vigil they have initiated, that will continue until my release, indicates the respect they have for my church!”
“Well." the Boss shouted as the huge deisel engine roared its way through the gearbox and chassis.  "That’s two things we’ve established,” the Boss mused as he changed up into fifteenth gear, “One, you have no reason to fear death, and two, your congregation would also be welcome in their chosen heaven.”
“I wish to disagree; to a certain extent!” said the Rev. “All people should be able to choose the time of their passing no matter what be their destination." His voice trailed off as he realised the Boss was driving his rig in the direction of the church and the priest didn’t like it!
“What is it that you want from me? What is the point of this madness? What are you trying to prove? Sir, I beg you” he pleaded shamelessly.
The Boss concentrated on the road, “Let’s just see, Father, which one of us is the first to feel the wave of fear at the point of certain death? 
I’m going to hell for the life I’ve lived, and I couldn’t give a pig’s fart for a bunch of turkeys gripping candles. Who are they praying to anyway? The almighty guy who lets ten million kids die of starvation every year?, How ‘bout sending a memo upstairs? Get his attention onto these sheep!”
The preacher was just making things worse by panicking, his mind was full of horror movies he hadn’t let the kids see. Fear filled every cell and sense, “Was this crazy person really intent on extending this absurd debate about the belief in Heaven and Hell to include the lives of innocent parishioners?”
“They’ll only be stuck in a home doped out till they die, Big Daddy may as well take out the whole place! I'll be doing them a favour.” The Boss yelled above the noise of twenty-eight rolling dusty wheels. “And we are the ones to create these blessed martyrs who will be remembered far into time.” shouted the Boss like he was trying to imitate Ronald Reagan.
The truck was really moving by then so it threw out a spiraling cloud of dust which stretched back like a comet’s tail.
“What do you reckon Father? Will eighty five, or ninety percent of your flock make it? Is that good enough?
The priest just looked at him across the cab. It had finally sunken in that this person was seriously intent on driving that huge double truck through his church and congregation; and there was nothing he could do about it.
“In about ninety seconds we’ll be beyond the point of no return Father. Take this.” he said putting the ends of both barrels above the priests ear and told him to hold it there cause he needed one hand for the wheel.
“Show me Jesus loves you Preacher! Just push that trigger and I’ll stop the truck.”
“Fifty seconds Father. You can push it! Save the innocents and you’re straight off to Paradise!”
“Thirty seconds Big Daddy!”
The priest’s head was bent forward with the look of someone receiving a cold enema.
“Twenty seconds Father. I don’t think you believe it!. “Ten seconds! Come on! Jesus waits for you!”
The priest was bright red and shaking as he clung to a useless handbrake.
“No folks, times up. He just doesn’t want to leave us”.
The Boss swung the rig away, got it straightened up parallel to the highway, and jammed on the brakes, sliding to a halt in a huge cloud of dust within bleat of the Church.
“Get out of here Preacher! Do something with the power of the church to help the Earth and all its living creatures. You don’t need to believe in God to see the suffering and extinctions.