State Ranger

Senior Detective Ryan Hunter , with his last stubby in hand, maneuvered his pickup truck along the rugged dirt road, kicking up billows of red dust in his wake. The scorching sun beat down mercilessly, casting a harsh glare across the vast Australian outback. After an arduous 500-kilometre journey from Perth, Hunter was nearing his destination, Coolaroo Junction a remote township nestled amidst this vast stretch of dirt, He was to assume his new role as the district detective there.

The tyres rumbled over the uneven terrain, their tread marking the passage of time and countless miles traveled in the bull dust. Hunter’s eyes squinted against the glaring sunlight as he scanned the surroundings, taking in the desolate beauty of the outback. Endless stretches of red earth stretched out before him, interspersed with clusters of spinifex and sporadic shrubs clinging to life in the harsh conditions.

In the heart of this vast West Australian outback, a solitary figure stood by the dusty dirt road, thumb outstretched in the direction of the approaching pickup truck. It wasn’t Ryan Hunter’s usual habit to pick up hitchhikers, but there was something intriguing about this stranger’s demeanor that made him hit the brakes.

Hunter leaned across and swung open the creaking passenger door. “Headed my way, mate?” he asked.

A pair of steady, weathered eyes scanned him briefly. “Yeah.”

“Alright, hop in then.”

The hitchhiker took his time, sliding into the seat with a casual nonchalance before slamming the door shut. The old truck rumbled to life, continuing its journey across the vast expanse of the outback. They travelled in silence for a while, the only sounds the crunching of gravel beneath the tyres and the diesel engine with its commanding rumble, as Detective Hunter drove on towards Coolaroo Junction. Eventually, Hunter stole a glance at his companion’s suntanned profile.

“Where are you off to?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“Coolaroo,” came the reply, the hitchhiker’s voice rough and tinged with a hint of mystery.

“Ah, Coolaroo Junction, the next town over?”

“Yeah.”

Not one for the small talk!

Hunter observed the frayed edges of the stranger’s worn clothes. His attire consisted of old cargo shorts, a faded brown shirt and sturdy boots, indicating readiness for traversing rugged terrains. An old oversized wide-brimmed hat adorned his head, shielding his face.

“You have much luck hitching rides around here?”

The hitchhiker turned his head, his eyes guarded. “Nah, most folks are wary of picking up hitchhikers in these parts. They’re afraid of trouble.”

Hunter nodded in understanding. “Can’t blame them. I’m usually cautious myself. But something about you seemed different.”

The hitchhiker’s lips curled into a half-smile. “Looks can be deceiving, mate. Although, I tend to choose rides that offer a little more than a rusty old truck if I’m after trouble. The likes of this won’t make it worth the risk.”

Marden’s eyes widened in surprise. “Are you implying that you’re involved in… carjacking? Let me assure you, I haven’t got much cash on me to make it worth your while. I’m just a bloke trying to make a living.”

The hitchhiker chuckled, a sound that echoed through the cab. “Nah, no need to worry, mate. I’m not after honest folks. My interests lie elsewhere. But it’s best not to ask too many questions, if you catch my drift.”

“Pardon me,” Hunter quickly interjected. “No offense intended. None of my business, really.”

The hitchhiker’s gaze softened, a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes. “Fair enough, mate. Appreciate the understanding.”

His calm eyes flickered over Hunter’s contrite expression. “Forget it, mate. Ya seem like a decent bloke. I’ll spill ya somethin’. Just keep it under ya hat, ya reckon?”

“No worries,” Marden replied.

“I’m Finnegan McKenzie, top dog of the State Rangers. People call me Finn”

“No way!” Hunter was clearly gobsmacked. “The State Rangers? I’ve bloody well heard of ’em.”

Flinn nodded with a smug grin. “Yeah, mate. We’re the toughest mob this side of Moresby. We don’t mess with honest folks, though. We take from the crooks and racketeers. They can’t squeal to the cops.”

There’s truth in what ya say,” agreed Hunter. “And reckon that puts your mob in the Robin Hood league.”

“Robin Hood? Bloody Drongo! Runnin’ ’round with bows and arrows. Mate! We got ice rays that freezes anyone who dares tangle with us. They thaw out fine later, but by then we’ve scarpered.”

Hunter was duly impressed. “An ice ray! With a weapon like that, you could stroll into a bank and clean ’em out, no worries.”

A sly smirk curled on his passenger’s lips. “Told ya, we don’t hassle honest folk. We even lend a hand to the Secret Intelligence Service at times. Right now, we’re workin’ with them to nab a mob of fifth-columnists led by Vincent “The Snake” DeLuca ‘ who wants to take over the government. He reckons he’s a big-shot businessman, but he’s really an inter-bloody-national spy.”

“A—what?”

“An inter-bloody-national spy,” repeated Flinn curtly. “The Spooks reckon he’s the most dangerous bloke in the country. But he won’t last long with the State Rangers hot on his trail.”

Hunter nodded, taking it all in. “I reckon that’s the truth. So, Finn, what’s bringin’ ya out here, to a little outback town like Coolaroo?”

“The gov’ment’s puttin’ up some sort of nuke power joint nearby, and word is the Snake’s got plans to blow up the whole shebang. But he won’t get away with it, not while I’m in town. Flinn went on to explain how he had closely followed “The Snake’s” notorious exploits “I’ll reveal The Snake’s true identity and bring an end to his wicked schemes once and for all, mate.”

As they drove on, the vast, barren landscape gave way to scattered homesteads dotting the road. The township surrounded by its breathtaking natural landscape lay ahead. Flinn pointed to a modest white house nestled amidst others of the same type.

“There’s my hideout. Just drop me off up front.”

Hunter slowed the truck and brought it to a halt by the gate, where a woman in a faded floral dress stood waiting. She watched with curiosity as the hitchhiker stepped out, his hand raised in a casual farewell to the detective.

“Thanks for the ride, mate,” he said.

“No worries Flinn” Hunter replied with a nod. “Glad to lend a hand to a State Ranger.”

The woman smiled warmly at Hunter. “So, he’s shared his name with you, I see.”

Hunter tapped his hat respectfully. “Indeed he has.”

“He’s a good lad,” she said. “Though, I do wish he’d spend less time lost in those outback adventure novels. He’s got a wild imagination for a boy of twelve.