and shoot it out.”
“Maybe it’s highly organised. Maybe someone’s gonna pick him up in a helicopter or somethin’.”
All the men are excited. We all want Ray Hoad to get away. It’s as though he’s running for us too, our representative, our champion against the screws and the whole system. And yet this escape will make it bad for us. The screws will get hard and will tighten up security in all sorts of ways. And if Ray Hoad hurts anyone while he’s free, it will be very, very bad for us. The best thing for us will be if he’s caught quickly before there’s much publicity and before he maybe has to hurt anyone. It will be bad for the screws, too, if this thing goes on too long or if anyone gets hurt. The high-ups don’t like screws who let things like this happen, and if the high-ups get savage with the screws, the screws will get even more savage with us. So we’re thinking what a bastard Ray Hoad is, making it bad for us, even though we’re very excited and want him to get away.
Arthur comes out of the office and is looking through the verandah wire at the lake and the bush stretching away into the distance.
“Hoad’s a bloody fool, you know,” he says to us, shaking his head. “He’s only making trouble for everyone.”
Arthur is terribly disappointed. You can see he feels hurt that Ray Hoad has done this. Ray Hoad was the pool man, the most trusted one. Arthur doesn’t mention that, because he doesn’t want to bring up the personal side of it, but he’s very hurt.
“Did any of you know Hoad was planning to go?” he asks us. He doesn’t really expect anyone to admit that they knew. He knows you can’t nark on your mates. Nobody answers. You don’t think that many of them knew, though you’re pretty sure Bill Greene did, and maybe a couple more.
Within the hour the radio is telling about the dangerous maniac who’s at large. The radio is warning people not to approach him, but to notify the police immediately. Then the radio is reporting sightings all over the place, some of them fifty miles away. It says this is the biggest manhunt in the area’s history, with hundreds of police and screws involved.
Arthur is staying in the office, near the phone. Every little while a screw with a walkie-talkie comes in from the main gate to tell him how the nearest searchers are going. The ward is quiet, with all the doors locked and only a few screws left to keep watch.
We have lunch.
“I’ll bet Ray’s gettin’ a bit faaarkin ’ungry by now,” says Eddie. “Probably eatin’ faaarkin witchetty grubs like a faaarkin boong.”
After lunch you sit with Bill Greene and talk about Ray Hoad’s chances.
“He’s in an awkward position,” says Bill Greene. “If he stays in the bush he won’t be able to move fast, and he’ll have hunger and probably exposure to cope with. The nights are bloody cold now. If he goes near a town he’ll be picked up sooner or later. His best chance was if he got a lift on the highway within the first hour or so, before the alert got into full swing.”
“He might be in the city by now.”
“If he’s not buggered.”
“Did he have any money?”
“Three dollars.”
“You knew he was going?”
“Yeah.”
“Why did he go, particularly?” you ask. It’s a silly question. Why does anyone go?
“Well, apart from the obvious reason, he wanted to prove he could beat the cunts. You know Ray, he’s not scared of anything.”
You understand it. Ray Hoad is like a fox who wants to show that a fox can beat the hunters if he’s clever and tough enough, and Ray is clever and tough. We’re foxes too and have the fox viewpoint.
At four o’clock in the afternoon a screw calls out from the office:
“They’ve got him!”
“Where?” someone asks.
“About seven miles away. They’re bringin’ him back now.”
After a while several vehicles, including a police car, come through the main gate and Ray Hoad is hauled out of one of them by screws. He
“Maybe it’s highly organised. Maybe someone’s gonna pick him up in a helicopter or somethin’.”
All the men are excited. We all want Ray Hoad to get away. It’s as though he’s running for us too, our representative, our champion against the screws and the whole system. And yet this escape will make it bad for us. The screws will get hard and will tighten up security in all sorts of ways. And if Ray Hoad hurts anyone while he’s free, it will be very, very bad for us. The best thing for us will be if he’s caught quickly before there’s much publicity and before he maybe has to hurt anyone. It will be bad for the screws, too, if this thing goes on too long or if anyone gets hurt. The high-ups don’t like screws who let things like this happen, and if the high-ups get savage with the screws, the screws will get even more savage with us. So we’re thinking what a bastard Ray Hoad is, making it bad for us, even though we’re very excited and want him to get away.
Arthur comes out of the office and is looking through the verandah wire at the lake and the bush stretching away into the distance.
“Hoad’s a bloody fool, you know,” he says to us, shaking his head. “He’s only making trouble for everyone.”
Arthur is terribly disappointed. You can see he feels hurt that Ray Hoad has done this. Ray Hoad was the pool man, the most trusted one. Arthur doesn’t mention that, because he doesn’t want to bring up the personal side of it, but he’s very hurt.
“Did any of you know Hoad was planning to go?” he asks us. He doesn’t really expect anyone to admit that they knew. He knows you can’t nark on your mates. Nobody answers. You don’t think that many of them knew, though you’re pretty sure Bill Greene did, and maybe a couple more.
Within the hour the radio is telling about the dangerous maniac who’s at large. The radio is warning people not to approach him, but to notify the police immediately. Then the radio is reporting sightings all over the place, some of them fifty miles away. It says this is the biggest manhunt in the area’s history, with hundreds of police and screws involved.
Arthur is staying in the office, near the phone. Every little while a screw with a walkie-talkie comes in from the main gate to tell him how the nearest searchers are going. The ward is quiet, with all the doors locked and only a few screws left to keep watch.
We have lunch.
“I’ll bet Ray’s gettin’ a bit faaarkin ’ungry by now,” says Eddie. “Probably eatin’ faaarkin witchetty grubs like a faaarkin boong.”
After lunch you sit with Bill Greene and talk about Ray Hoad’s chances.
“He’s in an awkward position,” says Bill Greene. “If he stays in the bush he won’t be able to move fast, and he’ll have hunger and probably exposure to cope with. The nights are bloody cold now. If he goes near a town he’ll be picked up sooner or later. His best chance was if he got a lift on the highway within the first hour or so, before the alert got into full swing.”
“He might be in the city by now.”
“If he’s not buggered.”
“Did he have any money?”
“Three dollars.”
“You knew he was going?”
“Yeah.”
“Why did he go, particularly?” you ask. It’s a silly question. Why does anyone go?
“Well, apart from the obvious reason, he wanted to prove he could beat the cunts. You know Ray, he’s not scared of anything.”
You understand it. Ray Hoad is like a fox who wants to show that a fox can beat the hunters if he’s clever and tough enough, and Ray is clever and tough. We’re foxes too and have the fox viewpoint.
At four o’clock in the afternoon a screw calls out from the office:
“They’ve got him!”
“Where?” someone asks.
“About seven miles away. They’re bringin’ him back now.”
After a while several vehicles, including a police car, come through the main gate and Ray Hoad is hauled out of one of them by screws. He
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