The Gilligan Factor - Part Two

The Bogan councillors are now castaways on Couchiemudlo Island in Morton Bay. They are gathered on the beach and quite uncertain what to do. Only Dicky Mower, Mayor Porker and, surprisingly, Ann Appuladay seem composed. The others are in various stages of panic although Sean Bean seems to have left panic far behind.

Sean Bean: Oh God! What did I do to deserve this? I’ve been a good boy. I put out seed for the Lorikeets before I left home this morning. A helicopter has totalled my car and my phone doesn’t work. We’re helpless. What will we eat? Who will save us? I’ll miss Inspector Rex on the telly I know I will. Has anyone got anything to drink? Why doesn’t my phone work, it’s 3G for fucks sake!

Mower: The phones will be blocked somehow. Probably a magnogyretic force nearby. They will have done something like that.

Sean Bean: Who’s they? Why is this happening to me?

Mower: Shut up, Sean. It’s happening to all of us and as to who “they” are - it’s whoever wants to keep us on this island.

Sean Bean: One of us could swim to the mainland - it’s not far. I’d go myself but I can’t swim. How about you, Mower? Aren’t you ASIO agents trained to swim 40 miles with a howitzer strapped to your back?

Lizzie: Hang on, Sean. I thought you told me you were a schoolboy swimming champion.

Sean: Yes, well that was at primary school and it was for the Toddlers 5 metre Doggy Paddle. How about it, Dicky? You could do it.

Mower: Nobody is going swimming today. Take a look out there.

(200 metres out from the island a black rubber boat is on slow patrol. Figures in the boat appear to be scooping something from buckets and throwing it into the wake.)

Ann Appuladay: They’re chumming. Morton Bay is a breeding ground for sharks and that crap those guys are tossing in the water will bring sharks around this island like a deadly ring of teeth. Dicky’s right – nobody is swimming away from here. We’ll have to think of something else.

Mayor Porker: Who are these people?

Mower: Well, the guys in the boat are definitely SAS.

Mayor Porker: How can you tell?

Mower: Now and again one of them stands up. You’ll notice a bulge around the midriff area.

Lizzie: Oh yes. Look at that one; it looks like he’s wearing a black tutu with something sticking out at the front. It looks a bit obscene to me.

Mower: Elite combat troops carry their weapons and ammo across the chest and back. A normal life jacket would get in the way so these fellas are wearing mat black rubber duckies. It’s standard SAS issue for sea-ops.

Mayor Porker: I get the feeling we’re going to be here for a while. What the hell should we do?

Sean Bean: We could shout for help.

Mayor Porker: And who’s going to hear us, Sean?

Lizzie: Shouldn’t we build a tree house? That’s what they did on Swiss Family Wilkinson.

Ann Appuladay: Mayor Porker, may I suggest we scout the island a little. Find out if anyone is here, if there are any places we can shelter and we can check out the food situation. If we split up into three groups, group one could check the outer island clock-wise, group two counter clock-wise and group three could recce that road heading across the middle. We could all meet on the other side of the island in say four hours from now.

Mayor Porker: Good idea, Ann, thank you. Dicky, pick three and head clock wise. Ann, pick three and go the other way. I’ll take the rest across the island and we’ll meet over there at 11-30.

Sean Bean: Why aren’t I leading a group?

Lizzie: Because you’re a dick-head and you would get lost before you got off the beach.

Mower: And it would be as well to remember not to touch anything sticking out of the ground if it’s got a pointy end and bang written on it.


MOWER’S GROUP

(Dicky Mower, Lizzie, Luke and Winnie Quark travel along the beach but soon the beach ends and they are faced by cliffs and dangerous rocks. Mower guides his group inland and they eventually come to the ruin of a large house.)

Lizzie: Such a shame, knocking down a lovely old place like this must have been. You can see the remains of a lovely veranda that must have been all round the house. Such a shame, all deserted and forgotten.

Mower: Not sure about deserted Liz. These tracks in the dirt here are fresh, can’t be more than a day old.

Winnie: The footprints are quite small aren’t they?

Mower: Could be kids I suppose, but what are kids doing in an SAS guarded military area?

Luke: The tracks lead into that mound of rubble. I’ll take a look.

(Luke goes to the hill of rubble and looks around. He drops to his knees and then begins to crawl into a space between some fallen timbers. A few moments later he slowly backs out, stands and raises his hands above his head. Three small children have crawled out after him. They are each carrying M4 Double Triphammer machine guns that are now pointing menacingly at Luke and his companions.)

Mower: Steady lads; let’s not do anything silly now.

Kid 1: Well, put yer bleedin’ hands up then. Who the fuck are you lot? You with that SAS mob or with the Chinks?

Luke: I know you! You’re part of the bunch that we saved from Mount Browneye. You were the kids that destroyed the Bogan Chain of Office. (See Comedy of Errors link at top of right hand column.)

Kid 2: A lot of thanks we got for that. Slung into the lock-up, that’s what we got while Mayer Porkshit got all the credit for saving Queensland from the National bogyman.

Mower: Hang on a minute guys. What do you mean –“Chinks”?

Kid 1: Who are you?

Mower: My name’s Dick Mower. I’m an agent with ASIO.

Kid 1: Wow! What, like a real secret agent? A spy?

Mower: That’s right and I’ve been sent to get you out of here, but first you have to tell me about the “Chinks” and where you got the guns.

(The kids hesitate. They look at each other then, after a few moments, they seem to come to an unspoken decision. They lower the machine guns but still hold onto them firmly.)

Kid 1: Okay. We’ve been here about a week. We nicked a pedalo over at Vicky Point and pedalled across in the dark. We only wanted to see what it was like on a real island, never been on one before. Anyway the pedalo drifted off on the tide when we was fucking about in the old ruins so we got stuck here. We’ve been hiding from the SAS boat patrols ever since - but that’s easy. They just don’t expect anybody to be here so they aren’t very watchful.

Mower: Those guns are SAS issue. How did you get hold of them?

Kid 2: Oh that was a real joke. The SAS patrol came ashore one night and had a barbeque on the beach. They ended up getting really pissed and falling asleep. We just walked up and took the guns and ammo for a laugh. When they woke up they must have thought the Chinks had ripped them off because they never came looking for us.

Kid 1: No, but that big ugly SAS bugger was having a real good go at one of the Chinks the next day. We couldn’t hear what he said but it must have been about the guns I reckon.

Mower: Who are the “Chinks”?

Kid 1: Just Chinks. Hundreds of the buggers, maybe thousands, down in the underground warehouses. That’s where we spend most of our time. It’s great down below. Plenty of food, plenty of places to hide up and loads of tunnels and trap doors. You can travel all over the island in the tunnels and pop up anywhere you want to.

Mower: Show me.


MAYOR PORKER’S GROUP.

(Mayor Porker, Sean Bean, Axeman and Shidehawk make their way up Elizabeth Street toward the middle of the island. Mayor Porker is on the alert but the others throw stones, slash at the scrub with sticks and generally behave like schoolboys.)

Mayor Porker: For fucks sake you three, keep your wits about you. We’re looking for food and shelter; we’re not on a nature walk.

Axeman: Relax, Porky, we can hardly miss a hotel or a supermarket even if they have all been flattened. There, look, an ice cream sign. Must be a shop amongst the scrub somewhere. I’ve saved us all.

Sean Bean: Bollocks! I would have seen it in another second. Anyway, I’ll be first to get there and commandeer all the best grub.

(Whooping and hollering the trio race for the bush leaving Mayor Porker seething with frustrated fury. A few moments later the high-spirited shouts become screams of terror – and then silence. Mayor Porker slowly heads into the scrub. She is trying to look in all directions at once as she searches for her companions. Behind a dense patch of Grandle bushes she discovers a large opening in the ground. Broken planks and disturbed scrub indicate that the other three councillors have fallen through into a hidden shaft. Mayor Porker carefully moves to the edge and looks down. It is dark and she can see no bottom but metal rungs are set into one wall of the shaft. They lead into the darkness below. Mayor porker has just decided to get help before attempting a rescue when she feels a small hard object pressed to the back of her head. She then hears a familiar voice.)

Bart Rugarse: Turn around slowly, Mayor Porker. I won’t make the mistake of underestimating you like I did with the Deathdozer so if you as much as breathe the wrong way I’ll blow your head off.

Mayor Porker (turns around): Rugarse! Are you completely mad? What the hell are you doing? What’s all this about?

Bart Rugarse: Answers later, Porky. In the meantime, if you don’t mind, we will carefully climb down that little ladder to join your mates. Don’t worry it’s quite safe and so are they – for now.


ANN APPULADAY’S GROUP.

(Ann Appuladay, Grimy Hobo, Shizeknicker and Fondleschaft have made their way to the northeastern point of Coochiemudlo Island. They are standing on the beach and looking at two huge spits of sand that sweep away from the island like a swallows tail.)

Grimy: This isn’t right, Ann.

Ann Appuladay: What do you mean?

Grimy: I used to come here when I was a kid. The family always came to this part of the island and we would have barbeque just around the corner there. There were no sand bars like this then.

Shizeknicker: Sands shift. Maybe dis wass throwed up by a storm or a cycloid.

Ann Appuladay: No way this feature could have happened naturally. That’s man made. It’s too precise; it almost looks like a harbour.

(Grimy has wandered across and is standing on one of the spits of sand. After a minute or two he waves the others over.)

Grimy: The water in the inlet formed by the sand bars is very deep; look at the colour. That’s got to be twenty metres or more deep. And another thing, stand quite still for a minute.

Fondleschaft: Vy do ve do dis?

Grimy: Shut up and stand still.

(After a few seconds they all become aware of what Grimy has noticed.)

Ann Appuladay: The beach is moving with the swell. These sand bars are floating.

Grimy: This is a huge floating dock. Ann, this is very, very strange.

Ann Appuladay: And that’s not all that’s strange. Look up there.

(The others all turn to follow Ann’s pointing finger. A lone coconut palm stands at the beginning of one of the sand bars. High up, where the coconuts should have been, a row of gleaming security cameras are pointing down at them. With a sudden flurry and an electronic whine a patch of Carda Grass lifts and a tunnel opens up on the beach. A scurrying group of men rush out and surround the councillors. These men carry machine pistols and are dressed in a military style. They also each carry chopsticks in one of their battledress pockets and that definitely marks them as Chinese soldiers even without the eyes.)

TO BE CONTINUED.