Taxi Assault

Taxi Brutality

The early hours of a Sunday morning, Anthony is driving his taxi down a deserted street in the suburbs of the city. A younger man around 30 years old with receding brown hair and tired bloodshot blue eyes. His face has a haggard expression from long hours behind the wheel dealing with drunken passengers who begrudge him the cost of a ride a home. Preferring instead to be served yet another drink from one of the clubs comprising the local nightlife.
It had been a busy Saturday night shift, the RT (radio telephone) had been relentlessly barking out addresses and pick-up instructions non-stop for at least the past three hours. Anthony yawned and blinked rapidly a few times to alleviate the tired heavy feeling around his eyes and braked the taxi to a stop at a set of traffic lights. He was suffering the fatigue caused by a week of twelve-hour shifts and at least five hours of constant driving.
As he pulled away from a green light he cursed quietly and quickly picked up the RT mic from the dash. He spoke tiredly into the handpiece. "Sixty-one clear town." A pause from the dispatcher and then a few seconds later an older male voice came on the RT. "Sixty-one. Players Entertainment in Cray St." Anthony acknowledged the address given out for another fare. "Player's tar."
He drove the ageing Toyota Camry with its taxi livery down the street a few blocks and then pulled over outside a night club with party goers milling around outside. Anthony looked carefully around the outside of the car and scanned the rear-view and wing mirrors. Several years of night shift taxi driving told him to be on the lookout when crowds of potentially heavily intoxicated people were around.
Suddenly the doors on the taxi were ripped open and three young men roughly jumped in. One was dressed in a rugby jersey and wore his hair in a ponytail and the other had a black t-shirt with a heavy metal band logo emblazoned over it. Anthony was unable to get much more of an impression of them, because of the darkness in the back of the cab. However, it was the man that was sitting in the front seat that grabbed the most attention. Instinct from previous experience warned Anthony to be on guard.
He was a young man with ginger hair and a ginger beard over the top of a pale face. He had pale blue eyes with unfocused pupils in them. He laughed suddenly and spoke abruptly. "Where are the sluts at mate!?" Anthony groaned inwardly. It was going to be one of "those" taxi customers.
Anthony replied. "I don't know chief the rest of towns gone quiet. You might be better to stay here." Hoping he could get rid of this guy in short order and move onto a better fare. Preferably a quiet, sober one.
The guy was increasingly giving Anthony cause for concern. He was fidgeting restlessly and didn't look very "with it." Anthony had a suspicion that the guy was on more than just alcohol. He knew the worst thing in the early hours of a night shift when tired, was dealing with people that had the mental capacity of a mushroom due to drugs or alcohol.
Anthony reached forward and pressed a button to start the taxi metre. The figure of $4.00 appeared in bright red digital numbers. One of the men exclaimed from the back seat. "Shit mate. We don't want to buy the car! We haven't even moved anywhere." Anthony sighed and rubbed his forehead he knew this was going to ruin his night. "Well, it's just the flag fall, it's the same for everyone when you get a taxi. Now where you guys headed?
The drug addled young man in the front seat wasn't going to let the cost of the taxi fare go, however. "Ooh we have a grumpy driver aye you guys. I don't like taxi drivers, there all old, rip off arseholes. We want to have a good time tonight mate so don't rip us off!" Anthony replies trying to keep calm. "Walking's free mate. I'm just doing my job. I don't make the prices; I just drive the car."
"The guy stopped and stared vacantly for a second then burst out with a peel of unhinged laughter. "All good aye? We want to go to the Road Kings pad. Go have a beer with them." The young man refers to the local gang headquarters.
"Alright." Somewhat relieved Anthony put the taxi in gear and eased it out onto the main street. The ginger headed guy in the front seat continued to ramble on to Anthony about their night out on the town. Not really making a great deal of sense. Anthony just made non-committal sounds of agreement. "Mm hmm" and "Oh yeah." A common response of taxi drivers working long hours late into the night, meant to placate and lull a drunk or drugged passenger, while not really having to concentrate on the conversation. Anthony kept one eye occasionally on the two young men in the back seat through the rear-view mirror. They were quiet enough while the ginger guy kept talking nonsensically.
The taxi was cruising quietly at the speed limit getting close to the drop-off destination when suddenly, the drugged guy with the red beard reached down with his right hand and ripped the cars handbrake up. The rear wheels of the car locked up instantly with shrill squealing coming from the car's tires. The taxi sedan came to a stop in the middle of the road with the haze of blue tire smoke drifting past the windows of the vehicle. Absolutely taken by surprise Anthony shouted angrily at the drugged guy. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE DOING?!"
Anthony was intent on giving the ginger headed guy his pedigree when the two in the back seat flung the doors of the car open and jumped out. The red bearded guy opened his door and got out as well. Anthony was speechless with rage. Red Beard reached across. "I have something for you." He punched Anthony in the face underneath his left eye and slammed the door. The three men walked off down the street.
Anthony watched them go in bewilderment. He shook his head snapping out of it. He quickly reached down beside the steering wheel fumbling with his left hand for the cars RT microphone. "Sixty-one here! I have just been assaulted!" Anthony could hear the shock in his own voice as he radioed the taxi dispatcher in the company depot. The dispatchers voice cut in loudly over the other driver's voices on the radio. "Where are you Sixty-one?" "I'm on the corner of Belamy Drive and Clyne Street!" Anthony replied shakily.
The dispatcher put out a general request for all the taxi drivers listening on the party line of the RT. "Ok, is there any other cabs close by that could help sixty-one out? Just stay there Anthony we will get the police sent around to you." "Roger that." Anthony hangs up the mic. A few minutes go by before a pair of headlights abruptly appear around the street corner. Anthony breathes a sigh of relief, reassured by the sight of a van with the bright blue Taxi sign illuminated above the headlights.
The van screeches to a halt and tall, lanky man with a scruffy, long, silvery beard jumps out. He strides over to Anthony's taxi and flings open the front passenger door. "You alright Antz mate? Get belted, did you?" Anthony points to his eyes. "Yeah, Ralph the prick just poked me in my eye just as he was getting out. I'm alright though." Ralph looks around the quiet darkly lit city street. "Where did the bastard go?" Anthony points with his head through the car windscreen. "Off through the trees over there, into the golf course."
Just then another taxi, travelling fast comes hurtling down the road. The driver notices the two parked vehicles and brakes suddenly. The taxis worn out brakes screeching piercingly as it pulls up next to Anthony's car.
The driver winds the passenger window down to speak. He is a middle-aged man with long grey/blonde hair, trimmed grey goatee and a craggy face with deep rings under heavy bloodshot eyes.
"You still in one piece?" he asks gruffly without preamble. Anthony replies through the open car window. "Yeah, I'm not too hurt thanks Brian. Just a shock to be struck more than anything. Just some drugged up idiot from Players." Brian shakes his head angrily. "Christ, what have I told you about going to that hollow turd of a pub? You get every gormless nitwit and drugged up moron that God ever saw fit to blow wind into!"
Anthony smiles ruefully at Brian's dry wit. "Yeah, I know... I was just trying to get a quick hail though. Hasn't gone my way tonight." Anthony admits with a sigh. "Well, it certainly hasn't now." Brian scoffed. "You'll be tied up here for an hour with the bloody plodd's!"
Ralph who has been leaning over the front passenger seat of Anthonys taxi speaks to Brian. "I hear the cops are busy out on the main highway tonight. There's been a car accident." Brian raises a grey eyebrow. "Is that right?" He glances back at Anthony. "Which way did the bastards scarper off?"
"Through the trees and into the golf course probably." Anthony replies tiredly. Ralph interjects again. "We should drive around the outside. See if we can flush them out." Anthony resignedly shakes his head. "They'll be gone by now. Anyway, the depots rang the police for me. I'd better wait here." Brian screws his face up negatively then leans over in his seat towards Anthony. "I can tell ya you'll be wasting your time sitting here waiting for the plodd's to pull their finger out of their arse and turn up. They couldn't give a rats about taxi drivers." Brian looks at the green digital numbers on the dash of his taxi displaying the time of 2:41 am. "I'd say town will be about buggered now. The opposition will be lined up outside the last pub... Why don't you two go around the back onto Colin Street and I'll flash my lights through from this side. If we don't try and give these fuckers a kick up the arse occasionally, they think they can get away with anything." Ralph laughs delighted. Brian is well known in the Taxi Company for his unforgiving attitude towards troublesome taxi customers.
Ralph straightens up and slaps his hand down on the roof of Anthonys's taxi. "Ok Brian. Call out on the R'T if you see anyone." He walks away to his van and swings the driver's door closed and reverses away from the other cars. Anthony watches him drive off with a worried look on his face. "Don't worry boy we'll round the sod up before the cops ever show up." Brian reassures him before pulling away. He drives away behind Anthony's taxi. Anthony watches Brian's tail lights disappear through some trees into the park behind.
Anthony starts his own vehicle and begins to drive slowly down the wide street with trees and bushes interspersed on the left side of the road. He scans the darkness through the car's front seat window trying to see anyone lurking amongst the trees.
After a couple of minutes of driving he shakes his head in resignation and reaches for the volume control on his R'T to check that the level is up. He only touches the dial as the radio barks into life with Brian's gravelly voice raised with excitement. "Found a runner!"
Through the taxis side window Anthony notices a flash of car headlight. He stares in amazement as a figure, lit by the cars lights is sprinting for their life over the golf courses undulating terrain. Behind the desperately running man Brian's taxi roars over a bunker in a shower of sand and then plunges down the dip on the other side, to emerge tyres spinning on the wet grass.  Anthony notices the mans red beard in the sharp bright light, as he abruptly bends down to grab a piece of branch from the ground under a nearby tree. The red bearded man turns and hurls the branch over his shoulder at the lurching, bouncing taxi bearing down upon him. The branch glances off the bonnet of Brian's car with a loud bang. Red Beard turns and runs helter-skelter through a patch of bushes.
Anthony mounts the kerb in his taxi and heads in the direction where Red Beard is forcing his way through some scrub, in an attempt to cut him off. Anthony stands on the taxi's brakes, skidding sideways on the loose earth by the shrubbery just as Red Beard bursts through. He leaps onto the car and loudly thumps over bonnet and windscreen before scaling the illuminated sign on the roof of the taxi before leaping off the cars boot and disappearing into more foliage.
Anthony curses bitterly before snatching the R'T mic off the dash. "Are ya there Ralph I think he's heading in your direction. Probably for the main gates." Ralph replies immediately. "Don't worry bud I've got this corner blocked off."
Anthony threads his way through the trees and bushes that are around the outside of one of the holes on the golf course. He comes out onto the more open area of the fairway and spots Brian's headlights in his passenger window bouncing around on the uneven turf some distance away but approaching quickly.
Anthony looks ahead of his car, searching for signs of Ralph and the disappeared Red Beard. He drives over a rise of the course and discovers a good view ahead of a corner of the park outlined by two streets. He spots Ralph's taxi van driving slowly along a hedge. Ralph has a hand-held spotlight, used by taxi drivers to find street numbers on mailboxes at night, shining from the drivers' window. Ralph, has it trained on the trees on the other side of the golf course fairway. The van reaches the corner by the main gate with another bordering hedge running along the perimeter of the course. Ralph swings the van around in a U turn to head back in the opposite direction
Suddenly the patrolling taxis spot the sudden appearance of Red Beard making a run for the main gate. Anthony speaks sharply into the R'T. "Ralph behind you. He's going for the gate!
Ralph can only look over his shoulder through the tinted passenger side windows in the rear of the van to see faint movement in the darkness. He slams the manual transmission of the Toyota HiAce into reverse and dumps the clutch. The rear wheels of the heavy old vehicle spin and bounce tearing grass away. The van roars backwards in a cloud of dust and diesel smoke. Ralph has his neck craned out of the driver's window as far as he can. Suddenly there's a loud slam from the van's back door and Ralph sees a couple of random limbs flying through the air from his view in the darkness behind the vehicle. The reversing lights of the van illuminate the form of Red Beard sprawled awkwardly in the thick hedge. Ralph sees him start to struggle desperately to get to his feet. "Oh no you don't." Ralph mutters. He swings the van around in a tight turn, engine bellowing to be face on to Red Beard just as he manages to regain his feet. Red Beard stares into the rapidly approaching headlights horrified. He brings his hands up protectively as Ralph charges the van aggressively up to the hedge pinning Red Beard between the hedge and the bull bars on the front of the vehicle.
Red Beard squirms with terror on his face as he's trapped in the hedge. Ralph rides the gas pedal enough that sufficient pressure is applied to keep Red Beard from managing to escape again.
There is the noise of vehicles arriving swiftly and doors slamming as both Brian and Anthony have caught up with the dramatic scene at the front of the taxi van. Brian shouts above the noise of the van's engine. "Christ man are ya trying to flatten the bugger!" Ralph grins wryly from the cab of the van. "Well, he's not getting away now, is he?" Brian approaches the van out of the darkness. "No... it was quite a well-timed smack really. You sent him about seven feet into that hedge." Brian remarks conversationally. "What are we going to do with him now? Anthony wanted to know. Brian turns to look at Red Beard still squirming and sobbing in the hedge, in-front of the van.
"Back up will you Rick, we'll have a crack at the scumbag." Ralph lets off the accelerator and lets the van roll backwards away from the hedge. Brian moves in on Red Beard reaching to grab him around the scruff of the neck. However, the prostrate figure isn't as subdued as the Taxi Drivers believe. Out of the blue Red Beard elbows Brian in the face catching him on his large hooked nose. Brian grunts with surprise and let's go of him. Red Beard gets to his feet and attempts to run away again. Before he can get more than two strides Brian aims a vicious kick at Red Beards rear. He buries the toe of his sturdy pointed leather shoe between Red Beards buttocks. Red Beard collapses to the ground immediately clasping his injured backside.
Ralph jumps from the still idling van and both he and Brian menacingly descend upon the helpless Red Beard. "Nothing like a good kick up the arse to settle ya down eh! This is for throwing things at my car!" Brian hoarsely roars at him as he aims another full-blooded violent kick at Red Beards mid-section. Both Ralph and Brian begin taking it in turns to aim kicks at Red Beard's body.
Anthony stands away to one side watching the spectacle on the ground. He watches on tiredly for a moment or two before coming to his senses. He walks up to Brian and Ralph who are now grunting with each kick aimed at the now helpless Red Beard.
"Alright you blokes that'll do eh." Anthony places a hand on Ralph's shoulder to turn hm away and distract him. "The cops might turn up soon. Don't want to be done for assault." Ralph nods breathing heavily with the exertion. Brian gets one final swift kick in before turning to face Anthony. "Do you want to get a couple of shots at him? He's your runner." Anthony looks down at the crumpled, dusty, bloodied form of Red Beard lying on his back in the grass. "Looks like he's probably had enough. Thank you though for your help fulla's."
Ralph grins sheepishly now the excitement is dying down. He cackles with an embarrassed expression. "No worries. I bet he didn't think he would get a towel up like this when he buggered off on ya!"
Brian bends down and checks Red Beards pockets. He comes up with a scruffy brown leather wallet. Brian opens it and dips his fingers inside before exclaiming in amazement. "You wouldn't believe it! The pricks got a fifty tucked in here." Anthony chuckles and rubs his eyes wearily. "Jeez what a performance for nothing. Well, shall we split it between us? For all the hassle?" Ralph still embarrassed agrees with a nod. "Won't say no to that mate. Been off the road for a while now."
Brian passes the fifty over to Anthony. He takes it and produces a large leather wallet from his breast pocket. He places the fifty in the wallet and sorts through the other bank notes inside. "Give us 15 bucks each and keep the lions share for yourself. Maybe he's got an EFTPOS card you could swipe. "Brian suggests to Anthony gruffly. "Can't be bothered." Anthony dismisses the idea as he hands some banknotes to Brian. He hands Ralph his share of the cash and then raises his voice slightly. "Well thanks for your help, guy's. I've certainly got better friends than he has." Anthony nods down at the groaning form of Red Beard writhing in the dirt. "It's surprising those other two pricks didn't turn up." Comments Brian tucking cash away into his jacket. "Well time to chuck it in and log off I'd say. I hear my pillow whistling. See you men." Brian turns aside and walks to his still idling taxi some metres away. Ralph turns away to his van and hops up into the seat. "Righto see ya Brian. You'll manage now Anthony?" Anthony nods and waves Ralph off. "Yep, cheers Ralph, we'll see you in the depot later on."
Ralph lets out the clutch and the van trundles away quietly away to the gateway of the park following Brian's old Camry and both vehicles glide off down the darkly lit backstreet.
Red Beard coughs, groans painfully and sits up holding his rib cage. Anthony watches him warily. "Do I need to take you to Accident and Emergency now I guess?" Red Beard replies hoarsely. "Fuck you. You're not taking me anywhere after that." Anthony turns away briskly as he replies. "Good then I'll leave you to it." Red Beard remarks bitterly to Anthonys back. "You taxi drivers think your tough don't you. That was pretty over the top before, chasing me and trying to run me over. That old bastard in the van could have killed me!"
Anthony turns grinning ironically. "Well, you started it chap." Red Beard retorts indignantly. "Not really that bad. I was just having you on! Anyway, I should tell the cops what you guys did!" Anthony looks at Red Beard seriously and raises an eye brow. "You can tell them the rest of the story while you're at it! You punched me and could have caused and accident before that. Not to mention running from a taxi without payment is theft!"
Red Beard hangs his head slightly knowing he's quickly losing the argument. "Fuck you, why don't you get a job you actually like?" he mutters. Anthony begins to walk to his car again, calls out before opening the taxis door. "Well, I would like it more if I didn't have to deal with people like you."
Anthony ignores the angry reply. Opens the door to his taxi, gets in and starts the engine. The headlights turn on and illuminate the dirty crumpled form of Red Beard still sitting on the grass of the park. Anthony turns the car away and drives towards the gate to follow in the direction of his work colleges.

***

A week and twelve hours later Brian, Ralph and Anthony are walking the same golf course inside cities central park. It's the same part of the city where the previous weekend the chaotic escapade had happened with Red Beard.
The three men walk up to the beginning of the golf courses seventh hole to tee off. They are casually talking shop as they enjoy their game. Brian bends down to push his tee into the neatly mown ground. "I hear ya had a nightmare of a time getting a van load out of that Old Boys Rugby last night Ralph? Brian looks up as he searches in his golf trundler for a ball.
Ralph scratches his bushy beard nodding in agreement. "Yeah, it was alright before Nanny McPhee roared in and stirred them all up." Ralph replies referring to another taxi operators nickname who was dealing with drunk customers at a local Rugby Football Club.
"Christ, what did the stupid cow do now?" asks Brian as he places the ball and begins a few practice swings with his club. "Well, Fred and I arrived first and had a yarn to a couple of them outside." Explains Ralph. "They were alright. They said we'll go and round everyone up that wants a ride to town for ya... Then she roars up in that bomb of hers and marches straight in... One minute! You've got one minute! If you not outside by then the meters going on. I'm not waiting! ... You know all that sort of shit. You can't say that to ruggers that are three parts pissed." Brian chuckles in sympathy, amused at the situation that Ralph is describing from the previous night's work picking up taxi passengers. Anthony who has been listening with interest to the story speaks up for the first time. "That would have got them in a good mood?" Ralph looks over at Anthony wearily. "I had ten of the bastards in the back of the van all trying to have a scrap. One idiot got his head stuck in the sliding window in the side door. Couldn't let them out at the Sugar Shack until I got him freed. You should've heard the abuse I got."
Brian, about to tee off finally, turns around angrily to the two men. "I've told bloody MacPherson..." Referring to the taxi companies' manager. "I've told him that it's a bad look for the company to employ these thick-headed twats! Christ that Nanny McPhee is as mad as a fucking snake!" Brian turns around and tee's off with a meaty thwack! Pieces of soil and turf fly into the air. The ball sedately bounces off the fairway into a bush in the rough. Brian exclaims in frustration, his face red. "Fuck!" He reverses his club and thumbs it back into his golf trundler with unnecessary force.
The three men hear voices approaching and they all turn around to see three other men walking towards them. The heavy-set man walking in the middle of the trio is clearly the leader. Slightly shorter than the two flanking him, he is noticeably overweight with a portly round paunch straining the buttons of his golfing shirt. The sun shines off his bald head and florid red face that sports a thick brown handle bar moustache. The taller, clean shaven and obviously fitter men on either side of him are striding confidently down the course's fairway carrying a golf bag each.
The large man calls out imperiously to Brian as they approach the taxi drivers. "I believe this golf course has rules regarding loud profanity. Perhaps you need to practise elsewhere before coming to this golf club if you need to express your frustration in that manner." Brian stares at the newcomers suspiciously. "I believe, that you can mind your own business. What's it to you, how I express my frustration?"
The large moustached man scoffs amused. "Ha! What a bad-tempered chap you are. However, I would caution you to watch your tongue before you get too carried away. You would not want to speak out of turn to Police Officers."  The Policeman finishes importantly. "I see." Brian turns away dismissively. "Anyway, your turn Anthony." Anthony moves forward and lets his golf bag drop from his shoulder. However, the overweight moustached policeman continues talking. "Your taxi drivers, are you?" He glances around between the three men. "That's correct." Ralph answers the man's question.
"Ah." The policeman smiled briefly. "We saw a couple of taxis in the car park...Anyway my name is Senior Sergeant Rodger Johnson. While we are talking to you perhaps you might be able to help us with an accusation we have heard in the last week. To do with your taxi company as it happens."
Brian scowls at the Sergeant. "What is it about?" The rotund policeman takes a folded handkerchief from his breast pocket and mops delicately at the sweat in his moustache before explaining. "On Wednesday last week we had a scruffy ginger headed young man run into the station reception claiming to have been assaulted by three taxi drivers in the early hours of Sunday morning. Had quiet a far-fetched story to tell quite frankly. Convinced he had been run over by a taxi in this particular golf course." The Sergeant waved a hand indicating the surrounding scenery. "The three of you wouldn't know anything about this would you, given its your company?"
Brian's expression is inscrutable as he shakes his head. "I haven't heard that personally. You boys?" He nods towards Ralph and Anthony. Ralph blandly denies the question with his best poker face. "No, I don't know anything like that. I'm just a humble van driver. They never tell us anything anyway! Haha." Ralph subsides slightly nervously avoiding the policemen's gaze. Anthony looks squarely at the Sergeant before replying. "No, I haven't heard anything of that nature. Although I think our dispatcher called the police at one point."  Brian indignantly agrees. "That's right Anthony. I don't think you lot ever attended the call either." He glares at the three policemen. "Wasting our time bothering to call you lot when we have trouble in the weekend!"
The Sergeant puffs up his cheeks and looks sternly at Brian. "Well, it's unfortunate that we weren't able to attend to you last weekend. However, we were extremely occupied out on the Eastern Highway with Phase One of our major new initiative to discourage drink driving in the area." Brian interrupts exasperated. "Christ you blokes spend all your time potting a few tiddly dairy farmers quietly making their way home from the pub out in the country. Meanwhile the middle of towns like Bagdad on Saturday night!"
Mildly amused at Brian's rant, the Sergeant chuckles quietly. "I'm certain you exaggerate. While it's true we do not have the coverage we would prefer given out staffing levels currently, we do have government directives to fulfil." The perspiring Sergeant mobs at his forehead with his handkerchief. "I would warn you however, in your profession, to watch your conduct. We have had other complaints from members of the public relating to verbal abuse and racial discrimination from your drivers, not to mention erratic driving. Indeed, it would seem there is a prevailing theme of arrogance from within your organisation. I would discourage this kind of attitude in future. Be aware that we are taking note of these incidents." The Sergeant draws himself up adjusting his straining belt around his waist. He turns to his sidekicks. "Well gentlemen, shall we adjourn to the clubhouse for the afternoon? I'm rather partial to the delectable iced donuts they have on offer." The policemen all turn to walk away from the group of taxi drivers. "Have a good rest of the afternoon." The Sergeant glances aside at the three drivers, all coldly staring as the three policemen walk off.
Once there out of earshot Brian takes an angry kick at a piece of lose turf, lying by his foot. "Glass chinned, pant wetting bastards! Christ that Johnson thinks he's something doesn't he. Walks around like he's got his truncheon stuffed up his arse!" Brian is almost out of breath when he finishes his rant. Anthony and Ralph grin with amusement at Brian's rage.
Brian wipes his hand across his mouth, calming down. He nods at Anthony to have his turn teeing off. "It's a thankless job, driving a sodding taxi, isn't it?" The others mutter agreement.  "Tight fisted old bags from the supermarket in the daytime that argue over ten cents." Brian continues tiredly. "Drunken dropkicks at night that vomit in the back seat." "Then there's miserable old MacPherson in the depot charging more and more every year to run the bloody company!" Brian is getting increasingly agitated again. "Pretty soon I won't have two brass razoo's to rub together! Then there's these arrogant plodd's that are more of a hindrance than a help!" He realises he's ranting again. "Hurry up and have your shot, Anthony. I want to at least have time for a beer at the clubhouse before it gets dark. Hopefully that fat Johnson and his minions have cleared out by the time we get there!"

***

It's dark outside the Golf Courses Clubhouse. The three taxi drivers shove the main entrance doors open and lurch out into the carpark, to stagger haphazardly out to where their taxi vehicles are parked. Its apparent that they have enjoyed more than one beer each, after their game of golf. Brian moves up to his car and begins fumbling in his pocket for his car keys. Ralph begins urinating noisily in the bushes in front of his old taxi van. "Jeez couldn't you have done that inside? That arsehole Sergeant will catch you and lock you in the slammer!" Brian admonishes him.
Ralph is trying to mumble a reply when a young male voice interrupts from out of the darkness. "Good night on the beer's boys? You definitely deserve it after beating the shit out of your customers all weekend, eh?" There was a shocked pause and then Brian calls out suspiciously. "What? Who the hells that?!" Two young men walk across the deserted dark carpark and stop by the rear of Ralph's van. One figure with the outline of long hair tied up in a pony tail nods to the other young man dressed in a black T-shirt and jeans. "Look that's the van he told us about. Red and Cab 27 on the number plate." Then in a raised voice addresses the intoxicated taxi drivers. "We are friends of Dylan O'Riley. You ran him over last weekend!" Anthony turns and walks over to the two men by the van. "You were in the backseat?" "That's right." The guy in the black T-shirt replies. "What do you want now chap? You disappeared pretty quickly last weekend." Anthony questions the two sinister individuals.
"We have another gift for you." The man in the black T-shirt grinning evilly brings out a cricket bat from behind his back and smashes it abruptly across Anthony's forehead. Anthony sinks to the ground clutching at his head. Some blood beginning to seep between his fingers. Suddenly out of the darkness Brian charges at the two men with a solid metallic torch brandishing it as a club. He roars hoarsely at them. "Right, you gutless little bastards you wanna go?!" Brian swings the torch in a wide arc at the head of the man with the ponytail." "Ponytail ducks under the torch and socks Brian in the belly with his fist. Brian grunts with a gust of air driven out of his abdomen and bends over. Ponytail aims a kick at his prominent nose with a heavy steal caped leather boot. Theres a burst of blood as Brian covers it with his other hand.
Meanwhile Ralph has succeeded in getting the driver's door of the van open and is frantically trying to scramble into the drivers' seat. The two attackers notice his attempt at escape and hurry over and between them pull him out by the shoulders. "No, you don't mate. We haven't finished with you yet!" Threatens Ponytail, as they manhandle him out of the van. "No, we want to show you what it's like to be run over!" The guy with the black T-shirt barks at Ralph. Unceremoniously they shove Ralph roughly at the high side of the van. He face-plants into the metal panels of the vehicle with a loud thud. He staggers back a couple of paces before they grab him again and propel him into the van again even harder. He hits it with an even louder bang.
Just then some light from a car's headlights washes over the scene in the carpark. A car is traveling down the street next to the golf club's car park. The assault of the taxi drivers is paused as the two thugs stare at the approaching vehicle. "Come on we better go." Ponytail pants at his partner. The two let go of Ralph just at beginning of another trip into the side of his van and they run off into the night. The car drives past ignoring the golf club carpark. A minute later there is the sound of another car's engine starting and revving and then the noise of it quickly departing.
There are only the background sounds of faraway city traffic in the darkened car park. Before Brian calls out roughly. "Anthony! Are you alright?" Anthony pulls himself up from the asphalt, leaning heavily on the side of his taxi for support. He regains his feet and wiping his forehead with one bloodied hand slowly walks over to Brian. He reaches down with one hand and helps Brian to his feet. Brian comes up gasping painfully, wiping blood from his nose on his sleeve. "Ralph are you still alive?" Brian calls out. Ralph, favouring a leg wanders over to Brian and Anthony. He has cuts on his face from his impacts with the side of the van. "We better all go down to the Hospital." States Brian concerned.  "I'll drive. I'm not too bad." Offers Anthony to the others. "You sure?" Brian asks looking up. "Yeah, come on, get in my taxi."
The three men painfully all get into Anthony's silver Toyota. The car starts up and the headlights switch on. Anthony reverses slowly out of a park and drives slowly onto the street before accelerating away. Brian is in the front seat and Ralph is in the back. Brian is holding his nose carefully. "I think they've broken my bloody nose." He moans in a thick distorted voice. Ralph chimes in from the backseat. "They have done something to my knee!"
Brian continues complaining to Anthony who is concentrating on the road. "They fair winded me. Christ I couldn't breathe for a minute." Brian looks across at Anthony in the pale light from the car's dashboard. "Hell, they got you a good one with that cricket bat." Anthony gingerly touches his forehead. Brian turns to look out the car's passenger window. "That's the last time I tangle with a bloody taxi runner. I'm too old to deal with this shit!" Ralph agrees miserably from the back seat. "Yeah, it's not worth it." Brian getting agitated questions Anthony. "Why didn't you wait for the cops when that prick swatted you last Saturday?" Ralph agrees. "Yeah, it's not really our job to sort runners out."
Anthony glares at Ralph in his rear-view mirror. "It was your suggestion to chase that prick through the park!" He looks at Brian. "I would have waited for the cops but you two wanted to catch him!" Brian retorts spluttering through his broken nose. "Well Christ we were only trying to help out! I didn't know I'd end up with a kick in the head for my trouble!"
Anthony still angry glares sideways at Brian. "Well, I didn't ask you guys to beat him up, did I? It wasn't worth it for fifteen bucks!" "Well, you can sort it out yourself next time." Brian grumps before closing his eyes and leaning back in the seat. "Just get us to the hospital eh."
Anthony glares through the windscreen ignoring the other men in the car. The illuminated sign of the hospital appears before them through the car's windscreen. Anthony pulls the taxi into the hospital grounds and pulls to a stop outside the Main Entrance for the Accident and Emergency department. Brian and Ralph get out of the car slowly and painfully before closing their respective doors of Anthonys taxi. As soon as the doors close Anthony roars off aggressively. The car's engine barking with high revs.
Anthony races back out onto the city street. Leaving the two colleges standing staring after the quickly departing taxi. The engine is still roaring as Anthony reaches over and grabs his Licence Identification Card from its place on the dash. The plastic card has a mugshot image of Anthonys face and his first name. The card is a required possession for Anthony to operate a taxi legally. He looks down at the licence card in his hand before abruptly screwing it up in his fist. He winds down the drivers' window and throws it out of his car. Far out into the dark city street. The screwed-up piece of plastic disappears into the darkness, quickly left far behind the rushing vehicle.