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stepping straight up to Deano Rudd and hurling him off the sixth
floor so we could be done with it and get on with the rest of our
lives; I felt like dancing with Julie Lamington, and sharing a smoke
and a good old cry with Leanne McCabe; I felt like any number of
inappropriate acts.
What I needed was a few minutes alone.
Back at the Kangazoo, I changed out of my monkey suit into a zoo
uniform. I stopped by the Koalaseum, my favourite quiet spot. Benji,
the little one, was sleeping on mum Liza s chest. Why had we called
them Benji and Liza? Weren t they American names, with American
baggage? There had to be some changes around here: name changes.
When we got a new pair of koalas, they d be called Bruce and Sheila.
Their kids would be Gav and Shirl.
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BRIAN WESTLAKE
I got in the ute and drove to Rod s rehab place. I reflected again
on what a lucky man Don had made me. By stepping aside, he d got
me within sight of the finishing post. More importantly, he d saved
me from doing away with the one bloke among the Big Five I really
liked and respected from the bottom of my heart. I was abjectly
thankful that I hadn t had to do anything to him.
But now that I was levelling out again, I reminded myself to be
careful about any loose wires. Hell, I d nearly blurted the whole
thing out to Don. He might not have believed me, but that wasn t the
point. If I let myself go, I d become a security risk. To myself, and to
Sheena and the kids. For the rest of my life, another thirty or forty or
fifty years if I was lucky, I was going to have to watch my step. Not
a word. Not one word. To anyone. No slackening. Not a single word,
or it would have been all for nothing. Even though my marathon felt
like it was coming to an end, really it was just beginning.
Don s retirement, as well-timed as it was, got me to thinking
how much I was at the mercy of circumstances. This path I d set
off down, I was no more in charge than Little Red Riding Hood or
Hansel and Gretel. Circumstances and luck were going to decide
my fate. I had nothing to do with it.
But I did, didn t I? I had everything to do with it. Yeah! If I d just
sat back and let fate take its course, I d be finished. Pioneer would
have their Ranger n Rudd show, there d be Brock McCabe as
back-up, and maybe all the renewed interest in Australian wildlife
presenters would see a boom kids on YouTube would be playing
with lizards and auditioning, and all the Big Five would enjoy pros-
perous futures. Except for me. I d be sitting back grizzling about
what might have been, what used to be, while I went on my daily
round doing matinees for the Kangazoo maybe not even that
while my son died of his allergies.
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The ENDANGERED L I ST
There wasn t much of a choice, was there? It was like Don said:
we live in a world where the middle has dropped out, where there are
only haves and have-nots. I had to be a have. For everyone s sake.
And maybe I could claim some credit for Don s decision. He d
quit because he d grown scared, he d lost the gravel in his guts and
who had made him scared? Why did he start to feel that he was
next in line, that our whole profession had a hex on it? Who had
caused that to be?
Me.
And maybe there was something else . . . Maybe, by merely
standing near me at the funeral and the wake, where I was so
dominant, Don felt subconsciously this force of nature that was
going to roll over him. He was a listener, Don, just like me. He
could understand things that hadn t risen up in words. He could
sense, deep down, that there was a tsunami rolling in and he had to
get out of the way. A cyclone. Hurricane Frosty. Gale force. Get out
of the way.
When I got to the rehab joint, my day was up-ended again. Nurses
were running about and an ambulance was sitting in the entrance,
its light flashing but not blaring. Someone was being loaded in on a
gurney. Amid all the mayhem I found Sheena, slumped on a chair
in the waiting area. Rosie was at her feet, the angel, doing a wooden
puzzle. The face in the puzzle was Mick s. All Rosie s and Rod s
toys were free merchandise we got from the Kangazoo.
Baby, what is it?
Sheena couldn t speak. She cried into my chest. Doctor Proctor
came over and told me the bad news. Rod had suffered a relapse, an
acute allergic reaction.
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BRIAN WESTLAKE
How? To what?
Impossible to say, said Dr Proctor. Impossible because, I
figured, it was his fault. They d taken Rod off his medication to see
how he d cope without it. Seeing he d been getting so much better,
they were hoping for a change of plans. Maybe the trial in America
wouldn t be necessary. Maybe he was getting better by himself.
Maybe life could resume as normal, and Rod could come back and
live in the zoo. We wouldn t be in the demountable forever, maybe
we could even live in the suburb outside the zoo. Life! It was good!
Ever since Rod had been getting better, I d been the one pushing for
them to stop his medication. I was the one who wanted to pretend
there was nothing wrong.
The stupid doctors had followed my wishes. It was their fault
for listening to me. And now the poor little guy was being taken
back to the Royal, to intensive care.
It s a bit of a setback, Dr Proctor said. But we had to find
out how well he was really getting. We didn t know if it was
the environment, the medication or a natural recovery. So we
eliminated one of the variables. And it seems that s the important
variable.
The medication, I said.
Proctor nodded. Simple scientific method. Change one of the
variables, keep the others constant and
I don t know what came over me. My hand shot out like a retract-
able gaffer and gripped the doctor around the neck. I kept coming,
not stopping till I had him pinned to the wall. His eyes bulged.
I could kill a man with my bare hands. I could. I had experience.
I believe he saw this in my face.
Frosty, let him go! Sheena was clawing at my ears. Behind her,
Rosie had started bawling in terror at my sudden move.
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The ENDANGERED L I ST
I let Proctor down the wall. He straightened his tie and tried to
absorb it in a low-key medical way, as if this kind of thing happened
to him on a daily basis. Disappointed parents, always the worst.
It s all right, Mr Westlake, I understand.
He said it, but he didn t look like he meant it. As soon as he
could, he scarpered. The ambulance left with Rod inside. We got in
the ute and followed them to the hospital.
Frosty, Sheena said quietly.
I sighed. Got myself all small and tidy for another dressing-
down. Or, at best, another calm reminder that it helped no one for
me to lose my bottle, it didn t help Rod if I terrorised doctors. We
just had to go to America and pay our dues and try our best, get
Rod into the trial . . . Maybe his place in the trial would be jeop-
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