REMOTE BY Zac Boulton
That sexy weekend you’ve planned with that interesting stranger. It’s quiet out there, so you have heard. You get on the train with a burning anticipation…the train seems to go on forever, you finally arrive at the station. No one else seems to get off, but you tell yourself its fine… He did say it was a ways way…There is only one, big, fancy, nice looking ute in the station carpark. The game begins. You open the door smile; a bead of sweat trickles down the centre of your back and finally rests on your lower back. You drive and dust spays out fast in the rear-view mirror. You drive and drive and drive and drive and drive until the big cattle trains race you along the long flat black highway. There is a house on the horizon on the hill. You check your phone for reception…one bar…SOS…one bar…SOS…one bar…No service. That hot confidence has turned to just heat and a little bit of dread.
