"Hey…"
…
"Is he dead or something? Christ, may have to get th…"
…
"Stick or pipe? Which one wi…"
…
"Three, two, one…"
THWAK!
Michael was pulled out of his state of unconsciousness, a blast of pain knocking him upright. His vision blurry and his hearing muffled, Michael rubbed his head as hard as he could, resulting in even more pain.
"Errnngg…"
Scowling, he decided to just gently rub his eyes and blink the blurriness away. Seemed to work. What the hell even happened? Last thing he remembered was…
!!!
The flash of memory made him jump.
A sight to see, a police station warping and shuddering under an oppressive foot. A troop of policemen, wielding firearms, running back and forth. Michael sat on the road, a Kangaroo jumping over him. A man spun about in a wheelchair, his eye covered with a patch. Blood spurting everywhere from mirrored helmets.
What is this?
Perhaps his medication decided to give him the equivalent of a drug trip, or maybe he was having a fever dream. But if that was the case, then why did it feel so real? Like he was a part of this. This didn't make sense, not in the slightest.
"That's because it just happened. The shit they shot in ya is making you loopy."
Micheal's reflexes made him jump to his feet and spin around, coming face to face with clumps of brown and light red.
A 6 foot, heavily muscled, bloodstained Red Kangaroo.
"Hm. Surprised, huh?"
What accent was that!? That was the thickest Australian accent that Michael had ever heard, it was as if Crocodile Dundee got mixed in with every Australian slang a drunk could think of. It was embarrassingly bad.
But that wasn't important right now.
What was important was the fact that he was talking to a fucking kangaroo!
"Come on, we're gonna be late."
Michael didn't have the choice to say no, not that he wanted to. Pissing off the sack of muscle would be the last thing he'd do. As the kangaroo began to hop away, Michael slowly but surely straightened up, his back finally arching. As Michael took his first step, however, his leg buckled from underneath him, sending waves of pain.
"Ack! Fuckin'…!"
The kangaroo snapped his head back and saw the man crumple to the ground.
"Ah crap, you're injured. Hang on a sec, let me get ya."
With a swift swish of the arms, the kangaroo managed to grab Michael and lift him over its shoulders. It was reminiscent of the Fireman's carry that was often seen in those movies that Michael rarely saw. Perhaps this fever dream would come to an end soon, and he'd be woken up in a nice hospital, with an actual excuse to knock off work for once.
Yeah, that would be nice.

The colony was thriving.
Everywhere he looked, there was nothing but progress. Who would've known that just a few years ago this whole town was on the brink of collapse. Thank goodness he got here while he could. While he was just a mere passerby, the state of these poor animals made him stay longer than he would have. It wasn't like there was a family to go to, not the after scandals that popped up because of that one fucking mine! His family was here, these kangaroos were family now, and there was nothing that could change that.
"Oi! Oi! Isaac! We've got someone!"
The politician snapped his head to the entrance gate, made of various bits of scrap iron. It creaked as each bit of metal scraped against one another, chipping off paint and rust. When a familiar figure came through and locked the gate behind them, Isaac made a mad dash towards them, leaving deep imprints in the desert sand.
"Oliver! You're alright!"
He enveloped the furry animal in a tight hug, the kangaroo giving one of his own in return. "I thought you got killed by those nasty Foundation people! How did you survive?"
"Where are we?"
Isaac turned his attention to the body on Oliver's back. Its clothes were tattered and dirty, its hair mangled with grey and brown. It was breathing heavy, probably from being hit by one of those signs again. It was on the brink of unconsciousness.
"Another victim of the signs?"
Oliver lowered his head.
"Yeah, don't know how we missed it, was a few kays from the fence line. Sorry."
Isaac pulled the body off the roo's back, careful to not stir it from its slumber. Having to try and explain why an overweight politician was carrying one to a house made of car tires would be too much of a hassle right now.
"Nah, it's alright. No need to apologise. They'll move the fence and try and find us again, but we'll get away, we always do."
With a huff, the politician carried the body towards the house of tires. The house was small, with only a few rooms, with signs haphazardly plastered on for the sake of convenience. Isaac didn't mind the aesthetic, though he did miss having most modern conveniences; at least he had his watch.
"Alright, there we go."
The "hospital bed" wasn't anything to gawk at, just a simple mash of springs and car cushions.
Anything goes, I suppose. Let's hope the springs don't give out this time.
The body made a soft PHFM sound as it bounced atop the makeshift bed. Isaac wiped the sweat off his brow. Man, he needed to exercise. For all that the Australian heat did to him, weight loss was not on that list. He straightened his black leather tie and brushed off his matching suit. Just as he pulled his grey hair back, at least what was left of it, a knock echoed through the hut.
"Uh, Isaac Ilan, you got that speech due in 30 minutes."
Without looking back, Isaac stretched.
"Yeah, yeah. I'll be there in ten, give me a minute to get my stuff."
He felt the figure nod, and then leave. Isaac took the time to collect his thoughts on the situation that laid in front of him, like a bunch of papers was just thrown on his desk during an important office meeting.
So, that is one more victim, and one more sign to keep track of. Goddammit, if I knew this what I was getting into, I would have prepared years ago. At least this one seems better than the others. The one from that self driving car didn't even make it. The cemetery shouldn't grow anymore, not now, not ever.
With a heavy sigh, he turned and left the little tire hut, and made his way to his own home, a home made of car doors, exhaust pipes, and broken promises.

There was a mild sense of pain. Not enough to be considered agony, but enough to stir Michael from a drug induced slumber. The first thing he noticed when he opened his eyes was the dozens of car tires that made a makeshift ceiling. It didn't do much to shield the light, but it was good enough to stop the rain, which was good in Michael's books, at least.
He pulled himself up and tried to climb out of bed. Pain from his leg made him stiffen and stifle a yelp. He noticed the makeshift bandages that covered it. Whoever did it decided to not do the burden of taking his clothes off, which was a relief. Michael took another look around the room he was in. There was a curtain that covered the room, like a door, made of some kind of leather. Leaning against the bed was a pair of white crutches, with foam acting at the underarm rests.
Guess I'm gonna have to use these.
The crutches seemed sturdy enough, they could hold his weight enough, and it didn't dig into his underarms. With each swing, his arms would burn slightly, perhaps from their severe underuse in recent years, with the exception of driving.
Driving?
With no warning, a chill ran down through his body, making each bone in his spine tense up.
"Why did that happen?"
A cold sweat ran down his forehead. Shaking out the sense of dread, Michael decided to leave the tire hut, and figure out where the hell he was. With any luck, he could get back home, or at least to a motel, he still had his phone.
Well, he did have his phone, the empty space in his pocket proved otherwise.
Oh great, now where did it go?
"Hey! You're up!"
A large, round man stomped towards him, the ground leaving deep imprints of their work boots, which didn't match at all with their business suit. The man's face was covered in dirt, and seemed to have run out of breath. He stuck out his hand.
"I, uh…"
Michael was at a bit of a loss for words. The man in the suit seemed to notice.
"Oh yeah! My apologies, forgot to introduce myself! Name's Isaac Ilan, you may know me from Parliament, or formerly from Parliament."
A light bulb went off in Michael's head.
"Hang on, were ye the guy who did tha-"
"Yes, yes, yes, that was absolutely not me! That was something out of my control, unfortunately, but it did pave the path that took me here."
Michael was caught off guard, to say the least. The sight of an overweight politician who was involved in so many scandals that he was literally thrown out of office. Michael decided to not press on the issue, as it didn't seem too important right now.
"Anyway, you know my name, but I don't know yours. So who might you be?"
"I… am Michael, Michael Palmer. Uh, do ye know where we are?"
Isaac scratched his head.
"That, is a complicated answer, I think it'll be better if I just showed you. Follow me."
Before Michael could answer, the politician stomped onward to a considerably high hill. With no other choice, Michael followed, each footstep setting his arms on fire. Within a few minutes Michael managed to make it to the crest, a good fifty metres up or so. Isaac was on the very edge, looking over.
Michael threw the thought of throwing him off.
Isaac turned to him, his back to the landscape.
"Ah! You're here! Sorry about the crutches, we couldn't make a wheelchair with the parts we had. Not without demolishing the tire hut."
Ah, so handmade then.
"Anyway, that's not important right now. What is important, is what I'm about to show you, come to the edge."
With hesitation, Michael obeyed and stood on the edge.
Out on the horizon, there was a marvel, a sight to take in. A sight that Michael would never think, never in a million years, would be going on right in front of him, just along the landscape.
"Welcome, to the Hidden Sanctuary, home to the only species of sapient Kangaroos."
«Outback Law|Domino Effect»