Keepers of the Lost City

by Preston William Child

  From the pitch dark of the shadow cast by the trees around the back of the house, a voice of mature age spoke. “Then you had better start buying beer, mate.”

  Nigel Cockran jumped up out of his chair, shotgun in hand and his eyes like saucers. “Who’s that? Who’s there? You come out or I’ll blow your bloody brains out!”

  Everyone sat frozen, dead quiet and staring into the dark beyond the reach of the porch lights. They could hear the faint scuffle of feet, alarming them to seize whatever weapons they carried. After all, with the talk of poachers running amuck in the local area, they had every right to distrust the voices of strangers in the dark.

  “Easy, mate, easy,” the voice urged calmly. “No trouble here. No trouble.”

  From the shade stepped two Maori elders, hands up in the air in surrender. “We are here to help look for the Harding man. That is all. Put away the gun, Mr. Cockran.”

  “Hope you don’t mind that we show up early,” the other elder man said, as Cockran lowered his barrel. “Quite a walk from our place, but we got here too early. Sgt. Anaru asked us to come back to join the search party.”

  “You were here last time, when the thunderstorm came?” Sally asked. “The constable told me about only five men left after the rain started.”

  “That’s us,” the one man said. “I’m Sully. This is Herman.”

  “Well, come up and get some beer,” Farmer Cockran invited them. He went to look for more chairs, but found that all the chairs were already occupied.

  “No worries,” Sully smiled. “I’ll perch. I’ll perch.” With a limber leap, he hopped up on the bannister and made himself comfortable. His friend, Herman, did the same.

  “Are you blokes from the tribe at Brunner?” old Cockran asked.

  “I am,” Herman said. “Sully is from Christchurch’s Samoan community, but he moved here few months back.”

  “Ah, so you are Samoan?” Purdue asked.

  “Nah,” Eddie Olden objected. “He is Maori, clearly. Right, Herman?”

  “Correct,” Herman affirmed happily, to which Eddie introduced himself and Louisa Palumbo to identify with the wildlife claim the two native men made inadvertently. “By your response to Dr. Harding’s bet with his brother, I deduce that you insinuate that there are Anacondas in New Zealand?” Eddie inquired.

  Both Herman and Sully nodded, evoking a buzz of negation from the group present, but among all of them, David Purdue was the only one who believed them out of hand.

  29 Secret of Snakes

  The two elders shook their heads at the collective protest. Purdue rose from his chair and smiled, “Come now, everyone, let us not just dismiss this claim. I, for one, prefer to play audience to explanation before I deny something.”

  “Look, Mr. Purdue, as a veterinarian I can assure you that it is a ludicrous claim,” Cecil countered.

  “Jesus, alright, we get it. You’re a vet,” Nina muttered, evoking a giggle from Louisa.

  “Gentlemen, would you mind if my colleague, Sam Cleave here, filmed you explaining this statement for our documentary?” Purdue asked tactfully.

  “No, no problem, but you don’t show our faces or mention our names,” Sully clarified.

  “Yeah, we don’t need more crap from the other tribesmen for letting this get out,” Herman agreed.

  “Letting what crap out?” Nina asked with no small amount of intrigue. “That there are snakes in this country or that you knew about it?”

  “Lady, we all knew, but the problem was solved in 1970, when we caved in the mine. It was not until that nosy Scotsman Williams went looking for the Lost City that all hell broke loose. They came back up to the surface, the bastards!” Sully rambled. As he went along, Sam was having a time of it to try and ready his camera in time before the man divulged all the information. At the mention of Dr. Williams, Purdue and his friends stiffened up and glared at one another.

  “You all knew?” Eddie asked old Cockran.

  “Knew what?” the old farmer mumbled, drunk enough to be of no use, but Sally shook her head and said, “We knew about the rumors and the legends, but not about…snakes? No, not snakes.”

  “Wait, now, friends,” Purdue said. He looked at Sam to confirm that the journalist was ready this time. When Sam nodded, Purdue asked, “Tell us about the Lost City.”

  Louisa came to sit down next to Nina, still a bit wary of the small-framed historian with the furious powers of assertion. She was smoking a cigarette, which got Nina’s instant attention. When the dark-eyed beauty locked eyes with Louisa, she prepared herself for another attack, but instead Nina asked, “Bum me a smoke?”

  Louisa grinned. “Sure!”

  Herman shifted uncomfortably in front of Sam’s lens. He was a reserved man who did not enjoy cameras, but deep inside him there was a tiny inkling that his voice would be immortalized, and that sat well with him. On his head, he wore a cowboy hat much like Sully’s. Unlike Sully, though, Herman was of slight build. From under his hat his wild frizzy hair made him look like a 1960s rock star, whereas Sully’s robust build and grey braid gave him the appearance of a Cherokee chief from a modern Hollywood film.

  “The so-called Lost City is a legend that came from when my grandparents came to New Zealand from Samoa in the late 1800’s. People who hear this legend think it is something from Jungle Book or something, with treasures of gold and silver…” Sully explained, while his friend smiled coyly as he enjoyed the misinformation they were debunking.

  “But it is not like that,” Herman added. “It is not about the gold that lies under these mountains. The settlers thought what they always do.” He made a shrill voice to impersonate those he was referring to. “Oh, there is gold to be plundered. Let’s ignore all warnings and rape all the sacred ground to make ourselves rich. Well, at Nekenhalle they got their comeuppance, not once, not twice, but continuously.”

  “The Lost City is said to be the home of the Cosmic Snake, you know, the one that will destroy the earth at the end of days. There are many such beliefs in different cultures, of course, but the markers tell us that it is here at Nekenhalle,” Sully explained. “Why do you think the place is called Nekenhalle?”

  “I was actually still going to ask about that,” Sam acknowledged. “The etymology is a bit unclear.”

  “When Germany occupied Western Samoa in the 1800’s, some Samoa-born Germans came to New Zealand during the migration,” Sully elucidated. “Nekenhalle belonged to one of those families, a Prussian family called Wilhelm, my grandma told me. The Wilhelm’s were the first men to disappear looking for gold under those hills, mate.”

  “My turn,” the more jovial Herman told his friend. “They named the farm Nekenhalle, because ‘neke’ is Maori for ‘snake’.”

  “Hall of Snakes,” Nina announced. “That’s what the name means.”

  “Christ,” Eddie Olden grunted. “How did our colleagues here not know this, Louisa?”

  She shrugged, “Maybe they knew, Ed. Maybe this is New Zealand’s best kept secret. It would make sense, you know, to protect the place from a gold rush?”

  “Good point!” Nina gasped. “Like guardians, guardians of the Lost City.”

  “Fuck me,” Sam muttered in awe. Sally looked terrified, even upset. She collected some glasses and went for the kitchen, while her husband stared into space. “It makes perfect sense. Keep the secret of snakes, and make it look like mining accidents when someone goes snooping,” Sam said, putting it all together.

  The two elders looked satisfied with his presumption.

  “And that is what is poisoning the livestock,” Louisa concluded, looking at Eddie with horror in her eyes. “We have to get a specimen, Eddie.”

  “God no!” Cecil cried in protest.

  “Crikey, Lou, if you are serious, you are certifiable. For Christ’s sake, don’t expect me to accompany you!” he shrieked in revolt. “In fact, I will be happy to consider this case closed and keep this little secret myself! There is no goddamn way I am going to go up
there and harvest another bloody predator to infest Australia with, love! And if you have any regard for the indigenous wildlife back home you will know better than to take one of those demons back!”

  “That is the right word, mate,” Herman told Eddie. “See, these things aren’t normal serpents. That bloke over there said they were Anacondas, but tell me, Dr. Veterinarian,” he beseeched, addressing Cecil, “how many venomous Anacondas do you know of?”

  Cecil gulped. It was a horrifying notion. “None. They are essentially boa constrictors.”

  “Not these, mate,” Herman said, looking amused. Purdue watched Herman intently, sharpening his pale blue eyes on the native elder from his chair at the end of the table. From behind his hand he spoke, leaning to his right in a relaxed posture. “You almost sound like you admire these creatures.”

  The old Maori pinned Purdue with his glare and replied, “Tell me you do not find some admiration in terrible gods, my friend. There is something about the cruel and powerful beasts of this earth that reminds us of our insignificance and I think we need that kind of humility thrust on us every now and then, don’t you?”

  Purdue nodded. “There is much weight in that attitude, my good man. Much.”

  “Good to see a man not blinded by money,” Eddie remarked. His statement amazed Purdue and his friends. It was an unexpected affirmation coming from someone who vilified the billionaire for so long, but it was welcome. Eddie lifted his glass to Purdue, who returned the gesture, and the two former rivals exchanged smiles.

  “This bit of exposition was very helpful, gentlemen,” Sam said, “but I’ll have you know, by tomorrow I hope you both have a good laugh at our gullibility and admit that you played a joke on us.”

  “I agree, Sam,” Nina sighed, finishing her beer, “because if this shit is real, I did not bring enough underwear or alcohol to deal with it.”

  “I hate to break it to you, love,” Sully told Nina, “but you are about to be sorely disappointed.”

  “What kind of weapons will we need for the search tomorrow?” Eddie asked the elders. They looked at one another, seeming quite worried themselves. Herman tilted his head and shrugged, “Wish I knew, mate, wish I knew. We have never seen these things ourselves. We just heard all the stories from our dads and mums, grandparents, and so on.”

  “But from what Dr. Harding said he found in the animals,” Sully joined in, “these things are real. Poison and crushed bones, as well as moving rapidly through the grass…”

  “And the house!” Herman reminded him. “The cops said they chased assailants they could not see, that moved too fast, right?”

  “Right!” Sully nodded.

  “I’d say the young Mr. Harding over there is due a year’s beers, mate,” Eddie smiled at Gary.

  “Can’t say this is a bet I am glad to have won,” the young man admitted. “I was hoping that what I saw was just two blokes moving fast. Knowing that they could have been something we have never had to worry about just gives me the creeps, honestly. Now I am sure my father’s is dead. I heard him scream. Now I know why. My dad was terrified of snakes, even the small, harmless ones.”

  “That’s true. We could not even watch snake movies with him when we were ankle-biters,” Cecil agreed with his brother. His smile of reminiscence waned when another thought came up. He looked at Gary. “You said they screamed, these things?”

  “Well, sort of. They shrieked, screeched like those spiders in the horror films, you know,” he told Cecil.

  “Christ,” Nina said. “I wonder, since we are on the understanding that they are already hybrids, if they could be more of just a mix of two serpent species. After all, what they supposedly are already, could very well be just part of the mix.” She looked at Herman and Sully. “Gentlemen, do you have any idea where they come from? Have they always been here, just subterranean?” She quickly cast a look to Sam and Purdue. “Or were they brought here from somewhere else, perhaps?”

  Herman cleared his throat, puffing on his pipe in between sentences. “All we know is what we heard, according to very old legends. But, you know, legends are usually exaggerations of the truth. They could have come here with settlers, tourists, who knows.”

  Sully added, “You must remember, Dr. Gould, we have not personally seen these creatures. For all we know these are just stories, but it is possible, by the incident across the years, that they are really here…and as you say, maybe they are worse than we think.”

  “That is going to help me sleep a wee bit better,” Sam jested.

  “Speaking of sleep,” Purdue announced, “from the sound of things we have a heavy day ahead tomorrow, my friends.” He looked at Sam and Nina specifically, knowing they were as eager to pry into the lost city mythos branched from the writings in the Heike letter. The threesome dared not admit that they were not there for the sake of conservation or to help look for Lewis Harding. They would keep secret that they all thought that Lewis Harding was dead already, if only to use the time for their own pursuit.

  Normally such a mission would appear disrespectful, but if the Lost City of New Zealand’s South Island held a threat to the world, a threat so immense that the Order of the Black Sun covered it up, it was worth uncovering.

  30 Nekenhalle Receives Her Guests

  Just before dawn, the entire house was shaken by a shattering clap of thunder. Several yelps of panic reverberated throughout the Cockran farmhouse, followed by a light going on in the living room, where some of the men were sleeping.

  “Jesus! Did you hear that?” Sam wailed, sitting up on the couch while wiping his eyes like a scared schoolboy. “Is that a thunderstorm?”

  Sally came wandering into the living room, causing yet another fright to her guests.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, boys,” she apologized sweetly. “I have a tendency to walk in the dark. Sorry I scared you. But yes, dear Sam, I saw the flash like rapid daylight outside our bedroom window just before the shot.”

  Nina and Louisa came stumbling into the room, clutching at one another in fear.

  “That was insane!” Nina shrieked. “Do you have many storms like that here, Sally?”

  The lady of the house shook her head. “Not really, darling. Never like this. To tell you the truth, Nigel and me are as surprised as you are.” Her face pulsed in blue strobe light that cut through the window just before another ungodly whip of thunder. By reflex, everyone cowered, and in its wake came the rattle of the windows.

  “My God, this is going to cause more catastrophe,” Nigel moaned as he came from the same dark corridor his wife had emerged from. The old, moody man pulled a shirt over his skinny torso and headed for the kitchen, where Sally had put the kettle on.

  “What is the time, mate?” Cecil asked Sam.

  Sam’s cock-eyed attempt at reading his watch took a while, before he replied, “It’s just past 5am.”

  “That’s right, mate!” old Cockran shouted from the kitchen. “Time to rise and get your asses in gear for that long day!”

  Slowly, everyone started to fold up their blankets. Some went to the two available bathrooms while others elected to hit the kitchen for Sally’s strong black strength first. Outside, the weather was more like Scotland than the southern islands, apart from the wind. There was not much of a gale, but the light rain permeated through the roots and soil. Above the entire Arnold Valley and Lake Brunner region, the clouds sagged in dark grey cotton wool tassels, an unusual turn of climate.

  “This weather is going to make our search extra difficult,” Cecil remarked as he sipped some coffee. Gary stood next to his chubby brother, having a slice of toast from Sally’s first batch. “Last time a little bit of this rain chased of handfuls of supposed men,” Gary complained. “Let’s hope it doesn’t happen with this group.”

  “I cannot speak for everyone,” Purdue reassured him, “but between Dr. Gould, Mr. Cleave, and I, you have solid companions up at Nekenhalle today.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Purdue,” Gary said. “Will the cops be
coming?”

  Herman and Sully stood by the backdoor, opening it a scratch to survey the intensity of the weather. Sully looked at Gary. “I don’t know about the rest of the party, but I know Anaru will show up. That boy has been curious and passionate about that farm since he was a little brat.”

  As he spoke, two headlights blossomed over the kitchen window glass. It was the police vehicle of Sgt. Mick Anaru, stopping under the protection of the dense tree line where the elders had come through the night before.

  “Are you coming with us, Nigel?” Cecil asked. “After all, it is your livestock suffering from whatever is up there.”

  “I’m coming with you, boy,” Cockran affirmed through a mouthful of porridge. “I’ll leave my truck here, because I don’t need it to get stuck in the wet muck at Nekenhalle.”

  “Fair enough,” Cecil agreed, lifting his coffee mug. “I can take Herman, Sully, my brother…and Sam.”

  Nina scoffed next to Sam, hiding her face as she chuckled by herself. Sam exhaled long and heavily. Purdue called to take Louisa and Nina with him in Sgt. Anaru’s 4x4. Inside the next hour, poor Sally was left alone in a house full of dishes and flickering lights pummeled by the iffy electrical boxes through the valley. In her hands, she wrung a dishcloth as she evaluated the damage. With a shrug she said, “Not bad for a group of foreigners. At least they folded their bloody blankets and put the toilet seat down.”

  When Sgt. Anaru’s truck and Cecil’s SUV pulled up at the Nekenhalle gates, the grey morning did not have to influence the melancholy foreboding the black winding dirt road presented. Purdue made small talk while the think streaks of lightning elicited gasps among the occupants of the car. “So, Sergeant, has Constable Ballin taken the day off?”

  “I gave her the day off, yes,” Sgt. Anaru answered.

  During the brief moment of gear changes before entering the gates, Nina peered through the wet, diamond-riddled windows at the meandering pathway up to the ugly hill.