by Des Hunt
‘Not when I’m shooting, they don’t,’ snarled Vermin.
Scatworm wasn’t convinced. ‘I’ll think about it. But it won’t be in the next couple of days. I’ve got another job on. I’ll let you know after that.’
Vermin wasn’t too happy with that, yet after a while he shrugged and said, ‘Yeah, OK.’ Then he gave an evil grin. ‘Anyway, shooting’s not the best way to kill her.’
‘What is?’ asked Scatworm, pulling back from the edge and putting his camera away.
Vermin pointed over the side of the cliff. ‘You ought to see what they’ve found down there.’
Scatworm looked at him crossly. ‘Have you been snooping around down there?’
‘Yeah! What of it?’
‘If you get seen, you’ll wreck the whole thing.’
‘They won’t catch me. I can move like a phantom. I could be right next to them and they’d never see me.’
Scatworm snorted. ‘Yeah, I bet.’ Then after a pause,‘ So what have they found?’
‘A dirty big harpoon,’ replied Vermin, excitedly. ‘It’s massive. That’s the thing to use; standing up on a boat and thrusting it into the whale’s brain. That’s the way I’d kill the whale.’
‘Just like Captain Ahab,’ suggested Scatworm.
‘Captain who?’
‘Ahab. He fought a huge sperm whale called Moby Dick.’
‘I’ve heard of the whale. Did this Ahab guy kill it?’
‘No,’ replied Scatworm. ‘The whale killed him.’
Vermin gave a cackle of a laugh. ‘Not a happy ending then?’
‘Yes and no,’ said Scatworm. ‘Depends whose side you’re on—the whale’s or the whalers’. Anyway, nobody liked the captain. By the end he was quite mad.’ He turned and moved away from the cliff to head back in my direction. As he went past, I heard him mutter, ‘Just like you, Scott Grey. Just like you.’
I felt I had no choice but to tell the others about what I’d overheard in the gulley. The opportunity came later in the morning when Milt came down to the beach. We stood on the sand, watching Steph out in the water practising her surfing. She could now knee-surf without using her hands for support, and on a couple of occasions she had very nearly managed to stand.
As we watched, I repeated the conversation I’d overhead. Milt listened without comment, although I could sense his growing anger, especially when I spoke about them shooting Pimi.
For a while, after I’d finished, he silently gazed out to sea. Then he asked, ‘You think he was serious about the shooting?’
‘I don’t know,’ I replied. ‘He’s probably mad enough to do it. I’ve seen him with a gun.’
Milt jerked his head around. ‘Have you? Around here?’
There was nothing I could do then, except tell the story about the magpies. Milt plainly was not happy about them being killed, but he let it go.
When I’d finished, he said, ‘Right, that changes things a lot. This man is undoubtedly dangerous.’ He breathed deeply for a while. ‘I think it’s time to bring in the police. Someone’s going to get hurt if something’s not done about it.’ He moved towards the elevator. ‘I’ll go and do it right now. I’ll soon make sure those two don’t come around here anymore.’
He rang our place that night to report back. The police had been very helpful. Trespass notices had been presented to both Stuart Weston and Scott Grey—they could now be arrested if they came onto the farm.
They had also checked out Vermin’s firearms license and found that, unfortunately, he could legally own a rifle, otherwise they would have confiscated it immediately.
After the call, the family had lots of questions about what was happening. They’d heard me mention a gun, so I really had no option but to tell them about it, including the killing of the magpies. I just told them that Vermin had a rifle; I didn’t mention that he’d threatened to use it on Pimi. Steph didn’t need to know about that; it would only upset her. The other thing I left out was Vermin’s wild talk about using the harpoon. That was just showoff, crazy talk—something like that was never going to happen.
Chapter 21
I stopped my early-morning solo visits to Whale Pot Bay, because now someone else was keeping an eye on the gulley. As Steph and I drove to the bay each morning, we would see a station hand sitting in a ute on the top of a nearby rise. Milt had arranged for him to be there for a few days, just in case Scatworm and Vermin didn’t get the message.
After five days it was felt safe to call off the surveillance. In its place the station manager shifted a mob of sheep onto that part of the farm. They would soon tell us if something was amiss.
Over that period, a major discovery was made in the excavation. We found two kitchen stools tucked under the cliff where the whaleboat had been. However, these were no ordinary stools; they were two vertebrae from the backbone of a sperm whale.
They were huge. I’d seen plenty of sheep skeletons around Hauruanui Station, so I knew what normal vertebrae looked like. To say the whales’ vertebrae were a hundred times bigger would not be an exaggeration. It helped me understand how truly enormous an adult sperm whale must be, and how tiny Pimi was in comparison. If Pimi had been a true sperm whale, it would have been impossible to keep her fed.
Fortunately, she wasn’t, and we were managing well. It was even becoming easier, as she required fewer squid with each meal. Without doubt, she was feeding for herself. Some days we wouldn’t see her until after lunchtime.
In a way I was hoping that one day she wouldn’t come back at all. That way she’d be safe. Steph didn’t share my view. She wanted the complete happy ending: Pimi would fully recover, have her baby, and only then would she swim off into the deep, blue Pacific Ocean and live happily ever after.
These dreams gained support when Colin found that Pimi was producing milk. He said that the birth would be only a few days away—definitely within a week. After that, Steph couldn’t wait to get up in the morning and rush to the bay to see what had happened overnight.
It was on the third of these mornings that we found something different. Not at the bay, but down in the valley where I’d crashed that first day with Steph. As we drove along the ridge, we found all the sheep facing the same way and staring down into the valley—a sure sign that something was different. I stopped the jeep to take a look.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Steph, impatient to get to the bay.
‘I’m not sure. But something’s happening down there.’
She sniffed the air. ‘There’s a smell.’
By then I could smell it, too. ‘Smoke,’ I said grimly. ‘There’s a fire.’
‘Is that a problem?’
I didn’t reply immediately: I was trying to figure out how the fire might have started. Something wasn’t right about it. ‘We’d better investigate.’
Fear swept her face. ‘You’re not driving down there again, are you?’
‘No, Steph,’ I said gently. ‘I wouldn’t do that to you now.’ I climbed out of the jeep. ‘You stay here while I take a look. I won’t be long.’
‘What do you think it is?’ she asked, anxiously.
I pointed to the sheep. ‘Maybe they’re having a baa-baacue. ’
‘Ha, ha, ha!’ she jeered; yet as I turned to go I saw that a smile had replaced her anxious look.
While my stupid joke might have helped Steph’s nervousness, its effect on me soon faded as I made my way into the light scrub. The most likely cause of the fire was that some person had lit it, and I had an idea who that might be. I stopped for a moment, unsure of whether to go on or not. Eventually I continued; taking more care and trying to stay out of sight by creeping through the thicker manuka.
The smell of smoke was stronger in the lower part of the valley. It was then that I began to detect a second smell. It took me a while to identify it, but when I did my fear level increased considerably—it was the sickly, sweet odour of blood. After another pause I pushed on, feeling that it was important to confirm my suspicions, e
ven though by then my heart was bashing away like a pile driver.
The surrounding sheep showed me when I was near the source of the smell: they were staring at a spot as if locked in place by fear. The spot was where one of their mates had been slaughtered by having its throat cut. The gut had been opened, spilling the insides onto the grass.
I stood looking at it, puzzled that there were no other cuts. Normally, if someone killed a sheep it was to get the meat; but apart from the gut, the rest of the animal was intact. It didn’t make sense.
I never got the time to work out the answer. Suddenly, my body was gripped in a vice-like clamp and my head jerked back by a hand over my mouth.
‘Not a sssound, young Jake,’ hissed a voice right by my ear. ‘Do not ssspeak until I sssay ssso.’
Without lessening his grip, Vermin shoved me forward, towards the sheep. ‘Take a good look at that, young Jake.’ He pushed me down until my head was almost touching the congealed blood surrounding the cut that had opened the throat. ‘Smell it, and remember it.’
I couldn’t help but smell it. Yet it was different from before; now his hot breath on my face was adding a strange, chemical odour—the stink of some drug he’d been sniffing or smoking. For the first time in my life I felt genuine terror. This man was drugged-up and out of control—who knew what he might do?
It must have been only a few seconds, and yet to me it seemed like a lifetime before he pulled me back. ‘Scary, isn’t it?’ he chuckled.
I couldn’t respond.
‘OK,’ he continued, ‘keep that image in your mind, because I’m going to let go of you now. But you need to be very careful what you do. Understand?’
I tried to nod my head, but nothing would move.
‘Good! Now that you’ve interrupted my breakfast, you might as well come and join me.’ With his hand gripping my arm, he led me into a group of bigger manuka bushes.
In the middle was a clearing containing his camp, which was nothing more than a small fire, and a bed made out of dry grass. Suspended over the fire were strips of flesh I recognized as heart. He’d killed the sheep so that he could eat its heart for breakfast.
‘Take a seat,’ he said, as if we were in his lounge at home. ‘You can watch me eat.’
So I did, and slowly my terror eased back until I was just scared. As he ate, I had the chance to study him. In addition to the camouflage gear, he had covered his face, head and hands with black makeup. In his crazy mind, he probably thought he was at war. I scanned his camp for the rifle, but the only weapon seemed to be the knife strapped to his waist.
‘Is anybody else with you?’ he asked, with his mouth full of meat.
‘No,’ I lied.
‘Good. So there’s no rush.’
‘What are you going to do with me?’ I asked, although not sure whether I wanted to hear the answer or not.
‘I’m thinking about it.’
‘You’re not meant to be here. There’s a tresspass order against you.’
‘Oh how naughty of me,’ he jeered, slapping his hands. ‘Do you think I’ll get into trouble?’
I didn’t answer.
He laughed. ‘They’ve got to catch me first.’
After a while I asked, ‘Why are you doing this?’
‘Doing what?’
‘Hanging around here, pestering Milton Summer. He hasn’t done anything to you.’
In answer, he stuffed his mouth with the rest of the heart and chewed away noisily.
When he’d finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and studied me for a while, before saying, ‘I’ll tell you what Mister Milton Summer has done. He prances around a stage, singing soppy songs, and makes millions and millions from doing it. Then he comes over here and builds dirty big castles on our land like he’s more important than we are.’ His nostrils flared as he breathed deeply, dredging up more venom against the man he hated. ‘That’s what he’s done. And he’s going to have to—’
He stopped suddenly, leaping silently to his feet. I hadn’t heard anything, but he clearly had.
‘Jake!’ called a voice. ‘Where are you?’ It was Steph.
Then a male voice joined in ‘Jake! Are you OK?’
Instantly, Vermin was on me, squashing me to the ground. ‘You said there was no one else,’ he hissed. ‘I don’t like being lied to.’
‘Jake! Jake!’ The calling was now more urgent.
Vermin squeezed his arm against my throat, blocking my breathing. His eyes were beginning to show panic.
‘Jake!’ Steph was getting closer.
I was starting to gag, trying to get oxygen.
Then a scream split the air—long, loud and terrifying. Steph had just found the dead sheep.
Vermin squeezed harder. ‘I’ve got a message for Mister Milton Summer,’ he said, applying even more pressure. ‘You tell him from me that his precious whale is going to die. And I’ll make sure the whole world knows about it. You tell him that. Let’s see how many people still love him when they know he’s a whale killer.’ Then he gave one final squeeze and was gone, leaving me lying on the ground gasping for air.
‘Jake!’ screamed Steph. ‘Please say something. Say something.’
‘Here,’ I croaked. ‘I’m in here.’ And then I passed out.
Chapter 22
It wasn’t until half an hour later that I could give Vermin’s message to Milt. In the meantime I was being rescued.
The male voice I’d heard calling was a worker who had come to check the sheep. He’d pulled up in the ute to ask Steph what was going on. After hearing about the smoke, he’d decided to investigate further. By then Steph was getting worried and didn’t want to stay by herself, so she joined the search as well.
After being scared by the sheep carcass, she’d then found me and thought I was dead, too. Apparently, she screamed louder than the first time—so loud that the worker thought she was being murdered. Fortunately, I came to just as he rushed onto the scene, otherwise he might’ve panicked, too.
The worker put out the fire, while Steph fussed over me, asking again and again whether I was all right.
I assured her that, apart from a sore neck, I was fine, and soon we were climbing back up the hill. We were driven to Tarquins where I gave my report. I would have preferred to tell Milt without Steph hearing. However, she was still hanging on to me as if I might die if she left my side. As a consequence, she heard about the threat to kill Pimi, which on top of everything else caused her to break down and start crying.
Milt found two upset kids too much to handle, for he quickly rang home, asking Dad to pick us up. Hence I missed Milt’s conversation with the police and only heard about it much later in the evening, after I’d been sleeping all day.
A warrant had been issued for Scott Grey’s arrest, based on trespassing and his assault on me. The police didn’t come to Hauruanui, because they already knew he’d left the area. Vermin had been stopped for speeding on State Highway 5 out of Eketahuna. At the time, the officer was surprised to find a driver dressed as if he was off to war. But after accepting the explanation that it was for a paintball competition, he gave him a ticket and let him go. That was ten minutes before the warrant was issued.
Thus Scott Grey was still at large. However, the police were taking his threats seriously. Milt had passed on my information about the smell on Vermin’s breath. That, coupled with his behaviour, made the police suspect he was taking methamphetamine, or P. If this was the case, his behaviour could become even more bizarre. A roadblock had been set up outside Wally’s pub just in case he decided to return to the area. We were assured that we could sleep soundly: the roadblock would be in place until Vermin was caught.
Unfortunately, there are some things that the police cannot control, that nobody can control, no matter how powerful they are.
At eight a.m. local time, a large earthquake struck the southern tip of Chile. It was eleven o’clock at night in New Zealand. Within half an hour, a tsunami alert had been is
sued by the Pacific Tsunami Warning Centre in Hawaii.
The first I knew of any of this was a loud bashing on our back door at just after four in the morning. I stayed in bed, hoping that Dad would get it. He did, but when I heard snippets of conversation my curiosity got the better of me. It was Wally saying that a Civil Defence alert had been issued and Dad was needed at the CD post.
The post for Hauruanui was the pub, and Wally and Dad were the two wardens. Usually this didn’t involve much other than a few exercises each year. Every so often there would be a decent storm which meant the roads were blocked for a while, but in my lifetime there had never been anything really big, although Wally often talked about what would happen when the Big One came.
However, from what he was saying, this tsunami wasn’t going to be it.
‘Nobody expects it to come to much,’ he said, sounding a little disappointed. ‘Still, we’re going to have to treat it as if it will. They’ve called for the total evacuation of the east coast of New Zealand. Anywhere under twenty metres above sea level.’
‘Have the radio bulletins started?’ asked Dad.
Wally nodded. ‘Plus TV. And all the cell-phone towers along the coast have sent out text messages, not that anyone around here will get them.’
‘Will we get any help from the police?’
‘Unlikely. They’ll be concentrating on the bigger places. There must be thousands of people at places like Castlepoint and Riversdale. They’ll reckon we can deal with a couple of dozen surfies. Even those two manning the roadblock have gone, saying they were called back to Masterton.’
That made me prick up my ears. ‘The roadblock’s gone?’
‘Yep!’ replied Wally. Then he saw my concern. ‘Don’t worry about it, Jake. He won’t be back. His sort are usually pretty gutless—one sniff of danger and they’re off. He won’t be going anywhere near the coast.’
I wasn’t so sure, but I kept quiet.
‘When’s this thing coming?’ asked Dad.
