by Steph Matuku
‘I wasn’t laughing at you.’
‘Yes, you were. You all do. Everyone does.’
After a moment he followed her through the trees, feeling aggrieved. Why was she so defensive when she was the one who had attacked him? It wasn’t his fault.
He came into the clearing by the sinkhole to find Eva frantically fanning a pile of smouldering branches and twigs. Devin dropped her pikopiko shoots on the ground and removed the greener branches from the smoking fire. She stripped the bark off another piece and replaced a big branch with smaller sticks. Gradually, the smoke dissipated as the fire heated. Despite his irritation, Rocky was impressed at her capability. She was a paradox – strong yet fragile, a thread in a web.
‘Devin found us some veges,’ he said by way of apology, picking up the pikopiko shoots and proffering them to her.
‘We should dig a fire pit,’ Devin said, taking the shoots without looking at him. ‘If we’re going to be here for a few days.’
The snub stung.
‘Two days,’ he said, and noticed the glance that flashed between Devin and Eva. Well, so what. He felt what he felt, and he didn’t see why he should have to sugar-coat it.
Soon the whole fish was balanced across a couple of thick green sticks placed on top of the fire. The flesh wasn’t touching the coals, but it was still getting enough heat to cook. Devin carefully arranged the pikopiko shoots on a flat stone next to the coals.
‘I’m so hungry,’ said Eva, unable to take her eyes off the mangled trout. In a former life, she’d have chucked it straight into the bin, but now it looked like the best meal ever.
‘There’s a chocolate bar somewhere,’ said Devin, ‘for dessert.’
She clambered into the sinkhole, Eva following. Even if there was a truce, Eva had no desire to be left alone with Rocky. There was still a chance she might just push him into the fire.
Rocky poked half-heartedly at the cooking fish, his other hand sliding into an empty pocket. Damn.
‘Just going back down the stream,’ he called down to the girls. He left, not waiting for a reply.
There was a sizzle as dripping juices hit the coals.
A thin stream of drool hung from Awhina’s mouth. The smell of the roasting fish was making her crazy. No, scratch that. She already was crazy, wasn’t she? The voices were telling her all kinds of things (only for your own good, Awhina, we just want to help you). It was hard to tell if her thoughts were coming from her or from them. But right now, all she could think about was stuffing her face with fish until the juice (blood) ran down her chin.
She crouched under the bushes, rocking back and forth. And then the three people (dangerous people, watch out) got up and went away.
Awhina scrambled over to the fire and reached for the fish, not caring if she got burnt. Half raw, it still held together. She took it and ran.
57
Devin looked at the fire, away, and then back again.
‘Eva?’ she said, her tone hushed. ‘Where’s the fish?’
‘Huh?’ Eva was scrambling out of the hole, a chocolate bar clutched in one hand.
‘Was there a fish?’
‘Of course there’s a …’
Eva’s voice trailed off as she reached Devin’s side and clocked the glowing coals, the only evidence of dinner the pikopiko shoots wilting on the rocks.
‘It’s that thing messing with our heads again, isn’t it?’ Devin had assumed they were far enough away to escape the ship’s influence. After all, her erotic imaginings were definitely back to G-rated. On the other hand, Jahmin had still been animated. Maybe distance had nothing to do with it? Who knew what the ship was capable of? Maybe it had conjured up a trout, a delicious, succulent, tender trout. Her stomach growled.
Eva waved her fishing spear under Devin’s nose. There were still traces of blood on it.
‘See? It wasn’t a hallucination. Something’s taken it!’
‘An animal couldn’t have done that. It must have been someone.’
Eva snapped her fingers. ‘Rocky. He’s probably crouched in the bushes scoffing it back all by himself. He is Māori. They eat heaps.’
Devin gave a small huff of disapproval just as Rocky reappeared, panting.
‘Found it!’ he said, waving the pocket knife.
Eva glared at him.
‘What now?’
‘Come off it,’ said Eva. ‘Did you eat the whole bloody thing, you pig?’
Rocky’s eyes darted to the fire. ‘No way!’
Devin took Eva’s spear and walked carefully around the perimeter of the campsite, inspecting the ground, poking the spear into clumps of bushes.
‘Prove it then!’
‘You prove it!’
‘Let me smell your breath.’
‘Piss off!’
‘You piss off!’
‘Eva,’ Devin interrupted. ‘It wasn’t Rocky, okay?’
‘Then who?’ Eva cried, and Devin realised her attack on Rocky was purely the result of fear. ‘Jahmin doesn’t eat! And who else would be roaming around out here?’
‘Another survivor?’ Devin suggested. ‘But surely they would have waited for us …’
‘Or maybe they’re watching us now?’
The three of them fell silent. Eva and Rocky drew closer to one other as their wary eyes searched the bush.
‘I thought someone was watching me before,’ Rocky said in a low voice. ‘Like a patupaiarehe or something.’
‘Patu-who?’ said Eva.
‘Fairies, kind of. They live in the forest.’
Eva’s lip curled. ‘Fairies? Are you kidding me?’
‘They’re Māori fairies,’ Rocky said. ‘They’re tough as. They kill humans and fall in love with them and have children with them and stuff. They’ve got red hair and pale skin and they eat raw meat. Not fairies like Tinkerbell.’
‘I’ve had just about enough of your ancient Māori wisdom,’ Eva said. ‘Besides, if patu-whatsits eat raw meat, they’re not going to steal a cooked fish, are they? It’s more likely to be bloody Liam!’
Rocky groaned.
‘It makes sense!’ Eva cried. ‘Liam went off to find Eugene, do him in, pay him back for hurting his sister. Well, maybe he’s done it, got a taste for it, and now he’s looking for his next victim!’
‘By stealing our fish?’
‘He’s hungry! He’s obviously trying to get up enough strength to overpower us all!’
‘Are you serious?’ Rocky said. ‘First me, now Liam. Wouldn’t surprise me if it was you the whole time.’
‘Yeah, you’re right,’ said Eva, her tone dripping with sarcasm. She rubbed her stomach. ‘Me and the fairies shared it. Yummy.’
‘Guys?’ called Devin.
She was on her haunches and holding back some ferns. Rocky and Eva went closer. Pressed into the mud was a clear print of toes.
‘Bloody hell.’ Eva backed away.
‘Bare feet?’ Devin mused. ‘So not anyone from Seddon. Small, too.’
‘Definitely not Liam,’ said Rocky. ‘His feet are massive.’
Eva pressed her lips together. Devin could tell she wasn’t convinced.
‘A girl? Or smallish boy?’ Devin said. ‘They didn’t hurt us. Which means either they don’t want to or they’re scared.’
‘Or just biding their time,’ Eva said darkly.
Devin eyed the pikopiko shoots, now depressingly shrivelled. ‘I’ll get some more. Better than nothing.’
‘You can’t go by yourself!’ said Eva. ‘Something might kidnap you.’ She glared at Rocky. ‘And then I’d be stuck here with him.’
‘Not for long,’ said Rocky. ‘Because I’d run away.’
‘Let’s all go,’ said Devin with a sigh. ‘And we’ll try for another fish too, okay?’
She headed for the river without checking if they were following. She was so sick of the bickering, the idea of being kidnapped was becoming more appealing by the minute.
58
Jahmin ran. No nee
d to breathe, no tiredness, no gnawing stitch in his side. He brought his knees up high, robot-like, arms pumping at his sides, pretending he was a superhero. Zombie Man! Here to save the world.
It was hard to tell how long it would take to get to the crash site. It was so much faster travelling alone than when they’d been running from the Seddon gunmen, what with Rocky’s leg and Eva not wanting to leave Mandy behind – even if Mandy was only in her head.
He recognised the big tree they’d slept under one night, until a freak wind had blown up and a branch had snapped off, nearly killing Rocky. And the bushes where he’d caught a kiwi while keeping guard. They’d roasted it for breakfast, but it had been stringy and tasted gamey, and everyone had felt like they were breaking some kind of sacrilegious code eating their national bird.
It was kind of weird, recognising all these places, as though this was his neighbourhood or something. The closest he’d ever got to the bush before was flying over it on his way to somewhere bigger, faster and with more traffic.
It was late afternoon and he was well away from Camp Sinkhole when he decided he’d better take ten. His body didn’t need to rest, but he needed some time to think about what he was going to do. He wasn’t looking forward to camping out overnight. The bush was bad enough in the day, but at night, well, anything could be lurking out here. Possums. Bats. Other zombies. Because why were they assuming he was the only one? That dead kid they’d found in the river, Theo. He might have come back to life too, with a phone where his face should be, lurching through the trees with half his head missing, looking for a phone charger. What if all the kids had come back to life? The thought irked. Being a zombie wasn’t so special if everyone was doing it.
He scouted around for a decent hiding place. He decided against crawling under a bush or hiding under fallen logs. It would be too easy for someone to come along and drag him out. He would climb a tree instead. He’d get a good view of anything coming along, and if they had dogs they might not smell him out. Not that Jahmin was sure they’d smell him anyway, now that his pheromones and sweat glands were permanently on the blink. Or would he smell different, now he was dead? Like rotting flesh? He wrinkled his nose and sniffed at his armpit. It didn’t smell like anything much, but maybe he was just used to it. He shook his head. He was overthinking again.
He found a tall tree with sturdy branches and lots of green cover, and hauled himself up to where it thinned out a bit. He straddled a branch and leaned against the trunk, gazing out across the bush. The tops of the tree ferns were like a puffy duvet in spiralling shades of green. Far to the west the trees stopped and the cliffs rose up. That was where the river was. Ahead was a thin brown line cutting into the bush, like a ditch or something. Jahmin squinted in the fading light. He couldn’t remember crossing it on their flight from the river and the helicopters and everything else, but then that was all a bit of a blur.
As he waited for darkness, he thought about what would happen when he got close to the ship again, and what he might find there. He thought about his bedroom at home, about school, about Seddon Corporation. And he thought about his parents. His mother, always rushing about raising money for poor kids, dying whales, disfiguring diseases. And his father, tall, handsome, smart. Even though he was often disappointed with Jahmin’s behaviour at school, he never seemed to lose faith in him and was almost ridiculously proud of his every little achievement. Not that there were many of those. Although he did have a few thousand followers on his social media channels, mostly from posting skateboard stunts and little videos to make people laugh.
He hadn’t had a good laugh in days.
A wave of grief overwhelmed him, and he clutched at the branch beneath him to stop himself from falling. He couldn’t even shed tears to make himself feel better. All he could do was sit, with dry eyes and a useless heart, as the sun slowly sank in a blaze of reds, pinks and yellows over the distant hills.
Another day gone, forever.
59
The smell of roasting fish was more bearable now that her shrunken stomach was full. Awhina lay in the ferns, her fingers lightly tracing the curve of her belly under her dirty tunic, her mind a calm oasis of no-thought. The voices inside her head were silent and the voices outside (familiar voices) were hushed.
Every now and then one of them would say ‘Quiet!’ and then there would be silence. Awhina could imagine the people (familiar people) looking over their shoulders, afraid and worried, before they began talking again. Their anxiety didn’t trouble her, it was what the voices inside her head wanted. They needed strong emotions like fear, lust, grief and hate to fuel them. The ultimate fuel, of course, was yet to come.
She must have dozed off because when she next opened her eyes, stars were pushing their way through the orange-pink sky. She listened. Nothing. She crawled out of the ferns and lightly stepped through the trees and past the ashes of the fire. The hole in the ground glowed with a steady white light. The screams she’d heard before, the ones she’d thought were from Papatūānuku, had been just the people under the ground, crying in their sleep. She knew that now. She felt almost cheated. She would’ve liked to have been friends with Papa.
There was a rustle of branches, and she quickly slipped out of sight behind the nearest tree. The boy came into the clearing. He was bare-chested with a red-flowered lavalava knotted around his waist. In his wake trailed the distinctive scent of soap.
He looked around before lowering himself into the hole. Awhina heard him say in a curt voice, ‘Shut it off. You can see it outside.’
There was a muffled retort and then a hand holding a sheaf of branches appeared and began arranging them over the hole. The light was extinguished, and the soft talk turned to whispers, which eventually trailed off. Finally, a gentle snore.
The voices in her head were awake again, telling her what she should do. She stole over to the fireplace and poked a finger into the ashes. Somebody had sprinkled water over the fire to ensure it was out, but they hadn’t done a very good job. Underneath the ash, she felt a trace of warmth and gently blew on it. A thin tendril of smoke rose up. She patiently fed the minute glow with twigs and was soon rewarded with a small fire.
The soft snoring continued. Awhina tripped back and forth between the sinkhole and the wood that had been discarded for making the cooking fire too smoky. As far as Awhina and the voices were concerned, the more smoke the better. She arranged the branches over the hole. The pile grew higher, the snoring more muffled.
She took up a handful of brush and dangled it in the fire. A lick of flame shot up. She took the flaming brush and stuffed it into the branches stacked over the hole. They started to smoke and then burn. Awhina watched, transfixed. The branches shifted and fell into the hole, sending up a shower of sparks.
The crackling sound jerked her out of her reverie. She took a step back and then another, back into the dark of the bush.
60
A long shadow, creeping over the land … a relentless vibrating that threatened to shake his teeth from his head and he was shouting, trying to wake up, and then he was awake, and the cave was filled with smoke.
Coughing and blinking, Rocky tried to make sense of it. Flames crackled fiercely under the opening of the cave, making indistinct shadows crawl across the walls. He reached over to a motionless Eva and grabbed her shoulder, shaking her.
‘Wha–?’ Eva said, and almost at once she began hacking and retching. She tugged at Devin lying next to her, but there was no response.
‘Wake up!’ she screamed. ‘Devin!’
‘What do we do?’ Rocky cried. No water, no fire extinguisher, no 111, no nothing. The smoke was making him lightheaded. He fumbled for the zip on his sleeping bag and ripped it open. Coughing, his eyes streaming, he did the same to Eva’s bag. Eva was still trying to wake Devin.
Rocky called to her. ‘Help me!’
Eva saw at a glance what he wanted to do. She crawled over to Rocky and seized one of the sleeping bags.
‘You
rs first,’ Rocky said.
If this didn’t work, if it all went up in flames, they’d die. They edged over to the blaze, and Eva threw her sleeping bag on. A huge waft of smoke enveloped them. Rocky chucked his sleeping bag on top and the flames vanished
‘Is it out?’
Rocky fumbled for the torch. The harsh light lit up Eva’s terrified face. He played it over the fire. Wisps of smoke were still coming out the sides.
‘I don’t know. We need to get out of here.’
‘What about Devin?’ Devin lay motionless on the cave floor.
‘Get some dirt or something, pile it on top.’
They scrabbled at the soft earth floor, throwing clumps on the smoking cloth. One corner blazed up, and Eva beat at it with her hands before Rocky threw handfuls of dirt on it, extinguishing the flames.
Eva grabbed a pile of clothes. One wild leap over the smouldering sleeping bags and she was on the stepping stone.
‘You can’t go!’ Rocky cried. ‘I can’t get her up by myself!’
Eva threw the clothes up out of the hole. ‘I’ll soak them and be back. Don’t worry, I won’t leave you,’ she added, and hauled her body up in record time.
The fresh night air set her off hacking and coughing again as her lungs tried to clear themselves. She collected the clothes and sprinted down to the stream. She paid no attention to the night noises. For once, she didn’t care.
She was at the water’s edge, dunking the clothes in, when the thought occurred that Rocky had assumed she was going to abandon them. Typical Rocky, she thought. Always thinking the worst of people.
She ran back to the sinkhole, scattering drops, hoping she’d been fast enough.
‘Rocky?’
‘Quick, it’s just started again.’
‘Here,’ Eva threw down the sopping clothes. The flickering light within died, to be replaced by the steady white light of the torch. ‘Did it work?’
