by J. F. Penn
Tears pricked at Lucy's eyes, but she blinked them away. There would be time for grieving later. They needed to get out of here and into town before dark, before aftershocks pulled down the remaining shelter. The fresh water and electricity were down, the cabling and pipes ruptured, so they needed to get to the central area for help.
Lucy tugged off her wet clothing, wincing as she peeled away the trousers from her bad leg. She pulled on clean underwear, t-shirt and fleece, then she put her foot up on the bed and examined the wound. The bruising was deep purple and almost black in places, but the cuts weren't deep. She walked into her parents' en suite and grabbed the first aid pack from the bathroom cabinet. Lucy cleaned the wound, spraying it with antiseptic. She popped a couple of painkillers and hoped Amber would save her some chocolate as a sugar chaser.
She pulled on the jeans and grabbed her father's backpack from the cupboard. It was heavy, so she looked inside. It had a portable first aid kit, a small stove with a half-full gas canister, and some matches. There was also a Platypus water filter, something they had used on a recent camping trip. Her dad loved gadgets, and this was the latest tramping tech. You could put dirty water in the top part and it would filter through quickly and safely. No need for those disgusting iodine tablets, or even boiling. This would all come in handy if the emergency services were struggling.
Lucy grabbed a couple more pairs of underwear and t-shirts, plus two beanie hats and waterproofs for her and Amber, and stuffed them in the pack. She put on her mum's walking shoes and headed back to Amber's room. Amazing what a change of clothes can do to make you feel human again, Lucy thought.
The pitter-patter of rain came from the hallway, falling down from the hole in the house to the ruins beneath. The light dimmed as clouds gathered overhead.
Lucy pulled the waterproofs back out of the pack and put hers on over the fleece top. They couldn't stay here, especially if the weather was turning again. The house could shift under them, crushing even as it sheltered.
She thought of her parents downstairs.
No, not her parents anymore, but the bodies of what had once been the people she loved. Lucy knew that what had made them special was gone now. Their bodies could remain here in the cocoon of the broken house until the emergency services made it out here. They were not the only dead on this terrible day, Lucy knew that for sure.
But Christchurch had survived catastrophe before, and the emergency procedures were in place. They just had to get off the peninsula and further west inland, to where the bulk of the population were. Then they could join up with Civil Defense and they would be safe.
"Come on, Amber," Lucy called. "We need to get going."
Amber stepped from her room, her young face set with that Campion determination. Lucy smiled. She had seen that look on her dad's face when he was determined to solve a problem, no matter what.
The sisters clambered down the stairwell.
Amber paused in what had been the living room, looking at the huge pile of rubble.
"You have to go round the other side if you want to see them," Lucy said softly.
Amber shook her head. "I want to remember them how they were."
She reached out her hand and Lucy took it, squeezing a little.
"We've still got each other," she said.
A crash of lightning came from high above. A flash and then a roll of thunder. The rain began to fall more heavily, running down the rubble to pool at their feet in dirty grey puddles.
Lucy turned and headed into the kitchen. Amber followed. They grabbed some energy bars, fruit and cake from the cupboards and put them in the packs. Lucy thought it would only take them a couple of hours to reach the evacuation area, so they didn't need much.
Then they headed out into the darkening evening, faces set towards the northwest.
5
"I'm through here." His grandfather's voice was rich and warm. Ben felt a wave of relief to hear it. "Come in and have some tea."
Ben walked inside, his eyes adjusting to the semi-darkness. At first it seemed like the house had somehow been spared the devastation of the quakes. There was the rimu table they had carved together back in the years when his mother was alive. There was the cloak of feathers hanging on the wall, the mark of a kaumatua – one of the elders of the tribe. The taiaha hung next to it, a Maori weapon of whalebone. Ben could smell his grandfather's homemade kawakawa tea under the tobacco, but it couldn't disguise the whiff of raw earth and natural gas. Something was leaking. They wouldn't be safe here for long.
As Ben's eyesight sharpened, he saw what the quake had done. Picture frames lay in shattered pieces on the floor and cabinets hung askew on the far side of the kitchen. The television lay face down on the thin carpet, and his grandfather's potted plants had tumbled to the ground, where they rested in one corner.
His grandfather emerged from the tiny kitchen and navigated around the fallen bookcases. His face was marked with tribal moko tattoos, the black lines delineating ancient paths. The old man leaned in and pressed his nose and forehead to Ben's in the hongi greeting, the sharing of one breath. Ben felt the strength in the old man's arms, the wiry muscles honed by hiking in the mountains and chopping wood. His grandfather, Tamati, lived close to the land.
"The walls are cracked," Ben said as Tamati pulled away.
The old man nodded. "You should see the backyard." He chuckled, a smile creasing his weathered face. "I'm so glad you made it. I thought perhaps…" His words trailed off. "Well, you're here now and I have much to tell you. But first, tea. It's cold, mind you. I didn't want to risk the stove."
Tamati poured out a cup and handed it over. Ben sipped it, the sharp taste welcome. He was parched. He gulped the rest down and Tamati refilled the cup.
"Were you at the boatyard when it happened?"
"No, Gramps. I was on the water with Lucy."
Ben felt ice grip his heart when he spoke her name. He hadn’t ever explained their relationship to his grandfather but he figured the old man had worked it out.
"Is she –?"
"I don't know. The wave separated us."
Tamati nodded. "The gods are angry. But your girl …" He smiled. "She's a survivor. Now drink up. We need to get out of here and go further west."
"Because of the aftershocks?"
"Of course. But there is something far worse coming." Tamati raised an eyebrow. "You've seen it."
Ben was silent for a moment.
The tentacles in the wave. The smoke that whirled around the boys. It was more than an earthquake. More than a tidal wave.
He shook his head. "You know I don't believe in all that."
Tamati shrugged. "It doesn't matter what you believe. The time is here regardless, and they are coming again. After so long, they are rising."
"Demons? Monsters?" Ben asked.
"Gods. Risen Gods."
Ben raised an eyebrow at the words. Ever since he was a young child, he had listened to his grandfather's myths and fables. He had loved the stories back then, but they were just that – stories. Maori believed in many gods and creatures, some of which could destroy the world in an instant. But that seemed a long way from his practical urban life.
"It was only an earthquake," Ben insisted. "A tidal wave. Natural phenomena."
Tamati shook his head, his eyes darkening. "We've abused our home, Ben. Their home. And now they're coming to reclaim it. They will wash us away, rid the world of the human plague and return it to how it was in the Time Before."
Ben stood up, pacing with frustration. "This isn't some mythical beast attacking New Zealand. It was an earthquake, and the government will know what to do. They'll take control, restore order. It won't take long for the Red Cross to –"
Tamati held his hand up to stop Ben speaking. "Enough. I need to show you something."
Ben sat and waited as his grandfather walked down the hallway into the back bedroom. There was the sound of breaking glass, and then a long scraping noise. Tamati returned with a
small box in his hands.
The black wood was shot through with a dark red grain, the finish as shiny as if his grandfather had just polished it. Ben caught the scent of silver beech and sandalwood.
Tamati handed the box to Ben. He took it reluctantly, then stiffened as a slight vibration surged through his fingers and up his arms. He used his forefinger to flick the brass latch open, but then hesitated before he lifted the lid.
"What is it?" he asked.
His grandfather clasped his hands to his chest.
"Open it," he said.
Ben took a deep breath and lifted the lid.
The box held an intricate bone carving with a leather string woven through a clasp. It portrayed a giant octopus with tentacles like the ones he had seen beneath the wave in the seconds before it pulverized the coast. Ben's stomach tightened and his head throbbed.
"It has been handed down through generations of kaumatua," Tamati said, his voice solemn. "A talisman to offer to the gods at a time of great struggle. Legend tells of a place in the ancient ice where the veil between the worlds grows thin. We must take it there, but I'm old, Ben." He sighed. "I need your help to go west."
Ben slammed the lid down, shaking his head. He put the box onto the table and stood.
"This is crazy. We should go back to Christchurch. Find Dad and Lucy."
Tamati put his hand on Ben's arm. He could feel his grandfather's strength even as the wrinkles on his face betrayed his age.
"You must take me, Ben. We don't have much time. We must get through the mountain pass to the glacier and find the ice cave. We can still save Aotearoa from the wrath of the Risen Gods."
"No." Ben strode towards the door. "I'm heading north again. And you're coming with me. Grab your things."
Ben stepped out into the darkness of the yard, his anger bubbling over. His grandfather had always been the wise one of the family. But this stuff was crazy. He would get the car started and they would head north again.
He took a step towards the car. Suddenly the darkness swirled about him. Black smoke thickened, and the stench of the dead filled the air.
Something was here.
"Ben!" Tamati stepped from the door of the house. He pulled the cloak of feathers about him, the bone taiaha staff in his hands. "We're too late. Get the talisman and go. You must get to the glacier."
The heavy black cloud swirled around Tamati and the reek of rotting flesh and sulfur filled the air. A face formed in the smoke – the same one Ben had seen in the clouds. Tendrils of blood-red morphed into claws as the thing curled around Tamati, raking at his cloak like a cat playing with its prey.
"Run, Ben. Go. This is my fate now. Yours lies ahead."
Tamati began to chant ancient words in Te Reo, the Maori language. His arms fluttered as he thrust at the smoke with the taiaha, eyes bulging as he stomped the ground in a challenge to the demonic force. It was as if he grew in stature, no longer an old man but a warrior facing his foe, desire for blood burning inside.
The face of the demon twisted at the challenge, and a roar bellowed from deep within the cloud. Ben fell to his knees as the sound shook the earth. The smoke tightened around Tamati, turning into sharp edges that struck at him, ripping at his flesh. As his grandfather's blood touched the earth, Ben ran forward.
"No!" He rushed into the smoke, arms outstretched to pull Tamati away.
He was thrust back by a mighty force, propelled back into the doorway of the house as the smoke turned into a whirlwind that surrounded his grandfather.
Ben saw the cloak of feathers stripped away, his grandfather's clothes slashed from him and then strips of his flesh torn off. Tamati howled his agony as the demon ripped at him. The light dimmed in Tamati's eyes and he threw his head back as his bones emerged from the flayed body.
Ben struggled to his feet, clutching at the doorpost at the horror of what he'd seen, unable to believe it was real.
But his grandfather's cries struck at his heart. He couldn't let his death be in vain.
He sprinted into the house and grabbed the box containing the talisman. He ducked back outside and darted around the spinning vortex of bloody smoke and chunks of flesh as the demon devoured what was left of Tamati.
Ben jumped into the 4WD and reversed out of the drive, his eyes fixed on the slaughter one last time. Tears streamed down his face, blurring his vision as he turned and sped off into the night, away from the horror and west through the mountains. He would take the talisman to the ice caves. He would honor his grandfather's wishes, no matter what it took.
6
An alarm blared as an aftershock rippled through the street. A crash of glass and shards shattered across the road, catching the light as they fell. Sitona stood on a street corner as mobs of people streamed by. An elderly woman stumbled as she passed and he caught her arm, helping her upright as the ground shook beneath them. She had a gash above her right eye and blood dripped from her cheek. Sitona took a bandana from his pocket and wiped the woman's face.
"Thank you," she said, her voice choked in a tired whisper.
Sitona smiled as she stumbled away towards a group of family members who called her name. Family was everything in times like these.
The apartment building on the opposite side of Montreal Street creaked and then collapsed. Sitona watched the top floors slide down to the east as plaster, glass and bricks tumbled to the street below. Clouds of dust filled the air, choking his lungs and making it hard to see. Two vehicles slammed into each other in the middle of the intersection in front of him. One driver burst through the windshield and flew over the other car, while the other driver became engulfed by the exploding airbag.
This is not like 2011, Sitona thought. This is something else.
He saw people dragging bodies out of the wreckage but he was frozen, unable to help. He fell to his knees.
Screams. Pain. Darkness.
He closed his eyes, and the sounds of Christchurch merged with those of Aceh years before, when the tsunami had gouged the Indonesian coast. He remembered the feel of the warm, greasy water and the smell of oil and human waste. The wave had silenced the screams back then. Sitona cursed the elements, and his fingers cramped up as they had during the many hours he had clutched a tree as the water raged beneath. He had survived the tsunami that dark day, but his fiancée had not. The gods of the ocean had yanked her from his grasp like another piece of flotsam.
I can't do this again, he thought. The screech of metal made him open his eyes. It was chaos.
He pushed himself backwards until he felt the external wall of the building behind. He pressed his hands back against it, taking a deep breath as he tried to anchor himself to the concrete structure. But then he realized that if this building came down next, he'd be forever buried beneath it.
Sitona forced himself up, and walked away from the shadow of the building. He fished the satellite phone from his pocket and tapped in his cousin's number. Sitona had always thought the phone was an extravagant expense, and that the Indonesian government wasn’t as corrupt as Juno claimed it to be. Now, amidst the ruin and devastation of Christchurch, he was grateful to have a wireless phone that worked.
"Sito. Are you OK?"
Sitona exhaled as he heard his cousin's voice. He couldn't speak for a moment.
"Sito. Is that you?"
"Yeah, Juno. It's me. I'm fine."
"Holy shit, bro. What the hell is happening there?"
"Earthquake and a lotta water. Not as bad as Aceh but things here are screwed."
A woman screamed for help as she ran past. She carried a lifeless child in her arms, the corpse covered in grey dust and blood.
"People are dying," said Sitona.
"Yeah, no shit. You in a safe place?"
"Not yet."
"Hang up and go find yourself a safe spot. A refuge. Call me back when you've done that. Keep it together now. For the family."
Sitona nodded.
"OK. I'll call you later."
Sitona
ended the call. Juno was right. He had to pull himself together and find shelter.
He ran to the corner of Montreal Street and Hereford and looked up at the Christchurch City Council Water and Waste Unit. The six-story concrete building seemed unaffected by the disaster. It stood upright with a few shattered windows, but it appeared structurally intact.
He ran up to the main doors and yanked. They were locked. He turned and picked up a garbage can from the sidewalk and threw it into the glass doors.
They shattered.
Sitona waited, but nobody came to investigate or try to prevent him from entering. The building probably had thousands of square feet of space, and yet he saw nobody. Sitona stepped inside as another aftershock rumbled beneath his feet. He put both hands out and steadied his balance as it passed. It was minor, but it still triggered another round of screaming alarms.
As Sitona climbed into the building, a flash of movement caught his eye. He turned and saw a young boy standing alone on the sidewalk. A trickle of blood ran down the side of his face and his dark brown eyes were wide. The boy’s hair was white with brick dust, and his t-shirt hung in shreds from his thin body.
"Come with me," Sitona said quietly so as not to alarm him. "I'm going somewhere safe."
The boy stood unblinking. He didn’t move, but he didn’t run either.
"You’re in shock," Sitona said, his arms outstretched towards the boy. "I’m an adult. You can trust me. C’mon. I’ll get us somewhere safe and then we’ll call for help. I've got one of these, too." He pulled out the phone. "It will work 'cause it’s a satellite. Earthquakes can’t hurt things in space, right?"
