The Bone Tiki

by David Hair

  Kelly nodded slowly. ‘OK. Don’t need to know. Where you going, Mat?’

  Mat frowned, shrugged.

  Kelly nodded again, and then pulled out a tiny transistor radio from her bag, and turned it on. They listened to a commercial, then right on half-three a news bulletin. At the end of it, there was an extra announcement.

  ‘Napier Police ask the public to be on the lookout for Wiremu Matiu Douglas, of Napier South. He is fifteen, part-Maori, around one hundred and fifty-five centimetres, of slim build, with black hair. He is believed to be travelling north, perhaps on the Napier-Taupo Road. Please report any sightings to Napier Police Station.’

  Mat felt the colour drain from his face.

  Kelly watched him, then slowly reached down and turned off the transistor.

  ‘Where are you going, Mat?’ she asked again.

  ‘Taupo.’

  Kelly looked down and patted the Labrador. ‘I used to run away, two or three times a year. Mum and Dad used to get drunk all the time. Got sick of it.’

  ‘My parents have split. Dad got custody.’

  Kelly nodded. ‘Your mum live in Taupo?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  They sat silent for a while, while the dog nuzzled among the empty chippie wrappers, tail wagging hopefully.

  ‘So…you wanna ride to Taupo after the show? I’m going that way.’

  Mat stared at her. He felt suspicions rise, but then subside. No reason to believe her, to accept her offer without questions…but it felt right. ‘Why would you help me?’

  ‘Because I’ve been where you are,’ she said softly, her eyes faraway. ‘If a kid needs to see his mother, nothing in the world should stand in their way.’

  Mat hugged his stomach and thought about that. She sounded OK, he should be safe. ‘OK. I’ll come with you. Thank you.’

  ‘Thanks yourself,’ she said.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘For trusting me.’ She stood up. ‘Wanna see a magic show?’

  Mat hesitated. There would be people there…

  ‘They’ll be looking for someone on their own, not someone with friends,’ Kelly said. ‘Just leave your kit in my car, and tell anyone who asks that you’re my brother. It’ll give you a chance to grab some more food. Some of the stalls still have sausages.’

  The Labrador barked happily at the word ‘sausages’, and it was as though someone has wafted a sizzling sausage under Mat’s nose.

  ‘OK,’ he said, swallowing saliva.

  The fair was pretty low-key, about twenty stalls, mostly doing food, and the craft displays had been pretty much cleaned out. Most of the hundred or so people who were there were sitting on rugs enjoying the sunshine, while kids ran around squealing. Kelly’s car was a genuine old Volkswagen Beetle. ‘Used to be Dad’s,’ she told him. ‘I had it repainted.’ Mat had guessed that already, because it was purple, and each lurid green door had a cartoon clown. Kelly tossed him some coins to buy a sausage, then put Mat’s kit in the back. She settled in front of her mirror to finish her make-up. A fat man with a megaphone waddled up and peered at her, then went away bellowing that Kelly the Magic Clown was nearly ready for her last show.

  The VW was rigged with a banner tied between it and a tree, to form a kind of backdrop. A painted Kelly in clown suit beamed from the tatty-looking canvas. Mat grinned, then went looking for food. He bought a sausage, and some coconut fudge—which he didn’t like that much, but it was all that was left. No one took any notice of him as he sat down in the grass beside the VW, except the Labrador, who he decided to name Fitzy, for no particular reason other than it seemed to fit. Fitzy had caught scent of the sausage, but there was no way Mat was giving him any! It was only a blackened sausage with a dab of tomato sauce and some white bread, but for now it eclipsed any meal he’d ever had. He savoured every mouthful while Fitzy watched him with mournful eyes. He finished it with regret and got to his feet, wishing he had more money, but didn’t feel he could ask for more from Kelly. He pretended to look at the craft stalls, but it was mostly dried flowers and pot-pourri, and some fairly amateur pottery.

  He settled on the grass to wait, when the megaphone blared, and a pink-and-white-clad clown with a frizzy purple wig bounded out from behind the banner, carrying a little plastic trumpet. Kelly merrily tooted, then hollered ‘Hey kids, it’s Kelly!’

  A three-year-old nearby burst into tears.

  ‘Oh deary-dee!’ exclaimed Kelly, while its mother stalked up glaring. Kelly shrugged and darted up to a six-year-old girl and produced a fake-looking flower that collapsed when the girl took it. She looked about to cry too. Mat rolled his eyes and lay back.

  Kelly bounced up to a man and did the old ‘look what’s behind your ear’ magic trick (an egg, as it happened) then cartwheeled past Mat. Fitzy took this as a sign to play, and began yapping and chasing. Kelly began fleeing the dog, which started a family group laughing, and gradually a small crowd, maybe thirty, began to gather.

  Mat decided after a while that Kelly was quite good. She had a knack for mime that raised a few laughs, and was quick and agile in her tumbling. Eventually the squalling three-year-old calmed down enough to giggle at the flower, and Fitzy settled down beside Mat. Kelly seemed about to wrap up, when Fitzy suddenly stiffened and growled at something in the direction of the car park and the highway. Mat was laughing at Kelly, but the laugh died in his throat when he turned and looked.

  Donna Kyle was walking toward him, barely forty metres away. She was clad all in black leather, and her eyes were hidden behind her ever-present sunglasses. Even the stiffening wind couldn’t ruffle her hair. Her mouth looked like a bloody gash.

  Mat froze, and then began to stagger to his feet, Fitzy rising too and beginning to snarl. The pale woman doubled her pace, a sneering smile playing about her red lips.

  ‘Mat…’ she breathed, and then she said something else, something inaudible that crackled like an electric shock inside his head, and suddenly he was seeing stars, dizzy and reeling. A man looked at him, puzzled, slightly concerned, and then he heard Donna saying, ‘Ah, there you are darling, it’s time to go now.’

  Before he could clear his vision she was close, blocking out the sun. Fitzy backed away, tail down, whimpering, as she reached out with painted claws to seize his wrist, and all he could do was stand there and try not to vomit. She smiled like a snake.

  In a flash of pink and white Kelly cartwheeled between them. Donna stepped back involuntarily, and Kelly pirouetted, and announced loudly, ‘And now! Da-didee-da-da-DAH! Kelly, the incredible Magic Clown, will perform a magic trick! A supa-dooper magic trick! Hurrah!’

  The small crowd obligingly went ‘hurrah’, and Donna, suddenly the centre of attention, pulled back. Fitzy backed under the VW and glared at her. Kelly grabbed Mat’s hand and raised it in the air. ‘Kelly the Magic Clown will make this boy disappear! Yes! See this amazing trick! Come one and all!’ She pulled Mat toward the VW. ‘Come one, come all, to my stage!’ she cried out, then muttered under her breath, ‘Who’s the woman?’

  Mat half-turned.

  ‘Don’t look at her’, Kelly hissed. ‘She’s looking for you, right? Just nod or shake.’

  Mat nodded.

  ‘Fine,’ said Kelly. ‘The dog doesn’t like her and neither do you. That’s good enough for me.’ She turned again at the banner, and beamed around the crowd. Mat saw Donna take a stance behind the gathering, her arms folded and lip curling.

  ‘Oh, you are such lucky little petals,’ Kelly told the crowd. ‘You’re going to see my favouritest trick, the piece of resistance, as the French would say! The cool bit at the end. I, Kelly the Magic Clown, will now, before your very eyes, make this boy vanish. And if you’re really lucky, I’ll make him come back! But only if his parents want me to!’ she added with a wicked smile that drew a laugh.

  She pulled out a floppy wand, and circled around Mat, making extravagant passes, all the while muttering under her breath, ‘I’m going to cover you with a cloth. When I do, roll under
the banner, then under the car, and head for cover. Go to the river, go upstream until you reach a bridge, and hide under it til I come. Got it?’

  Mat nodded. His head was clearing, and he was beginning to shake. It was all he could do not to look at Donna, and not to run.

  ‘What’s your name, deary?’ asked Kelly, then without waiting for an answer, called out, ‘This is Stevie, everyone! Are you ready to disappear, Stevie?’

  Mat nodded. Kelly produced a large purple cloth, and swirled it about him, all the while shepherding him toward the banner, where she suddenly called ‘Abra-Kadabra-Alakazam!’ and draped it over him. By hooking it to the top of the banner, she ensured it didn’t touch him, so his outline wouldn’t be visible. He dropped, rolled backward in one move, and was behind the banner and out the other side of the car. Then he just ran, pelted through the trees to the river and splashed along it. Behind him he heard laughter, and then Kelly leading a chorus of ‘O Stevie, where are you?’ at the top of her voice. He suppressed a wild laugh and panted on, picturing the look on Donna’s face. For a moment he didn’t care that his shoes were wet again. Even stumbling into a hole and going over his head didn’t quell his exhilaration at having escaped. He rose and threw a look backward, but the riverbed was empty of anything but him. Still he didn’t stop, running on around bends and over driftwood, until he saw the bridge Kelly must mean. It was a single-lane span with deep grass beneath the arches. He ran to it as though it were shelter from a rain storm, and threw himself into the grass and mud underneath. He lay there panting, as his heart pounded in his chest. After a while he looked at his watch. It was nearly four-thirty. Still gasping for breath, he was cooling and soon began to feel cold and wet. The dry grass prickled, and the wind cooled him quickly until he was shaking. Twice cars drove over the bridge, but nobody stopped. The wild flowers and grass smelt rich and damp, and the clouds spilling over the sky took the sunlight away. He took off his T-shirt and wrung it out, then pulled it back on. It didn’t seem to help. His teeth started chattering, and he began to worry, when another engine sounded, coming from the highway side, closer, until it pulled to a halt beside the bridge. A door creaked open, but Mat was already on his feet. The engine was too noisy to be one of Puarata’s sleek machines. A dog barked and he laughed as Fitzy bounded up and launched himself, knocking him over backward. He tumbled to the ground as Kelly ran up.

  ‘Oh Mat, you should have seen her face! She screeched blue murder at me, and everyone else was laughing. What a bitch! And she tried to make out she was your mother, and no one believed her. She even went looking for you down by the river, calling out “Stevie darling” at the top of her lungs. I nearly wet myself!’

  Mat pushed Fitzy off him and looked up and down the road. They were alone.

  ‘So where is she now?’

  Kelly laughed again. ‘She’s back at the Park, trying to start her car.’

  Mat looked questioningly at her.

  Kelly sniggered. ‘Isn’t it awful? While she was down by the river, some dreadful person stole the spark plugs!’ She dug two plugs out of her pocket and hurled them into the river.

  Mat looked at her with round-eyed admiration. Fitzy licked his face, and he suddenly felt a tenuous happiness, as though, just maybe, he might escape from Puarata after all.

  He patted the Labrador. ‘I’m naming him Fitzy,’ he told Kelly.

  ‘Good name. Hi Fitzy, you wanna come to Taupo with us?’

  The Labrador barked. Kelly hugged him, then stood up.

  Mat looked at her. ‘You’ll really give me a ride?’

  Kelly just shrugged. ‘Sure. I’m going that way. Might as well give you a hand. Anyway, I didn’t like that woman. What a bitch!’

  Mat swallowed. ‘Thanks,’ he said solemnly.

  Kelly waved a hand airily. ‘Come on, we better go. She was cellphoning someone when I left, and she didn’t look very pleased.’

  Mat sobered quickly. He wondered where Puarata was. Was he ahead or behind?

  Kelly turned the car and they rattled down the road to the main highway. There was no traffic in either direction, and they turned right onto the highway, and headed north. A sign said 172 kilometres to Taupo. Mat took a deep breath, and twisted in his seat so he could look both forward and back. Fitzy licked him again, and Kelly turned on the radio and started to sing.

  7

  The summoning of Toa

  Kelly’s Volkswagen soon reached the hills that bordered northern Hawke’s Bay, and began to climb unsteadily. Afternoon gradually faded toward evening, and when the first few cars to zoom past turned out to be ordinary travellers, Mat began to relax. The farms were fewer, and more of the land became wild tussock or deep shadowy pine forest, growing darker by the second as the sun dipped toward the top of the hills. Occasional glimpses behind them revealed a great expanse of tangled low hills, and beyond was the sea, grey-green in the gathering gloom. Napier twinkled like a fallen star on the coast, then vanished behind the ridges and rolling hills.

  Occasional hawks circled above, seeking foraging rabbits in the gorse and scrub. Dirty white sheep milled peacefully, and cattle trudged toward milking sheds. The land seemed to be slowly falling asleep. The radio signal became faint and crackling, so Kelly turned off the radio, but continued to hum snatches of tunes under her breath. Fitzy had long since crawled into the backseat and was staring out the back window, as though he too knew where the pursuit was coming from. There was still at least an hour of daylight left but Kelly turned on the car lights to make them more visible to oncoming traffic. The little Volkswagen growled and snorted as it fought the hills.

  The clicking of the pendants about his neck caught Mat’s attention, and he decided it was time to have a closer look at the tiki. He pulled it out from under his T-shirt and held it up in the remaining light. The sun was hung just above the hills as they drove toward it, the sky turning a deeper purple.

  ‘What’s that?’ Kelly asked.

  Mat thought a moment, trying to decide how much he should say. He decided to be cautious—he didn’t want Kelly to think he was a thief.

  ‘It’s a tiki. Old family thing. I think it’s made of bone.’

  ‘Bone? Spooky!’

  ‘Yeah, I guess…’ He ran his fingers over the smooth surfaces, pried at the patterning with his fingernails. It was an ugly thing, he decided. The eyes looked fierce, the tongue poisonous, the clutching claws grasping and evil. He closed his eyes, tried to picture the person who made it, but nothing came.

  ‘Toa,’ he whispered, but nothing happened. The tiki felt cooler than it had last night, when it had hung against his chest through a cold night and swim. The bone felt dry, and old, but solid.

  He felt hot meaty breath on his cheek—Fitzy was peering over his shoulder, as though at any moment he too would have something to say about the sinister little ornament.

  ‘That dog is nearly human,’ said Kelly. ‘He’s got his eye on everything.’

  Mat smiled, and stroked Fitzy’s neck. He then pulled out the koru as well.

  ‘Another one?’ asked Kelly.

  ‘I made this one, for my dad. It’s a koru.’

  ‘Like on the Air New Zealand jets?’

  ‘Sort of.’

  She glanced over. ‘That’s pretty good. You really made it yourself? Wow!’

  Mat smiled. He told her about carving at school, his favourite part of art. Kelly told him she’d done her own banner, and her teachers had told her she should learn real cartooning.

  ‘But I could never think of the jokes. A cartoon should have jokes. Pretty useless clown who can’t think of any jokes, huh?’

  ‘You were funny back at the park,’ said Mat. ‘Really good. I laughed a lot.’

  Kelly grinned at him.

  Fitzy nuzzled him, then returned to his watch out the rear window. Mat went back to looking at the tiki. Remembering how he’d felt, the emotions he’d put into the creation of the koru, he tried to picture what emotions had gone into the tiki. But
all he got was an image of Puarata, frowning, a look of piercing concentration on his tattooed face. He flinched from the image…and then he just knew Puarata had carved the tiki…So it really was his…He shuddered, and wondered whose bones he had used. Perhaps the bones of this ‘Toa’?

  ‘Toa,’ he whispered in his mind, but still nothing. He stared and stared, and called silently, until eventually he felt foolish, and put it away. What did you think would happen anyway?

  ‘So, Mat, who was that woman?’ Kelly asked.

  Mat had been trying to think up an answer to this question for nearly an hour. The problem was, if he told the whole truth, no one would believe him. He liked Kelly, so he didn’t want to lie—but if he told the truth he’d sound like a liar. And if he lied to make it sound like truth, then he would be a liar. He thought he’d found a good story, though. He took a deep breath.

  ‘She’s my dad’s girlfriend. I’m running away because I hate her.’

  There! Simple, plausible…Riki, who was a brilliant liar, would have approved.

  He wasn’t sure if Kelly believed him, but she seemed to accept it at face value and asked no more questions. He was grateful.

  It began to get dark. They were past Te Pohue, and the VW chugged up the Titiokura Saddle in second gear, while bigger cars roared past. Every time they were overtaken Mat ducked down to be invisible to the passing vehicle. It was starting to become routine. They roared down the other side, and climbed again, past the cafeteria at Te Haroto. Kelly was singing tunelessly when another car appeared behind. It came up close, and Mat hid again. Kelly glanced in the rear-vision mirror, squinting against the headlights. Fitzy gave a low rumbling growl, and his tail went down.

  ‘There’s a passing lane coming up,’ Kelly yelled into the rear-vision mirror. ‘Back off a bit mate!’

  But the car stayed there, right behind them until the passing lane opened before them. With a sudden roar it drew out and alongside. Mat saw Kelly look across at it.

  ‘What is it?’ Mat asked.