by Gary Weston
Prickle wiped his chin with a napkin. 'Are you intending to blow the whistle?'
'To be honest, I don't know what to do. If I say nothing and there's another death, I'll be just as bad as the others. If I ruffle some important feathers, I won't be doing my career any good.'
'There's a good hundred miles between the two incidents,' said Prickle. 'I can't see a pack of possums covering that distance in one night. That means there's at least two separate packs.'
'I agree. I don't think I can live with myself if I keep quiet. I'll leave it for today. In the morning, if the powers that be haven't disclosed the truth, I'll think about rattling some cages.'
'Fair enough. Just make sure there aren't possums in those cages.'
Chapter 23
'Damn.'
'Now what?' Susan Milligan asked.
'The glass isn't fitting. Not on this window, anyway. All the others were okay.'
'You did measure the frames, didn't you?'
'Of course I did. But I didn't realise how distorted they were. The best way is to buy a few new panes for here, slightly smaller then the ones I had done before.'
'Another cold night.'
'I'll fix the tarpaulin over it all. That'll keep the cold air out.'
'Do it now, then. It'll be dark soon. I'll light the oil lamp and the range. Dinner will be about half an hour.'
'Sorry. Maybe you're right. We should just sell it. Maybe turn a bit of a profit.'
'Not yet awhile. I've seen how happy being here makes you. I promised to give it a fair go, and I will.'
'Thanks. You won't regret it.'
'You get that window covered up pronto, before I change my mind.'
It took twenty minutes to cover all the gaps and the hut soon warmed up with the heat from the range and the oil lamp. They sat at the rickety table to eat their evening meal, and Kevin watched as the light from the flickering oil lamp made Susan's hair look like a living rainbow of natural auburn and highlights.
'Hard to think it'll only be a couple of months before the three of us will be staying here for the weekends.'
Susan said, 'I want this place one hundred percent finished before I bring our baby here.'
'It'll be a little palace by the time we're done.'
Susan took his hand. 'I'm proud of you, the way you've worked on it. Hey. Did you hear something?'
Kevin looked up. 'Just a bloody possum on the roof. No more feeding the buggers, okay?'
'Okay. I promise.'
Chapter 24
'You're quiet tonight. Is the curry too hot?'
Bill Prickle had hardly tasted his wife's chicken curry. 'Hmm? No, it's good.'
'Glad you like it. I made a double batch and froze the rest. There is something bothering you. It isn't my fiftieth, is it?'
'Your fiftieth what?'
'Bill Prickle. You know full well I mean my birthday. I know you always have trouble picking a present for me, but I'm not expecting anything extravagant.'
Prickle had completely forgotten his wife's birthday. Mick Pritchard's words in the café were filling his mind. Two separate killings by possums, more then a hundred miles apart. Not only that, Pritchard was convinced some powerful people would be trying to cover it up and put distance between themselves and the possum killings.
But this was New Zealand, for God's sake. Sure, the country had its problems and issues, like any other country. He would never be able to see a politician ever again without wondering if he or she had been the one dealing with Harrison's Genetics. Just how many others had been involved in hushing things up? And How high up did it go? Right to the top?
And just how far had the mutations spread? Obviously, there were at least two separate packs. In just fifteen years, there had been enough breeding with the genetically modified possums, and their offspring, and all subsequent offspring...Imagine what things would be like after another fifteen years. Thousands, if not millions of man-eating possums that had proved impossible to kill off. He could see a time, possibly in his own lifetime, when the country would have to be abandoned.
Pritchard was right. Anyone involved with the project wouldn't be safe. Four million people would be after their hides. He forced his mind to think of something else.
'Actually, I was thinking of a few days in Rotorua, soaking in the hot pools. How does that grab you?'
Pam gathered up the plates. 'Is that all you can come up with? Hardly original.'
'But you said you didn't want a fuss.'
'Bill Prickle. I'm a woman. Of course I want a fuss.'
Chapter 25
Max Harrison swirled the Napoleon Brandy around in the glass. Mendelssohn played soothingly in the background from the surround sound system speakers, and the lights were turned down to a low golden glow.
Harrison spoke softly into the telephone. 'Of course it was possums. Yes. Both the hunter and the tourists. I'm aware of that. I'm also aware of how keen you and your department were back then to have an alternative to dumping tons of that filthy poison all over the place. Oh, come now. I suggest you moderate your tone. I'm not the enemy here.
Yes. I know it was my father's idea, and yes, thank you for reminding me, I know our old company had to go it alone without any formal approval from you or the government of the day.
Oh, you lot put nothing in writing. You made sure of that. You would have only put your hat in the ring if the project had been a complete success. You'd have been hailed a hero had it worked.
Blackmail? You saying that says more about you than I. I could buy you out a hundred times over. No. All I care about is my company and the good name of my father and myself. I merely wanted assurance from you that if and when things get ugly, you don't set me up as a fall guy.
You see, there's something you should know. In a certain bank safe deposit, there is a complete copy of the salvaged data files. Everything is on there, up until the time of the accident. There's also something else in that box. A filmed recording of the meeting between you and my father, you offering him full reimbursement for expenses on the project and lucrative ongoing projects if we were successful. Oh, yes. I know you weren't aware you were being recorded.
You had much more hair in those days, by the way. No. Again. Those items are simply...insurance. I've no intention of blackmailing you. I'll feel quite annoyed if you mention that dirty word again. I should think so.
What? Oh. The reason for this call. As I mentioned before. I'm not the enemy here. But there is one person who thinks he knows more than he does and, should he decide to go public, it would prove quite embarrassing for me and my company, and consequently for you and several of your colleagues.
You may wish to do something about him. Oh, the details I leave up to you. His name? Senior Sergeant Mick Pritchard. No. Having met the good officer, I doubt if he could be bribed. Me? I'm not suggesting anything, but whatever you decide, I think it should be sooner rather than later. I leave it all in your capable hands. Good night, and oh. Sleep tight.'
Chapter 26
It was definitely warmer in the hut but Susan Milligan still couldn't sleep. She was uncomfortable lying on the floor, even with the padding of the double sleeping bag. Kevin's snoring could have given a pneumatic road drill a competition for the highest number of decibels created. Being seven months pregnant didn't help. She had made up her mind this was the last night she was staying in the hut until some kind of proper bed was available.
Susan eased herself flat on her back, and stretched out. Her bladder was starting to nag and she knew a trip to the vile smelling long drop dunny wouldn't be far away.
Because there were no curtains, those being way down on the list due to the isolation of the hut, the moonlight through their new windowpanes cast disturbing shadows about the room.
She could see the silhouette of her bump, and she stroked it. They had deliberately not wanted to know if it were a boy or girl, but she was sure it was a girl. She hoped it would be. Kevin would be happy either way. Perhaps in a
few years, when the money was better, they could try for another. A boy.
Kevin was sports mad, and to have a son to teach rugby and cricket and go fishing with, would be wonderful. Kevin was a good husband, and would be a great dad.
It was no use. She had to get up and suffer the long drop dunny. As carefully as she could, she wriggled out of the sleeping bag, but there was no danger of waking Kevin.
With her eyes accustomed to the moonlit room, Susan went to the door in the far corner which led to the dunny. Steeling herself, she took a deep breath and opened the door. The repulsive smell nearly bowled her over. Thank goodness she only needed to pee, she thought.
Kevin had ambitious ideas of powering the lighting from solar panels, but in the meantime, she lit the candle jammed in an old jam jar on the rough shelf just inside the tiny room, with the lighter kept just for that purpose. Several large cockroaches vanished into the nooks and crannies of the walls.
Susan took the candle over to the dunny seat, a primitive plank with a hole in it and checked it was as clean as it had been when she had last seen it. She had made Kevin replace the original seat with new timber, which he had spent hours sanding.
'Splinters in our bums we can do without,' Kevin had said.
She sat down and waited for nature to take its course, trying to take only shallow breaths, and to her relief, nature finally called. Wiping herself down, she went to the door and blew out the candle, placed it back on the shelf next to the lighter and locked in the smelly dunny behind her.
On what passed as the kitchen bench was a bowel of water and above it, soap on a rough shelf, two planks wide. The moonlight at least made it easy to see what she was doing. As she washed her hands, she looked out of the window of shiny new glass and gasped. A bright pair of eyes was staring right back at her. A possum, not more than a couple of yards from the back of the hut, was sitting in the forked branch of a small tree.
Possums were harmless enough, she knew. As long as they weren't cornered. Leave them alone, they'll leave you alone.
This possum wasn't alone, though. She counted at least three others not far behind the first one. There was something creepy about the way they were just lying there staring at her. Perhaps they were just being curious about the strange creatures suddenly invading their space.
'You were here first, I suppose,' she whispered softly to herself.
Behind her she could hear the sound of Kevin snoring. With a huge sigh, she made her way back to the sleeping bag.
Chapter 27
Mick Pritchard paced the floor of his rented unit. It had been 'temporary' accommodation for the last five years, when divorce had ended his twelve year marriage. He had two days off work to look forward to, so the lack of sleep wasn't an issue.
The basic unit suited him, on the edge of the city, but close to open space. But was that such a good thing these days? He had a feeling that soon everyone would be regarding trees as something to be feared, harbouring killers in their foliage.
'Get a grip, Pritchard.'
He sipped the bourbon, and realised his paranoia was actually based on something tangible. He had seen the hunters body lying face down in the dirt, not that he'd still had a face.
That had disturbed him the most. Not the dead body itself. With more than twenty years as a cop under his belt, he'd seen plenty of dead bodies. Shot, stabbed, mangled in accidents, pulled out of rivers, young, old, and every age in between.
No. What had really disturbed him about the hunter was the almost complete lack of flesh left on the bones. In fact, even some of the bones had been missing. The left leg from the knee down had gone as well as half of one arm. What was that all about? Had the possums consumed the bones as well, or had one of them dragged the limbs off into the bush like some take-away snack?
He had been awake for hours, trying to get his head around it all, wondering what to do. The easiest option would be to keep his head down and ignore everything. That would also be the safest option. True. But it didn't make it right.
He knew for certain that two separate packs of possums had killed people. Everyone should be warned. All bush walking, hunting, in fact anything involving being near trees should be stopped. People had a right to know so they could at least protect themselves. Maybe he should buy shares in a gun suppliers, because sales were about to go through the roof when word got out.
He had spent hours listening to the radio by the side of his bed, expecting to hear of other strange killings. Nothing. Maybe the possums were too full to eat again for awhile. He doubted that.
Any other case would by then have had the autopsy report and a public statement by the police, explaining what had happened. There were three dead people and somebody was keeping a lid on it.
He stared out at the now ominous trees in the back garden. He had never seen a possum in any of them. Now he couldn't be sure. At daylight, he had to make a decision about what to do next. He closed the blinds so he couldn't see the trees and lay on the bed and turned the radio back on.
Chapter 28
'Kevin. Kevin.' Susan Milligan jabbed her snoring husband in the ribs to wake him up.
'Jeez, Susan. I was asleep,'
'No shit. Listen.'
'To what?'
'Shh! There. Hear it?'
'That? I told you. Possum. Go to sleep.'
'There's another one.'
'Another what?'
'Possum.'
Kevin yawned. 'Just the one possum.'
'Will you bloody wake up and listen. There,' said Susan, pointing to one part of the roof. 'And over there another one. And up there, another.'
'It's just the one. The sound's travelling all over the roof.'
'I'm scared.'
Kevin held her tight. 'Even if there were three possums...'
'Four. Another over that corner.'
'Okay. But they're just possums. Probably having a bit of lovin' or something. And actually, that isn't a bad idea.'
'Leave my breasts alone. I'm serious. I'm frightened.'
'Okay. I'll go and shoo them away. Throw rocks at the buggers or something.'
Susan grabbed his arm. 'Don't you go out there.'
'Well, I can't do anything from in here. I'll go out and see if I can get them to move on. If I can't we'll have to put up with it until daylight.'
Pulling on his jeans, Kevin's bare feet slapped on the floorboards as he went to the front door. He opened it slightly and looked outside.
'Can you see anything?'
'It's too dark. I'll have to go out.'
'Kevin...'
'Shh!.'
Kevin opened the door fully and stepped outside. The plan to hurl rocks on the roof was quickly aborted. Before him, in every bush and tree as far as he could see, were pairs of eyes staring back at him. Without looking up, he knew that just above his head on the new roof was another dozen pairs of eyes.
'Oh, crap.'
Very carefully, he stepped backwards into the hut and quietly closed the door.
'Kevin?'
'You were right. Dozens of the buggers. Maybe hundreds. This should not be happening. Possums don't behave like this.'
'Like what? I don't understand.'
Keeping his voice low, Kevin explained. 'They don't gang up like this. They are solitary creatures, unless mating. They have their territories, and pretty much stick to it.'
Susan held him tight, but they both jumped when they heard a possum land on the roof from a nearby tree.
'Shit! I thought it was weird this morning,' said Kevin. 'Nothing like these numbers, but too many to be out together in daylight.'
'You never said anything was wrong then. You only told me not to feed them.'
'This wasn't because of a few scraps. I've no idea what it's about. But like I said before. They're just possums. They won't attack unless they get cornered or feel threatened.'
'What do we do?'
'Put the kettle on. Might as well have a cuppa now we're up.'
Chapter 29
'Have you any idea what time it is? Call me in the morning.'
'I don't care. Have you any idea what's going down?'
'Have you been drinking? I'm hanging up.'
'Don't you dare hang up on me. I'm not going down by myself. As you well know, I just happened to be the detective in charge of investigating that debacle all those years ago. I helped cover things up for you fifteen years ago, and hey. Here we are again.'
'I knew it. You have been drinking.'
'Yeah, some, but not enough. Listen. I'll sit on the autopsy report as long as I can, but these things have a way of leaking out.'
'Go back to bed, you drunken fool.' There was a long pause then the conversation continued with the voice on the other end of the line. 'I remember the possum project. Failed miserably. They all died in that fire, along with that scientist, Tusker.'
'Tasker. And for your information, one pregnant female escaped. I've been talking to Max Harrison. He told me what really happened.'
'News to me about any possums surviving.'
'Harrison kept quiet about it. He didn't want his company dragged through the mud. But all this time, the possums have been breeding and mutating. They're flesh eaters now.'
'So? Go throw sausages at the buggers.'
'Cut the crap. So far they've eaten three people and that's just the ones we know about. People are asking questions and if any more people are killed, I'll not cover up for you any longer.'
Another pause. 'Stay out of things and I'll sort it out. Who did the possums kill? Those tourists?'
'And the hunter. Over a hundred miles apart. There must be hundreds of them out there.'
'Crap. But seriously, what do you expect me to do about it? If word gets out that you and I were linked to the project cover up and people get killed, we'll be both be crucified.'
'We just need to keep calm. We covered our tracks well, as I recall. Nothing to link it to anybody but Simon Harrison and he's dead.'
