by Gary Weston
Bill Prickle said, 'What do you expect Carlisle to say? Bugger this for a game of soldiers, we're all gonna die?'
'Look, Bill. Dunno about you, but I had little faith in politicians in the first place. I got none at all, now.'
'Not even your Maori party?'
'At least they're the right colour. Now. Our last Prime Minister is serving time. The bugger we got in charge now was never even voted in. 'scuse me for couldn't be giving a shit.'
'Hey, mate. I'm not that far behind you. At least the possums aren't making our lives a bloody misery round here.'
'Calm before the storm, mate.'
'Meaning?'
'This right here is the centre of mutated possum hell. They're just biding their time. It's all just a bit too bloody cosy right now. I reckon any day now we'll be knee deep in the bastards.'
'Ain't you a little ray of sunshine.'
Matai took out his wallet and slapped twenty dollars on the table. 'There's mine.'
Prickle stared at the note. 'We've had our share. Plus we got the army on standby. I say no possums in Patch Creek.' He took out his wallet and matched Matai's note.
'Easiest twenty I made in a long time,' said Matai.
Chapter 89
'Look at them. What is it they expect?' Out of his office window in the Beehive, Carlisle watched the ranting hoards.
'This is a democracy, Vincent,' said Trish Markham, minister for tourism. 'As for what they expect, the same as all of us. To go about their lives expecting not to get eaten.'
'And marching up and down shouting and waving placards is going to help?'
'They're telling it like it is, Vincent. They're saying it's your job to sort this mess out.'
'I'll ask Santa for a magic wand, shall I?'
'You've stopped them going out with guns...'
'Only the unauthorised ones.'
'Whatever. So it's up to you to come up with alternatives.' Markham opened her folder. 'These are fifteen businesses that have folded this week. Nine motels, two tour bus companies, a bungy jump operator, a charter boat outfit, and two campsites. Tourism is down seventy six percent...'
'Seventy three.'
'What?'
'You told me seventy three percent the other day. See? I do listen.'
'Then listen to this. Seventy six percent is the latest figure. That's a huge slice of our internal revenue. Soon you'll be cutting out spending on infrastructure, welfare, the armed services and increasing taxes just to stand still.'
'Shit! Just because of bloody possums.'
'Yep. We have to get rid of the bloody possums.'
'We will. We have to.'
'Talks cheap.'
'I said we will and we will.' Carlisle closed the blinds, shutting out the protesters. 'Trish. Can I ask you a question?'
'Go for it.'
'Stockings or tights.'
'Why don't you find out?'
Chapter 90
'A great day for the match, Peter.'
'A ripper, Tony. And not a bad turn out here in Palmerston North.'
'Forty two thousand, by all accounts, Peter. International matches are pretty rare events these days. All sports have been hit hard.'
'Sign of the times I'm afraid, Tony. Fewer fans are following their teams to New Zealand these days. All this possum problem.'
'Terrible, Peter. But lets not mention the dreaded P word. Lets celebrate this friendly match knowing England will put on a good show. It's going to be a hard won game and it will lift the whole country into a happier state of mind, win or lose.'
'Not sure about the losing part, Tony. Lets hope we have a pearler of a game and that the best team wins.'
'I certainly hope we do, Peter. At least in the now fully covered stands, the fans don't have to worry about the weather.'
'Well worth the millions spent on it. And being on the edge of the city, there's plenty of parking. The teams are coming out now. They're lining up for the national anthems. Both teams look excited to be having this friendly crack at one another. And listen to that. It looks like one or two of our boys have finally learnt the words to our anthem, Tony.'
'Good to see, Peter. Are our lads going to do the Hacka? Yes. Listen to that crowd. I have a feeling we are in for a truly memorable evening.'
* * *
The army was always keen to try out new toys. One hundred computerised, satellite directed drones were covering vast areas of bush around the central and lower North Island. Concentrating on areas of known mutant possum activity and systematically widening their search patterns, the thermal imaging equipment picked up any living creature and sent signals back to a highly trained team of dedicated army personnel, working in eight hour shifts over a twenty four hour period. An audio signal told them if anything of significance had been discovered and this would be fully investigated. One station suddenly sounded its alarm, followed by two more. Whatever it was, it was very significant.
'Lieutenant Fuller?'
'Sergeant. What you got?'
'Significant activity, Sir. Picked up by three drones.'
'Damn. Look at that lot.'
'I am, Sir.'
'I'll tell the Captain.'
Captain Sanders was eating a sandwich as he studied a map. 'Lieutenant?'
'The drones have picked up a significant sighting, Sir.'
'Coordinates?'
'South east of Patch Creek, Sir. About forty five miles.'
'Show me.'
At the screens, they could see the possums. 'Anything moved, Sergeant?' Sanders asked.
'No, Sir. Not in any particular direction, at least. Just sort of hanging around.'
'Double the number of drones in that area, Sergeant.'
'Yes, Sir. Doing it now. Three more drones heading in that direction. Estimated time of arrival, sixteen minutes.'
'Good,' said Sanders. 'Select one drone and take it in for a closer look.'
'One going in closer now, Sir. It's possums, all right. Would they be mutant ones, Captain?'
'Definitely. Regular possums wouldn't congregate in such numbers. Relay real time images here.'
A few expertly keyed in instructions had perfect images of the animals showing on the screens. The trees were almost bending with the weight of the possums.
Sanders was amazed at what he was looking at. 'Must be thousands of the buggers. Patch Creek is the nearest populated area to the possums, isn't it?'
'They're roughly halfway between Patch Creek and Palmerston North, Sir.'
'Right. I'll inform the Major. When the other drones arrive, circle all six and try and get an estimate of the size of the infected area. Any movement in any direction, tell me immediately.'
'Yes, Sir.'
Chapter 91
'Finally,' said Major John Burns. 'I'm cheesed off with the Prime Minister calling me twice a day and having nothing to report.'
'We've been in this situation before, Sir. Sly little devils.'
'That was before we had the drones, Captain. The other good thing is that we still have plenty of daylight left. We need to flush them out in the direction that gives us a clear advantage and deal to them.'
'Towards Patch Creek, Sir?'
'That's where there's more open land. Between the bush and the villages. Drive them from the south and be waiting for them.'
'We should be informing the people of Patch Creek to be vigilant in case a few possums get through. Shall I do that, Sir?'
'Yes. Call Sergeant Bill Prickle and liaise with him. I'm off to see what's happening with the possums.'
* * *
'Captain Sanders. Nice to see you again.'
'It's been awhile, Bill. Hi, Pam. Keeping well?'
'Yes, thanks. Although seeing you here has me worried.'
'Just a precaution, Pam. Our new drones have picked up a super pack. About forty five miles south east of here.'
'What's the plan?' asked Bill.
'We have our drones surrounding them. Major Burns intends to flush them o
ut of the bush into open land and we'll wipe them out.'
'Yeah, right,' said Bill, sceptically.
'Bill. All we can do is keep finding and killing them. The drones are proving to be a good investment.'
Pam said, 'What if some get through and reach here?'
'That's why I'm here to give you the heads up. We'll do our best to finish them all off, but it's possible a few could get this far.'
'We need the media onto this,' said Bill. 'I'll call the television and radio stations and get the message out there.'
'Good idea. I'll have the south side of Patch Creek covered as a barrier between the village and the possums. I need to get back. If there are any changes, I'll let you know.'
'Thanks.'
Captain Sanders found a frustrated Major Burns when he got back to base.
'Bloody unbelievable,' snapped Major Burns.
'Atmospheric conditions, apparently, Sir,' said Lieutenant Fuller.
'But the drones are still in position?'
'Yes, Sir. All we've lost is direct contact with them.'
'Oh! That all,' growled Burns. 'Might as well not have the bloody things, then. No chance of them crashing into one another?'
'Safety systems are built it,' said Captain Sanders.
'Just as well. At half a million a piece, it could be expensive.'
Lieutenant Fuller said, 'The boffins say between half an hour to an hour for atmospheric conditions to improve.'
Burns said, 'Get a chopper in the air in the meantime. We need to know if the possums start moving.'
'Yes, Sir,' said Sanders. 'Sergeant Prickle is contacting the media to inform the residents about the situation. '
'Right. Captain. Coordinate with Prickle. I want the southbound main road closed off. Get a platoon patrolling each of the three villages. All residents are to remain indoors until further notice. No exceptions. I want a visible presence at all times to deal with any gun happy locals. Then cover as much of the south side of Patch Creek as physically possible.'
'On my way, Sir.'
Chapter 92
'A cracker of a first half so far, Peter.'
'And a very close game, Tony. The English are putting up a pretty good show.'
'A class act indeed. We need to up our game in the second half though, Peter. Get some points on the board.'
'I'm sure the coach will be telling our team just that, Tony. And there's the whistle for the end of the first half. We'll be right back after the commercial break.'
* * *
'Major Burns.'
'Yes, Lieutenant?'
'We have signals from the drones again.'
'About damn time,' said Burns, following Lieutenant Fuller.
'That's not all, Sir.'
'Go on.'
'Er, well, the possums have disappeared.'
'What? But that chopper pilot told us they were there.'
'That was twenty minutes ago, Sir. Now they've gone.'
'Get those bloody drones covering the entire area around where the possums were last seen.'
'Yes, Sir. Already getting the drones into position.'
'In the meantime, I'll contact Captain Sanders and give him the bad news. Lieutenant. Find those bloody possums.'
Chapter 93
'Lost contact?' said Bill Prickle. 'What's that supposed to mean?'
'Something about atmospheric conditions,' said Sanders. 'It didn't last long, but in the period we lost the signals, the possums vanished.'
They had just positioned the road closed barriers on the main road heading south from Patch Creek. Prickle stared out over the open countryside. It looked as pretty as ever.
'How can you lose a super pack of possums?'
'The drones are searching again. They can't have gotten far.'
'Those things can move pretty fast when they've a mind to. Are your blokes in position?'
'Yes, but we're stretched a little thin. The Major wants most of the guns available for when we flush them out. The men here are just a backup.'
'It'll be getting dark in a few hours. I wouldn't want to be out there if that pack were planning to strike.'
'Planning? Bill. They're possums. They can't plan.'
'Is that right? Well. For critters that can't plan, they seem to have you lot running around in circles. Years these things have evaded being killed off. If you ask me, they're getting smarter. How else would you explain it?'
'I don't believe that, Bill.'
'You don't want to believe it. These mutants are successful pack hunters, elusive, cunning and deadly. Up to yet, nobody has come up with a way to get rid of them. So far, the possums are winning.'
Sanders had no answer to that. Deep down he had been thinking what Prickle had been saying.
* * *
'Nothing?' Burns said.
'Sorry, Sir,' said the Lieutenant. 'We have every drone available looking for them.'
'Is the thermal imaging even working?'
'Yes, Sir. We are picking up any other living creature, like boar and deer. Not in the area the possums were though.'
'No shit. No doubt because the bloody possums ate it all. Are you sure there's nothing coming north to Patch Creek?'
'Not a thing.'
'Lieutenant. I have people out there, spread out in a thin line. At night, they'll be vulnerable. I can't get them away, because we have to protect the villages. Where the hell are those possums?'
Chapter 94
'Just five minutes of extra time remaining, Peter. Can we get those last few points in the bag?'
'Level pegging, Tony. I hate to say it, but it could go either way. Hats off to England for putting up such a spirited game.'
'A real ripper, Peter. I'm hoping this game will encourage more international sporting events in this country.'
'We can but hope, Tony. If nothing else, to keep us in a job.'
'New Zealand are away again. Haggerty with possession. Thirty yards to go. This for the win and...shit!'
'What the hell...?'
'Oh, my God. Is that what I think it is, Peter?'
'There's thousands of them. Oh, God. They're pouring like a waterfall over the stadium roof. Oh! That poor woman. Viewers at home, we are witnessing a truly awful event. A super pack of possums is tearing into the spectators. The people are fighting back with only their bare hands. It's just bedlam in here, people getting crushed trying to escape the onslaught. All over the pitch...the players are running for the tunnel. One man down on the pitch...I think...Haggerty. He's just being eaten alive. Help him, somebody.'
'Too late, Peter. Men and women dying all over the place. A bloody carnage by mutant possums, like an unstoppable force. Wave after wave of them. People frantically, desperately trying to escape. Oh, God. I feel sick. Over there a teenage girl... we're...I can't...We're going off air.'
Chapter 95
The next morning
'....in the studio this morning. Prime Minister. Two hundred and forty seven people dead, four hundred and nineteen injured. One hundred and fifteen of those on life support. Many more hundreds scarred for life. Where do we go from here?'
'Andrew. I'm as shocked as the rest of the country. The attack came out of nowhere. First of all I would like to express my deepest, most heartfelt sympathies to the families involved. This is a tragedy unprecedented in our nations history.'
'You yourself lost a relative I believe.'
'I did. My cousin Darren was a fatality. My whole family are feeling the loss.'
'I'm sorry to hear of your loss. But, where do we go from here?'
Carlisle sighed. 'This is like fighting a ghost. As soon as the army reached the stadium, the possums vanished. All they could do was to help the ambulance personnel with the clean up.'
'But Prime Minister. These are just animals. How come we seem powerless to deal with the situation?'
'It's quite clear, Andrew. This is a tough nut to crack. I'd like to assure ...God.'
'Prime Minister.?'
'I..
.'
'Prime Minister?'
'You know something, Andrew? No bullshit. We are up against it. I am not prepared to lie to the families that have lost loved ones. We are doing all we can...everything....'
'Prime Minister?'
Chapter 96
'Not now, Angus.'
'But Prime Minister...'
'I'd quit if I could. Hand over the baton. If somebody with an answer would step up to the plate, I'd gladly hand the baton over.'
'Yes, but...'
'Trouble is, nobody is stepping up to the plate. I'm the one with the baton and I don't want it.'
'I think there's a way through.'
'You want the baton? Feel free.'
'Have you been drinking?'
'Not nearly enough.'
'Will you hear me out?'
Carlisle felt his head swimming. The entire four million citizens of the country were looking to him to sort the mess out. The cupboard was bare.
'My cousin died yesterday. I hated him. An ignorant, big mouthed bigot. His eyes were gouged out. All his guts. Gone. His ears. For God's sake, his ears. His bloody ears. My Aunty Mary. I had to visit her in a nursing home and tell her her son had died.'
'I'm so...'
'And in you waltz like a fairy in a pink tutu, telling me you can make it all go away.'
'I just think....'
Carlisle stood up, slightly wobbly, walked over to Morton, grabbed him by his tie and dragged the professor to the window looking out of the Beehive. 'See that? They hate me. Up and down, up and down. Think one of those would take my baton?'
'But...'
'If you say you have an answer and it turns out you don't, I'll throw you out of these windows and hope the protesters will devour you.' Carlisle let go of the pale looking professor and smiled. 'You have an answer?'
'Well...'
'Angus?'
Chapter 97
