Into the Mist

by Lee Murray

  “It should take us around two hours to drive in,” McKenna said, “and a half day to reach the Conservation Department hut where we’ll spend our first night. It’ll take a further day to get to the approximate site where the nugget was found, and where Dr de Haas and Dr Asher will conduct their studies.” He gave Jules a short nod, fixing her with his steely blue eyes as he pointed her out to the rest of the group. Embarrassed, Jules dropped her eyes and examined her boots.

  The sergeant went on. “Introducing my section, we have Corporal Jackson Liu, who answers to Coolie, Privates Trevor ‘Trigger’ Grierson, Adrian Eriksen, Eddie ‘Lefty’ Wright, Jugraj Singh, our medical officer, Anaru Winters, communications…” When McKenna called their names, the men stood to attention, and then at ease when the next soldier in line was announced. The last of the team were barely out of school uniform – Matt Read and Hamish Miller. Possibly their first assignment, if Read’s face was anything to go by. Flushed, the soldier looked as if he could scarcely contain his excitement.

  “And our local guide is Nathan Kerei.”

  Sitting on a bollard, Kerei was puffing on a cigarette, blowing blue smoke into the air above his head. He acknowledged the group with a nod.

  McKenna was about to go on when de Haas bustled forward. Jules noticed the geologist made a point of placing himself directly in front of McKenna, his action only serving to highlight the difference in their heights, the sergeant looming head and shoulders over the geologist.

  “I’ll take over from here, Corporal,” de Haas interrupted. He flapped his hands at McKenna, as if he was a preschool teacher sending his charges off to recess.

  The sergeant made no comment, but Jules detected the slightest twitch of his jaw. He took a step back, closer to his men.

  “Dr Christian de Haas. I’m your Task Force Leader for this expedition. Up until now, the Ureweras have been of only low to medium interest when it comes to mineral exploration, but new information has changed that. The Government has appointed this group to determine the mining potential. We’re here to find the golden goose.”

  The latecomer raised his coffee cup. “Dr de Haas.”

  “Yes, um…?”

  “Ben Fogarty, engineer, Australian Minerals. No offence, but why are the army coming?”

  Jules shot a quick look at Louise, who raised her eyebrows.

  So we’re not the only ones to wonder.

  “Ah, well, ordinarily we wouldn’t mount an expedition of this sort in the winter – there’s the added risk of flash floods and landslips – but the government are keen to move quickly on this, which is why we’ve been offered the extra help,” de Haas replied. “The army will be carrying the bulk of the camp gear, our equipment, and any samples we collect. Think of them as our pack horses.” He laughed at his own joke. From the looks on their faces, the soldiers weren’t amused.

  Ben Fogarty raised his arm again. “That doesn’t explain why McKenna’s men are armed. I’ve heard rumours about separatists hiding out in this forest. I’m not keen on going in if there’s a chance I might get shot at by a bunch of crazy radicals.”

  De Haas clucked. “Rumours!” He waved a hand airily. “I’m a scientist, Mr Fogarty. I prefer to act on hard facts, not speculation and conjecture. The army’s role is to transport the apparatuses necessary to carry out the geophysical objectives of this mission, and to carry the rocks home. As for the guns…” He shrugged. “We all know how the army like their toys. If they choose to cart their weapons around for no good reason, that’s up to them. Right, if we’re all done, let’s get underway.”

  Chapter 6

  Winter conditions had pitted the track, making it uneven and treacherous, although not as treacherous as driving in the border desert between Sinai and Israel. Taine manoeuvred the vehicle to avoid another giant pothole, causing Jules to grab for a handhold. The pothole avoided, Taine noted the set of tyre tracks. Someone’d been down this road ahead of them, and given the rain earlier, only an hour or two back. But why? Unless you were a hiker or a local, there wasn’t much call to come out this far. Not in the winter.

  A kilometre on, they came across a 4-wheel drive parked hard to the left. Taine slowed the Pinzgauer, squeezing through the narrow space between the parked vehicle and a clay bank to the right. Red-brown clay spackled the 4-wheel drive like blood splatter from a cop show. He shot a look inside when they passed. A crocheted bedspread was laid out on the back seat, a box of tinned food on top. No obvious weapons – not unless someone planned to bombard them with baked beans...

  Taine took the bend. About thirty metres ahead, in the middle of the track and blocking the way, were two men: an old man in his seventies or eighties, and a younger one, possibly a son. Clad in heavy Swanndri shirts, they were seated on canvas fold-out chairs arranged about a steel thermos. A couple of white plastic cups stood upright like lighthouses in the sea of gravel.

  Taine pulled to a stop.

  “Wait here,” he said. Stepping down from the vehicle, he trotted over to meet with the locals.

  * * *

  Jules climbed out of the vehicle, glad for the excuse to stretch her legs. The truck’s other passengers get out too. Behind her, Trigger slipped discreetly into the bushes.

  Tipping her head to one side, Jules rubbed at a kink in her neck. The past half hour on this road had thrown them about more than an unbalanced centrifuge. Army vehicles weren’t built for comfort. It hadn’t helped that going back into the forest had her wound as tight as a clock spring.

  At the blockade, McKenna greeted the old man, the pair touching their noses together in a hongi, sharing their breath. Jules detected a measure of respect in the way the soldier softened the line of his shoulders and dropped his gaze.

  Interesting.

  “What’s going on?” Eriksen said, coming up on Jules’ shoulder.

  “Not sure,” Jules answered, her hand still working at her neck.

  Christian de Haas got out of the second truck and marched over to join the party in the middle of the road. The geologist hadn’t exactly endeared himself to the group when they’d met this morning. Something about the ironed-in crease of his trousers, or the slightly too-pinched bridge of his nose.

  Or his officious posturing.

  Up ahead, voices were rising. Clearly upset, the old man waved his arms, stretching them out as wide as he could reach, as if describing his latest fishing catch. De Haas shook his head, responding sharply. Jules didn’t catch the words, but his tone was clear enough.

  “Oops. Looks like our Mr Christian has a mutiny on his hands, doesn’t it?” Eriksen said softly from behind Jules.

  They watched the younger man – Jules suspected he was a relative – place a calming hand on the old guy’s shoulder. McKenna took advantage of the movement to position his own body in front of de Haas. Jules doubted the change in stance was for the Task Force Leader’s protection.

  “Now what?” she asked Eriksen.

  The soldier shrugged. “I don’t know. They’re like elephants – the people who live in these parts. Never get over a grudge. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out someone ran off with the old fella’s great-granny half a century ago and he’s still pissed.”

  The old man made a lunge for de Haas.

  “Aha!” said Eriksen. “I was right. Seems great-granny got about.”

  Jules stifled a snort at Eriksen’s irreverence. But the altercation surprised her. De Haas was prickly, but to have upset the old man enough to provoke a punch? And in that short a time?

  The old man’s lunge fell short of its mark, encumbered by the wall of McKenna’s body. The relative pulled the old guy back.

  “Get over yourselves, guys,” Eriksen murmured.

  McKenna turned to de Haas, clearly trying to stop the geologist from inciting any further conflict while the younger man held the old man in check. A stalemate.

  Nathan Kerei had been travelling in the other truck. Stepping out of the bushes, he made his way to the front. It looked like
he recognised the blockaders. The guide spoke a few moments with the younger man, who in turn spoke to his older companion. A few tense minutes passed, after which the group broke up and the beach-chair cordon was removed.

  McKenna was the last to slide back into the vehicle. He put the truck into gear and pulled out.

  In the passenger seat, Jules couldn’t stand the suspense. “What was that all about? Who were those people?”

  McKenna fixed his eyes on a deep rut in the road. “The old fellow’s name was Rawiri Temera and the other was his great-nephew, Wayne. They’re from the local iwi. Tūhoe people.”

  He swung hard to the right. Jules grabbed the dashboard as the truck jolted. A little further on, when the travel was less hairy, Jules asked again, “So what did they want?”

  “Temera wanted us to turn back.”

  “That’s just bloody typical, isn’t it?” Eriksen moaned in the rear. “One day you appoint a top secret Task Force, and the next, every man and his fucking dog know about it.”

  “I don’t think they knew about the Task Force. We only knew ourselves, yesterday,” McKenna said.

  “But it wasn’t hard to guess the government would do something when that gold nugget was found, was it?” said Trigger.

  McKenna swerved around a rut. “Except the nephew said the pair have been parking up here on and off since the summer. Apparently, Temera had some kind of premonition. Claims he saw a taniwha roaming the forest, and he wants to warn people not to go in.”

  “A taniwha?” Jules said, her hand still on the dash. A mythological monster? Did McKenna really believe that? She looked across at him; his face was impassive.

  “Sounds to me like the old codger’s lost his marbles,” said Eriksen from behind.

  “The nephew says not.”

  “He’s lost his marbles, and all.”

  Coolie placed a hand on the front headrest, pulling himself forward. “Here be dragons,” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver up Jules’ spine.

  “What’s that about dragons?” Read said eagerly from further back in the truck. It was a wonder he could hear anything over the rumble of the engine.

  “Here be dragons,” Coolie said, louder this time. “Cartographers wrote it on maps when they didn’t know anything about an area. They’d draw a sea serpent marking the unexplored territory. Warned travellers to be on their guard. Some people reckon Māori legends about taniwha had the same intent. You know, as an indication of danger.”

  “I thought taniwha hung out in rivers or swamps,” Read said.

  McKenna lifted his chin, glancing at the private in the rear view mirror. “Usually, but not always.”

  “Anyway, there are plenty of rivers in the Ureweras,” Trigger said.

  Eriksen snorted. “Load of mumbo-jumbo!”

  “It’s all in the interpretation, isn’t it?” said Coolie thoughtfully. “You could say the Māori are superstitious, but others would argue they’re intuitive.”

  “Yeah right,” Eriksen scoffed. “Interpretation. The way I see it, the old guy watches the same news as everyone else. He figures the Tūhoe should be the ones to get the golden egg, so he goes and conjures up an imaginary bloody dragon.”

  “I’m with Eriksen on this one,” Trigger said. “It’s just a way for Māori to get their hands on some free money.”

  Jules looked across sharply. “Did he ask for money?” she asked McKenna.

  “No,” McKenna replied. “He didn’t mention compensation, or the Treaty. He was just warning us off, telling us it’s too dangerous to go in.”

  “These forests are dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing,” Coolie said. “There’s freezing fog, rock falls, flooded rivers, landslips...”

  Trigger grunted. “And we’re army. So there’s a few rock falls. We don’t scare that easy.”

  Jules heard the seat exhale as Trigger sat back, his point made. A glance over her shoulder showed him sulking good-naturedly in the back. Read had popped his ear buds back in. Jules looked at McKenna; the soldier’s lips clamped tight, he navigated the vehicle over the pitted terrain.

  Subject closed then.

  Leaning back, Jules hugged her arms across her chest. The forest was closing in around them. Tree trunks stood on parade, row upon row of them like platoons of soldiers guarding the dark and dense interior. The tribe who lived here were called the Children of the Mist, after the clouds of mist that drifted in and out of the valleys like dragon’s breath. Perhaps there was something in the old man’s warning. Jules wasn’t superstitious, but she knew the forest was deceptive. Darkened byways promised adventure, and yet a single false step could change an outing into something sinister, even deadly.

  The engine strained as the vehicle climbed over a ridge, allowing Jules a glimpse of the wispy brume that hovered over the mountain tops and descended into the valley. She pushed down a tremor of fear.

  McKenna parked the vehicle and ratcheted the handbrake. “End of the line, people. Dragons or no, from here we go on foot.”

  * * *

  The next fifteen minutes were a nightmare, anticipation and fear making Jules queasy. Her bootlaces tightened and her pack already on, Jules waited for McKenna’s soldiers to distribute the rest of the equipment and supplies, praying they’d hurry up. She scuffed her feet in the grit.

  Let’s just get this over with.

  But the roar of a vehicle – Temera and his nephew again? – made them all turn.

  A white Nissan Pathfinder streaked with clay-coloured mud. Like a newly-licensed teenager, the driver skidded to a halt, kicking up the shingle in a wet crunch.

  Jules strode across and pulled open the driver door. “Richard! What are you doing here?”

  “You said it’d be cold. I brought you my spare beanie,” he teased, swinging his legs out of the truck.

  “Richard. Be serious,” Jules scolded.

  One hand on the top of the door, Richard stepped out of the vehicle. “I had some leave owing, and after you left it got very quiet at work, so I thought, why not be spontaneous?” He glanced around. “Which one of these chaps is de Haas?”

  Stupefied, Jules pointed out the geologist, who was sliding his geologist’s pick through a band on the side of his pack. Richard covered the distance in seconds and thrust out a hand.

  “De Haas? Richard Foster, CEO, Landsafe. Thrilled to meet you. I’ve read some of your work, of course. Pre-requisite background reading for our soil and rock research.”

  Obviously as bemused as Jules, de Haas shook Richard’s hand, and waited for him to come to the point.

  “Look, I’m sorry to barge in unannounced, but I’d like to join you if I may?”

  Richard is going to go in her stead? Fantastic!

  Already, Jules felt the tension drain from her shoulders.

  “I’m not asking in any official capacity you understand, but as a volunteer,” Richard told de Haas. “As Jules’ boss, I’ve already been briefed…”

  Jules clamped her teeth shut, afraid of what she might say. If Richard had wanted to come, why all the song and dance yesterday about not being able to spare anyone, and how her colleagues were all too busy? Richard knew what she went through; knew how she felt about fieldwork. She hadn’t slept at all last night thinking about this week in the forest. And here he was, saying he’d got leave?

  “Jules is rusty where field work is concerned,” Richard said. He stepped back and clapped an arm around her shoulders. “I’m sure she’d appreciate some help.”

  Help? Now he was undermining her ability as a scientist, too?

  Moving out of Richard’s hug, Jules fiddled with the straps on her pack, tightening it although it fit her perfectly. These feelings… she was being unreasonable. Richard had always supported her career. If he thought she was lacking confidence, it was because she had been hiding behind her lab work. Most likely, he wanted to allay her fears about being back in the forest, his presence meant to ease her back into field study. Jules frowned. But if that was
the case, his actions were a step beyond the conduct of a concerned boss. She should probably think about the implications of that, but right now there was no time. De Haas had obviously agreed to Richard’s request because the man was yanking his gear from the back of the Pathfinder.

  “No point taking that, Foster,” de Haas said, pointing at the rectangular bulge in Richard’s shirt pocket. “Where we’re going I very much doubt there’s any cell coverage.”

  Richard pulled a goofy face. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll take it anyway. I’ve got a bit of a fetish for Angry Birds.”

  “Suit yourself,” de Haas said as he turned and motioned to Kerei to lead on.

  Chapter 7

  Te Urewera National Park, Day One

  Half an hour in and already Jules’ palms were clammy. A trickle of sweat rolled between her breasts. Concentrating on the trail and the regular movement of Private Wright – Lefty’s – boots in front of her, she was in that moment in a horror flick when you’d held your breath for too long, waiting for the fright. She forced herself to exhale slowly and hoped no-one suspected she was near panic. Maybe they’d think she was a bit unfit.

  Instead of terrified.

  Every step took them deeper into the mist. So far the going hadn’t been too bad, the track properly formed and reasonably flat, but soon they’d hit the deep valleys and soaring crests the park was famous for. Treacherous, unforgiving ridges dropping into steep ravines – the kind that reminded her of that long night clinging to a cliff – and the broken twisted body of her friend lying silently at the bottom of the chasm...

  She needed a distraction. But there was no chance of a cheerful chat with Richard, Louise, or even Lefty for that matter. The track was too narrow, forcing them all to travel single file, like Peter Pan’s Lost Boys. Jules focussed her eyes and feet on the trail, and tuned in to the sounds of the forest. The Ureweras were bursting with birds. That’s it! She’d occupy her mind by identifying the songs of native birds. A brain teaser. It was exactly what she needed.