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.
K
elly’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.
‘Black BMW, reflecting-glass windows.’
‘It’s them!’
She looked at him. ‘Them?’
‘She’s got some tough guys helping her look for me.’
Kelly glanced across at the BMW and let out a shuddering breath.
‘Oh no,’ she whispered. ‘We’re a long way from anywhere.…’
Mat reached backward and grabbed his pack, pulled it into the front. Fitzy barked at the black car, and then there was a corner ahead, and the BMW eased effortlessly in front. Kelly cursed and looked at Mat. ‘Now what?’
‘I dunno. Where are we?’
‘Umm…I think we’re coming into a gorge—where we cross and cross the same river over and over. The Waipunga River.’
High cliffs seemed to be rearing up on all sides, and the
road was narrow and twisty. The speedometer fell. The BMW was in front of them now, forcing Kelly to slow and blocking any attempt to pull alongside again. Mat wondered who was in the car. Donna? Puarata? The warrior? Was his father there? What could they do? Could he run out alone into the hills? He poked his head up a bit, and watched the tail-lights of the BMW. It slowed again, forcing Kelly to slow as well. He glanced at her. She looked shaken and pale, her freckles standing out on waxy white skin.
‘What are they doing?’ Mat asked.
The BMW slowed right down, and an arm appeared from the window, a black-suited arm, that pointed right. They were approaching a right-hand bend, at the bottom of a gully surrounded by steep black hill sides. The river ran to their right, and at the inside of the curve was a dip into a picnic spot.
‘They want me to go into that rest area,’ said Kelly. ‘If I do, we’re sunk.’
Mat nodded, slid the straps of the pack onto his shoulders.
‘If we have to stop, I’ll just run. I’m what they want.’
Kelly glanced across. ‘You’re not going to protect me then?’ she said with a brave attempt at a joke.
Mat swallowed. He felt ill.
‘I’m going to try something,’ said Kelly. She took a deep breath. Mat held his.
Kelly eased the VW across the road toward the rest area entrance, momentarily pulling level with the black BMW. Mat saw that the driver’s window was still down—a dark
face looked across at him—then suddenly Kelly slammed her foot down on the accelerator, and tried to burst ahead onto the left-hand side of the road again.
The BMW driver snarled, and his car leapt forward and across. Its bumper smashed into the side of the VW with a sickening
crunch,
and the VW lurched sideways. Fitzy woofed and tried to scrabble forward. Kelly screamed. The car hit rocks on the side of the road, and then tilted, and nearly rolled. The world lurched crazily. Mat fell right then left and his head smacked the side window. A white light flashed across the inside of his skull and numbing pain throbbed behind his eyes. The car righted itself and lurched forward, then Kelly’s foot hit the brake and it slid and skidded to the right, hitting a tree with a sound like a tin-can being scrunched underfoot. Fitzy clawed at Mat’s leg and landed in Kelly’s lap as she screamed again. The windscreen shattered as a branch punched through, showering them with glass, and the car lurched again, stopped, and the engine cut out. Mat put his right hand to a stinging on his forehead, and it came away dark and wet. His sight seemed blurred, but he made out the flash of Kelly’s face, white and round-mouthed. Falling against his door, he flailed about until he gripped the handle, pulled it and fell out.
He landed on his hands and knees on the dirt and gravel of the rest area. The daylight was nearly gone, the only sounds the rippling stream, and the whine of the BMW reversing into the rest area. He staggered to his feet, heard Kelly sob and a thumping sound, then her door burst open.
There was dark liquid all over his hands. When he tried to stand he fell instead.
Car doors opened the instant the BMW stopped. Fitzy barked fiercely, snapped and snarled. Four black-clad figures emerged from the car—Donna, and three men. The men were big and tough-looking. One was tattooed, another bearded and scarred, the third clean shaven with pockmarked skin. Mat looked for Kelly, saw her getting up, and grabbing at Fitzy, but the Labrador shook her off, snarling like a wolf at the three men.
‘Back off you bitch!’ screeched Kelly at Donna.
The blonde woman smiled. The men glanced at her. ‘Get them,’ she ordered coldly.
The men started forward. The tattooed one started for Kelly, while the bearded one moved toward Mat. Fitzy leapt into their path, barking, and dodged Tattoo’s swinging boot. Tattoo cursed, and tried again, this time catching the Labrador on the side and throwing him against the VW with a thud. He barked and leapt again. Kelly was backing from the bearded man, and she pulled a small knife. The bodyguard smirked and pulled a bigger one. Mat felt dizzying fear. Pock-face stayed beside Donna, and groped inside his jacket.
Mat put his bloodied hand to his chest, and seized the tiki. His blood seemed to soak into the pale bone, and it felt suddenly warm.
‘Toa! Toa!’ he called, as Pania had told him. The tiki almost sizzled with heat and he cried out in pain. His swirling mind caught a glimpse of Puarata, frowning as he chiselled a piece
of bone. The tohunga seemed to pause in surprise and
looked at him,
and then he was gone. Instead Mat saw a young Maori, lying still and cold, his temple bloody. He cried out as the young man’s eyes flickered open, then his whole body jerked like an awakening corpse. Mat’s hand seemed aflame and he screamed, anticipating pain. A black flash, like the opposite of light, blazed darkness. He heard Kelly cry out, the thugs bellow in confusion, and Donna gasp. He blinked, and sagged to his knees as a vast store of energy seemed to pour out of him, like electricity or light or water, emptying him as it flowed. He swayed, nearly fainted, and then cried out in surprise.
There was a new figure in the rest area, standing over Mat like a sentinel. He was clad in a feather cloak, with a feather caught in the top-knot of his hair. It was the young Maori he’d seen a few seconds ago, but he was real. Very, very real. He held a long wooden spear in his right hand, and with his left he shrugged off the cloak. But for a small flax kilt he was naked beneath, muscular and smooth. His face was cleanshaven, and handsome except for a long scar on his left temple. He looked down at Mat, and then stepped over him, crouching, both hands now on the wooden weapon—which Mat could see now was a long wooden club—a traditional Maori taiaha.
Donna and her cronies stared in amazement at the newcomer, but Tattoo raised his knife and closed in. Donna reached inside her jacket for her gun. Mat looked down at his hands, expecting to see them blackened by fire, but they looked normal. He tried to stand and nearly blacked out.
He slumped again, and watched Tattoo lunge at the warrior like a striking snake.
The young warrior blurred into motion, and the taiaha flashed across and down, cracking over the wrist of the knife-hand. Tattoo howled, and his knees gave way. The taiaha swept back up and the carved handle smashed into Tattoo’s mouth, splattering blood and teeth in an arc as the man collapsed. The young man didn’t look back, but danced forward and leapt at Beard. The suited thug cocked his arm back and hurled the knife at the young man’s chest. The taiaha swept across and batted the knife aside, and then the young warrior planted the club’s head in the dirt and pivoted, so that his foot struck the side of the thug’s head, and knocked him sprawling. Before his foe could recover, the taiaha flashed again, a two-handed up-swing that connected with the bearded throat and the man collapsed thrashing and choking, both hands clutched to his neck.
Donna backed off to the BMW, her sunglasses falling off to reveal pale slitted eyes. She held a small gun but seemed on the point of flight. But Pockface pulled up a squat-nosed weapon and went into a shooting stance. The crack of the gun echoed and the flash dazzled Mat’s eyes. Kelly screamed, and so did Mat. The warrior staggered, then straightened with a groan. Pockface’s jaw dropped and he fired again, and again. The warrior stumbled again, but kept coming, without so much as flinching. The wet sound of the bullets hitting flesh was sickening, but he gave a bitter laugh, and advanced, taiaha poised.
Donna backed away and slid into the BMW driver seat
and fired the engine. But Pockface didn’t panic, despite his round-eyed horror. Instead of continuing to fire at the young man, he swung the gun at Mat, and yelled, ‘Stop or the boy dies!’
Mat froze. The muzzle of the gun looked appallingly big. Kelly shrieked, Fitzy barked…and in a blur the taiaha swept up and the gun flashed.