Read Online The Bone Tiki by David Hair - Free Book Online
Authors: David Hair
Tags: Fiction
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he was waiting for, only her face caught the light, and the rippling of the water seemed to catch on her chin. Momentarily it seemed as if the moko he’d thought he’d seen when he first met her was there after all. He shook his head, trying to banish the strangeness that was swallowing everything he knew, and stepped into the water.
It was painfully cold, and got deep much quicker than he expected, and he nearly panicked when his feet lost the bottom, but Pania was beside him, with her hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s not far, Mat. Come on—don’t kick hard, and keep your feet under the water so you don’t splash. You’ll be fine.’
And he was fine. He felt a warm sense of trust course through him, and he lay backward, let the life-jacket support him, and gently kicked toward the far shore. The stars were out, but it was the dark of the moon. The water was inky,and the surface rippled with the reflected lights from the streetlights and restaurants. He glanced to his right and could see the bridge and the two figures. Neither looked their way.
Pania flowed beside him, dragging the bag, which she was keeping almost entirely out of the water. Her face reflected no effort, only serenity and a sense of fun, as though this was a game and she was winning. ‘Not far,’ she whispered. ‘They’ve not seen us. Don’t look at them again. The blonde one has the eye.’
Mat wondered briefly what she meant.
After the initial shock, the water wasn’t that cold, and the stars danced above. It seemed that if he stopped to listen, he would hear music—not the pounding beats from the bars on the wharfs, but something older, melodic, chanting…something not carried in the air, but rising from the sea. Something that called…He shuddered and kicked harder, making a ripple and a tiny splash. Pania frowned but said nothing, as she side-stroked alongside, towing the bag. Then suddenly they were clambering over slimy concrete blocks and onto the grass verge behind a fence. The wind rose again, frigid against wet cloth and skin, and they both shivered. Pania led them away to the right, toward the point, and a bush that grew beside the road in a horseshoe shape, almost a perfect changing-room. Hidden in the middle of the protecting screen of foliage, the bridge was out of sight, and Mat felt a sudden sense of relief.
‘Get your wet stuff off,’ whispered Pania. ‘Give it here.’ She pulled the kitbag from its plastic protection, and pulledout dry clothes. ‘See, your stuff is all dry. Did you bring a towel? Yes! Here, dry yourself off.’
Mat grabbed the towel and wrapped it around his shoulders, then peeled his undies and T-shirt off, too cold and wet to feel self-conscious. The two pendants on his chest clicked together briefly. Oddly, both still felt warm. He towelled hard at his skin, then pulled the fresh clothes on. Pania wrung his wet gear out, then stuffed it in the front pocket of the kit. She was dripping wet, dressed only in a wet crop-top and underwear, but she wasn’t even shivering.
‘If you walk along the seashore, no one will see you. Don’t stop for anyone, and only cut in when you strike the river outlet. OK?’
Mat nodded, wishing she were coming with him. Once he’d finished getting dressed, they walked together down to the water at the south end of Westshore Beach. The bridge was out of sight, back around the point. There was sand and beyond the small breakers container ships waited offshore. To the south, Bluff Hill blocked the city while to the north, houses arced around the bay—Westshore, and then a gap, to where the houses of Bay View twinkled like earthbound stars in the distance, some eight kilometres away. Further still, lights near the pulp-mill at Whirinaki, and then darkness. The Esk River came out near there. About 10 kilometres away, maybe more. Starlight caught the foaming waves, all around the Bay, creating a white line that marked the edge of the land. He had to go north, away from
It was painfully cold, and got deep much quicker than he expected, and he nearly panicked when his feet lost the bottom, but Pania was beside him, with her hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s not far, Mat. Come on—don’t kick hard, and keep your feet under the water so you don’t splash. You’ll be fine.’
And he was fine. He felt a warm sense of trust course through him, and he lay backward, let the life-jacket support him, and gently kicked toward the far shore. The stars were out, but it was the dark of the moon. The water was inky,and the surface rippled with the reflected lights from the streetlights and restaurants. He glanced to his right and could see the bridge and the two figures. Neither looked their way.
Pania flowed beside him, dragging the bag, which she was keeping almost entirely out of the water. Her face reflected no effort, only serenity and a sense of fun, as though this was a game and she was winning. ‘Not far,’ she whispered. ‘They’ve not seen us. Don’t look at them again. The blonde one has the eye.’
Mat wondered briefly what she meant.
After the initial shock, the water wasn’t that cold, and the stars danced above. It seemed that if he stopped to listen, he would hear music—not the pounding beats from the bars on the wharfs, but something older, melodic, chanting…something not carried in the air, but rising from the sea. Something that called…He shuddered and kicked harder, making a ripple and a tiny splash. Pania frowned but said nothing, as she side-stroked alongside, towing the bag. Then suddenly they were clambering over slimy concrete blocks and onto the grass verge behind a fence. The wind rose again, frigid against wet cloth and skin, and they both shivered. Pania led them away to the right, toward the point, and a bush that grew beside the road in a horseshoe shape, almost a perfect changing-room. Hidden in the middle of the protecting screen of foliage, the bridge was out of sight, and Mat felt a sudden sense of relief.
‘Get your wet stuff off,’ whispered Pania. ‘Give it here.’ She pulled the kitbag from its plastic protection, and pulledout dry clothes. ‘See, your stuff is all dry. Did you bring a towel? Yes! Here, dry yourself off.’
Mat grabbed the towel and wrapped it around his shoulders, then peeled his undies and T-shirt off, too cold and wet to feel self-conscious. The two pendants on his chest clicked together briefly. Oddly, both still felt warm. He towelled hard at his skin, then pulled the fresh clothes on. Pania wrung his wet gear out, then stuffed it in the front pocket of the kit. She was dripping wet, dressed only in a wet crop-top and underwear, but she wasn’t even shivering.
‘If you walk along the seashore, no one will see you. Don’t stop for anyone, and only cut in when you strike the river outlet. OK?’
Mat nodded, wishing she were coming with him. Once he’d finished getting dressed, they walked together down to the water at the south end of Westshore Beach. The bridge was out of sight, back around the point. There was sand and beyond the small breakers container ships waited offshore. To the south, Bluff Hill blocked the city while to the north, houses arced around the bay—Westshore, and then a gap, to where the houses of Bay View twinkled like earthbound stars in the distance, some eight kilometres away. Further still, lights near the pulp-mill at Whirinaki, and then darkness. The Esk River came out near there. About 10 kilometres away, maybe more. Starlight caught the foaming waves, all around the Bay, creating a white line that marked the edge of the land. He had to go north, away from
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