The Survivors Book IV: Spring

by V. L. Dreyer

  The highway was a long, straight road that followed the riverbank for a good four kilometres, until we eventually passed out of the densely-packed suburban jungle into an area that was populated by larger, nicer houses and wide green spaces. Everything was overgrown, but it was still beautiful; green, alive, and refreshing. I lifted a hand and pointed to the right, telling my friends that it was time to make our turn off. Our horses took the turn without breaking stride, onto another road which wound up into the hills.

  Much like the area closer to Avalon, the roads here were still in excellent condition and it was an easy ride for both of us. I barely even had to look where I was going, since there was nothing in our way and Boudicca was smart enough to negotiate her own footing. I found myself staring at the hills flanking the valley, watching the dark, ominous clouds gathering above the treeline. We were in for again rain soon.

  The first droplet struck my face just as we reached the final leg of the journey, and the road finally began to climb at a gradient that forced us to slow to a trot. We dodged around the rusted hulks of parked cars and one obnoxious purple bus, until we finally reached the crest of the hill. There, several long driveways led off a small cul-de-sac, vanishing into dense forest.

  "Which one is it?" Aaron called.

  I shielded my eyes from the rain and looked around, then pointed at a small wooden sign nestled amongst flax bushes. "The writing's worn off, but that looks like the kind of thing you'd use to mark a Buddhist monastery, don't you think?"

  "If I remember correctly, this place practiced Thai Forest Tradition," Michael said thoughtfully. "It's a branch of Theravada Buddhism." I shot him a curious glance; he returned it with a shrug and a smile. "My mother was very serious about her faith, even the branches that she didn't personally adhere to."

  "Makes sense, I suppose," I replied. "Curiosity and all that. Do you know anything about the layout here, or what we can expect?"

  "Not specifically, but I have a general idea," he said, turning his attention back towards the shadowy gateway. He pointed to it, then made a broad, all-encompassing gesture towards the hills around us. "These hills will be full of pathways and staircases, leading up to solitary meditation retreats high up the hillside. There should be offices and a public meditation hall closer to where we are, though; the monks in places like this relied on the generosity of their guests to survive, so they needed somewhere convenient for the general public to visit."

  "Let's go find out, then," I said. I dismounted and led Boudicca down the driveway. The branches hung so low that I had to push them aside to keep them out of my face, but not for long. A short way in, the bush gave way to a gravel-lined courtyard, surrounded by elegant wooden buildings crafted in a manner that was an odd hybrid of Eastern and Western styles. I paused to admire them while the others caught up with me; even after ten years, they were still solid and quite beautiful in a way that was somewhat alien to my eye.

  "This'll be it," Michael said. "The public meditation hall, and probably their office as well."

  "What do monks need an office for?" I enquired, genuinely curious to hear the answer.

  Michael laughed and shook his head. "No one was immune to the lure of technology. They still had to pay their bills, and probably maintain a website so people knew they existed."

  "Oh, good point," I said. I led my horse over to a patch of grass and tied her reins to a low branch. "Let's see if we can figure out where Tala and Franco were living, then maybe we can track Franco from there."

  "I'd say in there," Warren said suddenly, speaking up for the first time since we'd left.

  I followed his finger towards a smaller building off to one side. "I think you're right. I see signs of recent occupation. Let's go take a look."

  Michael and Warren fell in on either side of me with their weapons at the ready, leaving the others to keep an eye on the horses. I climbed the stairs onto the porch and glanced around for a moment, then I tried the door handle. It opened easily, revealing an interior that was dark but smelled relatively clean. I tried the light switch and got no response, so I pulled out my torch instead.

  It was immediately clear to all of us that someone had been living there for quite some time. There were beds in one of the rooms, a makeshift couch, and even a television set. We split up to investigate the building as swiftly as possible; I headed down a hall and found myself in a small room with a generator that had either been disabled or run out of gas. I was just about to check which when a shout caught my attention.

  "I've got blood!" Warren yelled from the other end of the building. I forgot all about the generator and raced towards the sound of his voice, nearly bumping into Michael along the way. We found Warren crouched over a large puddle of congealed blood on the floor of a bathroom. He glanced up, nodded once, and stood. It only took me a second to see why he wasn't concerned.

  "A placenta," I said, as much to myself as anyone else. "Odds are pretty good that it was Tala's, so this is definitely where they were living. Where would Franco have gone?"

  "What did Tala say, exactly?" Michael asked.

  "She said he went hunting," I replied, then I paused and glanced around. "There's nothing to hunt in these woods, though. Just possums, I guess?"

  "No…" Michael paused for a second to collect his thoughts, then shook his head firmly. "Is English her native language?"

  "I don't think so," I replied. "She has a strong accent, and I'd guess by her appearance that she's Filipino."

  "Ah, that's it!" he said, snapping his fingers. "I don't know much Filipino, but I learned a bit from one of my friends in the Academy. The word 'hunt' has a bunch of synonyms, just like it does in English. It could also mean that they were seeking something, or scouting, or—"

  "Or scavenging?" I finished for him, picking up the idea. Michael nodded and gave me a smile.

  "Let's divide up into pairs and go in different directions," he suggested. "We'll have a better chance of finding any sign of him that way."

  I nodded and gestured for them to follow me, then led the way back out into the courtyard where Aaron, Tane, and Iorangi were still waiting with the horses. They looked at us expectantly as we gathered in a circle.

  "We need to split up to try and find this guy," I said once I'd conveyed what we’d found. "Who has a radio?" Warren and Iorangi both put their hands up. "Okay, good. Michael and I have one each, too. How’s your tracking, Aaron?"

  "Pretty terrible," Aaron admitted with a shrug. "Never been much of a huntsman."

  "That fine," I replied. "You're our medic. Stick with Warren, he can do the tracking for both of you. If Franco’s still alive, there's a chance he's conscious. He might be trapped somewhere. It seems safe enough to try calling out to him. Watch yourselves, though: we’re pretty close to the bush so there's a chance there might be pigs around, and I see some signs of earthquake damage. Mind your footing."

  Warren made an approving grunt and nodded. "Looks like the quake was fairly recent, too."

  "How can you tell?" Michael asked curiously.

  "I'll show you while we’re walking," I said. "We'll leave the horses here and travel on foot. Warren, can you please take Aaron and check around the monastery for any sign he might have gone up into the hills?"

  Warren nodded and headed off without waiting for further instructions, leaving Aaron scrambling to keep up with him. I watched until they were out of sight, then took a deep breath and looked back at the others.

  "Michael and I will take the left side of the road heading back the way we came," I said. "You two take the right. If you see anything out of the ordinary, check it out – but keep your guns close, just in case."

  Tane and Iorangi both nodded and departed, leaving me alone with Michael. I glanced at him and gave him a smile. "I wish I'd thought to bring Alfred along. We could use his nose."

  "We'll figure it out," he said in that voice of pure confidence he used when he was trying to reassure me that everything was going to be fine. He reached out
and took my hand, then together we walked back down towards the road to begin our search.

  The cul-de-sac near the entrance of the monastery was solid tarmac, but the driveways leading to the other properties nearby were all gravel. I knelt to examine the ground, then frowned and shook my head.

  "I see a lot of different tracks here," I explained, "but I can't tell how recent any of them are. It's rained a few times, and that's muddled the spoor. Let's head up to that house and see if there's anything fresher that way."

  Michael nodded silently and followed my lead. We climbed the steep driveway towards an old wooden homestead set amongst heavy bush. At the top, I glanced back at him and caught him staring at a slender, hairline fracture bisecting the concrete porch.

  "That’s the earthquake damage," I said by way of explanation. "I’ll teach you what I know. Most of it’s just logic, really. I mean… look at that planter pot over there and tell me what you see. What’s out of place?"

  Michael glanced in the direction I was pointing, but he didn't say anything right away. Eventually, he nodded and looked back at me. "I think I get it. The outside of the pot is all green with moss or mildew or whatever that is, and so are the paving stones around it – but not the part underneath where the pot was. The pot was knocked over recently."

  "Bingo," I said, pleased but not surprised by his quick uptake. He always had been a quick study. "If we look closer, we can see that there were some spiders or bugs living there and they're all gone now. The moss is also starting to grow over the clear patch under where the pot was. I'd say that it probably fell over a few weeks ago."

  "Do you think Tumanako is at risk?" he asked, his voice suddenly filled with concern.

  "No more than anywhere else," I replied with a shrug. "We're living on a tectonic fault line. Earthquakes are inevitable no matter where we go."

  "True," he said quietly. Suddenly, he grinned. "Hey, at least we're not living in Volcano Land anymore, right?"

  I laughed and nodded. "True that. We're living in Flood Plains Land instead."

  "Hey, what did I tell you about being negative?" he said. "Anyway, Franco. What now?"

  "No sign of him here," I replied. "Let's head down that way towards the back fence. The long grass will help us spot any fresh tracks."

  Michael followed obediently as we made our way down to the edge of the yard, and descended into the wet grass. I picked my way carefully, wary of any hidden obstructions or dangers. While we didn't have to worry about snakes like our Australian cousins, my close encounter with a nail six months earlier left me cautious. Plus, now I had the baby to worry about. It was unlikely that me stepping on something would hurt her, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

  For half an hour or so, we made our way through the back yards of the houses on our side of the road, looking for any sign of the missing man. While there were plenty of footprints around, some of them as recent as a few weeks old, there was nothing fresh enough to have come from Franco’s latest – and possibly last – hunt. Eventually, I stopped and pulled my radio out of my coat to check in with the others.

  "Nothing so far on our side," I said into the receiver. "How about you guys?"

  "Nothing here," Iorangi replied, sounding as frustrated as I felt.

  "Nothing here, either," Warren said. "There's a lot of spoor around, but none of it fresh."

  "Yeah, that's what I'm seeing, too," I replied. "Where the hell did this guy go?"

  "Hey," Michael said suddenly. "Sandy, what's that? I saw a flash of red through the trees over there."

  "Hold on a second, guys," I said into the radio, "we might have something."

  I looked where Michael was pointing, shading my eyes against the rain. Sure enough, I saw a brief flash of red, then it was gone. I raised my shotgun and crept towards the treeline. As I drew closer, I saw fresh tracks in the mud and a little strip of red cloth flapping in the breeze. It was firmly attached to the rough bark on the side of a tree.

  "Someone came through here in a hurry," I said, easing myself down into a crouch to get a better look at the tracks. After a couple of seconds, I nodded and spoke into the radio again. "We've definitely found something. Head down towards the place with the big pohutukawa tree in the front yard and meet us here."

  The others acknowledged my request, while Michael came over to crouch beside me, studying the tracks.

  "That looks like a boot print," he said thoughtfully, point at a particularly clear mark left in the mud. "A man's, I think."

  "Yeah, looks like it," I replied. "There's something else here, though, and it worries me."

  "Why?" he asked, glancing up at me.

  "Because I think it's pig tracks," I said. I glanced at him and saw all the colour drain out of his face. Even though we'd successfully killed a couple of pigs together, neither of us were eager to take on another – and neither of us wanted to imagine what might have happened to Franco if he'd been chased down by a one of the damn things.

  We stood back and waited beneath the shelter of a half-collapsed patio. It didn't do a lot of good since we were already soaked and freezing, but at least I felt a little better for trying. A few minutes later, a familiar voice shouted our names.

  "Sandy? Michael?"

  "Back here," I called back. Iorangi stuck his head around the edge of the building and waved to us, with the others close behind him.

  "Warren," I said, pointing at the tracks. "Reckon that's a pig?"

  He went over to examine them more closely, then nodded. "Yep. I reckon that’s a pig."

  I sighed heavily and swore beneath my breath.

  Aaron looked at us curiously. "A pig?"

  "Zombie pigs," Michael said sympathetically. "They're a thing. A really bad thing. We don't want to tangle with a pig unless we absolutely have to."

  "I think we might have to," I said, pointing along the length of the tracks. "It looks like he went through the fence here and I'd say the pig followed him. Let's just hope he was smart enough to go up into the hills rather than try and circle around the base. Pigs can't really climb, from what I hear."

  "Zombie pigs," Aaron repeated, as if trying the words on for size.

  "Yep. Really a thing," Michael and I said simultaneously, then we glanced at one another and smiled.

  "Well, wherever he is, he's probably gotten himself into trouble," I said. "Keep your eyes and ears peeled, guys."

  They made noises of agreement and fell in behind me as I led the way towards the rear of the yard. I stepped carefully over a few fallen fence posts and followed the trail into the thigh-high grass on the other side. Mud squelched beneath my shoes but I ignored it, focusing all my attention on the world around us. There was nothing to be heard, except the sound of the falling rain, our footsteps, and our breathing.

  The tracks almost made it to the hillside before they turned sharply away and ran parallel to the edge of the forest. I muttered a low curse beneath my breath, but before I could say anything Warren's voice intervened.

  "I see blood drops," he said quietly. I frowned and nodded but said nothing. At this stage, blood could have meant anything – it could have even come from the pig.

  "Sandy," Michael called suddenly. "What the hell is that?"

  I looked up and stared into the distance, but this time I didn't have an answer. "I… I don't know. Warren? What the hell is that?"

  "I believe that's a crevice," he replied, his voice flat and showing no sign of the shock I felt.

  In the distance, a dark shadow yawned like a wound in the skin of the very earth itself, and it looked for all the world like it was sucking in the trees and grass that grew along its edges. It took a second for me to make sense of what I was seeing: a long, slender pit, a fracture in the bedrock. The vegetation wasn't being sucked in, it was sliding in, slowly, courtesy of gravity.

  "I think I know what happened to Franco," I said softly. I took a moment to steel myself, then led the way towards the crevice. "Mind your footing, everyone. We don't know
how stable the ground is around here."

  No one answered, but they didn't need to. We could all see the devastation that the crevice had wrought on the landscape around it. At first glance it looked like the trees around it were going to tumble in at any second, but on closer inspection I realised that many of them had been that way for a while – their trunks were twisted up towards the sun, and their roots were firmly planted in the earth. The crevice had been there for a while. Perhaps Franco had known about it, and decided to use it as a means to escape from the pig.

  A dozen meters from the edge, we came to a stop and looked at one another.

  “I don’t suppose anyone brought rope, did they?” I asked. Everyone shook their heads, except for Aaron.

  “Did I mention I used to be a Scout?” he commented dryly. He shrugged off his backpack, pulled out a short length of rope, and handed it to me. “Which one of us goes?”

  "I'm the smallest, so it should be me," I said, silently dreading what I volunteering to do.

  "No!" Michael protested. "I'll go. You hate heights."

  "I know," I answered dryly. "But I’m not strong enough to pull you up if you slip in, and you are."

  Michael opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it. His shoulders slumped, and he nodded. "Just… be careful."

  "Oh believe me, I have no intention of falling into a crevice," I replied. I took off my backpack and shotgun and handed them both to Warren, then I wound the rope around my waist. My coat had belt loops on the outside for a terribly fashionable sash that I’d discarded on the first day, but now they finally had a use. I threaded the rope through them, then Michael knotted it at the small of my back.

  I took a deep breath to steady myself and began to slowly walk towards the edge of the pit, still following the tracks. With each step, I paused to test the stability of the earth with my shoe before I committed my full weight to it, but it didn't give out or collapse beneath me. When I got within the last couple of meters, I eased myself down onto hands and knees and crawled the rest of the way.