Risen Gods

by J. F. Penn

  "I'm fine to keep driving," Rangi said. "I think Wellington will be packed with refugees from the south, so we should move on."

  "I can drive on a second shift," Lucy said. "Let you get some rest later."

  Rangi nodded. "I'll give you a nudge in a couple of hours. You should sleep. That was a hell of a crossing."

  Lucy leaned against the side of the truck and placed her coat under her head for padding. She pulled Amber closer so her sister was tucked against her body, sharing warmth between them. Amber's breathing shifted quickly into sleep, and Lucy let the sounds of the road lull her as she stared out into the night. As she closed her eyes, she felt the warm wind from the south surround her, blowing away the nightmare creatures of the ocean.

  17

  "Ben, wake up. You’re having a nightmare."

  Ben blinked and opened his eyes. The sun streamed in through the window and warmed his face. Gina had one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his shoulder.

  "I’m up," he said. "How long was I asleep?"

  "Most of the ride. Nothing exciting. Just a steady stream of vehicles heading north. Anyone with a ride is hoping to get to Wellington. I’m not sure why people think things are better on the North Island, but…"

  "But we have to go too."

  "There’s some traffic ahead," Gina said. "Well, not traffic like Chi-Town traffic, but probably congestion for the Aussies."

  "Kiwis," said Ben. "New Zealanders are Kiwis."

  Gina tossed a smile at Ben while tucking her hair behind her ear. "You’re fruit."

  Ben laughed and her light humor banished the last of his dark dreams.

  "Is that Picton ahead?" she asked.

  Ben gazed out the front of the windshield at the spectacular view unfolding before them. Queen Charlotte Drive took them down towards the shoreline, where Shakespeare Bay kissed the pristine, white beaches. With the Whenuanui Bay Scenic Reserve to their back and the coastal town of Picton ahead, the scene looked almost normal.

  Lush, green mountains cupped the beach in its hands and the brilliant white sails of moored boats sparkled in the sun. Ben wanted nothing more than an afternoon exploring the bays from the water. But as the truck wove down Queen Charlotte Drive and came closer to Picton, he saw that the town had not escaped the chaos.

  Troops bordered the roads leading into Picton and drab olive military vehicles dotted the streets. As they drove east on Dublin Street, the remains of a tidal surge became evident. Hunks of debris lay piled on the street, where the water deposited it on its way back out to the ocean. Cars sat stacked in piles, and some buildings had been pushed completely off their foundations. A bulky freighter sat in the bay, a lone dark blotch on the glassy blue water.

  "Something happened here, too," Ben said. "Although it doesn’t seem to be as bad as it was in the south. Head for the ferry terminal." He pointed at a sign with a boat on it.

  Gina turned left and cruised north. Several times she had to swerve around old tires and hunks of cinder block. Dozens of other vehicles sat parked on the side of the road, abandoned by those who had already crossed to Wellington. People hurried towards the ferry port, all of them clutching what little personal belongings they could carry.

  Gina stopped the Jeep, killed the engine, and looked at Ben. He continued to stare out the window at the bay.

  "We should go."

  "Yeah," Ben said. "We should."

  They had to go north, but part of him wondered whether if he left now, he might never return.

  A soldier with an automatic machine gun used the barrel of it to rap on Ben’s window. "Let’s go. Last ferry to Wellington is leaving in five minutes. Might not be another one."

  Ben stepped out of the Jeep and Gina came around to his side.

  "Why's that?" Ben asked the soldier.

  "You didn’t hear?"

  "Hear what?"

  "Some sea monster, giant octopus thing, attacked the boats last night. A lot of people died."

  "And you want us to get on the next ferry?" Gina asked.

  "You can do whatever the hell you want. But if you don’t get on that ferry in the next five minutes, you ain’t getting off the South Island for the foreseeable future."

  The soldier turned and jogged away.

  "Follow me," Ben said to Gina.

  He ran down the street, leaping over trash left in the road as Gina followed behind. A crowd had gathered on the dock, fighting to get on the ferry as the ramps were drawn up. One of the crew members stood high on the side with a megaphone.

  "No more. We’re at capacity," the man yelled.

  The crowd of people surged forward, several falling into the water.

  "You can’t leave us!" someone shouted from the crowd. "You promised us passage."

  The soldier who had told Ben they had only minutes to get on the ferry reappeared. This time, the muzzle of his machine gun was trained on the crowd.

  "Too late," the soldier said. "Disperse."

  "Where?" asked a man in the crowd to the right of Ben. "Where are we supposed to go?"

  Ben leaned over and whispered in Gina’s ear.

  "I've got an idea. Do you trust me?"

  Gina nodded.

  Ben smiled and took her hand. They ran around the dock to a small kayak rental shop at the end of the street. It was empty, a sign on the door saying that the owner had left to go north. It was unlikely that he would be back. Ben walked around the back of the shop. Behind a fenced area, several kayaks hung on racks. There was one he liked the look of, a tandem that looked oceanworthy.

  A flash of memory, and he was back in Akaroa Harbor two years ago, the sun shining on the water as he and Lucy paddled their way out of the sheltered bay towards the Canterbury Bight. Call that paddling, Henare? Lucy laughed as she splashed him. He smiled at the memory, wondering where she was, trusting that she was still alive. For now, at least.

  Gina walked up behind him.

  "No way," she said. "Some giant octopus has already eaten a ferry and you expect me to paddle to Wellington? You’ve lost your mind."

  "I know what I’m doing. I can get us across the Strait."

  Ben pushed away his doubts. The problem with crossing the Strait wasn't the distance. It was the tidal flow, the wind and the changeable seas, and he knew that relatively few people had ever managed it. But the driving need to get further north was a pulse within him, and there was no way he could paddle it alone. He needed Gina. She was capable and strong. She would be fine.

  "Come on." He flashed an infectious grin. "I thought you were over here for an adventure. Well, this is it – Kiwi style. I'll give you a tiki tour of the Sound."

  Gina narrowed her eyes, and Ben could see hesitation in her expression. But then she nodded.

  "I've done some kayaking before, back in the States. No whitewater, though. You sure we'll be alright?"

  "It'll be sweet as," Ben said. He laced his fingers into the fencing, testing its strength. "Now, give me a boost."

  Gina helped Ben over the fence and he jumped down into the yard. The kayak was lightweight and in mint condition. The rudder strings worked. Ben hefted it out of the rack and placed it on the ground. But they still needed other gear.

  "I won't be a minute," he called back to Gina. "Just gonna look around."

  He turned to the back of the rental place. Wrapping his fleece around his fist, he broke a glass panel, then reached in and unlocked the door. It creaked as he walked inside, and he headed straight to the front to let Gina in.

  "You sure we should be doing this?" she said as she walked inside.

  "I'm going to leave the guy a note," Ben said. "We'll itemize what we take. If he comes back, he can email me and I'll pay up." He looked over at Gina. "But seriously, based on what we've seen, d'you reckon he's coming back?"

  "Humans are survivors," she said. "I wouldn't write anyone off yet."

  Ben went to the front desk of the store and pulled out a pad and pen from a drawer.

  "Exactly. So we t
ake what we need and leave an IOU."

  Gina nodded, turning to the well-stocked rails.

  "Hmm. Well, if you're paying, I'll get myself some of the good stuff. We've been in these clothes long enough."

  They soon had a pile of equipment and gear in the middle of the shop. Warm clothes, waterproof paddle jackets and pants, plus an extra pair each bundled up in a waterproof bag. Hats, gloves, life jackets and spray skirts as well as a first aid kit, spare paddle, flares, extra food and water in dry bags. Ben added a kayak sail in the hope they could catch some favorable wind, and a Garmin waterproof GPS.

  He pulled a tidal chart from the desk, then looked at the time.

  "We need to get a move on," he said. "It's best to cross at slack tide."

  "I'll go get the truck," Gina said. "We need to get all of this to the waterfront." She ducked out of the shop and jogged off down the street.

  Ben checked the equipment again to make sure they had everything they needed. With the chaos right now, they couldn't count on a coastguard rescue if anything went wrong. But it felt good to be heading to the water again. Even after the tidal wave, after what he had seen in the depths not so long ago, Ben hankered for the smell of the ocean, the feel of the water.

  The sound of an engine came from outside. A moment later, Gina entered the shop again.

  "Good to go," Ben said.

  Together they loaded the gear and carried the kayak to the car, then attached it with bungee cords. They drove east through Picton, out to Waikara Bay, and parked near the shore.

  They geared up in silence.

  Ben glanced out at the grey choppy waters of the Sound. This place was paradise when the sun shone, but when the weather changed, nature's dark side emerged.

  18

  "So how long will the crossing take?" Gina asked, her voice not quite as strong as earlier.

  Ben hesitated.

  "Um … well. It's about three hours to the end of the channel before we reach the open ocean."

  "Then what?"

  "That's where it's hard to say," Ben said. "At that point, we'll have to assess whether to abort the crossing or commit. Once we're out of the channel, we have to paddle hard for Wellington across the Strait. I know people who've done the whole thing in nine hours."

  Gina froze. Her hazel eyes were wide, and her hands clutched her life jacket with white knuckles. Ben had taught kayaking and sailing back in Christchurch; he would have suggested that anyone with that expression stay on shore.

  "Nine hours." She shook her head. "I was right – you really do know how to show a girl a good time." Then she grinned. "But hey, it'll be a hell of a story once I get back home."

  Ben smiled. He walked over and gave her a hug. She returned it, wrapping her arms around his strong back. For a moment, Ben wanted to stay like that, their bodies pressed against each other. Thoughts of Lucy stole into his mind.

  He stepped away.

  "Thank you," he said. "I couldn't have made it this far without you."

  "Sounds like we're only just beginning," Gina said, her voice soft. "Let's get going then, before I change my mind."

  They carried the kayak down to the water's edge and packed it with the dry bags. They attached the other gear in front with bungee cords before getting in, Ben in front and Gina at the rear. They pulled on their spray skirts and pushed off from the shore, paddles dipping in unison as they rode the waves out into the bay.

  Ben kept up a steady rhythm as they paddled east around the intricate bays of the Sound. His muscles registered the pull and push of the stroke, the dip and rise of the waves. The wind blew around them. The call of the gulls echoed above. Waves slapped on the hull.

  Gina breathed evenly behind him, her strokes matching his. Ben's mind quieted as he took it all in, and his limbs became a meditation of movement. It felt good to be physically active again, every stroke taking him nearer his goal. The tug of the north pulled him forward and he let that energy wash through him, the cadence of the water flowing into his arms.

  Eventually, they reached Arapawa Island, where only a small passage separated them from the Strait. Ben guided them into the shelter of a little bay where they stopped paddling for a moment, bobbing up and down. They caught their breath and drank from their water bottles.

  "You OK?" Ben said after a few minutes of rest.

  "Still good," Gina said. "I could murder a Mars bar though."

  Ben laughed and pulled open his spray skirt, reaching down for the dry bag of food.

  "I've got something better."

  He handed Gina a massive Cookie Time biscuit with huge chocolate chunks and they munched happily, looking out at the bay before them.

  "I wish I could have shown you this place at another time," Ben said as the sun sparkled on the water. "You can spend days here exploring the bays, diving for kai moana – seafood – and fishing from the kayak."

  "There'll be another time," Gina said, her voice certain. Ben wished he had her confidence.

  "We'd better head out now," he said. "As soon as we pass the channel between the islands up there, we'll be in the Strait. Then it's full-on paddle."

  "Good to go," Gina said.

  They packed up the bag again, and Ben took up his rhythmic stroke, Gina matching him.

  At the heads, Ben paused, looking out at the waters of the Strait. The waves were choppy out there, white caps frothing on breaking crests.

  A fresh breeze, Ben thought. Not perfect conditions, but then they rarely were out here. He could see the North Island on the other side.

  It didn't look so far.

  They paddled on.

  As soon as they reached the open Strait, out from the shelter of the bays, the wind hit them. Paddling was harder now; they rose up and down on the waves, sinking and rising with the water. The spray soaked them and, even with the extra clothes, Ben felt a deep chill sinking into him. He knew that the cold would soon sap their strength.

  He didn't ask Gina how she was anymore. He kept paddling, staring into the waves, concentrating on each stroke, focused on the water.

  The ocean was grey.

  The grey of sharkskin.

  Ben remembered the flash of the shark within the tidal wave, the story of the boats sunk by a giant octopus here last night. There would be predators under the waves right now, consuming the dead flesh of the victims. He remembered his grandfather telling the story of Te Parata, a monster of the tidal ocean who caused the high and low tides by swallowing vast quantities of water and then spitting it out again. Its mouth was a vast whirlpool, a watery abyss that devoured all who came close. Te Parata's resting place was near here.

  Ben shook his head. All those stories. Were they just allegory, or was there an ancient truth beneath, something that was only now becoming apparent? From everything he'd seen in the last few days, he could no longer deny his grandfather's beliefs.

  "I'm flagging," Gina's voice came from behind him, exhaustion clear in her tone.

  "Stop paddling a moment," Ben called into the wind, turning a little in his seat. He reached into his life jacket for the GPS. They were barely over halfway and they'd been going for five hours.

  He turned around, twisting his body in the kayak. Gina's face was pale, her lips a faint shade of blue.

  She shivered a little.

  "I don't know how much more I can do this," she whispered.

  "I'm going to get us to shore," Ben said. "But you need to stay with me. I can paddle harder while you take a rest for a bit, but you'll be warmer if you keep paddling, even a little."

  Gina nodded slightly. Ben felt a wave of guilt. He shouldn't have brought an amateur out here. But if they stopped for too long, they would be swept out into the ocean. On one side of the Strait was the Tasman Sea, with over 2000 kilometers to the Australian coast. On the other, the mighty South Pacific, all the way to Chile.

  They couldn't stop.

  Ben took a swig of water and refocused, putting every ounce of energy into his strokes, drawing on years
of stamina on the ocean.

  This is for Grandfather, he thought. This is for Lucy. This is for Gina. He repeated their names as the kayak glided over the waves.

  After a time, a ray of sun broke through the clouds, lighting the waters ahead. Ben couldn't help but smile at the blessing and he heard Gina sigh behind him. She paddled again, buoyed by the sight, and they began to make better headway. The shore rose above them, getting closer every minute.

  They managed for another hour before Ben felt Gina give up, but it wasn't much further now. He redoubled his strokes even as his muscles screamed for him to stop and rest. But after days of running in a country under collapse, of a life suddenly out of control, each stroke was his to win or lose. He forced his way onwards with gritted teeth.

  He would get them to shore.

  Ben willed himself onwards until eventually they inched their way past Taputeranga Island, finally landing on Houghton Bay.

  He jumped out into the surf on shaky legs and dragged the kayak onto the stony beach. Gina fell out and collapsed in the shallow water. She looked up at him and shook her head.

  "I'm never getting in a kayak again," she said.

  "At least we didn’t get eaten by the monster octopus."

  Gina giggled, and Ben was glad to hear the sound. She would be alright.

  Together, they crawled up the stones and lay looking up at the sky. The clouds gathered above but that was nothing unusual in Wellington. It rained a lot here.

  Ben took a deep breath.

  We did it, he thought. Not even Te Parata could stop us.

  The pull of the north was stronger now. The talismans throbbed around his neck, and he could feel his own pulse against the hard stones of the beach. He had to keep going.

  "Hey! You down there."

  A strident voice came from the Esplanade above them.

  Ben looked up to see a 4WD vehicle parked on the side of the road. An older bushy-bearded man stared down at them.

  "Did you crazy buggers come across the Strait?"

  Ben pulled himself to his feet. Gina stayed lying down, her eyes closed with exhaustion.