Risen Gods

by J. F. Penn

  "We did," he said, walking over to the man.

  "Then I want to shake your hand." The man shook Ben's hand vigorously. "I used to cross it back in my day, but it's been a long while since. I keep an eye out for those who do it though, especially in these dark times. Come. Call your girl over. I've hot coffee in my car and some banana bread."

  Gina sat up at his inviting words and they gratefully accepted the hot drink and sweet cake from the man as he prattled about tales of his own crossings. Ben was grateful for the kindness of old explorers.

  After recovering, they pulled dry clothes out of the waterproof bags and got changed. Ben finally started to feel human again.

  "Now, where you going next?" the man asked.

  "We're trying to get north," Ben said.

  The man shook his head. "Terrible times, you know. Lots of refugees heading to Auckland. The government have commandeered all the coaches and trains and are using them to take people on from Wellington."

  "Any chance of a lift into town?" Ben asked.

  "Of course." The man nodded. "Hop in."

  19

  Lucy woke as the truck pulled into a service station on Highway 1 just past Palmerston North. She disentangled herself from Amber's sleeping form and rubbed her eyes.

  "Sorry," Rangi said quietly. "I'm beat and don't want to drive when I'm this tired." He looked over at Amber. "Precious cargo aboard. We can stop if you like and both sleep."

  Lucy shook her head.

  "No, I'm good. I'll fill up with gas and get some supplies as well. You try to get some sleep."

  Lucy clambered out of the truck, taking the keys from Rangi as he slipped into her place, gently rearranging Amber so she rested against his big frame.

  The service station looked completely normal, a miracle after the last twenty-four hours. The lights inside revealed candy bars and bottled drinks and suddenly Lucy craved sugar and caffeine and normal things. She filled up the truck's tank and then went inside.

  The night worker looked up as she came in, nodded at her, and then went back to the TV he was glued to. Lucy filled a basket with chocolate and crisps, Coca-Cola and some Lemon and Paeroa drink, Amber's favorite, although personally she couldn't stand the stuff. She took it all to the counter.

  As she got closer, she saw the images on the TV: the wreckage of the boats on Cook Strait, illuminated by the bright spotlights of military helicopters. A series of images from Christchurch. Crushed and smashed buildings. Dead bodies in the streets.

  The night worker shook his head.

  "Terrible times, love," he said. "These are terrible times." He rang up the items. "You got far to go?"

  "Not too far, I hope," Lucy whispered, her eyes fixed on the TV as her mind dwelled on the horror of what she'd left behind.

  She paid quickly, grabbing the bag and hurrying back to the truck. She wanted to get as far as she could from the South Island. Lucy got back in the truck and pulled onto the highway, heading north as Rangi and Amber slept next to her.

  It helped to focus on the road ahead, each kilometer passing by as the minutes of night ticked on. The roads were dark out here, so only the headlights lit the way, illuminating the catseye reflectors in the middle of the road. As she drove, Lucy thought she saw shadows in the fields to the side, figures with arched spines and twisted limbs. They ran parallel to the truck, hungry eyes following her passage. But when she tried to catch a better glimpse of them, they faded away.

  "Stay focused," she whispered to herself. "It's nearly over."

  Soon, the road forked and Lucy turned east along the shoreline of Lake Taupo. The calm waters of the lake rippled with a slight breeze and she began to feel hope again. She remembered a holiday the Campion family had taken a few years back, before she'd left for University. Dad had bought her a tandem skydive, much to Amber's distress, although she'd been promised one when she was old enough. Lucy could still feel the exhilaration she had felt that day, tumbling out of the aircraft into the bright blue sky, looking down on this lake and the surrounding area as the air rushed past. It was over too quickly, but she would never forget that sensation of flying. She had felt something similar when sailing on the Moth as the dinghy lifted out of the water to plane on its hydrofoil. Lucy thought of Ben, hoping that he was alright out there.

  The road turned at the very tip of the eastern shore and Lucy heard Rangi shift in the passenger seat.

  "Lucy," he said suddenly, his voice tinged with alarm.

  "What is it?" she said, glancing over to see his worried face.

  "Amber," he said. "She's cold and her breathing isn't right."

  Lucy felt a chill, her skin goose-bumping as concern shot through her.

  "I'm pulling over."

  She swerved onto the hard shoulder of the highway, headlights shining into the darkness of the fields around them, where she sensed unseen shadow figures lurking at the edge of the light. Lucy leaned over and felt Amber's forehead. Her sister's skin was clammy, like the mist that had swirled around them on the ocean. A sense of foreboding filled Lucy. Could the mist have somehow infected them?

  "Amber." Lucy shook the sleeping girl. "Amber, wake up."

  Nothing.

  Amber's pulse was weak. Her breathing shallow. Lucy dug her nails into her sister's wrist, pinching her skin, hoping the pain would rouse her. There was no response. Tears pricked Lucy's eyes.

  "Something happened on the crossing," Rangi said. "We need help."

  "There's a hospital ahead in Taupo," Lucy said, her voice breaking as she tried to fight back the tears.

  Rangi shook his head. "Not that kind of help," he said. "This is from the waters. The mist is inside her. But we can take her to my family. My grandmother, the kaumatua, will know what to do. It's a few hours' drive, but we can be there by the dawn."

  Lucy nodded.

  "I'll drive again," Rangi said. "You should hold your sister."

  20

  Tongariro National Park Volcano Center, North Island, New Zealand

  Charlie Fisher took a deep breath, held it for four seconds, and then exhaled slowly. He repeated the process several times, willing the panic to subside.

  It had to be a mistake.

  The readings must be wrong.

  He looked again at the printouts in front of him. One part made sense. The seismograph showed tiny shocks followed by the spikes of the main event. He was used to that, even though he knew that the lines on the page represented huge catastrophe outside in the real world. It was strange that they hadn't seen this coming. There had been no warning. But then, the country sat on an active fault line between the Pacific Plate and the Australian Plate – tectonic shifts were part of living on the Shaky Isles.

  But this …

  Charlie reached for the second part of the printout. Earthquakes were one thing, but the North Island of New Zealand also had active volcanoes. This report showed the level of magma within Mount Tongariro.

  It was rising.

  Fast.

  Deep within the earth, something massive shifted.

  Rakahore, the god of rock and stone, had placed the sacred fire here in time gone by. While the children of the gods slept, the magma and molten lava heated the domain of those beneath, but as they woke, the chambers of superheated rock began to split and crumble.

  Now Ruaumoko, the god of volcanoes and magma, forced his way towards the surface.

  21

  The old adventurer dropped them off at the coach station, the only fare listening to his stories. Gina remained polite with a smile and an occasional nod, but Ben developed a genuine respect for anyone who had crossed the Strait. Multiple times.

  They said their goodbyes and Ben led Gina into the station and onto the platform for the coach that would take them north. They were both exhausted and Ben was looking forward to sleeping onboard while they let the road take them north. Lines of refugees filled the station, all clambering to get on the coaches. A sense of desperation filled the air as they funneled towards the t
ransport.

  "Got your luggage?" Ben asked.

  Gina held up the meager supplies from the kayak. "Of course. Everything a girl needs."

  An announcement came over the loudspeaker and the crowd began to move.

  "It's going to be cramped onboard," Ben said.

  "As long as I don’t have to paddle, I don’t care," said Gina. "I'll be out like a light."

  They boarded the coach and found seats together. Gina padded her head with the dry bag and was asleep within moments. An elderly Maori man sat across the aisle from Ben, his face lined with age and concern. He smiled, and Ben saw a trace of his grandfather there.

  Ben relaxed into the warmth of Gina’s body next to his and, as the coach pulled onto the road, he dropped into sleep.

  When he woke up, the sun was lower in the sky. The old man gazed out the window, but turned his head as Ben stirred.

  "Do you know what happened just before the eruption?" the old man said, his voice rich and deep.

  "Which eruption?" Ben asked, struggling into consciousness.

  "Mount Tarawera. In 1886."

  Ben shook his head. The old man continued.

  "Eleven days before, tourists from the Terraces saw a war canoe approach their boat. A local Maori from the Te Arawa iwi saw it too. He said the canoe disappeared into the mist. Nobody at the lake owned a war canoe, and nobody had seen anything like it before. Some believed it was an ancient waka."

  Ben put his hand on his chest, where the sliver of wood hung. It burned his skin at the man's words.

  "Some say an old burial waka came loose, or that it was nothing but a reflection on the mist. But others …" The old man wagged a finger at Ben. "They knew it was something else."

  "What?" Ben asked.

  "The tribal elders believed it to be a waka wairua, a spirit canoe. They say that when the spirit canoe appears, a volcanic eruption is coming – as it came at Mount Tarawera."

  "They say a lot of things," Ben said, his words thin and unconvincing even to his own ears. "Maori stories are full of impending doom."

  "Another waka wairua has been seen," the old man continued. "These times grow darker, my son."

  He looked out of the window again, growing silent as they passed the national park. The cloud-capped peak of Mount Tongariro loomed to the east.

  There was still time before the next rest stop at Rotorua, so Ben changed position and closed his eyes again, pushing away the old man's forbidding words.

  "Rotorua! Rest stop time. Everyone off."

  The loud voice woke Ben and he opened his eyes to find the old man had gone. He turned to Gina next to him. She had pulled a hoodie over her head while her cheek squashed against the window. She looked serene and Ben didn't want to wake her, but the bustle of the emptying coach made her stir.

  "Are we nearly there yet?" she said, her voice fuzzy with sleep.

  "Not quite in Auckland," Ben said. "But we need to get out. Mandatory rest stop and refueling. A chance for you to see Rotorua, the stinkiest place in New Zealand."

  "I can't possibly miss that." Gina rolled her eyes.

  Ben had been to Rotorua once before, but he had been so young that he couldn't remember much. It still stank of rotten eggs from the geothermal activity under the town. He hadn't forgotten that.

  They got off the bus and immediately Ben could tell something wasn't right here. The expensive spas and lush landscaping remained intact, unlike what had happened in Christchurch, but the people in the town moved in furtive packs. Many pulled suitcases and carried bags in their arms, bundling their worry along with their most important possessions. The town was evacuating and barely in control. It felt like a slow-motion car crash, unlike the rapid disaster down south.

  There was a bronze plaque by the bus station entrance. Ben read it silently, the words an ominous warning.

  "… the fire demons dipped into the seas and each time they rose, they left a streaming trail of thermal activity behind them. That is the origin myth of Rotorua."

  Ben turned to Gina, who had been reading the plaque next to him.

  "This feels like some serious voodoo shit," she said. "Fire demons now?"

  A shout came from behind them. Ben turned to see a plume of white, frothing steam explode from the earth.

  Another explosion rocked the square, blowing earth high into the air as a second thermal vent broke open.

  People who had been calmly stepping off the bus now ran for the nearest building. Those on the street scattered, looking for cover beneath anything that would protect them from the scalding water now coming down like rain.

  "This way." Gina dashed across the road away from the steam, her arms up to protect her face.

  As she stepped out, a bus came flying through the intersection. It slammed on its brakes. Gina made it across, but the bus blocked Ben's path. The doors opened and a mass of people spilled out, shouting and pushing in desperation as they fought their way to shelter.

  Ben fought upstream against them, trying to get around the front of the bus where he had last seen Gina. Terrified cries filled the air as people ran, desperate to find a safe haven.

  The fissure in the road split open. A popping sound filled the air, echoing like thunder through the street. Plumes of white water burst through the surface as more dormant geysers came back to life.

  "Gina," Ben shouted, but his words were drowned out by the engine noise and the screams of those around. "Gina, wait."

  Ben ducked and dodged. He slid around the front bumper of the bus and emerged on the other side of the road. Mobs of people filled the street. Ben scanned the tops of their heads, looking for purple highlights in blonde hair.

  He pushed people aside and made it to where he had seen her last, right before the bus stopped in the middle of the street. Gina was gone.

  He is coming and the fire demons are coming with him.

  The voice echoed in Ben's head. It sounded like his grandfather, and yet, it also sounded like a chorus of lost souls, as if those in the beyond were trying to warn him.

  He had to find Gina. He couldn't lose her now.

  Crowds of people scurried by, changing direction as each thermal geyser exploded. Ben could sense power bound deep in the earth. It strained against the surface, its chains loosening as the ground shifted.

  "Gina!" Ben kept shouting, although it was like calling into a hurricane. Between the screams of frightened people and the thermal activity, she wouldn't hear his calls no matter how close she was.

  Ben jumped up onto a lamp post and climbed above the crowd. He scanned around – and there she was. A flash of purple. Gina was caught in the crowd moving as a herd south on Fenton Street.

  Then, he saw something else.

  His skin crawled as wisps of black smoke emerged from the drains. Its spidery tendrils wrapped around those in the crowd, stoking the terror of the mob.

  Whiro.

  "No," Ben whispered, as the dark strands reached towards Gina.

  22

  Rangi clutched the steering wheel with tight fists and focused on the road in front of him. It had been many years since he had driven this route, and far too long since he had seen the whanau, his extended family. He should have come north for the tangi – the funeral – of his uncle last year. It would have been the right thing to do. But he had been deep in gang business then, and the family gathering had seemed less important than another shipment, another dollar … another drug-filled party, if he were honest. But he was well over that life now.

  He glanced over at Lucy. She stroked Amber's hair as she held her sister close. That kind of love seemed alien to Rangi, but it called to something deep within him. The last twenty-four hours had changed everything. It was only now, as the kilometers passed in the night, that he could consider what had happened.

  It seemed as if the tales his grandmother had told him were coming to pass. Seeing Te Wheke in the waves, feeling Tawhirimatea, the god of storms, on the crossing. Things he had considered legend were real
– and that changed everything.

  Now he felt the call of his iwi, his tribe.

  Even if they rejected him because of his past actions, they would take Amber in. He knew that they would help her because of the pendant Lucy wore. Rangi felt the throb of its power even now. Its tendrils wrapped around his heart, calling for his allegiance, holding him to a promise he didn't even know he had made. He would play his part in whatever came next and he would protect Lucy, whatever it took. However far they had to go.

  A sign loomed in the dark and Rangi turned down State Highway 38, heading southeast towards the Kaingaroa Forest and on to Urewera National Park. As he drove into the forest, he opened his window and breathed in the scent of his home. This was old country, rugged and rooted deep. Rangi remembered trekking here with his grandmother back when he was a boy. Miles from anywhere, when he'd thought they were lost, they had emerged into a copse of silver beech. The cluster was known as a 'cloud forest,' and whipped by the wind over years, the trees had become stunted and dense. Their branches reached towards the sky like goblin fingers, draped in mosses and ferns. It was a fantasy place where he had felt the presence of the gods. He wondered if he could find it again someday.

  The chirp and whistle of a tui echoed through the trees and then other birds joined in, the chorus of the forest. Rangi felt a rising joy within him, a happiness he hadn't felt for so long.

  He was home.

  As dawn broke, they emerged from the forest onto the bank of Lake Waikaremoana. A light breeze rippled the waters of the huge lake and a fine mist hung like spun sugar around its edges. Lucy sat up and looked out across the water.

  "It's not far now," Rangi said. "We just need to go around the Lake and the marae is on the south side, near Tuai."

  A few kilometers later, he pulled into the carpark outside a simple marae, a protected enclosure surrounding a wooden meeting house. The heart of the Maori community. There were a few houses nearby, but it was a small settlement. Some round here worked in the national park and the tourist industry locally, but most went east to Gisborne and the opportunities of the bigger cities of the North Island.