Shooting Stars

by Brian Falkiner

I am very worried about going to Auckland but I don’t know where else to go.

  I asked the shopkeeper how to get to Auckland, and he seemed a little surprised that I didn’t know.

  He said there are two ways: by bus or by ferry boat. Coromandel is a peninsula and the quickest way is by ferry boat. To go by bus you must go all the way down to the bottom of the peninsula, then all the way back up to Auckland. This is what I found out.

  To catch a ferry boat or bus I must go to Coromandel town, which is about six hours walk north. The ferry boat ticket costs $57 but only $34.50 for me because I am only fifteen. The ferry leaves each day at 3 pm.

  The bus seems very complicated, with stops and transfers, and it takes much longer.

  I decided to catch the ferry.

  It only took five and a half hours to walk to Coromandel Town, even though I stopped to eat some beans, and gave some dried pork to Jack. We found a stream and both drank a lot because we were very thirsty.

  I asked a very nice Japanese lady where to buy a ticket for the ferry, and although I don’t think she spoke English, she understood ‘ticket’ and pointed at a small shop.

  “Here ticket. Here ticket,” she said. (I think she was Japanese, but she wasn’t wearing a kimono so it was hard to tell.)

  So I bought a ticket on a ferry boat that goes to Auckland.

  I should mention that I had my crossbow with me, but it was dismantled. The bow comes off the stock and both bits fit into a special carrying case. If I hadn’t put it in the case I think people on the ferry might have wondered why I was carrying it. I didn’t want to scare anyone, or attract any attention.

  The ferry was a very big boat and the sea was very calm, so I quite enjoyed sailing on the ocean for the very first time.

  We disembarked at a ferry terminal on the Auckland waterfront.

  I could never have imagined it looking like this.

  I have read about skyscrapers but there are buildings that literally seem to scrape the blue off the sky. They go up and up and up until you think they would run out of up.

  And there are so many of them. It’s not just a building here and another one there. Every square metre of the city is covered in huge concrete or brick buildings.

  It’s actually a little overwhelming.

  After just a few minutes I needed to find some-where green.

  I could see a lot of trees around a hill, not too far away. I was quite surprised to find a forest in the middle of a city, but I knew straight away that it was where I wanted to go.

  To get there I had to cross a couple of roads. I am surprised Moma didn’t tell me about roads. They look very dangerous. Cars are big and hard and go very fast.

  I stood on one street for a long time before I saw some other people cross the road at the corner.

  They pressed a button on a pole and after a few minutes all the cars stopped moving and there was a little green man light on the other side of the road. The green man was walking and the people started walking across the road too. I walked along behind them. I think this is some kind of system to let people get across roads without getting hurt. It seems like a good idea to me.

  When I found the forest, it was not what I was expecting. The forest where I lived was a big jungle of plants all growing over the top of each other. This one was very neat and tidy. There were lots of trees but around them was grass. There were few places to hide.

  I found a patch of shrubs that offered a bit of concealment and crawled inside.

  It felt like home.

  January 5th

  I have lost my diary.

  Am writing this on some paper I found in a trash can.

  I found a pencil in a shop called TAB. They had lots of free pencils. I don’t know why.

  I am very upset.

  I had spent hours and hours writing in my diary and now it is gone forever. All my work. All my writing, my stories, my feelings.

  I feel sick, almost the same way I feel sick about Moma disappearing.

  Here is what happened today:

  I went back down to the wharves so I could wash in the ocean. The ocean didn’t look very clean to me, with lots of rubbish floating around. I guess it must have blown out of the rubbish bins when there was a strong wind.

  I got Jack to look after my rucksack and my crossbow while I went in to wash, because I know that Moma said not to trust people in a city.

  To get into the water I had to climb down some stone steps next to a big long concrete wharf. Then I jumped in. It was colder than I thought it would be. Nobody else was swimming here, although there were lots of boats around. Maybe because it was so cold.

  I gave myself a quick wash, but I heard Jack growling so I climbed out.

  There was a group of kids, about my age, standing around, looking at Jack, my rucksack and my crossbow.

  They were all looking at my pee-pee gun when I got out, so I quickly put my clothes back on.

  One of them was a girl, so she might not have seen a pee-pee gun before.

  “Gidday,” I said.

  The girl, who was quite short but very pretty, said, “Who are you?”

  “Egan,” I said. “Who are you?”

  “Who’s asking?” she said.

  I didn’t quite know what she meant by that, because I had already told her my name. So I said it again.

  “I’m Egan.”

  “What you doin’ here?” one of the boys asked. He was bigger than me and looked quite strong.

  “Just washing,” I said. “I needed a bath.”

  “In there?” the pretty girl screwed her nose up. It made her look even prettier in a funny way.

  “What you got here?” the big boy asked, looking at my rucksack.

  “Just my stuff,” I said.

  “You on the street?” another boy asked. He had all his hair cut off except for a strip on top of his head. He looked like an Apache from the Wild West.

  I was standing on the street, but I don’t think that is what he meant.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Jeez you’re an egg,” he said. “You don’ know nuthin’.”

  Jack growled at them again. Funny thing, he had never growled at J.T. Not once.

  “Come here,” the pretty girl said.

  “Why?” I asked. I was getting a little uncomfortable with these kids.

  “I want to talk to you,” she said.

  She backed away a little from the others as she said it.

  “You can talk to me now,” I said.

  “Come here, I’ll give you a kiss,” she said.

  I didn’t feel comfortable with kissing someone I just met. “I don’t want a kiss,” I said.

  “Just come here,” she said. “I’ll show you my tits.”

  I couldn’t believe she said that. In fact I thought I didn’t hear it right. I think she might be ‘easy’. Moma warned me about girls who are ‘easy’.

  “What did you say?” I asked.

  “I said come here and I’ll—” she broke off mid-sentence, turned and began running.

  I heard a noise from behind me and then I realised what was happening. She had been drawing me away from my rucksack and crossbow.

  One of the boys, the smallest of the three, had my crossbow and was running in one direction and the Apache boy had my rucksack and was running in another direction.

  I went to run after the Apache boy, because all my belongings, including my diary, were in there, but the big boy caught my arm and pulled me down to the ground.

  I don’t know if he wanted to fight with me, or just slow me down so I couldn’t run after the other kids.

  He was bigger and heavier than me, but I have wrestled enraged 150-kilo boars with big tusks. He tried to punch me but I grabbed his arms and twisted him around like I would a wild pig
. Before I even realised what I was doing, my knife was at his throat, just like I would stick a pig.

  I stopped myself though. I was quite shocked at how close I had come to hurting someone.

  I let him go and he ran off and I don’t blame him. He called me some names like “Four Q” and “freak”.

  Jack was barking and snarling at him too, chasing him off, but I grabbed his lead. “This way, Jack,” I yelled, running off in the direction in which I had seen my rucksack disappearing.

  He picked up a scent straight away and we ran.

  Running in a city is not like running in the bush. There is nothing to trip over, nothing to push through. Just flat concrete pathways and asphalt roads.

  We came around a corner and I saw the Apache kid disappear around the next corner. He didn’t have a chance of getting away, not with Jack on his scent.

  When we got around the next corner I saw both of them, the Apache and the boy with my crossbow standing next to a concrete wall, comparing what they had got. I don’t think they expected me to show up so soon, because they both got a shock.

  There were lots of cars going really fast up and down the street on the other side of the wall, but that didn’t seem to worry them. They jumped over the wall, dodging in between cars. There was a lot of sound which I think was the tyres of the cars stopping suddenly and horn sounds.

  I reached the wall and jumped over, but stopped just in time as a huge truck whizzed by in front of me at an enormous speed. I tried again, but there were so many cars going so fast. I still don’t see how the other boys had done it without being hit and killed.

  They climbed over another wall on the other side of the road and disappeared around a corner.

  After a while I climbed back over. Jack was waiting for me, jumping up and licking me. I walked back the way I had come. There was no way I would ever get across that road.

  My rucksack and crossbow were gone.

  So was all my food, my money and my diary.

  Thought for the day:

  This is the world.

  I don’t think I like it.

  Moma’s Code #7

  Never, ever hurt another person, unless it is to stop them hurting you.

  And even then, only if you have to.

  January 6th

  I don’t know what to do.

  I can’t go to see Mr Kavanagh. I don’t have a map.

  If I had some money I could buy one from a shop. But I don’t have any money. And I don’t have any food. I have water because it has been raining, and the rain makes little streams down the sides of the road. It doesn’t taste good, but at least it’s water.

  I tried to ask some passers-by for some help, but they all ignored me and wouldn’t look at me.

  Except for one lady who told me to leave her alone or she’d call the police.

  I left her right alone, because the last thing I want to do is be arrested by the police. They would take me to my father.

  I can’t even go back to the bush, because I don’t have the money for a ferry boat or a bus.

  Moma always says that the night is darkest just before the dawn. This means that when things seem really bad, good things are on their way. I believe her. But I can’t see how.

  In the bush I was never hungry.

  I have been starving for two days. And the water in the little road streams tastes gritty.

  Moma’s Code #21

  Never despair.

  The night is always darkest just before the dawn. If things are really dark, that means dawn is on its way.

  January 7th

  I found some food in a trash can today. There was nothing wrong with it. Someone had taken two bites out of a sandwich and thrown it in the trash.

  That breaks rule #24, don’t be wasteful. I don’t think it can be stealing, because whoever owned it threw it out.

  I felt a bit better after I ate, and I went around looking in other trash cans to see if there was more food. I found lots of things, although I got some strange looks from people, so I guess it’s not a polite thing to do.

  One of the trash cans was on a street corner near a big building that was shaped like a ship. I found an apple that was only half eaten and when I turned around I saw something amazing.

  There was a sign on the building on the corner that said Department of Conservation Visitor Centre.

  J.T. works for the Department of Conservation – I’d heard him tell the hunters that.

  I went to go inside, but a lady frowned at me and pointed at Jack, so I tied him up outside. Then I had to wait in a line of people who all wanted to ask questions.

  When it was my turn I asked the lady (a different lady) if I could talk to J.T. She had a name badge that said ‘June’. She had sad eyes. She didn’t know who J.T. was.

  “He works for the Department of Conservation,” I said. “He is a deer culler.”

  She said she wouldn’t know anything about that. She was quite brusque. She obviously wanted me to leave, but I wasn’t going to give up so quickly after finding the office by some huge coincidence.

  “I really need to talk to him, it’s an emergency,” I said.

  I didn’t think that was a lie. I really did feel like it was an emergency.

  She looked sternly at me and said, “You are holding up the queue. If I could help you, I would, but I can’t. I am going to have to ask you to move on.”

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?” she asked. She looked quite offended. I hadn’t meant to offend her.

  I said so, and said, “It’s just that I know most people have stuff going on in their lives that they can’t talk about. You looked sad, so I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  June looked at me for a while. “What’s your name?” she asked at last.

  “Egan,” I said.

  “It’s an emergency, you say,” she said. I nodded. “I’ll see if I can find out for you.”

  She made a couple of phone calls. Each time she shook her head at me. “Sorry,” she said after the last phone call. She sounded like she really was sorry.

  “That’s okay,” I said. “You tried to help. Most people don’t do that.”

  “They don’t, do they?” she said. “Not nowadays.”

  “My mother always says that it’s really sad,” I said, then corrected myself. “She always said that it’s really sad.”

  She looked at me for a moment then asked, “What happened to your mother?”

  I had to fight to stop from tearing up. I just said, “She’s gone away.”

  “Wait a minute,” June said. She stood up and went to a little door in the back and knocked. A man came out. He was thin and wiry and wore a suit, but one half of his shirt was not tucked in properly. He had a weathered look about his face, like I have and like J.T. has. I think he wasn’t really comfortable wearing a suit in an office. I liked him straight away.

  “Bob, this is Egan,” June said.

  “Gidday,” I said.

  June said, “He’s looking for a DOC deer culler named J.T. Any ideas?”

  “Jeffery Hunter,” Bob said immediately. “Used to work for me down in Coromandel. He quit about the same time I moved up here.”

  “J.T.?” June asked.

  “J.T. Hunter,” Bob said. “I don’t know what the T stood for, he never said. Ex-army guy.”

  “That’s him!” I said with great excitement.

  “He quit,” Bob said. “I don’t know where he’s working now.”

  “Do you have like an address or a phone number for him?” I asked.

  “We can’t give that information out, I’m sorry,” June said. “But if you give us your phone number we can pass it on to Mr Hunter, and if he wants to get in touch with you, he will.”

  All my excitement disappear
ed. “I don’t have a phone,” I said.

  “I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” June said. “I’ll try and get hold of him, and if I do, I’ll tell him you dropped in. Come back tomorrow and if I’ve managed to talk to him, I’ll let you know how to reach him.”

  “Thank you thank you thank you!” I said.

  J.T. will sort everything out. I know he will.

  June leaned forward just before I left, and lowered her voice. “My husband was in a car accident a week ago,” she said. “He may not walk again.”

  “I’m really sorry to hear that,” I said.

  “Everyone asks me how he is,” she said. “But you are the first person who asked me if I was okay.”

  Thought for the day:

  Rule #21 is right. The darkest part of night is just before the dawn.

  January 8th

  I went back to the DOC office today.

  June saw me waiting in the queue and shook her head.

  I gave her a big smile and left. I hope her husband will be okay.

  I found a huge rubbish bin out the back of a restaurant where there were mountains of food being chucked out. There was a whole meat pie in a cardboard box. A pie is pastry filled with minced beef. It was enough to feed a family.

  I don’t think anyone could ever go hungry in Auckland. It’s like the bush. You just have to know where to look.

  When I went back to the trash bin later, it was empty. Then I saw a big truck with two metal arms that went around picking up the trash bins and emptying the contents into the back.

  I have been thinking about this.

  Just along from the wharves where I go to bathe, there is a bigger wharf where huge ships come in and unload huge metal boxes. Trucks come into the city and unload food and other stuff at the back of shops and warehouses.

  It seems to me that the city is like a huge, hungry beast. It needs to be fed constantly, and that’s what all the trucks and ships do. They bring in food and other stuff that the city needs.

  Then the rubbish trucks take it away again.

  That is like the city’s poos, or perhaps I should say, number twos.

  Sometimes, when a big truck goes past, I think I smell the city’s number threes.