Ao Toa

by Cathie Dunsford

  “Yes. I’m feeding her by hand with ground-up worms which Iri gives me from the compost. She’s still weak, but getting stronger.”

  “Nothing that a bit of tender loving cannot heal, Maata. Is Waka helping you too?”

  “Yeah. And guess what? Waka’s gonna grow dreadlocks like Nandor. He’s started already.”

  “Will you love him more then?” asks Mere.

  “Don’t be silly. He’s the same person as before. Just looks more cute.”

  Thank goodness she has her priorities in place, thinks Mere. Let’s hope that Koa does half as well when she has to confront Bruce again. The worst thing would be if her old defences gave way and she came under his charms once more. That would be disastrous for them all, and especially for Irihapeti. She knew it was a risk when she suggested the idea, but one they needed to take. She sends a karakia of protection for Koa, embracing her in the sacred wings of Te Kotuku, knowing that, like the wounded bird, she is capable of repairing her wings again, of flying as she once did, if she can complete her mission.

  “We need to turn off the camera, Cowrie.” Kuini reaches for the switch.

  “Why?”

  “I’ll tell you later.” Kuini clicks the switch up and huddles back into the ledge.

  “Bloody hell, it’s getting cramped in here. How long do we have to stay?” whispers Cowrie.

  “Longer than you think, Turtle. Moana went back to get more supplies and warmer clothes for us and found the end of the tunnel blocked with rocks.”

  “D’ya reckon they are onto us?”

  “Yep.”

  “Then why don’t we alert Iri and Koa? They can send for help from the outside.”

  “Because then they will panic. Moana reckons she can remove the stones, one by one, and get out. She’s back there having a crack at it now. If she can’t, then we’ll make a decision on what to do.

  “But won’t Iri and the others freak out if they don’t hear us?”

  “Yep. That’s why we are turning the camera back on for a moment but not talking about it. Okay?”

  Cowrie is not sure she likes this plan, but does not want to blow the operation either. “Okay.”

  Kuini reaches up and switches on the tiny camera. She whispers into the microphone. “I know you cannot answer us, Iri. But we just want you to know we are okay. We need some more sleep so we are going to switch off for a while, and we’ll tune you back in when there’s something to report. We’re thinking of you all. And of the kai moana we are missing. Cowrie’s getting sick of eating roasted wetas.” She grins.

  “Don’t even mention the word,” whispers Cowrie, as Kuini reaches up to switch off the camera.

  Irihapeti returns from planting the new pohutukawa seedlings at the end of the dunes. She glances at the screen. It’s black again. Damn, she thinks and tries to fiddle with the keyboard. Nothing happens. It could be a blackout, or they could be in danger. “Hey, Koa. Come and have a squizzy here.” Koa emerges from the spinach patch and walks toward the nursery office. “It’s blanked out on us again. Hope the battery is okay. I gave them several spares. They should be still on line.”

  “That’s it, then. I can’t wait any longer.” Koa rips off her work apron and her leather gloves and dials a number on her cellphone. It rings three times. “Is that Tony Pratt? It’s Koa here from Te Kotuku marae. Maata cannot clean today but has asked if I can come instead of her … Yes … yes. I am a good worker and she has told me what to do. What’s that? Yes, I’ll be sure to bring up some more kawakawa tea. It’s addictive isn’t it? … Sure. I’ll keep out of the way of the FarmCorp scientists. Don’t you worry. In fact, one of them is a close friend of mine and I would like to see him if that’s possible … Who? Bruce. He’s very tall and has a ponytail. You know the one? They have afternoon tea at 3 pm? Well, that’s fine. I’ll be up at noon and I can make tea for them at 3 pm … Thanks. That’s no trouble at all.” She pushes the end button with glee.

  Irihapeti is amazed Koa could be so calm and smooth. She has not seen this side of her. “You ain’t seen nuthin’ yet!” exclaims Koa. “Okay. I’m off. Got some preparation to do and cleaning stuff to buy. See ya back here tonight.”

  “Don’t you want me to let Maata know first?”

  “All sorted, honey. She’s sick at home with Mere today. Spoke to her earlier. I offered to do her work for her and it was when I was mulching the spinach that the idea of using this to our advantage really started to grow.”

  “You be careful, Joyous One.”

  “I will. I hold you close to my heart.” Koa puts her hand on her chest.

  “Thanks Koa. Me too.” Iri blows her a kiss and insists that she call on her cellphone if she is in any danger at all. Koa promises to do so and leaves, sending Iri a kiss from her open palm. Iri catches it mid-air and folds her fingers carefully around the kiss, as if to preserve it and protect it forever.

  Moana returns to the ledge defeated. “I can’t remove the stones. They’re too heavy. I think we should get help from Iri now.”

  “Let me go back with you and try,” Kuini offers. “Cowrie, you stay here and monitor what’s happening. Get a close-up zoom on those filing cabinets if possible, so we have proof of the existence of human embryos in their research. We won’t get far without that.”

  Cowrie stretches her limbs as the others crawl back down the tunnel and up the abseiling rope to make their way to the entrance of the cave. Trying to get stones away from there will be difficult, but Kuini is very strong and they have a better chance together. Cowrie switches on the camera, presses her face hard up against the slit in the rock and watches as the scientists go about their work. There is very little speech. They seem totally preoccupied by their tasks. The fella with the pony-tail breaks the monotony by dropping a specimen phial, and this infuriates the shorter one.

  “For Christ’s sake, Bruce. You’d drop your bloody head if it wasn’t screwed on! Lucky that wasn’t Liquid Gold. That would’ve cost you your job.”

  As if I’d care, thinks Bruce. I’m only really hanging on for the money. The excitement ended some time ago when they did their first stem cell experiment. Once he knew it could work, he feared what might come of it and drew back from the idea of completing the task. Then Steve offered him more money and the promise of huge riches once they cracked the final code, and by that time his marriage was on the rocks and he desperately needed the money to support his ex-wife and their son and daughter. It’s worth it for them, he kept telling himself. That’s the only reason he’s stayed on to work in this damp cave on areas of science that he knows from his religious upbringing and his ethical conscience are wrong. And for Karl. “Sorry Steve. It won’t happen again.”

  “It bloody better not,” grumbles Steve.

  Cowrie notices there is tension between the men. The taller one with the pony-tail seems to not have his heart in his work. Steve, on the other hand, is like a religious zealot. He works at least sixteen hours a day and seems completely driven. When things do not go right, he gets extremely anxious, as if his life is on the line with this work. Pony-Tail, on the other hand, acts as if he disapproves of the work. He grimaces behind the back of his boss and often drops or breaks things. It’s almost as if he is trying to undermine the work and yet, when he concentrates hard, his hand is steady and the boss seems very pleased with him. There’s a kind of push-pull, love-hate relationship between the men. She gathers that Pony-Tail has most of the knowledge and that Stevie-Boy needs him and could not complete this work without him. Pony-Tail knows this and sometimes deliberately makes Stevie-Boy work hard for his support.

  Cowrie’s left leg is still giving her strife after the surfing accident and she moves it into a more comfortable position, dislodging a stone which bumps against the rock wall as it heads for the floor of the tunnel. She glances back into the cave to see if there is any reaction. Steve looks up immediately, his head listening like a doe in a field of hunters. “Did you hear that, Bruce?”

  “Hear what
?”

  “A falling stone. The boys went around the perimeter of the cave after we heard those noises yesterday and found the entrance to a tunnel. It got quite narrow then there was a drop of about twenty feet. They found an abseiling rope there and got worried that maybe climbers were still using the tunnel. Then they noticed it had ‘Pratt’ in marker ink on the plastic and realised it must’ve been used by Tony’s boys. They left it dangling in case we need to use the tunnel at any stage. Then they blocked the entrance so nobody else could use it and in case any animals wander in from the neighbouring farm. The last thing we need is some redneck farmer marching up to Pratt and demanding to know why his sheep are missing and snooping about.”

  “D’ya reckon there’s some animal in there?”

  “Well if any kids had got trapped, they’d have called out by now. And we haven’t heard any bleating. I reckon it’s just a few rats or stoats that are using it. Still, they won’t be getting out now. So we can count on stoat stew if we get trapped here.” Stevie-Boy laughs.

  “It’ll taste better than that possum stew that Pratt laid on us last night,” replies Bruce. “I thought you were getting us caterers for this part of the operation. Really looking after us.”

  “I would if there was such a thing in this Godforsaken place. But, you wait, Bruce, m’boy. You will soon have caterers begging to serve you. You’ll be lazing about some idyllic Mediterranean sea port, with a beautiful woman lying beside you.”

  Ugh, thinks Bruce. He’s got no idea I love men. The last woman I had took off with my two kids, and then I realised when Karl came back into my life that we’d always been in love, ever since school. He hates me being away doing this work, but he likes the idea of us retiring in comfort once this job is over. “Sounds delicious,” says Bruce, thinking of a tanned version of Lockwood Smith rubbing his shoulders and massaging his abs.

  And so the soap opera continues. Cowrie had half-expected to see weird animals with twinned heads and three tails, but this gene-splicing human embryo trip is really incredibly long and boring and the blokes doing it even more tiresome. It’s like watching paint dry, she thinks, yawning and wondering if it might be a good time to alert Iri to their predicament and at least get out of here. Then Bruce moves away from his table, putting the filing cabinet into full view again. Cowrie aims the camera in its direction. She is sure that Iri will be able to see the labels and zoom in on them.

  An hour later, Kuini and Moana return. “No luck, Turtle. We can’t move the stones. It feels like they got a dozer and ran a dump full of rocks into the entrance. There’s one spot where we could see light coming through but we could not budge the rocks,” Kuini whispers.

  “Let’s alert Iri then. I think I’ve got a good shot of the files now.”

  “Great. That’s about all we can do at this stage.”

  It’s then that they hear a slow moaning, as if an animal is in pain. They press up against the slit in the rock to see what is happening. The moaning increases. “Bruce, go and see what Danny is doing.” Bruce goes off into one of the side caves and returns a few moments later, his face white. At the end of the rope he is holding is a creature like they have never seen before. It resembles a kunekune pig but has red blotches all over its body and sores leaking pus. It struggles to walk at all, as if its body is too large for its legs, which are very thin and wobbly. Steve grabs the rope off Bruce and tries to pull the creature towards him. It crumbles under the weight of its body and slinks to the cave floor. It’s then that they recognise the sound it makes.

  “Baaaaa … baaaaaa … baaaaaa.” It is a sheep in pig’s clothing, some kind of aberrant experiment gone awry. The animal writhes in pain, as if in its last throes of life. “Well, that’s the end of LambPork Ltd. You’d better tell MagicMilk to courier up the rest of the funds so we can do more trials on their WonderPig,” advises Steve. “Take all the usual tests and then administer a lethal injection. Put the poor bastard out of its misery before anyone finds out it ever lived.” Bruce looks at the slobbering LambPig and fights back the tears. He’ll never get used to this kind of work. He’d far rather be back grafting trees, despite the toxic risks in botanical gardens.

  Cowrie, Kuini and Moana are glued to the slit in the rock, barely believing what they see. It seems that these men are experimenting in all areas, taking as much GE funding as they can and trying to see what eventuates. All they need is one hit to get the jackpot, and they will never have to rely on research funds again. Genetic gambling. They have turned a sacred Maori burial cave into a brightly lit modern casino. But they are not gambling with man-made money – bits of paper with pictures of the Queen on them. They are gambling with our genes – the very make-up of our lives, the DNA that separates species and makes us each unique. They have the power to destroy this uniqueness forever. They have the power to ruin lives in the process. The groaning LambPig is dragged from the room and back into the smaller cave. The wahine avert their eyes. They hope it has been saved on film by Iri.

  They wait until the men leave for their afternoon tea break, then try to contact the nursery. “Iri. Are you there? We hope you got all that on tape. Hideous. We’re locked in the tunnel. They’ve jammed up the end with rocks. Get some help. Say that you think some climbers may have got into the tunnel by mistake and need rescuing and that you’ll keep it quiet and respect their secrecy. Thanks. We’ll wait here until you come. Make it soon. The air is getting stale and we are very cramped. Kia ora.” They switch off the camera to save the batteries.

  Koa finishes her work and begins making a batch of date scones for Tony and the boys. Tony sits at the kitchen table, his hairy arms and back protruding out of his white, stained singlet. “You’d better whip that off too and I’ll put it in the wash.”

  Tony looks down at his chest. “Yeah. Had bacon and eggs for brekky. Bloody eggs broke getting to my mouth. It’s these wretched shop eggs. No grunt to them. Not like the barn eggs we had as a kid.”

  Koa hands him a fresh shirt as he passes her his singlet. “Why don’t you get some roosters and hens, then? We have a good supply at Te Kotuku and they eat organic grains. Their eggs are delicious.”

  “Don’t think I’ll be around here much longer. Thinking of a trip abroad once these FarmCorp fellas have finished their work.”

  Koa takes the plunge. “So you don’t think you and Moana will get back together again?”

  Tony hesitates a moment. “Seems that way. Thought I was in there for the scrum but then I heard she got herself another fella. Pipi or something. Well, she can have all the pipis and cockles and whatever she likes from down there. I’ve got bigger fish to fry.” Tony acts brave but he looks as if he could crumble if a feather was waved in front of his nose now. Koa has seen Moana with Piripi and they get along well, but she does not think it’s much more than friendship – yet. Still, she’s much safer with him than with Tony. “I reckon FarmCorp will want to buy up the farm after all this work and money they are putting into it – and then I’ll be sweet,” he adds, grinning, hoping this will get back to Moana. Serves her right for deserting him.

  “But won’t you miss the kids?” asks Koa.

  “Sure. But wherever I live, they can come and visit me for a holiday. The money from the farm will more than provide for that.” And a lot else, thinks Tony, with luck.

  Koa mixes dough, adds milk and dates, then places blobs of it onto the greased oven tray. “Been ages since I tasted good date scones. Moana was too busy with the kids’ homework to make any treats. Not like the good old days when we first got together. She’d do anything to please me then.” Yes, too much, thinks Koa, placing the scones in the oven.

  “How many men are working here?”

  “Why do ya ask?” Tony is suddenly suspicious of her.

  “So I know how many scones to butter.”

  He grins. “Usually about eight come up for arvo tea. The others have their thermoses and stuff down at the nursery.”

  “So what are they doing down there?�
�� asks Koa, hoping it sounds casual.

  Tony looks at her closely. No harm in letting her know how important he is. They’ll never know. “Secret experiments. Sticking genes from pine trees into kauris. Makes them grow like bloody triffids, evidently. That Bruce fella knows all about it. He’s the boss man at the nursery. Howd’ya first meet him?”

  “We worked together at the botanical gardens.”

  “I see. Boyfriend was he?”

  “Yeah. For a while.”

  “You like your chances with him now, eh?” There’s a glint in Tony’s eye. He fancies himself as a bit of a matchmaker. After all, it was he who linked up half the local farmers with their missuses. He knows the district like the back of his hand – and all the farmers’ daughters, mothers and sisters.

  Koa notices his interest. “Maybe. I would quite like to talk to him alone if he comes up. Is there a place we could go to be discreet?”

  Tony chuckles. “I knew it. Could tell in your voice on the phone. They don’t call me Tricky Tony for nuthin’, ya know. Take him into the front room. It’s always quiet there. I don’t s’pose you’ll be needing the bedroom this time, eh?” He grins, showing a tooth missing at the front.

  Koa squirms but acts calm on the outside. “No. I’d just like to talk with him and catch up without the others teasing him.”

  “No worries. You just rely on me for that. I’ll make sure he’s tipped off and I’ll give you the wink. Then you can just lead him up the garden path. Mind you, if it all works out, I expect an invitation to the wedding.” He sticks his tongue between the gap in his teeth, trying to dislodge a piece of bacon stuck there from his breakfast.

  Koa grimaces without him seeing. “I think you’re putting the cart before the horse a bit here, Tony.”

  Tony dislodges the bacon and flicks it out onto the table. It lands on the clean plate Koa has placed in the middle, ready for the scones. “Oops.” Tony picks up the plate and wipes it with the back of his hairy, grubby arm and sticks it back onto the table. “There ya are. Good as gold. I’m off to have a shave and I’ll bring the boys up.”