by Stacy Gregg
Now that it’s daylight, I can see what the earthquake has done. There are mudslides and fallen rocks on the road, and there’s even a bit of farmland where a solid wall has risen up in the middle of the paddock, running in a long seam like the Great Wall of China.
“Ohmygod, Mo, look!” The macrocarpa hedge that used to run as a windbreak along the fenceline of Mayor Garry’s farm has been unearthed and wrenched out so that the root bulbs stick up in the air like baby teeth that have all come loose at once.
Mr Mahuta drives straight up to the milking shed. I can see his cows, stomping impatiently at the gate, and in the field beside them is my Gus!
I leap off the back of the ute with Moxy and Jock running alongside me. When he sees the three of us, Gus whinnies his head off! Moxy starts up yowling too, as if she’s greeting him back. I forget how tight those two are sometimes. She jumps up on the fence post beside him and smooches against his muzzle. I throw my arms round him and give him a hug.
I’m not leaving him here any longer.
“You can come back into town with us.” I slip his bridle on and do up the throat lash and the cavesson and then I lead him back towards the milking shed.
Arama is at the gates, about to let the cows through, when we hear Mr Mahuta shout out from inside the shed. He says a swear word. A really bad one. Then he comes out and shouts at Arama.
“Shut the gates! No point bringing them through. We’ve got no power.”
As if they understand and are heartbroken by the news that the milking is not going to happen, the cows start letting out miserable bellows.
“Can you milk them by hand?” I ask.
Mr Mahuta shakes his head. “Sixty cows by hand? I’d need arms like Superman.”
I look at the cows. They look sad. But then cows always do, don’t they?
“Arama,” Mr Mahuta calls out, “get the quad bike. We’ll take them next door to Evie’s. There’s a generator. We can milk them there.”
Arama tries to move the cows with the quad bike, but they just kind of stand there defiantly. They know their routine and they don’t want to leave. They want to come in and relieve the pain that’s building up in their udders.
“Jock!” I whistle my dog around and he comes up to the herd, his tail held up behind him stiff in the air as he hustles back and forth on his busy paws. “Get around, Jock!” I command as he begins to work back and forth, weaving in front of the cows. They let out bellows of discontent, but they obey and turn round and begin to move.
Me and Gus and Arama on his quad bike herd the cows over the ridge while Mr Mahuta and Moana go on ahead in the ute.
Mr Mahuta needs to muck about for a bit to get the generator working, and then we drive the cows straight into the shed and hook them up to the machines. Then the shed is filled with the hypnotic hum of the milk pumping into the vats.
Mr Mahuta watches the cows as their udders are drained and then sends the next lot through until they are all done.
Mr Mahuta is on the phone while the last cows are milked, and once they’re done he says to Arama, “Go and attach the hosepipes from the milk vats to the irrigation system.”
Arama is confused. “What for?”
“We’re going to spray the fields,” Mr Mahuta says.
“What?” Arama looks puzzled. “Why?”
“I just talked to the dairy company and the tankers can’t get through until the roads open again. We’ve got to dump it – dump all of it.”
The cows will need milking every day to stop them being in pain and drying off. That’s thousands of litres of milk thrown away each day. I watch as the irrigators start to spin and the milk fills the pipes and arcs out from the sprinklers, spreading white droplets in a haze across the sky. And I think how weird life is right now when you can’t trust the earth beneath your feet to stay still, and the rain is made of milk.
“Can we go into your house?” Moana wants to see it. She wasn’t with us last night when we came back for Mum, and when she sees the wreckage where my house used to be she is astonished. It does look worse in the daylight. I can see bits of our old life poking out from beneath the broken beams. Sofas and tables, a smashed-up TV set. And at the back of the house, there’s my bedroom with no walls and no roof, my universe exposed to the sky above.
“All your stuff is in there,” Moana says. “We should go in and get your things.”
I feel revulsion at the idea. That bedroom held me captive. It was the centre of my OCD universe, the Pandora’s box that my rituals sprang from. And now it’s destroyed and I’m free and I don’t want any of it any more. Not my clothes, my toys, my books, my bed … they’re all infected with the OCD. So let it remain beneath the rubble. I don’t want to go back.
“Come on!” Moana urges. “Let’s go in …”
“You kids!”
It’s Mr Mahuta.
“Don’t you go near that house! It’s not safe. The whole place could collapse beneath you.”
So that’s final then. I turn my back on the house for the last time. I’m leaving it all behind.
Not quite all. As I ride Gus down the road towards Parnassus, I feel the weight of the backpack on my back. The bedroom has been destroyed, but my portable nest of OCD is still here with me, attached like a limpet, refusing to let me go.
***
Zip-unzip, zip-unzip. Do it again. I unpack the items from my backpack and I do my rituals. I’ve searched the riverbank for hours and nothing. I was certain we’d find some sign of Moxy. But we can’t look any longer. We need to get going. We’ve been searching half a day and the rescue ship – the HMS Canterbury – is on the way, and if we don’t carry on, we’ll miss it. We’re running out of time. We have no choice. And so we turn away, just the three of us, heading up into the hills of the Hundalees.
CHAPTER 9
The Odyssey
By mid-afternoon the skies have darkened, and as Gus and Jock and I make our way up into the foothills of the Hundalees the clouds become black and threatening. There’s a storm coming.
Maybe I should have retraced the river to State Highway One, but I thought going back all the way to the road was pointless and this way would be a shortcut. We’ve lost so much time combing the riverbanks. The HMS Canterbury will pull into Kaikoura in two days’ time and if we’re not there we’ll miss the boat. Then all of this – losing Moxy – will have been for nothing.
I wonder if they’ve realised back in Parnassus that I’m gone?
***
“We’re evacuating.”
It is the day after the quake and Mayor Garry has gathered everyone from our makeshift tent village into the town hall to make the announcement. We’re leaving Parnassus.
“They’re going to open the Leader Road inland,” Mayor Garry says. “We should be able to leave by car first thing tomorrow morning.”
“So we’re heading north?” Scary Mary asks. “Where to?”
“Through Mount Lyford to Kaikoura,” Mayor Garry says. “They’re sending in a warship to dock in Kaikoura harbour to evacuate the coast. It’ll arrive in four days.”
“A boat?” Mrs Mahuta asks. “Can we take our stuff with us?”
“It’s not a cruise ship, Louise,” Mayor Garry says. “We can only take essentials. Pack your cars with warm blankets and clothes and food and water, and that’s it. No luggage.”
“What about the dogs?” Moana asks. Black and Decker, the Mahutas’ two big black Labradors, are currently lying at Mr Mahuta’s feet, their heads on their paws.
“No animals.” Mayor Garry shakes his head.
“What do you mean, no animals?” Mrs Mahuta bristles.
“No pets,” Mayor Garry clarifies. “They have to stay behind.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Mrs Mahuta says. “What are we supposed to do? Just leave the dogs at home with a tin opener and let them fend for themselves? Don’t talk nonsense, Garry!”
There’s a murmur through the crowd gathered in the hall, and Mayor Garry holds up
his hands to calm us all.
“This is an evacuation,” Garry says. “Human life takes priority.”
“Oh, for God’s sake!” Scary Mary rolls her eyes at him. “Stop talking like you run the show, Garry, and actually get off your backside and do something for once! Get on the phone to those blokes at Civil Defence and tell them we’re not getting on that boat without our pets!”
“Yeah,” Moana says. “And that includes Buffy and Willow!”
Buffy and Willow are Moana’s guinea pigs.
Garry stomps out with his phone clutched to his ear and there’s a tense silence while we wait for him to talk with the Civil Defence people.
When he comes back in, Mayor Garry looks all pleased with himself. “OK,” he says, “I’ve had serious words with Civil Defence. The SPCA is sorting it. Animals will be allowed on board the HMS Canterbury, so when you pack the cars, leave room for the pets.”
“That’s more like it!” Mrs Mahuta says, giving Black and Decker a pat. “You hear that, boys? You’re coming with us!”
“They’re sending in a helicopter too.” Mayor Garry continues. “They’ll airlift Julia straight to the hospital in Christchurch.”
“Evie,” Scary Mary says, “you can go with your mum if you want. We’ll take Jock and Moxy with us in the car and meet you there.”
“What about Gus?” I say.
“What about him?” Scary Mary is puzzled.
“He won’t fit in the car.”
There’s a silence in the hall.
“Evie,” Mayor Garry says, “don’t be silly. Gus can’t come.”
“Why not?” I bristle. “You just said we can take the pets.”
“Gus isn’t a pet,” Mayor Garry says. “He’s a farm animal.”
I can hear the bees coming into my brain, my blood pounding in my temples. “He’s my horse! I can’t just leave him alone.”
There’s a deafening quiet in the room. Then Scary Mary says, “Evie, he won’t be alone. You can put him in with the cows for company.”
“He doesn’t care about cows!” I shout at her. “He needs me and Jock and Moxy!”
None of them know! If they saw what Gus was like that last night during the earthquake they’d understand. There are going to be more aftershocks and he’s going to hurt himself.
“Evie,” Mayor Garry is speaking to me in that syrupy voice you use when you’re trying to convince a little kid about something, like he’s tempting me with ice cream and lollies. “Don’t you want to go in a helicopter? You can even take Moxy and Jock with you.”
As if I care about a stupid helicopter ride! If I have to go without Gus then I’m not going anywhere. I will never ever leave my pony behind.
“Mum?” I come into her tent and she can see straight away I’ve been crying.
“Evie, what’s the matter?”
“Mayor Garry is a moron,” I say.
Mum tries to sit up in bed and I see her wince. “We all know that,” she says. “What’s he done now?”
“He wants me to leave Gus behind and go in the helicopter with you,” I say. “But I told him I would never leave Gus alone.”
I look at her, expecting support. My mum was a horse rider too, back in the day. She knows how special Gus is to me.
“I do understand that you want to take him with us,” she says, “but he’s not going to fit in a helicopter, Evie.”
“He’ll fit on a ship, though.”
Mum’s face softens. “I know you love him, but Gus is a horse, sweetie. They’re used to living outside. He’ll be fine at the farm. He’s happy in a paddock by himself.”
“Not with earthquakes!” I say. “Mum you didn’t see him that night when the house fell. He was so scared, he was galloping around like crazy and he could have killed himself. And I promised him! I told him then I’d never leave him alone again!”
“Evie –” Mum looks at me – “don’t get hysterical. This is a state of emergency right now, but when the roads are cleared and things are sorted we’ll come back for him.”
“When?”
“As soon as we can.”
“What if it’s months?” I say. “What if we can’t ever come back? What if the roads are closed forever because of earthquakes …”
“Evie,” Mum is actually getting cross with me now. “I can’t do anything about this! Even if there was room on the ship, there’s no way to get a horse to Kaikoura. You don’t have a choice. You have to leave him behind!”
“Then I’m not going either!” I say. “I’ll stay here with him and Jock and Moxy.”
“You can’t do that,” Mum says. “There’s no water, no food. We don’t know how long it will be before we get the power back on. Evie, we’ve got to leave.”
I look at Mum and I realise that this is pointless. She is just like the rest of them. Adults. They say they love animals but really they think people are more important. But they’re not.
And at that moment I realise it is up to me. I am the only one who cares enough to save Gus. And that is when I think up my plan – to ride the coast road to Kaikoura and meet the ship with my pony.
And I take a deep breath as if I am admitting defeat and I say, “OK, but I can’t go on the helicopter with you because of my OCD …”
I stay by Mum’s bedside until the helicopter comes and I feel awful about lying and even more awful about being separated from her, because she is going to the place. They are taking her to Christchurch Hospital, and I don’t want her to go there because I know what can happen when you follow the red line. I’m worried about Mum, and when she’s asleep, before the helicopter comes, I do the rituals with my backpack beside her bed to try to keep her safe. I need to protect her.
Moana comes to get me when the helicopter arrives. It’s a black one. It looks like a wasp in the sky as it comes in to land.
The helicopter pilots crouch down low and run out from under the helicopter blades while they’re still rotating. I walk alongside while Mayor Garry talks to them. The tall dark-haired one is called Charlie and he’s the pilot. The other one, Nathan, has sandy blond hair. He’s the one who looks after my mum.
“How are you doing, Mrs Van Zwanenberg?”
Nathan reaches down and picks up her hand, taking her pulse at the wrist. “Can I have a look at that leg?” He moves the sheet off so he can see it.
“Wiggle your toes for me?” Nathan says.
Mum winces as they wiggle.
“That’s good,” Nathan says. “You’ve got feeling in them, yeah?”
Mum nods.
“Now, I’m going to put my hand under your foot. Press down on me as hard as you can, OK?”
“Ughh.” Mum whimpers a little. Nathan is making notes in his phone.
“OK!” he calls out to Charlie. “She’s prepped over here. We’re good to go.”
Mum gets a panicked look on her face. She grabs tighter on to my hand.
“Are you sure you can’t come with me in the helicopter, Evie?” she says. “They could give you some medication to make you calm and then you could fly?”
I shake my head. “I’ll be fine, Mum.”
“If you need anything, ask Mrs Mahuta, OK?” Mum says.
Nathan smiles at me. “Going in the convoy, huh? Well, you’ll catch us up in a few days. Your mum will still be in the hospital, so I guess we’ll see you there?”
Suddenly I get this pang in my gut like I’ve done the wrong thing. And I want to say I will go too. But it’s too late because Nathan and Charlie are lifting up Mum’s stretcher now and carrying her out of the tent. I run alongside them as they walk out with her to the helicopter. They open the doors and load her stretcher inside and I get in too, crouching beside her.
“Mum?”
I’m scared to hug her in case I hurt her, but I do it anyway. My arms splay round the outside of the red wool emergency blanket she’s wrapped in. I burrow my head into her chest and she kisses me on top of my head.
“I’ll see you in a few days, E
vie,” Mum says. “I love you.”
“Bye, Mum,” I whisper. “I love you too.”
But when I say “I love you” Charlie starts the helicopter engine, so I’m not completely sure that Mum even heard me. I shout it again, but it’s too late because I have to climb out now, as they shut the doors. Scary Mary has me by the shoulders and she crouches down with me beneath the whirring blades and moves me away so that we are clear and standing back on the lawn with Mayor Garry, who’s dressed in a ridiculous orange hi-vis jacket which he took from road patrol. We watch the rotors whirr until they turn invisible. Charlie and Nathan both have their headsets and their sunglasses on and I see Nathan give me a thumbs-up signal through the bubble window of the helicopter windscreen. Then the chopper lifts straight up and into the sky.
Everyone gathers around to watch it leave. Eventually they all go off to pack their cars again, but I stay there alone and watch until the helicopter is no more than a dot. Finally I can’t see anything in the sky except blue. Mum is gone.
Then I walk back to the hall and think about what I need to do. It’s sixty kilometres to Kaikoura. The warship arrives in four days. I don’t have much time.
“What are you doing?”
Moana has walked into the tent and found me packing up.
“I’m going to Kaikoura,” I say. “I’m taking Gus.”
“What are you talking about?” Moana says. “We can’t take him in the station wagon. We’ve only just got enough room for all of us and the dogs and Moxy.”
“I’m not going with you,” I say. “I’m going along the coast road.”
“But it’s shut! You can’t get through.”
“I can too,” I say. “Cars can’t get through, but a horse can.”
“You’re going to ride to Kaikoura?” Moana looks at me and I know that look!
“You have to promise me,” I say. “Promise me you won’t tell!”