A New Kind of Zeal

by Michelle Warren

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: Hell’s Way

  Rachel stood on the waterfront of Lake Rotorua.

  Black swans swam up to her, on the blue water. White bird poop was everywhere, on the pavement. Abandoned water planes and children’s water riders tipped up and down with the gentle waves – no one had the money to ride these anymore.

  Rachel looked up to the bush laden Mokoia Island, in the centre of the lake. The sky was a little overcast – even threatening rain – but the view was still beautiful.

  Behind her a crowd of people, as usual, were gathered around Joshua, on the dry grassy field. Rachel glanced back at them and remembered childhood days, when markets, and fairs and circuses, had sat on that field.

  John was a little further along the pavement – throwing dry grass meaninglessly at the swans. He noticed her watching him, and wandered over to her.

  “Nice day,” she said.

  “Not bad.”

  “There’s a wonderful track around the lake, just up there.” She pointed ahead, and he looked up.

  “Down there?”

  “Yes.”

  Now a mischievous smile lit up his face. “Wanna go?”

  “Now?” Rachel glanced back at Joshua. He was busy taking people’s hands. Would he mind? Probably not – not for a few minutes.

  “Okay,” she said, and he took her hand, and led her down the track.

  The lake was blue-grey, to their left, as they entered into the track – ducking under branches, brushing past ferns. They emerged onto a car-park, no longer used, and then beyond – where the lake gradually transitioned into white milky water.

  “Sulphur,” Rachel said, and drank in the smell.

  “Wow,” John said. “Stinky.”

  “I love it,” Rachel said. “It reminds me of my childhood. It’s not as bad as it used to be!”

  And they kept walking further around the lake.

  A flock of gulls suddenly took flight, over the white waters. Near their feet, small bubbling mud pools gave off steam. John paused, for a moment, looking into the depths of the mud: frowning a little. Rachel watched him.

  “What is it?”

  “Don’t know,” John said. “Must be hot in there.”

  “Boiling,” Rachel said. “This is a thermal area – underground heating. Sometimes the pressure builds up, and there are actual eruptions! Happened in Kuirau Park, years ago: a little steaming water lake exploded!”

  “That’s New Zealand, eh?” John said. “Made from the enormous pressure of two tectonic plates pushed against each other, and volcanic eruptions everywhere.”

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” Rachel said – and she squeezed his hand.

  They wandered a little further around. Now they were climbing over wooden bridges, built over white silica deposits covering the ground. They came to a viewing platform – and wandered entirely over vast expanses of white sinter terraces, gazing out at the wide outlook of the steaming white lake.

  “Wow,” John said again, and Rachel squeezed his hand. “See what I mean?”

  She stood there silently with him, happy – and John also, she knew, was happy. Then they heard a voice from behind.

  “Mind if I join you?” It was Joshua – he was grinning. Rau was behind him, and Tristan, and Anahera, and the crowd of other people.

  Rachel blushed – but John was still holding her hand.

  “We’re moving on,” Joshua said. “Rau and Tristan are staying with these people, but I want you both to come with me.”

  “Where?” Rachel asked, and Joshua’s gaze intensified.

  “To Hell’s Way.”

  “Excuse me?” John asked, and Rachel broke into a grin.

  “Hell’s Way!” she said. “It’s just around the other side of the lake! Follow me!”

  And she led them forward.

  Now they stood outside the entrance into Hell’s Way. The old business that Rachel had visited as a child was now deserted. A run down gateway stood at the entrance: red paint flaking, with the words ‘Hell’s Way’ carved into the wood.

  “Let’s go,” Joshua said, and he quickly walked forward through the gate onto the track.

  Rachel looked at John, who was glancing tentatively back at her.

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” he said.

  “Joshua says to go.”

  “Then we should go.” And John took her hand, and moved forward.

  The track was bare, the air hot. Rachel glanced to both sides of the track – there were little mud pools, bubbling away: cute, and smelly. She remembered the path well. Joshua was well ahead. A few Maori children were playing around the track – a few Maori men and women were sitting quietly, still dressed in their traditional beaded skirts and feathers, with tiki and moko, watching them.

  Rachel was surprised, seeing them – it was almost as though she was looking back in time.

  She began to feel uncomfortable. The mud pools up ahead were much larger. She noticed the protective railing was falling away: the wooden structures were rotten.

  Joshua was standing next to a big steaming pool, up ahead. He seemed to be swaying over it.

  “John!” Rachel quickly said. “What is he doing?”

  “I don’t know,” John replied, releasing her hand.

  “He almost looks…” Surely not! “Suicidal…?”

  “No,” John said. “It’s something else.” And he quickly went to him.

  Rachel watched, from a greater distance. What was Joshua doing up there? Didn’t he know he would die, if he fell in? Boiling water! Didn’t he know they would not be able to save him?

  His face was intense, staring down into the water. John had a hand on his shoulder, as if ensuring his safety: as if ensuring he wouldn’t slip.

  A child suddenly ran past Rachel – she quickly reached for him. There were other pools, weren’t there? Surely the children were not safe here.

  The little Maori boy laughed at her – he pushed her away. But now he was slipping! Falling!

  A hot pool was beneath him – deep, steaming water. He was clutching at her, brown eyes wide with terror, crying out something in Maori.

  Rachel hurriedly reached to catch his arm.

  “No!” she cried, and somehow grasped him, and somehow threw him back up. He was safe! Relief filled her.

  But now she was slipping.

  Panicking, she clawed at the ferns – but the leaves broke. She was sliding, down, down.

  “Rachel!” John’s voice screamed – and his face was above her, white, panicking. “Rachel!”

  He thrust his arms down toward her, but could not reach her.

  She fell, down, down – and then she hit the water.

  Agony took her. Burning! She screamed, but now the burning was filling her lungs!

  “Oh, God!” she bubbled, desperately thrusting her hands up in the air. But the water engulfed her – the burning swallowed her up.

  Images were flashing before her eyes: her mother, kissing her goodnight; her father’s face of pride, at her graduation.

  Daddy, she moaned, I’m dying…

  His face faded, sinking into darkness – and then, suddenly, she felt torn away.

  Her body was beneath her, now. Horrified, she stared at the back of her head: her body, floating in the steaming water. She was dead! Drowned.

  But then, suddenly, there was a movement. Joshua was at the edge of the hot pool, despite John’s strange cries of ‘No!’ He was in the water, gasping! He was dragging her body up the bank.

  He had her on her back now. Vaguely, Rachel wondered: CPR? Would he do CPR? He didn’t. Instead, he called her name.

  “Rachel.”

  She felt seized. What was it? Someone pulling at her.

  “Rachel.”

  There was a light – a light, far away, in the opposite direction. Should she go?

  “Rachel.”

  The voice was calling her back! Calling her back into her own body.

  No…

  “Come back,”
his voice said. “You’re not ready! It’s not your time yet.”

  She succumbed – she let go, and was drawn back.

  “Rachel.” Now she heard the voice with her own ears.

  She opened her eyes – and Joshua’s face was above her.

  Stunned, she stared up at him. Where was she? Oh, yes! She had fallen! She had slipped into the boiling pool.

  “Oh, God!” she choked. It had burnt! It had burnt! But she didn’t feel the burning now.

  She reached down to clutch at her own body. The clothes had been torn off. She was naked, but in that moment she didn’t care. Her eyes passed over her skin – surely third degree burns! Over her entire body! Surely soon to be fatal! But her skin was normal. She could feel touch. There was no pain. Not even any redness.

  Perplexed, she stared at her skin, and then looked up at Joshua. His hair was wet. His arms were bright red, and his legs. He was trembling – Rachel could tell he was in pain.

  “You need morphine,” she instinctively said, but he smiled slightly, and shook his head.

  “No,” he said. “I’ll be all right.”

  Rachel stared at him, suddenly realizing what he had done. She stared at John. John’s eyes were wide: with fear and wonder.

  “I…” She gasped, and continued. “I was dead…”

  Joshua rose to his feet, and swayed slightly. John was next to her, now – taking off his shirt, giving it to her. The Maori people were watching! The little boy came forward, tears in his brown eyes – he reached out his hand to Rachel, and then to Joshua. A woman quickly came forward, with a cloth, and wrapped it around her, and said something to her in Maori.

  Rachel stood – and then looked at Joshua.

  “You need to go to hospital,” she said – and he smiled wryly.

  “‘Physician heal thyself’?” he said – and he wandered a short distance away.

  A young Maori lady came, now – she handed Rachel some clothes.

  “Miss,” she began, “you can have my shirt and shorts.”

  “Thank you,” Rachel said.

  “You saved my brother!” she said. “I saw it! I saw what you did! And then…”

  She glanced at Joshua, and then back to Rachel. “I saw what he did, too.”

  “What did he do?” Rachel asked – wanting to hear the young woman’s perspective.

  Her brown eyes widened, as she held Rachel’s gaze.

  “He saved you, miss,” she said. “You were a gonna. Children die here all the time.”

  Tears filled up Rachel’s eyes.

  “Why don’t you set up boundaries?”

  “We can’t,” she said. “They don’t work. The children are too small.”

  “Then why do you stay here? Why don’t you move out?”

  “Where else would we go?”

  Rachel gazed at her – and then saw Joshua approaching the Maori people. He was still in pain – and yet he spoke with them, in Maori. She didn’t know what he was saying – but after he spoke, they rose to their feet, and followed him out of Hell’s Way.

  Rachel hesitated for a moment. She looked back down at the boiling hot pool. She shuddered – and then wrapped her arms around herself.

  John was watching her. She looked at him, and he swallowed.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “What just happened?”

  “I…” She shivered. “I died.”

  His green eyes intensified. “You actually died?”

  “The water came flooding in!” she said, shuddering. “It was terrible! Into my lungs! I was above my body, looking down, and then…then…”

  “Yes?”

  “He saved me. I heard his voice – he called me back into my own body.”

  John’s jaw dropped. He stared at her. Then he looked after Joshua.

  “Do you understand what this means?” he said, and Rachel frowned.

  “What?”

  “It means…not only does he have the power to heal: he has the power to bring the dead back to life.”

  Rachel struggled with his words. “I wasn’t dead for long!” she said. “Just a few minutes! And yet…there was something about his voice. And…” Now she trembled. “My skin is normal, John.”

  “You didn’t just come around.”

  “There’s no water in my lungs. My skin is normal. While his skin is burnt…”

  Something came over John’s face, now – a sudden understanding beyond what Rachel could see, and a sadness that came with that understanding.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said – and Rachel, gladly, left the steaming hot pool behind, and followed again after Joshua.