Table of Contents
Glossary of Acronyms
Glossary of Māori and Local Terms
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
INTO THE MIST
INTO THE MIST
LEE MURRAY
Cohesion Press
Mayday Hills Lunatic Asylum
Beechworth, Australia
Into the Mist
© 2016 Lee Murray
Cover Art © 2016 Dean Samed/Conzpiracy Digital Art
All Rights Reserved
Cohesion Press
Mayday Hills Lunatic Asylum,
Beechworth, Australia
www.cohesionpress.com
This book is a work of fiction.
All people, places, events, giant tuatara, and situations are the product of the author’s imagination.
Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
We are an Australian publisher, and even though we publish many overseas writers, we maintain a certain Australian house style of punctuation.
Also From Cohesion Press
Horror:
SNAFU: An Anthology of Military Horror
– eds Geoff Brown & Amanda J Spedding
SNAFU: Heroes
– eds Geoff Brown & Amanda J Spedding
SNAFU: Wolves at the Door
– eds Geoff Brown & Amanda J Spedding
SNAFU: Survival of the Fittest
– eds Geoff Brown & Amanda J Spedding
SNAFU: Hunters
– eds Amanda J Spedding & Geoff Brown
The Gate Theory – Kaaron Warren
Carnies – Martin Livings
Blurring the Line – Marty Young (ed)
American Nocturne – Hank Schwaeble
Sci-Fi/Thriller:
Valkeryn 2 – Greig Beck
Cry Havoc – Jack Hanson
Forlorn Hope – Jack Hanson
Coming Soon
SNAFU: Future Warfare (April 2016)
Man with the Iron Heart (May 2016)
Jade Gods (June 2016)
The Angel of the Abyss (July 2016)
SNAFU: Unnatural Selection (August 2016)
Glossary of Acronyms
CBD – Central Business District
CTR – Close Target Reconnaissance
DoC – Department of Conservation
DPM – Disruptive Pattern Material (combat camouflage material)
GNS – (Institute of) Geological and Nuclear Sciences
IRAD – Infrared Aiming Device, an inline night vision rifle attachment
SAS/NZSAS – New Zealand Special Air Service (elite combat regiment)
Glossary of Māori and Local Terms
Aotearoa – literally ‘the land of the long white cloud’, the Māori name for New Zealand
Haast Eagle – Giant eagle, which the Māori referred to as Te Hokioi, now extinct
Hine-pūkohu-rangi – the mist which occurs in the Urewera mountain ranges
Hongi – formal greeting that involves touching of noses, or sharing of breath
Iwi – tribe, people with common ancestry
Kāinga-tipu – ancestral home, place of birth
Karakia – a prayer
Kaumātua/mātua – elder, mentor, teacher
Kauri – conifer, New Zealand’s largest and longest living native tree
Kiwi, kiwi – New Zealander, or small flightless ratite, symbol of New Zealand
Kōkako – endangered wattlebird, songbird
Korero – carvings
Koro, koro – grandfather, old man
Kuia, kuia – grandmother, old woman
Kupe – legendary discoverer of New Zealand
Matakite – fortune teller, seer
Moa – giant flightless ratite indigenous to New Zealand, now extinct
Morepork – New Zealand owl, Māori harbinger and messenger between the spiritual and real world
Pākehā – non-Māori, typically of British descent
Pīwakawaka – fantail bird
Pūrerehua – musical instrument, also called a bullroarer
Rūaumoko – God of earthquakes
SwanndriTM – popular New Zealand felted wool bush shirt label, typically in a check pattern
Tāne Māhuta – God of the forest
Tangata whenua – the People of the land
Taniwha – Māori legendary water monster
Tapu – sacred
Te Hoata – fire demon
Te Kooti – Māori religious leader, and guerrilla fighter (1832-1891)
Te Pupu – fire demon
Tōtara – endemic podocarp
Treaty of Waitangi – New Zealand’s founding document signed on 6 February 1840 by representatives of the British Crown and about 540 Māori chieftains
Tuatara – only surviving member of the Family Sphenodontia
Tui – endemic passerine bird with dark iridescent plumage
Tūrehu – supernatural creatures of the spirit world
Tūhoe – Māori tribe from the eastern north island, famous for not acceding to European governance.
Wairua – spirit, soul
Wētā – nocturnal flightless insect resembling a katydid
Whakatane – an east coast town
Whio – endangered grey native duck
Chapter 1
Te Urewera National Park, late March.
“What do you say we take a break?” Terry called hopefully, pushing up his hat and wiping his brow with the back of his hand. There was a hotspot on the ball of his foot that’d turn into a big-arsed blister if it didn’t get looked at soon. In front, partially obscured by the undergrowth, Cam fended off an aggressive tree fern. He didn’t turn.
“Cam!” Terry called, louder this time. “Give us a breather, will ya?”
Cam halted, one arm holding back the fanning branches. “What was that?”
“Break!”
“Nah. Reckon we should push on a bit. The hut can’t be far off. We’ll call it a day when we find it.”
Cam released the bough as he passed underneath. Suddenly free, the branch whipped back in his wake, whacking Terry in the face.
“Ow!”
“Sorry.”
Already, Cam was on the move again, the swish and whish of his movement trailing him like a reptile’s tail. Groaning, Terry grabbed the straps of his pack, hoisting the weight up on his shoulders.
Maybe he should’ve thought twice before agreeing to another of Cam’s crazy schemes. But he and Cam have been mates forever – since school – and one thing about Cam, Terry always felt alive when they were together. Probably because Cam was always trying to get them killed. Tramping was the latest in a long line of Cam’s must-do challenges. At least this time they were on terra firma. Terry had nearly pissed himself the time they’d gone tandem skydiving. He had pissed himself black water rafting, but thankfully the water and the wetsuit had saved his dignity.
Their first hiking trip had been a one-day walk in Abel Tasman
National Park, a rolling coastal track of sandy beaches, timber footbridges and leafy bush trails. Terry and Cam had set out early, covering the 34 kilometres in just under six hours. Their second trip was longer – a four-day hike out of Te Anau on the famous Kepler Track. A half a day in, Mount Luxmore had loomed 1490m overhead, prompting oohs and aahs from the overseas tourists on the trail. But Cam had bitched every time he saw a yellow trail marker. For him, even loaded up with gear, the traverse had been too fucking tame. He’d kept going on about how a girl scout could’ve done it, and in a double-decker bus.
“It’ll be great,” Cam had said. “Something decent to get our teeth into. None of this namby-pamby touristy stuff.”
Terry had agreed in a wink. A no-brainer really. At work, the company had been going through a restructure, and the atmosphere in the office was shitty. Terry figured if his job wasn’t there when he got back, then fuck it, he’d go on the dole while he looked for something else. Terry’s olds had bitched about it, but they could get fucked.
He was twenty-eight.
Ultra fucking responsible. This trip, he and Cam had checked the long-range forecasts, got themselves kitted up with borrowed gear, even given Cam’s sister their proposed route. And everything had gone fine too, until today, when Cam decided they should venture off the trail – not too far, maybe just a kilometre or two – and do some bushwhacking. It had been great fun, a real adrenalin rush. Cam was like a dog pulling at the leash, keen to get to the next ridge, through the next valley, and ‘round the next corner. He had the pair of them pushing through the foliage, clambering through thickets and stumbling across deep ferny valleys that looked as if they’d never seen a human footprint. Terry loved it. At first. Now, his patience, and his feet were wearing thin.
“Hey look at this!” Cam shouted. He pointed out some oddly spherical rocks protruding from a clay bank. “Reckon those could be fossilised moa eggs, probably uncovered when this bank came away. Looks recent, too. Probably came down in that big earthquake last August. Think about it, Terry, we could be the only people on Earth to see these eggs.”
“If they’re eggs,” Terry said, dubious. He stepped up to the bank for a closer look.
“Course they are. What else could they be?”
“Rocks?”
Cam laughed, clapped him on the back. “No fucking imagination, Terry. That’s your problem.”
Terry shrugged. Buried in the bank, the rocks did look like a clutch of eggs. Cam’s hypothesis was as good as any given that all this area had been swamp way-back-when. Maybe a moa had left her clutch here once upon a time. “Should we make a note of the location, let the park ranger know?” Terry asked, warming to the moa-egg theme.
Cam shook his head. “They’ve been hidden here all these years, what’s another thousand going to matter? Let’s just leave ‘em.”
They kept hiking, the hotspot on Terry’s foot niggling as the afternoon wore on. But even more uncomfortable than his foot was Terry’s growing suspicion that they’d managed to get lost. This little glade looked like one they’d passed through earlier. They should’ve reached the hut by now. More likely they’d shot by within metres of the shelter without realising it. Easy mistake. In places, this forest was as dense as mattress stuffing. The area was hardly swarming with people. Terry and Cam had only seen one pair of trampers – an old guy and what might’ve been his son – and that was two days ago.
The afternoon sun was weakening when Cam stopped and pulled the map from the side-pocket of his pack. Bracing his foot against a flat rock, he studied it.
“Where the hell are we?” Terry said, coming alongside to peer over Cam’s shoulder.
“God only knows,” said Cam. He indicated an area the size of a small coin with a grubby index finger. “Somewhere here. We must’ve missed the hut. Probably deviated off course when we went through that ravine.”
When you charged off the track, you mean.
“Did you try your cell phone? We might still be in range.” Terry was careful to keep his voice calm and matter-of-fact.
“What’re we going to say? Boohoo, come get us? We’ve got enough food for a few more days, and plenty of warm gear. Let’s just see if we can get ourselves out of this mess before we go crying for help, eh?”
“So what do you suggest?” Terry said.
“For today,” Cam said, folding the map more or less into pleats, “I vote we find a place to set up camp, get some tucker in us, and rest. Tomorrow, we’ll have a bit of a recce, and push on when we’ve got our bearings. My money’s on finding the track before lunch.”
They pitched the tent on an elevated site above a small creek, and soon a fiery pyramid crackled in the small clearing. While Cam got the tea brewed, Terry sat on a flat rock, took his boot off and examined the turgid bubble on the ball of his foot.
Bugger, that’s going to hurt tomorrow.
The light softened to grey, and he fossicked around in his pack for his first aid kit to deal with the wound. He’d just finished repacking the kit, when Cam passed him a mug of hot tea.
“Get that down ya, mate.”
Taking the mug, Terry wrapped his hands around its warmth and breathed in the steamy vapour. The fire popped, the cheerful sound of a soft-drink tab being pulled, its Fanta-coloured flames lighting the campsite. Mesmerised, Terry sipped the hot liquid and decided this wasn’t so grim after all. They weren’t really lost, just temporarily misplaced. Cam was right. All they needed was some decent kip. Everything’d be sorted in the morning.
* * *
Terry woke, aware the space beside him was empty. Fumbling with his watch, he checked the time: 12:23am. Cam must’ve gone for a leak. Terry heard him stomping around outside the tent. Geez, Cam, how hard is it to find a spot to piss? Lifting himself up on one elbow, Terry gave his pillow – a bag of dirty clothes – a good whump, encouraging it into a more comfortable shape, then shifted his hips to avoid whatever’d been digging into him through the groundsheet. That done, he burrowed into his sleeping bag, pulling the fabric close to his chin. He was almost back in the land of Nod when Cam’s yell filled the night.
“Jesus, Cam!” Terry scrambled free of his sleeping bag and charged out of the tent. He pulled up. Outside, the campsite was a patchwork of shadows, the fire long since extinguished.
“Cam?”
Nothing. Miles from civilisation, the silence was eerie, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.
“Cam,” Terry said. “Quit fooling around, will ya? You’re freaking me out.”
The air was strangely heavy. At the base of his neck, Terry’s skin prickled.
“Cam, you okay mate?” he said, reaching backwards under the flysheet for his boots. He strained his ears, just catching a faint rustle. Not bothering to do up the laces, he slipped his boots on, wincing when the blister touched home. Then, he crossed the campsite in the direction of the noise. He felt his way with caution, checking the stability of the ground before placing his feet. Cam had been making a bit of a racket earlier, stomping around out here. Could he have tripped on a hidden hollow and knocked himself out? Or maybe he’d wandered away from the campsite and couldn’t find his way back? Except if that were the case, he would’ve called out. Terry figured Cam must’ve hurt himself. What possessed Cam to go off on a Tiki-tour in the dark? Not everything had to be a frickin’ cross-country adventure. Why couldn’t he just piss into the bushes behind the tent? Terry bashed his knee on a rock.
“Fuck!”
Hang on. Another sound. Possibly a whimper...
“Cam? Can you hear me?” Terry stopped still, listened for his mate and pushed back the panic that’d gripped his intestines. Dead silence. Cam must be out cold. Terry hoped it wasn’t too serious. He increased his pace,
trying to navigate his way in the murk, but his thoughts were way ahead. How were they going to get out of the bush if Cam was injured? Nothing else for it, they’d just have to pull their heads in and phone Search and Rescue. That was if they could get a signal. And even if they got through to someone, Terry didn’t have a clue where they were. The forest park covered more than two thousand square kilometres. It could take days for anyone to get to them.
Terry shook his head, annoyed his imagination had run away with him. First thing he needed to do was find Cam. As far as getting him out of the bush, they’d deal with that later.
At the edge of the campsite, Terry stumbled on a fallen tree limb, bruising his shin and sprawling headfirst into some spongy bracken. Stunned and gormless, Terry picked himself up, casting around in the dark for the obstacle so as not to trip a second time. His fingers found a boot. Terry felt a rush of relief. Looked like Cam tripped over the same branch.
“Cam,” he said jovially. “S’okay mate, I’ve found you. Everything’s gonna be fine now.”
Cam didn’t answer, confirming Terry’s suspicions. The duffer’d gone and knocked himself out on a rock or a stump or something. Concussed. Patting his way up Cam’s legs to his trunk, Terry was pleased to note that at least there were no broken bones.
What the fuck?!
Terry shook violently, his body already grasping what his mind hadn’t yet understood. Bringing his fingers to his face Terry sniffed at the wetness there. Metallic. It wasn’t dew. Terry jerked his hands away in horror. Cam’s upper body was missing.
“Sweet Jesus!”
He’d been severed in half. Gulping air, Terry scrambled to his feet, backpedalling, using bloody hands to scrabble away, a low wail welling up from his stomach. How did this happen? He wasn’t stopping to find out. He had to get the hell away from here. Turning his back on what was left of Cam, Terry charged toward the tent, plunging headlong through the dark, ignoring the branches that stabbed at his face and arms. He was half way across the clearing when the moon peeked through the forest canopy illuminating the campsite, and Terry knew getting out of the bush was the least of his worries.