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Authors: D C Grant

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BOOK: Three Times Dead
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Chapter 36

 

I drew in a panicked shuddering breath, gasping as my lungs expanded, filling with air. Choking on my own salvia, I coughed frantically, my heart pounding in my chest, my hands searching for the bullet wound, the metallic taste of blood in my mouth.

“He’s breathing,” a foreign voice said. I tried to identify it – a soldier?

I was lying on my back, looking up into the sky. That’s where I’d fallen. Where was Matiu?

“Are you all right, Bevan?” A dark face came into view, an old face – but it wasn’t Piripi. Piripi was dead. “You gave us a fright.”

Who was Bevan? I stared at the face above me. Images flashed through my mind’s eye: Piripi, Reka, Matiu; Henry, Gina, Mark. The old world faded and the present reasserted itself.

I was Bevan.

“I died!” I gasped. “I took a bullet to the chest – the pain, and the blood!”

“I thought you were dying,” Henry said as he struggled to his feet. “This couple helped me.”

I looked over and saw a young couple, the man on his knees beside me, a woman behind him, hugging herself and looking worried.

“He’s epileptic?” the man asked.

“Not as far as I know,” Henry replied.

I tried to sit up and the man had to help me. My strength was gone.

“What happened?” I asked.

“You tell me,” Henry said. “You looked over at me and then collapsed on the ground. You were talking in Maori and then you jerked as though you had been knocked hard and you just stopped breathing. By that time these people had arrived. This man said he knew first aid and was about to perform mouth to mouth when you opened your eyes. You say you took a bullet to the chest?”

“Haki did – here. He died here.”

I saw the man look over at Henry with a frown.

“And for a moment you died too,” Henry said, ignoring the man’s look of concern.

I looked over to the fields beyond the fence. It had looked different in my dream. There had been no road then, and more trees.

“He never got to see Reka again; never got to see his son grow up,” I said, my voice quivering. He was shot, right here.” I hit the heel of my hand into my chest, feeling the pain that Haki had felt when the bullet ripped into it. I fell back on the soft earth as though shot, again looking up into the blue sky, the same blue sky that Haki had seen before he died. “And I died too – for the third time!”

“Let’s get you back,” Henry said. He looked over at the man. “Can you help me get him to the car?”

Together the two of them hoisted me to my feet, and, with difficulty, shuffled me towards the car. My body was weak and I didn’t have control over my artificial foot, which hampered us all. Eventually we made it; the woman opened the passenger door and the man helped Henry lower me to the seat and move my legs into the footwell. I lay my head back against the headrest and closed my eyes. Tears welled up from under my closed eyelids and ran down my cheeks.

“Yes, thank you, we’ll be all right now. I’ll take him home.”

I wondered what Henry meant by home. That was a long way away from here. I had a sudden longing for my home – something familiar rather than this strange half-life where I was killed in a battle fought a long time ago.

In my ears I could still hear gunfire and the cries of women and children, still smell the cordite in the gunpowder. I felt the pain of Haki’s wounds, and had to keep my hand on my chest to convince myself that blood wasn’t flowing from it.

The car swayed as Henry got into the driver’s side and started up the engine. He said nothing as he reversed and pulled out onto the road. He remained silent as we drove, giving me the time and space I needed to regain some kind of normality before he got to the farmhouse.

“His brother took his mere,” I said, as we approached the farmhouse. “He said he would take it to Reka and tell her of Haki’s bravery and love for her.”

“It would have meant a great deal to her.”

“It belonged to her grandfather.”

“Then it would hold even greater mana.”

We turned into the driveway, and I knew that something was wrong. Ted and Peter were on the porch and they both looked angry. Hesitantly I got out of the car as they came down to meet us, that morning’s newspaper in Ted’s hand.

“What’s this?” he said, as he opened it out to show me the bottom half of the front page. There was my face, a picture taken last year underneath the headline
Two arrested
,
third suspect sought in aggravated robbery
. “Bevan Campbell, it says – that’s you, isn’t it?”

Slowly I nodded. I knew then that either Mitch or Scott, or both, had narked on me, the bastards.

Ted threw the newspaper to the ground. “So that’s why you came in the middle of the night. You were running away from the police. Peter, get on the phone, get the police around here.”

“Wait!” I cried as Peter turned to go into the house. “Let me explain. I didn’t know what they were going to do.”

“How could you not know? They said you waited in the getaway car. You drove away at speed. They’ve got a description of the car. It’s the same as the car parked up the road.”

“I know it looks bad. I admit I was there and I did drive away, but I was too upset to do anything else. You see, I’d just found out that my girlfriend was having an abortion and I tried to stop her but I was too late … too late.”

I collapsed on the ground in tears. Together with the experience that I had just had, this news was too much and my good leg gave out. Without support my other leg went as well. Peter stopped at the doorway and looked back, his hand on the doorknob.

Henry bent down and lifted me to my feet. “I think we need to hear his side of the story before we draw conclusions, Ted.”

“I’m not letting him into my house again.”

“Has he threatened you while he’s been here?” Henry asked. “At any time, have you thought you were in danger?”

“That’s not the point!” Ted cried.

“Put the kettle on, Peter,” said Henry. “Let’s deal with this calmly. Come on, lad, let’s get you inside before someone else sees you and phones the cops.”

With Henry’s help I made it inside the house. Peter stood by the phone as we came in, but didn’t lift the handset. He stayed there, though, while the rest of us sat down at the kitchen table. This time there were no cups of tea. I knew I had to pull myself together and do it fast.

I told them the truth. Henry had heard most of it already – the part about getting Gina pregnant at least – but not the rest.

“Now I know why the ancestors have revealed themselves to you,” he said when I had finished. “They knew that you would reach this crisis in your life and that you would need the mana of your tupuna to see you through.”

“That’s all very well, Henry,” Ted said. “But I could be charged with aiding and abetting a felon. He’s been in my house all this time!”

“I’ll leave,” I said. “I never meant for you to get involved. This is my problem. If I leave and the cops pick me up, I won’t say anything about you, or where I’ve been staying.”

“The time’s not right,” Henry said. “His journey’s not complete.”

“I don’t give a damn about his journey, Henry. He needs to turn himself in.”

Behind me I heard Peter pick up the handset of the phone, and I knew he was going to call the police. I had to stop him. Without thinking, I flung myself out of the chair towards him, but with a prosthetic leg it was never going to be the perfect move. It didn’t have to be, it just needed to make him stop dialling, or even drop the phone. He must have seen me start the move because he was ready for me, throwing a punch that hit me on the side of the jaw. I staggered back and, unable to keep my balance, fell backwards, hitting my head on the edge of the wooden kitchen table. I was unconscious before I hit the floor.

There were no dreams, just darkness.

 

Chapter 37

 

I woke up to find I was lying on my side, one arm under my head and the other in front of me. My good leg was bent up, the other straight. I heard raised voices, but all I was aware of was the throbbing at the back of my head.

“He needs an ambulance,” Henry was saying.

“He could be dead,” I heard Peter say.

“He’s still breathing,” Ted said.

“Argh,” was all I could say. I tried to sit up but the room spun like crazy.

“Stay still, lad, you’ve had a knock to the head.” It was Ted that spoke.

“Cops?” I asked, worried that they’d be there any minute. I didn’t know if I could cope with them.

“Henry persuaded us not to call the cops,” Ted said. “He wanted an ambulance though. Be the same as calling the cops, I reckon. Once they see your face, it’ll be all over.”

“Get some ice, Peter,” Henry called out.

“So now we wait on him?”

“You could have killed him,” Henry retaliated.

“Well, he went for me first.” But Peter took some ice out of the freezer and wrapped it in a tea towel. Henry pressed it against the side of my head where I lay on the floor.

“So what do we do now?” he asked.

The men looked at one another. Peter was still keen to call the cops; I could see Ted was not so sure. I guess he was worried about the fact that his son had hit me and that I’d been knocked out, even if I was a fugitive.

I struggled to sit up, Henry attempting to hold the ice against my head as I moved.

“I’ll go,” I said, but my voice was faint.

“You can’t drive – you’ve just had a knock on the head.” Henry said. “It’ll be too dangerous. You might smash into a pole or something.”

“What do you care? What do any of you care?” I pulled myself onto a chair at the wooden table. The room spun and I put my hand up to stop my head from falling off. “I came here to find answers and I’ve found nothing but more questions. Would any of you care if I drive away from here and smash into a pole and kill myself? I might as well, there’s nothing left to live for.”

I lay my head on the wood of the table and waited while the nausea and dizziness passed. The men were silent.

“Peter,” Ted said at last. “Go put the battery back in Bevan’s car and drive it down here. Put it in the shed, out of sight.”

“I’ll take him to my place,” Henry said. “Raewyn can check him out.”

“You can’t take him anywhere, not yet, he’s not well enough,” Ted said. “You can take him later. I’ll put the kettle on. I think we all need a cup of tea.”

I thought I really needed something stronger than tea.

It was mid afternoon when Henry drove me to his house in Te Awamutu. My head ached even though Ted had given me paracetamol, and I had the ice pack against the back of my skull. I wanted to sleep, but Henry wouldn’t let me.

“Wait until I get you to my house,” he said. “Raewyn used to be a nurse. She can have a look at you.”

I wondered who Raewyn was; he’d never mentioned her before.

“So this is the stray you picked up,” a woman said as we walked in through the door. Ted had let me take the crutches so I placed these just inside the door.

“Bevan, meet my wife, Raewyn.”

I didn’t know what to do but she stepped forward and shook my hand.

“Hello, Bevan, nice to meet you. Henry has been talking about you.”

I glanced over at him, startled, but he shook his head – she didn’t know about what I had done.

“He’s banged his head,” Henry said. “Could you take a look?”

“Did he lose consciousness?”

“Yes.”

“For how long?’

“About five minutes.”

“He should really see a doctor, there could be bleeding on the brain.”

“No,” I said.

Henry agreed. “No, we can’t take him to a doctor. Can you just take a look?”

“Sure,” she said with a frown at her husband. Then she made me sit down and show her where it hurt. I flinched as her fingers probed the wound. “Well, it doesn’t look too bad, you’ve broken the skin and there’s a nasty bump, but I think you’ll live. If you start to slur your words or lose your vision, you’re off to the doctor, ok?”

I nodded, but that wasn’t such a good idea because it aggravated the pain.

“Have you had anything for the pain?”

“Yes, some paracetamol.”

“Well just keep that up then, every four hours. Go and sit down with Henry and I’ll make some tea.”

Tea again! I wondered if country people ever drank anything else. I got up and followed Henry into the lounge. The house was old fashioned and so was the lounge. Two armchairs faced an ancient tube TV, while to one side was an open fireplace where a fire was glowing. It filled the room with warmth after the cold of the air outside. One wall was covered in photos. I walked over to them.

“My mokopuna, my son’s children,” Henry said with pride as he showed me a picture of three young children sitting on a trampoline. “They live in Napier so I don’t get to see them that often. This is my daughter.” He showed me a picture of a beautiful woman who reminded me of Reka. “She’s in London at the moment, but we hope she’ll be back next year.”

I looked at the some of the other photos, in old frames, some of them sepia pictures in dark wooden frames with people dressed in old-fashioned clothes.

“Those are my tupuna, my ancestors,” Henry said. “See, my grandfather, with my father.” I peered at the faded photograph showing a man who looked like Henry seated on a chair with a younger man standing behind him. The portrait was stiff and formal, but I felt that at any moment the figures would come alive and step out from the picture.

I moved along a little and then stopped, stunned, in front of an older photo. This was a face I recognized.

“Who is this?” I asked, pointing at the photograph.

“That’s Rewi Maniapoto.”

“That’s the chief Haki died trying to protect!”

“Ah, so your ancestor must have been Ngati Maniapoto, same as mine.”

“Does that mean we’re related?”

“Well, it means we are of the same iwi, but your hapu could be different. That would take a bit to find out as you don’t have the whanau to guide you, apart from the tupuna who guide you in your dreams. Once your journey is complete, maybe I will introduce you to the marae in the area and we can try to find your turangawaewae.”

“My what?”

“Your place to stand. Do they not teach you anything in school?”

I have vague memories of a marae visit when I was in intermediate school, but all I remember is that two other boys took my shoes and I couldn’t find them. I had later shown them who was boss – and that’s how I met Mitch and Scott.

Raewyn brought in a tray with a pot of tea on it, placing it on the coffee table.

“Slurring your words yet?” she asked.

“Not yet,” I answered.

“Good,” she said with a smile. She turned to Henry. “I’ve got a meeting at the marae. I won’t be long.”

Henry watched her go and then turned to me. “She’ll be ages. Once those tongues start wagging, they won’t stop until all the gossip is done. She’s left us some biscuits, we’d better eat those before we starve.”

I laughed and then picked up a biscuit. I looked around at all the photos, at the people caught in a moment in time, and wondered where all our family photos were. We certainly didn’t have them on display like Henry did, nor did we give them as much respect.

I looked over at a plain wooden cross that hung on the wall over the fireplace.

“Henry, do you believe in God?” I asked without thinking.

He was silent for so long, I wondered if he would answer at all.

“I believe in a god, though whether it is the god of the Pakeha or the god of my ancestors, I don’t know. My people welcomed the missionaries when they came, built a place for them to worship and to tell us about their god, but the settlers were close behind, and then soldiers behind them. There was a saying at the time – that the missionaries pointed towards heaven and while the Maori looked up, the settlers took their land. You’ll have to excuse me for not having such a good opinion of the missionaries, but that doesn’t mean that I have disrespect for their God.” He paused. “Do you believe in God?”

“I did once, but now I’m not so sure.”

“How can that be?”

I told him about my near drowning and how I had floated above my body.

“But now I don’t know if I can believe in a god that does this to me,” I pointed at my leg.

“You think God did that to you?”

I shrugged.

“And God got your girlfriend pregnant?”

“Of course not, I got her pregnant.”

“And made your friends rob that store?”

“No, they made that decision, not me.”

“So it’s convenient to blame God, when each person is free to make their own decision.”

“But I couldn’t stop Mitch and Scott, any more than I could stop Gina having an abortion.”

“And you couldn’t stop yourself from running away?”

“I didn’t want to get into trouble.”

“It’s too late for that, my friend. You realize that you can’t stay here forever, that you will have to leave. Where will you go? What will you do?”

I hadn’t thought about that. Of course, Henry was right. I couldn’t stay here forever, and the incident with Ted and Peter made me aware of that. But going back meant I would more than likely be arrested, and who was going to believe me when I said I hadn’t been involved in the robbery beyond being the getaway driver?

“Have you considered your ancestor?” Henry asked. “Have you thought about what he is trying to show you?”

I shook my head, again a bad move for my brain felt it was swimming inside my skull.

“Did he ever run away from his responsibility? He kept his wife and child safe, he fought the soldiers whenever he could to protect his land, the land of his ancestors. He gave his life for his chief. The grandfather too, when he came out of that whare, he must have known that he would be shot, yet he came out anyway – to protect his granddaughter and her son. Did he run? No, he didn’t. Can you not see that your ancestors are showing you what it is you must do?”

“But how can they know that this is happening? They died a long time ago. How can they now be showing me what to do?”

“We Maori believe that time is a more fluid thing – the present is the past and the past is the future. Therefore your ancestors are here from the past to help you deal with things in the present.”

“This is about as way out as floating above my body,” I said.

I looked outside the window where the sun was fading fast. I remembered the feeling of being Haki, feeling the determination inside of him to fight for what he believed in, fighting for the safety of his family and the retention of his land, and his king, even when he was injured and in pain. I remembered the shock he felt at seeing Reka’s grandfather fall, and his relief that Reka and the baby were safe. I had felt everything that Haki had felt as though as I was the warrior myself. But I was not a warrior. I couldn’t be like Haki.

“But it was just a dream,” I whispered. “There’s no proof that any of this happened.”

“The war happened; we know that from the records, and the monuments.”

“But I don’t know that Haki existed except in my dreams. I need proof.”

Henry shook his head “Unless your ancestors lead the way, I’m afraid that it may forever be a mystery to you. Like faith in God, you must have faith that what you have seen is part of your history.”

I hung my head. “I’m not sure I can do that.”

“Perhaps you will in time.”

Car headlights lit up the lounge. I started, suddenly aware that it was dark, and that I didn’t know who was in the car that just pulled up. I was poised, ready to run.

“It’s Raewyn,” Henry said, waving me back down. “Not the cops.”

“Ted or Peter could call them at any time and tell them where I am,” I said nervously as I lowered myself back into the chair.

“Indeed they could and I would not blame them if they did. Neither should you. Even I could tell the cops where you are. You see, your situation is not good. You can’t run forever. At some stage you must face the consequence of your actions, whether you are to blame or not. For now I will leave it for you to decide. You can spend the night here, but in the morning you must leave.”

He got up as Raewyn came in through the door carrying bags of shopping. I sat and stared out into the darkness of the night.

I struggled to find sleep that night. I tossed and turned on the bed. Unable to bear the confines of the single bed, I sat up, took up the crutches and hobbled through to the lounge, as quietly as I could. If Henry heard me, he didn’t get up.

The room was still warm with the remains of the fire glowing in the hearth. I stood in front of the wall of photographs, only faintly visible in the dull glow coming from the fire. These faces meant something to Henry, but not to me. They were his ancestors. The only one I knew was Rewi, standing proud in his traditional cloak, his mere in his hand. The last time I had seen him, he had been ordering the warriors where and how to shoot, a revolver in one hand and a knife in the other.

I recalled the slam of the bullet into Haki’s chest and had to sit down in a nearby armchair, as if I had really been hit. I knew it had been a dream, and yet, even then, it had felt so real. I remembered that Haki had felt no fear of death when he knew that his wound was fatal, just a sadness that he would not see Reka again. He had wanted the pain to end, knowing that the end of pain also meant death. Yet he welcomed it, assured that his spirit would travel through the water at Te Reinga and live forever in the land of his ancestors.

I didn’t know how I knew this, but I knew it with the certainty that Haki did. I wished I had the same assurance as he.

“So what do I do now?” I whispered to the silent photographs.

None of them spoke. In my state of mind, I probably wouldn’t have been surprised if they had. Outside a morepork called forlornly in the distance, echoing the emptiness of my heart. I knew I could no longer return to being the old Bevan; what had happened to me in this world, and in another, had changed me completely. The knowledge left me floundering – if I couldn’t be the old Bevan, I had no idea who or what the new Bevan was going to be. Like a baby, I had to discover a whole new range of experiences that would define the new Bevan. I didn’t think that was going to be easy.

BOOK: Three Times Dead
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