The Crocodile Nest (2 page)

If you went by his age, Luke should not have been in Year Nine, as he wouldn’t be thirteen for some months. However, when they’d arrived at Whitianga at the start of the year, the school had done some testing and decided that Year Nine was the best level for him. After almost a term, Luke wasn’t so sure. He found it difficult to fit into a class where some of the boys were already fourteen. They had deep voices, shaved, and strutted around as if they owned the place. They also resented having a younger kid in the class, especially one who was smarter than they were.

The Friday morning after the crash was little different to any of the others. It started with some teasing about being a hippie because he lived in the Hippie House. Luke tried to give as good as he got, except he could never be as mean as the older boys, and it was a relief when the teacher came in and lessons began.

The first subject was science—Luke’s favourite—then
English followed by maths—easy, but usually boring. It was during maths that a runner came in with a note saying that Luke Evans had to report to the deputy principal, immediately.

He entered the office and knew straight away that he was in trouble. The DP nodded to a chair before continuing to tap away on her laptop. It was the classic make-the-kid-wait-and-worry strategy. Then when the interview did finally start, there were the usual opening questions about how he was getting on in class and with the other students. Luke gave the expected answers while trying to work out what he might have done wrong.

After the preliminaries, the DP opened a drawer and removed a sheet of paper, placing it on the desk so that Luke could read it.

‘Remember this?’ she asked.

Luke glanced at it. There were five numbered paragraphs with a signature on the bottom—his. He nodded.

‘You signed that contract when you enrolled.’ A pause. ‘What does item three say?’

Now Luke understood what this was about. ‘It says that I’m not to bring drugs or alcohol to school, or be under their influence.’

The DP nodded encouragingly. ‘So, why did you talk about bringing marijuana to school?’

Luke looked up sharply. ‘I never said I’d bring it to school. Never!’

‘Then why were you talking about it before school this morning?’

He sighed, deeply. ‘Some boys teased me about living in the
Hippie House, asking me if we grew the stuff. I said no, but that I knew where some was.’

‘You never said you’d bring it to school?’

‘No way!’

She thought about this for a while. ‘Is there some growing up there?’

‘Yeah, but we’re pulling it out tomorrow. Kev Thomas is coming over to help. You can ring him if you don’t believe me.’

A long silence, before ‘I believe you, Luke.’ Then: ‘Are some of the boys bullying you?’

Luke shrugged. ‘They tease me, that’s all. I can handle it.’

‘Have you made any friends yet? You seem to be by yourself a lot.’

Another shrug. ‘I’m all right.’

‘Not from what I’m seeing. I see you aimlessly wandering the streets after school. Why don’t you take the school bus home?’

‘It doesn’t go up to our place. I’d have to walk for five kays. I wait for Mum.’

‘What time is that?’

‘About six.’

The DP shook her head slowly from side to side, sucking at her lips. Then her face brightened, and she leaned forward to fish through a pile of papers, looking for something.

‘Ah,’ she said, grabbing an orange-coloured note. ‘You’re good with computers, I hear.’

‘Sort of.’

‘Can you connect them up and do things like that?’

‘Yeah.’

She held up the note. ‘This is from a woman who wants help setting up her computer. She then wants to know how to use it. You could do that, couldn’t you?’

‘Probably,’ replied Luke, without enthusiasm.

‘She’s willing to pay.’

‘How old is she?’

The DP chuckled. ‘She didn’t say, but from her voice I’d say she’s getting on a bit. Not really old. Maybe in her sixties.’

Old,
thought Luke.
Too old.
He’d prefer to walk the streets than be stuck in a house with some old woman.

‘It could be worth quite a lot of money, Luke.’

That part was tempting.

‘Tell you what. I’ll give you her address, and you go and see her. If you don’t think it’ll work, then let me know and I’ll ask one of the senior students. What do you say?’

Luke agreed, but only to get out of the DP’s office. He’d had enough of her interrogation for one day.

Luke tried to picture the old woman as he walked towards her house. At the start, he’d imagined a tiny place with a little old lady and a tabby cat called Fluffy. But as he moved into her street, he revised his image. The houses were not old, nor were they little. The area was a newly developed part of Whitianga, where canals snaked through the streets so that boats could have quick access to the sea. Many of the houses were huge. However, those without access to the water were smaller. The old lady’s was one of these.

Clearly she had not been there long, because the front yard had piles of wood scraps and broken bricks left by the builders. Whereas the houses either side had lots of shrubs and gardens, this one had only bare, sandy soil.

Luke could hear a musical chime echoing through the house when he pushed the door button. Yet nothing happened: no signs of movement, or sound of a voice, or miaow of a cat. He pressed the button again. Maybe she was deaf, or couldn’t move very quickly.

When the door did finally open, he was greeted by a woman most unlike the one he had pictured. Yes, there were some signs of aging—grey hair and creases around the eyes—but the rest was in good order: a straight back, bulges in the right places, and covered with expensive clothes.

‘You must be Luke,’ she said. ‘Come in.’

Luke followed her into a lounge that smelled as if it had just recently been furnished.

‘Take a seat,’ said the woman, indicating a large leather armchair, ‘and have something to eat, while I go and make some coffee.’ A plate of chocolate biscuits and a jug of orange juice with a glass stood on a glass-topped coffee table beside the chair.

Luke munched on a biscuit while taking in the room. Everything was new, expensive and beautifully arranged. The only thing that seemed out of place was himself. He’d never known such luxury. He leaned back in the chair, and was surprised to hear the hum of a motor rearranging the shape until it fitted his body just right.
Mmm,
he thought,
this’ll do for me.

‘Comfortable?’ the woman enquired as she returned with her coffee.

Luke smiled. ‘Yes, thank you.’

She sat in a similar chair. ‘Now, Luke, what do you know about me?’

He shrugged. ‘Nothing, except you want to learn about computers.’

‘OK. Well, I’m Beth Anderson. I’m sixty-six, and I’ve just moved to Whitianga from Auckland. And you’re right: I want to learn about technology, especially computers.’ She nodded towards a computer sitting beside a desk in the corner of the lounge. ‘That thing over there.’

‘Have you ever used one before?’ asked Luke.

‘No. But before I was married I was a nurse and had to use lots of instruments. So I’m not exactly scared of machines.’

‘Where did you get it?’

‘It belonged to my husband, who died of a heart attack a couple of months ago.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Luke, not sure what he should say.

‘Don’t be!’ Beth replied, with feeling. ‘He was arrogant, rude, bigoted, and lots, lots more. The world’s a better place without him.’

Luke was so taken aback by her reaction that he blurted out: ‘If he was that bad, why didn’t you leave him?’

It was a while before she answered. ‘Perhaps I was gutless. And I liked the security that all his money provided.’ She fiddled with her wedding ring for a while. ‘Anyway, now I’m going to make up for those forty-one wasted years. This is the beginning of a
new life, and I intend to live it to the full. So where do we start?’

They started by installing the computer on the desk. It booted up much more quickly than any Luke had used before: clearly it was a powerful machine.

He first did a survey of the hard-drive, finding hundreds of files and emails belonging to Beth’s late husband. ‘What do you want done with these?’ he asked.

‘Destroy them!’ Beth said, obviously enjoying the situation.

Luke looked at her. ‘But they might be important. They might be valuable to someone.’

‘Destroy them!’ she repeated.

So Luke destroyed them.

After that, there was little more that they could do. Beth wanted to use the computer for online things—research, banking, emails, shopping—which required an Internet connection. Luke suggested some firms, and Beth promised to have it sorted by Monday. Before he left, they briefly discussed payment. The amount mentioned was more than Luke had ever dreamed of getting. He wasn’t sure about accepting that much, and said so. In the end it was agreed that Beth would come out to the Three-oh-nine over the weekend and discuss it with Alice.

It was getting dark when Luke left to go and meet with his mum. He was feeling good. The afternoon had passed quickly: being with Beth had been much better than walking the streets for hours. If he could keep this job over winter, then arriving home in the dark wasn’t going to matter too much. What’s more, when summer came again he’d have a heap of money to spend.

Kev Thomas arrived just after eight on Saturday morning. The back of the ute was loaded with firewood and an old bath. By the time Luke was dressed, Kev had unloaded half the wood into the paddock beside the house.

‘Give us a hand with this?’ said Kev, lifting a corner of the bath.

‘What’s it for?’ asked Luke, pulling at the other corner. The bath landed on the ground with a thump.

‘To scald the pigs so we can take off the hair,’ replied Kev. ‘You’ll see.’

‘So you think we’ll get more than one?’

Kev chuckled. ‘Yeah, I reckon. It’s mating season, so they’ll be more interested in other things. We should get a couple, no trouble. Any more than that will be too much to carry out.’

Luke gazed around the paddock, looking puzzled. ‘Where are your dogs?’

‘At home, where they should be. They’re farm dogs, not pig dogs. Oh, they’d go after a pig if I gave them the chance, but if they bailed up a big boar more than likely they’d get killed.’ Kev leaned into the cab and pulled out a rifle. ‘Anyway, it’s dangerous to have dogs around when you’re shooting.’

For a moment Luke was disappointed, before realizing that there’d be shooting and maybe he’d get a chance to handle the rifle. Perhaps Kev would even let him take a shot.

First stop was at a clearing in the bush a kilometre or so from the house. This was where the marijuana grew. About twenty plants had survived the ravages of the pigs digging around in the soil to get at the roots and soil bugs.

‘Some of the rooting looks fresh, like they might’ve been here last night,’ said Kev. ‘They might not be too far away.’ He took off his small backpack and removed a bottle of meths.

‘What’s that for?’ asked Luke.

‘We’ll pile the weed up, and when we get back we’ll set fire to it.’ He ripped out a couple of the plants and dumped them on a log. ‘Right there will do just fine.’

While they worked, Kev explained that he’d contacted one of the town’s constables whom he knew. The policeman said to burn the stuff. If that was done, then they wouldn’t need to pay the property a visit. Kev said that he’d also picked up a spare headlight for the car and was going to put that in on Sunday. He reckoned that, with a bit of welding, the Corolla might be able to get a warrant.

As Luke worked and listened, he wondered why the man was helping them so much. Was it just the normal neighbourly thing
that happened on the Three-oh-nine, or was there something more behind it? Was it because Alice was single? If so, then Kev didn’t stand a chance. He must have been at least sixty, and from Luke’s observations his mother preferred much younger men, although she never did anything more than flirt with them. So far as Luke knew, she hadn’t had a partner since his father had died.

Sometimes he fantasized about what it would be like if she did have a partner; somebody like a dad. In his thoughts, they’d do all sorts of things together—hunting, fishing, trail biking, everything. The things that other boys at school skited about on Mondays. They all seemed to have great weekends, while his, more often than not, were pretty lonely.

‘OK, that’s it,’ said Kev, throwing the last plant on the pile. ‘Let’s go find some hogs.’

From the clearing they moved into the scrubby bush that led to the higher slopes. To begin with, they talked about pigs and the damage they did to farmland and bush. That stopped when the track got steeper and climbing took all their breath. Every so often they saw signs of where the pigs had been feeding—none was recent.

After an hour, Luke needed a break. He was just about to suggest they take one when a sound came from up ahead. Kev stopped and raised a finger to his lips. The sound came again: it was the squeal of a pig. The hunt was on.

With his finger still over his mouth, Kev started creeping forward through the bushes. Luke followed. Soon they could hear other noises: the low, grunting sounds of pigs snuffling through the soil with their snouts. As they got closer, the light
shining through the scrub increased, suggesting that the pigs were in a clearing. When the final branches were parted, Luke saw that there were five of them—four middle-sized animals and one big boar.

The clearing was a patch of grass and bracken fern tucked under a rocky outcrop. The smaller pigs were ripping into the bank on one side, about fifty metres away. The boar was closer, sniffing the air. Maybe he had already sensed the presence of humans. He opened his mouth as if tasting the breeze, and Luke saw that he was equipped with a pair of long white tusks. This was plainly no pig to be messed with.

Slowly, Kev removed the rifle from over his back and sighted the boar through the ‘scope. Then he lowered the gun and put his head next Luke’s. ‘I want to get some of those porkers,’ he whispered. ‘They’ll be great eating.’ He studied them through the ‘scope again. ‘Problem is,’ he continued, ‘they’ll scatter as soon as I take a shot.’ He pointed to the side opposite the bank where they were feeding. ‘They’ll probably head in that direction. I want you to go around there, and, when I shoot the first one, step out of the bushes and yell like hell. That should send them back, and maybe I’ll get another shot. You got that?’

Luke nodded.

‘But don’t run out into the clearing or you’ll get into the line of fire.’

Again, Luke nodded.

‘OK, off you go. I’ll wait until I see you over there.’ Luke slipped back into the bushes so he could make his way around to the other side. He tried to do it quietly, yet every time
he put a foot down it seemed to crackle a dried leaf or snap a twig. In the silence of the bush, it sounded like fireworks night. Surely the pigs must have heard? And yet when he looked, he found they were less wary than before.

Kev was right about the exit from the clearing. A trampled track led into the bush: all Luke had to do was block the path and they would turn back. It was simple.

He could just make out the bush where Kev was hiding, and gave a small wave. He saw a brief return movement, then the barrel of the rifle protruded through the leaves.

While the boar could not have seen the movement, something made him lift his head and turn around to scan the bush. He gave a grunt, which caused the other pigs to stop feeding. Any moment now they were going to make a run for it.

Then came the crack of the rifle.

The pigs exploded into action, running everywhere. One dropped after a few paces, but the others kept moving, squealing noisily. At first they were panicking blindly, until the boar showed the way, running directly towards the path. Luke stepped out of the bushes, waving his arms frantically, shouting at the top of his voice. One of the porkers stopped for a second, unsure of what to do. It was a second too long: the rifle cracked again and the pig dropped to the ground.

The two remaining porkers separated and ran for the nearest cover, but the boar was still heading for the path, straight at Luke, who screamed even louder. It made no difference: the boar knew where he wanted to go, and no human was going to stop him.

Luke’s mind raced. Should he try and grab the thing? That’s what a real pig hunter would do. Then as the boar got closer, he raised his head to show his tusks. That helped Luke make up his mind. Just when the boar was almost upon him, Luke dived sideways into the bracken. As he landed, the boar rushed by, landing a trotter on his ankle, sending a spike of pain up his leg. Then the pig was gone, crashing off into the undergrowth. A short time later, the noise had faded and all that could be heard was the breeze rustling through the tree tops. Peace had returned to the valley of the Three-oh-nine.