The Fourth Phase

TWENTY-TWO

The star cluster known as Pleiades hung low in the early morning sky. James smiled at the sight. The festival of Matariki was tonight, his favourite time of the year. Commonly known as the Maori New Year, it was an occasion to remember those lost in the past year, among other things. The civilian population had insisted they celebrate it. He was happy to oblige, and thought it would be a good way to welcome the new arrivals from Indonesia.

He turned, looking over the campground he had sequestered for the refugees. The medical staff were bustling around in preparation. He had insisted that everyone be tested for the Hemorrhage Virus and other common diseases, as well as malnutrition, before being placed in the temporary housing. His gaze drifted out into the bay. HMNZS Te Mana had arrived last night to assist. Seeing the ship settled his nerves somewhat. So far, Captain Koto had kept his word that they were merely seeking refuge. James was a cautious man, so he had ordered his men to stay alert and vigilant. Satisfied with the preparations, he jumped in the awaiting Jeep and headed back to the FOB. He had a helicopter pilot to discipline.

James looked over the man standing to attention in front of him. He kept his face clear of emotion and stared into the man’s eyes. He was struggling to keep his seething anger in check. The pilot had dark hair and brown eyes. He carried a little weight around his middle, as though all the sitting down in the cockpit had forced his fat to his middle.

“You know what, Evans? I don’t even want you to explain to me why you abandoned Team Renegade. Because of you, the one scientist left alive in New Zealand who had any chance of finding a cure to this mess is dead. Gunner Tony Jones is dead. Captain Johns and the rest of his team are lucky to be alive, no thanks to you. I’m stripping you of your wings. You have six months of sentry duty. I look forward to Captain Johns catching up with you.”

James waved him away, dismissing him. He was still seething at the pilot’s cowardice when there was a knock at his door. Badminton entered.

“Morning, Sir. The Indonesian pilot’s report,” he said, handing James a manila folder.

“Thank you, Badminton,” James said, dismissing him.

James flicked through the pages in front of him. Nothing stood out in particular, and everything confirmed what Johns had reported. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to knead out the stiff muscles. His eyes glanced at the Vodka bottle tucked away on his bookshelf, whispering to him to take a sip. James looked back down at the report, reading about the fortified mountain top. Johns had reported it also. He couldn’t help but smile to himself at the thought of an old-fashioned Pa holding out against the Variant hordes. Pride surged in his heart for the resilience of his people. Against all the odds, there were still people alive out there. New hope for his family in the East Cape rose to the forefront of his mind. The Renegades had proven themselves out in the field.

He contemplated sending them on a reconnaissance mission to search for more survivors holding out like Hone and his people after Mayor Island was sorted. Perhaps he could send them to search for Major Hinds. Thinking of the attack, he sighed and swivelled around to the old typewriter. The Brigadier wanted his report.

When he had finished his report, James walked down to the rugby ground in the town. He was keen to see the Matariki preparations for himself. The civilians had been cautious at first after being informed of the refugees. Heated arguments had broken out about whether they should let them in. Half wanted to welcome the refugees, the other half wanted to send them on their way. James had informed them of his orders. Thankfully, humanity won the day.

He reached the rugby ground and glanced around. Several marquees had been set up with long tables stretching along their lengths. Lights had been strung up, linking the tents, and then winding their way up the trees at both ends. Diesel generators sat at the far end. People were gathered around a huge burning open pit, where a Hangi was being prepared. Piles of food wrapped in aluminium foil sat waiting for the fire to die down. Once the fire had heated the rocks enough, the rocks would be extracted and all the wood removed. The rocks would then be placed back in the hole and hit with wet sacks to create steam. Then the food would be placed in old shopping trolleys and lowered into the pits, the heated rocks piled around them, and the wet sacks added before the earth was piled back on top, forming a mound. Three hours later, the feast would be ready.

James looked up to the sky, hoping the gathering clouds stayed away.

“Colonel!”

James turned to the source of the voice. Captain Koto strode towards him, smiling as he looked around. The two men shook hands. “Ah Captain. Thank you for helping us out with your helicopter.”

“You’re the most welcome Colonel. Thank you for all this,” Koto gestured with an arm, waving at all the activity. “It’s like Thanksgiving, yes? I’m happy to try the Hangi.”

James smiled at him. “Thanksgiving? Close. We call it Matariki, Captain.”

“Please, call me Arif. Matariki?”

“Yes Arif, Matariki. Our new year.” James pointed to the north east. “Matariki means ‘Eyes of God’. When the stars rise, we come together to remember those that we lost in the past year. So many this year. Crops have been harvested and seafood collected. Tonight we will enjoy the feast and welcome you to New Zealand. Some people will sing and dance.”

Arif turned back to James. “We’ve lost so many people. It seems strange to have a feast. We must carry on, though. So thank you, Colonel.” Arif smiled. “I’m just glad it’s not Ramadan yet, so my people can enjoy your hospitality.”

James didn’t reply; he was lost in thought. Thinking of his time in Iraq. Thinking of all the mates he had lost, both now and before the Variant scourge. Matariki had arrived at a perfect time. Everyone needed a night off. But they had to stay vigilant. You never knew what was lurking in the shadows these days.

The two men stood side by side for some time, lost in their separate thoughts, as the preparations continued. James couldn’t help but wonder if they were doing the right thing. Should they be enjoying festivities while others suffered at the claws of the Variants? He had yet to think of a way to defeat these monsters. He hoped that whatever Dr Katherine Yokoyama had discovered would help turn the tide. The Americans and the British were busy fighting all manner of horrors, if the reports filtering in were to be believed. New Zealand, like before, had escaped those monstrosities. Sitting out here in the deep South Pacific, New Zealand had developed unique and strange fauna. And the Variants haunting the land were no different. Reports had told him that most Variants had broken off into packs with an Alpha leading, that they continuously fought amongst themselves, fighting over the last scraps of food. How long before they turned their attention to the islands the last dregs of the Kiwis now called home?

He shivered, thinking of Mayor Island. The Alpha Captain Johns called the Trophy King had attacked the island with a band of human collaborators. James reached out and clasped Captain Koto’s hand, shaking it. “Please excuse me, Arif. I have duties to attend to.”

“Thank you, Colonel. I’ll see you tonight.”

James nodded and pivoted. He signalled to his driver to bring the Jeep around. As he made his way across the rugby ground, he murmured his greetings to those working. He was happy for the boost in morale the festivities would provide, but he had a war to plan.