Eric looked up from shoveling his food. “What?”
Jack glanced between Tony and Eric, trying to decide the best way to voice what he suspected. He knew they were close friends. “I… think he’s infected by the virus. He’s turning into one of them. Look!”
Eric leant over his mate, searching. “He’s just sick, that’s all. You guys have been wounded by the Variants. You’re okay.”
Jack rubbed at his scar, feeling the ridge of hardened tissue. Maybe Eric was right. He had been clawed, Ben had been speared, and Boss’d had his lower leg ripped off. All of them were still human. He looked back down at Tony, who was trembling like it was freezing cold, yet sweat dripped off him.
He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “He was bitten, right?”
Eric nodded.
“So maybe, if these beasts bite you, they transfer the virus.”
Eric looked up at Jack. “They’re not bloody zombies, Jack!”
Dee butted in. “We know. Eric. Jack’s trying to figure it out. We really don’t know…”
Dee pointed towards the far corner of the Pa. Twelve bodies lay next to a pyre of wood, wrapped in sheets. The casualties from their battle with the Variants that morning. Katherine lay amongst eleven brave warriors. Warriors who had saved them. Warriors who would never see their loved ones again. The thought of their sacrifices saddened Jack. Hone had insisted that they be burnt to limit the possibility of infection. “The person who had the best knowledge is lying there.”
Eric raised his hands, palms out, and lowered his voice. “I know, Dee. I’m sorry. I’m just saying, we don’t know enough to jump to conclusions. Let’s get him back to Mayor and get some drugs into him.”
Dee nodded and looked at Jack.
He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, guys. What if he turns back on Mayor and kills people? Hell, we don’t even know what’s going on over there. Everything’s a mess.” Jack flung his hand towards the mountains. “We’ve got a bloody cabin just over there. I still don’t know what’s happened to my family.” Jack turned away and walked over towards the pyre. He didn’t want Eric to see him get upset. Jack found it hard enough fitting into their macho world, and he didn’t want the extra grief they would give him for being sensitive.
Dee jogged over and walked alongside him, leaving Eric to tend to Tony. “Do you think he is turning?”
“I’m not sure, but his hands sure looked like claws. Did you see his skin? It was weird and blotchy.”
Dee shook her head.
Jack said nothing further, using the time to calm down. It wouldn’t last. He knew he had a quick temper. He glanced around at the thick wooden logs surrounding the Pa. The shrieks of the Variants sounded in the distance, but so far nothing closer. The Variant corpses rotting on the trees must be doing their job. He admired the craftsmanship of the Maori. They had built a strong, defendable complex. They had lasted six weeks, and looked to be well-organised.
Jack stopped near the pyre. “Are you ready for the cremation?”
“I think so, yeah. I just feel hollow and angry. Why would Dad lie about Mum?”
“I don’t know, baby. The only thing that I can think of was so he could protect you. Maybe the lie just got away from him.”
Dee nodded in agreement, and wrapped an arm around him. “We should get the chopper to do a fly-by of the cabin, just to be sure.”
Jack smiled at her, pulling her closer. “That’s why I love you, always looking out for me.”
Dee nudged him gently in the side. “Only one reason? Harsh.”
Jack barked out a laugh. “Yeah, I know. I’m working on more, but lust overpowers me every time.” As he said the last bit, Jack wrapped his other arm around Dee and lifted her off the ground, kissing her deeply. He held on to her, enjoying the familiar feel of her bones, her curves, her passion. “I know I’ve said it before, Dee, but thanks for coming for me. If I had to choose someone to experience the apocalypse with, I would always choose you.”
Dee looked up at him, tears flowing freely. “And I you, Jack, without a doubt,” she smirked. “You were so obsessed with the apocalypse, it was like you were guarding it.”
Jack grinned and eased her down. “Yeah. And now we are living the bloody thing.”
Shadows fell across the ground to one side, and Jack turned his head. Hone and Ben were leading a group of Maori over towards them. Three elderly ladies dressed in black and wearing crowns of Kawakawa came up alongside them. They lifted their heads, and a haunting song filled the air. A Powhiri, if Jack remembered the name correctly. Though he could not understand the words, their meaning was clear from their tone. It spoke of sadness about those that had fallen, sadness at what had become of the world, sadness for those left to pick up the pieces and try to carry on. It thanked those that had given the ultimate sacrifice so they, the survivors, could have more time.
The tone of the song shifted as those gathered behind the Kaumatua joined in. It now spoke of the lives of those fallen, of how every life was a blessing, something to be treasured and remembered with song and story. And so each life was honoured. Jack recalled a visit to a Marae where the carver had explained that the great people, their stories, are carved into the history of their whanau.
Jack lost himself to the haunting song. He too remembered friends, family, pets, and travels. He remembered peaceful days reading. Days exploring and going on adventures.
The emotional song finished, several men moved forward and lifted the fallen onto the top of the pyre. Jack’s eyes glistened. He felt Dee hug him tighter as they watched Katherine’s body join the fallen warriors. Hone signalled to a couple of torch bearers, and they moved forward to touch the timber with their flames.
Jack watched, entranced, as the flames grew in intensity, wrapping their fiery fingers around the wood. The air filled with heat as the pyre came alight. He took a step back. There was something morbidly beautiful about a funeral pyre, and thoughts of the final scenes of Return of the Jedi flashed through his mind.
As the smoke thickened, it billowed around those gathered as if the spirits of the dead kissed the mourning goodbye before departing on their next journey. He gave Dee a squeeze and turned, looking for Ben. He was anxious to get going and find out what had happened on Mayor Island. He could feel his stomach twisting as he thought of George. He hoped their evacuation drills to the bunker had done their job. George was a smart kid, and Boss treated him like a little brother. So Jack had hopes, but doubts crept in, threatening to cripple his demeanour.
He looked up as Ben stepped closer, his brown eyes twinkling with friendliness. He reached them and drew them into a quick hug. Pulling back, he grasped each of them by the shoulder. “Great send-off for the fallen. I’ve seen a lot of funerals in my time, but the Maori Tangi is one of my favourites. This one wasn’t traditional, but Hone and his people have adapted it.”
Jack and Dee nodded in agreement.
Ben carried on. “Sorry to cut this short, but the chopper is due in ten minutes. Gather your things. Let’s get home.” Ben held Jack’s gaze for a moment, before flicking his eyes in the direction of the Joneses. “Have you got that cursed case, Jack?”
Jack pointed to their gear. “Yeah. It’s over there.”
“Good. Okay. Let’s get those two sorted and ready. Hone said the far end of the Pa, by the gardens, should be sufficient for an LZ.”
Jack and Dee moved away a few steps, then Jack turned back. “Oh, and Ben, I meant to tell you. I think Tony is turning… well, I suspect, he’s different to others that have been injured.”
Jack rubbed the back of his neck, waiting for Ben to answer. He wasn’t sure if he should have said anything, but something about Tony’s condition nagged at him. Ben looked over to the Joneses. “You sure? Okay. Let’s be safe and strap him down to a stretcher. We don’t know what the hell we’re dealing with.”