Nothing was said as the panel van rattled out of town. No excuses from Brandon. No accusations from Tom. Nothing from the pig either. Maybe the animal sensed it was on its way to freedom.
The way to the forest was also the way home: along Cobham onto Inlet Road, passing orange and mandarin orchards until it dropped down to cross an estuary. On the other side, a posh subdivision was under development on the left, with the start of Waitangi Forest on the right. The track to Brandon and Tom’s place was on the edge of the forest, hidden from view by overhanging trees.
Instead of turning towards home, Brandon continued one more kilometre to a second entrance into the forest. This one was much more obvious with several signs saying what you could and couldn’t do if you entered. The track was part of Te Araroa Trail, a walkway that stretched the length of New Zealand from Cape Reinga in the north, to Bluff in the south. This bit covered the 20 kilometres from Kerikeri to the Treaty Grounds at Waitangi.
“Turn off here,” said Tom, his first words since leaving the service station.
“I know,” said Brandon.
“Back there you said you didn’t know.”
“I know where to turn off, I just don’t know where the pond is exactly.”
Tom let him settle into driving on the rough narrow track before going on the attack.
“Did you contact Mum?”
“Yeah, that’s why I was late. She went on and on about things.” A pause. “Like she always does.”
“So what’s happening to me over the holidays?”
Brandon glanced over to his son. “She doesn’t want you.”
Tom turned to stare out the side window. Part of him was pleased he didn’t have to spend two weeks with his mum, the partner, and their new kid. He’d been with them for most of January and it had been real bad: the only time either adult spoke to him was to complain about how he was upsetting the baby. Everyone was relieved when he returned to his father for the start of school.
And yet another part of him was sad that she didn’t want him. In movies and TV programmes mums were the ones who loved their children most. While his said she did, there were few visible signs. On the other hand, although Brandon would never use the word ‘love’, he did try to do the right thing, at least as he saw it. The problem was the authorities had decided that Tom should live with his mother, Mandy, which meant what they were doing was illegal.
“Does she know where we are?”
“Nope. She mentioned Auckland, so I suppose she thinks we’re still there.”
Tom nodded to himself. That’s why no names and photos.
“Have you got any work for the next two weeks?”
“Yeah. The early fruit is ready for picking. I’ll be flat out.”
Tom smiled. That meant he could do whatever he wanted during the holidays. That was much, much better than being with his mum.
“But you can stop smiling,” continued Brandon. “I’m arranging for Dave to look after you when I’m not there.”
The smile vanished. “Aw, Dad. Why him?”
“Because he’s close by.”
“But I don’t need anybody to look after me!”
“How old are you?”
“Eleven.”
“Right. Then the law says you do. I don’t want the authorities coming around because you’ve got yourself into trouble. I’ve got enough to worry about already. Dave Hughes will be looking after you and that’s that.”
From then on the only living sound inside the van was a grunt every now and then from the pig.
They passed from large mature pine trees ready for felling, into an area that had recently been cleared and lay waiting for replanting when the rains returned. No use releasing the pig there as no animal, whether insect, bird or mammal, would survive in that grey wasteland.
Continuing on, there were further blocks of trees before they came to a turnoff.
“Hold it!” said Tom. “We’ve gone too far. Turn around.”
“I didn’t see any pond.”
‘It’s back there, hidden in the trees. You need to turn around.”
As Brandon slipped the gear stick into reverse, he asked, “How come you know the forest so well? Do you run this far?”
“Nah. I’ve ridden this way a couple of times.”
“When?”
“After school,” said Tom, before adding the barb. “When I’m waiting for you to come home.”
“Tom, I do need some sort of social life. It’s not like I—”
“Stop!” interrupted Tom. “There it is. Wow, that’s changed from last time I was here. No wonder I missed it. The water’s almost gone.”
They got a clearer look when the van had been backed up a bit. Between some drooping ferns was a small pond surrounded by cracked mud. A pair of ducks swimming in the remaining water eyed them warily.
“Okay, let’s get Miss Piggy,” said Brandon, climbing out of the van. “Time for her to return to the wild.”
At first it seemed as if Miss Piggy wasn’t too keen to leave the comfort of the mattress. Only when Brandon grabbed a leg did she show any interest in the two humans. Still there was no struggling, as if she accepted whatever fate they had in store.
That lasted until she was placed on the ground beside the water. Now, exactly when they wanted her to be calm, she fought to be free, making it impossible to remove the bungee. In the end Brandon took out a pocket knife and cut it. The bungee flew off and so did Miss Piggy, flying across the mud and into the undergrowth below the pines. In an instant she was out of sight.
“Can’t have been thirsty,” said Tom.
“She’ll be back,” said Brandon. “Look at all the prints.”
Hundreds of trotter holes in the mud showed the pond was an important watering hole for pigs of all sizes.
“Wow!” said Tom. “That’s a lot of pigs.”
“Or a few pigs returning many times.”
Tom moved towards the pond where the mud was still soft. “There’s been birds as well. See.”
“That’s a big bird,” said Brandon. “Bigger than a pukeko, I would think.”
“Kiwi,” said Tom.
“You reckon so?”
“I know so.” Tom pointed to the other side of the pond. “There it is.” A fluffy brown mass crouched on the mud, its beak slightly buried. “Looks like it’s sick.
“Let’s take a look.”
Before they got around to the other side, they knew the kiwi was more than sick. It was dead and judging by the stink, had been that way for a day or so.
“Could it have starved?” asked Tom.
Instead of answering, Brandon touched the kiwi with his foot. The carcass fell sideways exposing a crawling mass of maggots.
“Yuk!” yelled Tom.
“Didn’t starve to death. Some animal has ripped into its leg.”
As the maggots crawled away from the light, a long wound became exposed stretching from the bare part of the leg up to the top of the thigh.
“Would a pig do that?”
“Doubt it. Has to be a dog.”
Tom thought about that. “But it could have been after the kiwi died, couldn’t it?”
Brandon shook his head. “If it was after food, then it would have eaten much more than that. No, this bird was killed by a dog. Looks like we’ve got a kiwi killer around here, somewhere.”
Tom stood and let his eyes scan around the site, wondering if the animal was watching them. If it was, then it must have been well hidden. But still, the thought of a killer dog worried him. He ran and rode through this forest all the time. He’d caught glimpses of animals in the past and not thought much about it. Now he realised he could have been seeing a dog. A vicious killer. One who might just as easily attack him as it would a kiwi.
“You won’t see it,” said Brandon. “Probably hunts at night when the owner thinks it’s sleeping.”
“Might be a wild dog.”
“Nah. I’d agree with that if more of the kiwi was eaten, but this killer wasn’t hungry. It gets a good feed at home. It kills for the fun of it.” After that, he began walking back to the van. “C’mon Tom, let’s get home. This forest gives me the spooks.”