The Thunderbolt Pony Page 6

  I see a wall of water rising up above her, vast and unstoppable. I feel a choking in my chest and I can’t breathe. And then the tears come, hot on my cheeks. I try not to sniffle too loudly and I’m embarrassed that I’m crying.

  “Evie,” Mr Mahuta clutches my hand tight, “don’t worry, we’re too far inland. A tsunami wouldn’t make it as far as Parnassus.”

  But it’s too late to stop worrying. I’m already imagining the giant wave sweeping over her. That’s the problem, because once something is in my brain then it becomes dangerous. What if I’m making it happen?

  You’re not the one doing this, Evie, says Willard Fox’s voice in my head. You are not a force of nature. You are a twelve-year-old girl.

  Mr Mahuta pulls up in the driveway and the car headlights strike the wreckage of what was once my home. From the way he slams on his brakes and just sits there in dumb shock, I realise he thought I was exaggerating about the house. But I wasn’t. It’s been flattened, destroyed by the quake. It looks like a scene from a disaster movie.

  “Geez, Evie,” Arama says. “How did you get out of that alive?”

  Mum is right where she was when I left. “Mum?” My voice is all chokey as I run to her. My legs are shaking so much, I can hardly stand. I fall to my knees on the ground at her side.

  Mr Mahuta joins me, crouching down beside her. He takes Mum’s hand, feeling her pulse.

  “Julia?”

  Slowly, Mum raises her head. “Is that you, Harry?

  Mum tries to raise herself up on her elbows and suddenly she moans.

  Her face has gone really white in the headlights.

  “Is it your back?” Mr Mahuta looks worried.

  “No!” Mum grits her teeth. “My leg!”

  She tries to push herself up on her elbows and then screams again.

  “Hey, hey. Take it easy, eh, Julia?” Mr Mahuta says. “Arama’s here. We’ll get you up.”

  He gestures to Arama, “You go round that side, take her feet.”

  Arama looks terrified but he does what his dad says.

  “OK,” Mr Mahuta says, “it’s gonna hurt a bit when we lift you so you just take a deep breath …”

  Arama slips his hands underneath Mum’s feet and before he can even pick her up she lets out this painful whimper in anticipation.

  “Wait for me –” Mr Mahuta slips his hands under Mum’s armpits – “on three …”

  “One, two … three!”

  Mum screams when they lift her up. I mean she really screams!

  Arama looks so terrified, I think he’s going to drop her.

  “You hang on!” Mr Mahuta tells him.

  They walk, stumbling across the grass, carrying Mum as she screams, and lay her down on the ute where they’ve put a mattress on the open-air back of the flatbed. I feel so useless as I stand there and watch them arrange her on the mattress, Mum whimpering with pain.

  “Evie?” Mr Mahuta gestures for me to get on. “You climb up and ride on the back with your mum. We’ll go really slow, but you bang on the window of the cab if it gets bumpy, OK?”

  I climb up the tailgate to get on board. Mum has her eyes closed, but when I take her hand she opens them. “Evie?”

  “Hi, Mum.” I choke back the tears. I can see her leg is still sticking out at that funny angle and her hand in mine is really cold.

  Mr Mahuta gets back in the cab and turns the ignition. The engine revs into life, and as it does there is another noise, so slight, so distant that it’s almost imperceptible, but I hear it. And I know straight away that I’m not imagining it. I slam the palm of my hand hard – bang-bang-bang – on the window of the cab.

  “No! Don’t go! Wait!”

  I leap off the back of the flatbed and run towards the front veranda of the house where the noise is coming from.

  “Moxy! Moxy!” I call.

  From underneath the collapsed boards of the veranda, I hear her strident high-pitched meow. It’s like the meow she makes when she’s accusing me of missing her dinnertime.

  “Moxy!”

  At the sound of my voice she comes running out, pelting towards me. I grab her and clutch her tightly to my chest. I’m holding her so hard I might crush her, but she doesn’t seem to mind. I can’t believe I nearly left her behind.

  “I’ve got you,” I say. “It’s OK, I’ve got you. It’s OK …”

  And I don’t let go.

  ***

  The surface of the river churns white all around me. I can’t see her anywhere!

  “Moxy! Moxy!”

  And then a little face bobs up just above the top of the water, about twenty metres downstream. She’s right out there in the middle of the river! I can see her little paws frantically churning away, trying to stay afloat. The current sweeps her around in circles and she crashes into a half-submerged willow bough. I watch her go under and then I see her paws reach out and grab the willow bough. She manages to climb on to it.

  “Moxy!” I call to her. “I’m coming for you!”

  Jock had reached the riverbank but now he throws himself back into the water too, barking at her, as if he’s telling her to stay put and wait for us! Don’t try to swim. We will come to you.

  But Moxy doesn’t listen, she runs the length of the bough towards the far shore and then makes an almighty leap from the branch on to a rock, and then another rock. She’s further downstream now and still making her way from rock to rock towards the shore – but when she jumps from a rock on to another willow bough, the branch is too flimsy to take her. It gives way and she’s in the water again! The rush of the white foam hides her for a moment as she goes under, and this time when she pops up I only make out her terrified little face for a split second before she is submerged once more.

  “Moxy!” I’m up to my chest in the water and I’m struggling to the spot where I saw her last but she’s gone already, swept like a leaf downstream in the swift current. I think I catch a glimpse of her, but then the water swallows her again.

  And now I’m turning round mid-stream and struggling back to the bank once more.

  I run alongside the bank, calling Moxy’s name with Jock beside me, for what seems like hours. And then, in my cold, wet clothes, with my backpack sodden and heavy on my back I lie down in the grass and I sob. My Moxy is gone. The river has taken her, and left no trace.

  CHAPTER 8

  Trapped

  We turn away from the dark green hills of the Hundalees and follow the river towards Conway Flat. Jock is ahead of us, running fast, zigzagging back and forth along the riverbank, his nose to the ground the whole time. He’s hoping to pick up a scent trail that will prove that Moxy washed ashore, that she’s still alive.

  My jods are soaked through and it’s horrible riding in them, but I’m better off up here on Gus’s back because I can see further this way. My eyes sweep the riverbanks in desperation. I keep having flashbacks to that moment when the tree branch collapsed, and the fear on Moxy’s little face as she hit the water, tiny nose poking up above the white foam, paws churning furiously against the might of the current. She’s a fighter, my cat. If anyone can survive in that river it’s Moxy.

  In the Greek myths, the river is a death symbol. Crossing the Styx took you to Hades. But the Styx could make you invulnerable too. Achilles was dipped in the Styx. Maybe Moxy has crossed over to Hades, but I don’t believe it. She’s invulnerable and we will find her.

  I lost all my food in the river when we fell into that hole. The stale bread got soggy. The windfall apples were swept away. So now, after we’ve searched all morning and the sun rises to its midday height, we stop to rest, but there’s nothing to eat. I lie down on the grass for a moment to let the sun dry my jods and then I pick up my backpack and zip-unzip-zip-unzip and do my rituals. Arrange my objects. Pack them up again. Redo the braids in Gus’s mane.Yes, Willard Fox, of course I blame myself for what happened to Moxy. All I’m doing now is trying to make up for it, to protect us all and make us safe. That’s all I’ve ever tri
ed to do.

  ***

  I hold Moxy tight in my arms all the way to Parnassus. We’re not going back to the Mahutas’ house. We’re meeting up at the town hall.

  The town hall is right along from Wrightsons, and Scary Mary’s dairy. There’s a big lawn behind the hall and that’s where the gathering point is. Lots of people are there already. Mrs Mahuta sees us arrive and comes running and leans in through the driver’s window to talk with Mr Mahuta.

  “We’ve set up a medical tent. Dave is coming to look at her, he’s just gone to get his medical bag from the surgery.”

  Mr Mahuta takes the ute straight across the lawn and parks up beside the tent, and him and Arama carry Mum, with me and Moana running alongside them. I’m still carrying Moxy because I’m scared to let her go. Jock is with me too.

  Inside the tent Mrs Mahuta is preparing the camp stretcher and foam mattress with a clean white sheet on it for Mum.

  “Hang tight, Julia,” Mr Mahuta says as he lies her down on it. “Dave’s just gone to the clinic to get his things. He’ll be here in a minute.”

  “Dave?” Mum looks worried. “But he’s a vet …”

  At that moment Dave arrives back. He’s a young, curly-haired man with bright round eyes. He wears his stethoscope round the neck of his navy shirt.

  “Julia!” he greets her brightly. “I hear you got hit by a house?”

  Mum gives him a weak smile. “I guesss I wasn’t fast enough,” she says.

  “Yeah, those houses can move pretty quick, huh?” Dave bends down beside the stretcher bed and holds Mum’s hand in his, and gives her a reassuring smile as he feels her wrist to take her pulse. “I’m going to give you something for the pain first, to take the edge off, and then we’re going to take a look at the leg, OK? By the looks of the way it’s sticking out, it’s definitely a break, and we’re going to need to move it back into position and put a splint on it to make you more comfortable.”

  Mum, pale as a sheet, exhausted, looks around the tent at all of our faces as if she’s expecting us to intervene, but no one says anything as Dave pulls out a vial of fluid from his medical bag and prepares to inject her.

  Mum manages to sit up. “What’s in that bottle?”

  Dave is focused on transferring the fluid into the syringe. He draws it through the needle and gives the syringe a flick with his fingernail. “It’s ketamine,” he says.

  “Ketamine?” Mum frowns. “Dave, that’s horse tranquiliser!”

  Dave nods. “It’s all good, Julia, trust me, it works on humans too. It’s good for pain relief.”

  I think Mum’s worried because Dave isn’t actually a doctor. But there are no doctors in Parnassus and he’s a very good vet. He gave Gus his strangles shot last week. Anyway, once he gives Mum the horse tranquiliser she seems much happier, and she drifts off to sleep as Dave examines the leg and straightens it out and puts sticks on either side of it and wraps it in bandages.

  “There’s definitely a fracture in the femur,” he says to Mrs Mahuta, who’s standing and watching him work. “But the worrying thing is the pelvis. It looks like there could be issues there, possibly some internal bleeding. I’ll bring in the ultra-sound machine in the morning once she’s had some rest, and we’ll know more then.”

  He sees the worried look on my face and gives me a reassuring smile. “Your mum will be fine, Evie.”

  I know he’s trying to be kind, but it makes me want to cry when he’s so nice to me. Mrs Mahuta sees me looking all wobbly and tearful and she puts her arm round me. “Come on, hun, let’s leave Mum to sleep for a bit now, eh? We’ll go and put our tent up.”

  By now it’s four in the morning and people keep turning up and you can hear everyone calling out to each other in the dark. Mayor Garry has drawn a map that explains to everyone where they can set up their tents and stuck it on the wall of the town hall. He’s already erected three E-Z Ups and brought out gas barbecues to cook on because there’s no power. Also there are no showers and no toilets because the plumbing has stopped working.

  “We need some bottles of water and some matches and candles,” Mr Mahuta says, sending me and Moana to the dairy. Moana puts out her hand for money.

  “I don’t have any cash. Tell Scary Mary I’ll pay her later.”

  Moana looks at me. We both know that Scary Mary doesn’t give credit – there’s a sign above the till that says so in big red letters.

  “Oh, and Mo,” Mr Mahuta says, “grab some food for us as well, eh?”

  “Like what?” Moana says.

  “Whatever they’ve got,” Mr Mahuta says. “See if she still has any pies in the warmer.”

  Moana and I walk down the street together. I’m still holding Moxy in my arms. I want to let her go, but right now I don’t trust her not to run away, so I keep my arms tightly round her.

  “Do you think we can get ice creams?” Moana asks me.

  “What if Gemma isn’t there?” I say. She’s the only one who serves decent-size scoops.

  Moana shrugs. “Choc Bombs.”

  We walk past the charity shop. It’s closed because it’s still the middle of the night but through the windows you can see all the clothes racks have toppled over. There’s stuff all over the floor and broken pottery everywhere.

  “There’s Gemma!”

  Gemma has a broom and she’s sweeping up broken glass. The whole front window of the dairy has smashed. We pick our way through and I give Gemma a hug. The broom kind of sticks into me and it’s a bit awkward and we both laugh.

  “Is your mum OK?” Gemma asks.

  “She’s got a broken leg,” I say. “Dave gave her some horse tranquiliser and she’s sleeping.”

  Scary Mary is inside the dairy at the counter. She’s got her hands on her hips and she is deep in conversation with Mayor Garry.

  Garry Giddens runs the Wrightsons over the road. He thinks he owns Parnassus so everyone calls him ‘Mayor Garry’ behind his back. He has a feud going with Scary Mary. Everyone knows about it and no one is taking sides but really we all think it’s Scary Mary’s fault because she accused Mayor Garry of squeezing an avocado too hard and said he bruised it and forced him to pay $4.50, and he was furious and now he won’t shop at Scary Mary’s any more. He has to go all the way over the Waiau bridge and into Cheviot to the Countdown.

  Garry is wearing shorts and gumboots and a bush shirt. Scary Mary is wearing a pink spotty dressing gown and purple furry slippers. Behind her, in the aisles, the food has fallen off the shelves and is strewn all over the floor. Garry is standing by the counter with a big stack of bottled water.

  “We need the soft drinks out of the fridges too.”

  Scary Mary frowns. “And who exactly is paying for it?”

  Scary Mary is the most tight-fisted person I have ever met. In all my years of going to her dairy, she has never once given me so much as a free aniseed ball.

  “Insurance,” Garry says confidently.

  “Yeah, like they paid in Christchurch after the big quake there! There are still people waiting for their money …” Scary Mary stops mid-rant. She gives a sigh of resignation. “Take whatever you need. You want some potato crisps and biscuits for the kids?”

  Then Garry bends down to her – Scary Mary is way shorter than him – and he gives her this big hug. Moana and I almost die on the spot! I expect Scary Mary to thump him. Everyone knows she has no time for Garry. But she hugs him right back!

  “Tell Sherry to come over when she has time and we’ll start organising a cooking roster,” Scary Mary says. “That power supply isn’t coming back on in a hurry so we need to figure out what to do with the food in the freezers before it goes off. If we’re going to be stuck here for a while, we need a game plan to feed everyone.”

  “What does she mean we’re stuck here?” I ask Gemma.

  “The Waiau bridge is down between here and Cheviot,” Gemma says. “And we can’t get out the other way through the Kaikoura road either.”

  We are trapped in both
directions.

  ***

  “Mum, are you awake?”

  It’s six in the morning. Almost dawn. Mum is lying very still in the camp bed when I get back to her. I crouch down beside her so that I can check she’s actually breathing. I can see her chest rising and falling very softly. I want to get into the bed and snuggle in with her like I do sometimes at home, but I can’t because I will wake her up. Also, she has that wooden splint on her leg.

  “Evie?” I feel a large hand clasp my shoulder and look up to see Mr Mahuta beside me. He puts his finger to his lips telling me to be quiet and gestures for me to follow him out of the tent.

  Outside, Moana and Arama are already in the ute.

  “We’re going to do the milking. You want to come and check on Gus?” he asks.

  Milking time was an hour ago. Our cows will be waiting at the gate, their pink udders will be stretched taut from the pressure of the pent-up milk. It’s really painful for a cow if they don’t get milked on time.

  I clamber on board the flatbed of the ute and Moana makes space for me next to her. Jock jumps up too and goes to his favourite spot, perched in the corner by the cab with his paws on the side of the ute. He rides like that with his mouth open to catch the wind, and sometimes he leans so far over it looks like he’ll fly off if we hit a bump, but he’s never fallen.

  We’re all on board, and Mr Mahuta is pulling away from the hall, when there’s an ear-splitting yowl and Moxy comes sprinting between the tents and across the lawn. She makes this massive leap on to the back and lands on me. I snatch her up and cuddle her in my arms as we drive. Her purr is as loud as the car engine.

  “Your cat is crazy,” Moana says. She means it in a good way. Moxy’s not like normal fraidy cats. She’s always been an adventurer. Even as a kitten she would ride on the quad bike with Dad like a working dog. She’s always meowing for me today, and I know it’s because of what happened last night. Moxy is desperate not to get left behind ever again.

  On the radio they keep saying that State Highway One is closed from Seddon – which is way up the coast, north, past Kaikoura – all the way in the other direction, to Cheviot, which is ten minutes to the south of us over the Waiau bridge. The inland path along the Leader Road is still being cleared and no one knows when it will be drivable again, so right now there is no way out of Parnassus.