The Worm King Read online

  Still no reply. Bob draped a loop of thick rope over her head and pulled it down around her neck.

  ‘It’s a Hoyo De Monterry double corona.’ He puffed gently to get it started after lighting a small twist of paper with a disposable Bic. ‘I suppose you’d say they have floral, creamy overtones; sweet, yet still spicy, with hints of cinnamon and nutmeg.’ Bob slid the noose tight, pushing on the knot with one hand and pulling on the rope-end with the other until her neck, where it bit in, seemed a fraction of its normal diameter.

  ‘Woody notes and a definite earthiness. Yes, they’re all there all right.’ Dick mulled, taking in a healthy draw then swirling it seductively with his tongue before slowly exhaling. Her face had gone quite blue, and eyes bulged but rolled right back, so only the whites were showing.

  ‘Should burn for two, maybe two and a half hours.’ A delicate eddy of smoke wafted across in front of the lantern. Her feet and hands twitched uncontrollably. ‘Fortunately, the hotels humidor has been deemed an essential service.

  ‘Bob! For goodness sake! Can you at least wait ’til I’ve left the room?’

  .

  THE

  WORM

  KING

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The Devil

  Jerry parked the bus in an empty shed adjoining a fruit and vege wholesaler on the outskirts of Tamworth. Before leaving Dubbo he’d removed a seat opposite the back door and in the space stored an ancient Kawasaki bike he owned, which his mate Ken rode into town two hours ago. Ken volunteered because he was the only one apart from Jerry who knew how to ride a motorbike. No point risking the bus if Tamworth border security turned out to be anything like Dubbo. David was wounded and depressed: a pellet or sliver of glass must’ve nicked his scalp and it’d bled all over the place but appeared to have done no real damage. Āmiria had seen worse injuries on the netball court. Shortly after Ken left, rain began pattering down then within a minute it’d turned into a downpour, deafening on the flat tin roof. Zelda gazed up and said it’s lucky Ken was wearing leathers.

  ‘Whose turn is it?’ called the Hat.

  Lord Brown sat two rows behind Jerry, near the front of the bus. He stood, and stepped into the aisle facing towards the rear, a little bent over and eyes all narrowed. ‘The Devil was born in a blacksmith’s shop in a sleazy backstreet of Babylon, in Iraq, in the year 539BC.’ His gravelly resonance cut straight through the rain. ‘Invading Iranian priests came up with the initial form, then a sect of angry breakaway Jews modified Satan, carrying the demon back to Israel, and a few centuries later Christians refined him once more, this time into a brutal tool of political terror.’

  The Hat put up a hand. ‘Can you explain—?’

  ‘Yes, John?’

  ‘Can you please explain how on earth that falls into the “happy story” category?’

  They were playing Happy Stories, going around the group to see who could tell the “cheeriest yarn”. The Hat had already been cutoff midway through his, about a traffic accident, which seemed to go from bad to worse as it unfolded, with more and more being swept into the carnage. David had been horrified. Even now, you could see he was on the verge of crying again. A lantern hooked on the edge of the seat cast a sickly glow across his pasty face; the rain eased a touch as the worst of the shower passed over.

  Zelda patted his knee. ‘You alright Davey?’ She turned to the Hat sitting across the aisle. ‘That would’ve been your one, about the school bus, which I must say given we’re actually sitting on a school bus, was in very poor taste.’

  ‘I don’t know why? It was all geared up for a happy ending, if you had’ve let me finish.’

  ‘How?’ exclaimed David, aghast. ‘How could it possibly?’

  ‘Right at the end, a butterfly comes along and lands on the big heap of smoking bus wreckage. One of those monarch-type things. Then, another butterfly comes along, and they have a root. How happy’s that?!’

  Āmiria laughed but no one else did and when she stopped her stomach gurgled because she hadn’t eaten for ages. Luckily, only the dog sat near enough to hear it. She put her arm around Peanuts and pulled him close. He’d stopped shaking now but still seemed to’ve lost a lot of fur recently. Her Uncle Monty would know how to fix that, if he were here. Or her dad: their pig dogs were legends around Ngaruawahia.

  A dull thud came from the roof followed by a distinct sploshing. Peanuts tensed and growled. It’d happened several times since they’d been here, something like a bucket filling with water and tipping then snapping back into place with a metallic ting as it emptied. Why a bucket would be up there like that, she had no idea.

  ‘Is that him?’ said Jerry, looking around.

  Zelda straightened and frowned. ‘No. It’s still raining. He’ll probably wait till it stops.’

  Another squall rolled over and the hammering on the roof intensified for a minute, then died back.

  ‘So how does the Devil one have a happy ending?’ Āmiria asked.

  Lord Brown took a pace forward, standing directly over David who squirmed uncomfortably and stared out the window past Zelda, although there was nothing to see except the black walls of the shed. ‘To answer that, you have to know where the man Satan came from, for he was part-man once, when this demon was born smack in the middle of the Axial Age.’ He raised his hands, touching the roof lightly and staring up. The rain petered for a second or two, although she might’ve imagined it or he just got lucky with a break in the weather, then he bent forward and gripped the edge of her seat and the one in front of David. ‘In 500BC the Axial Age was in full-stride. It’s a period not greatly spoken of these days, but verily, it was a tremendously important burst of creativity and invention; as brief as a snowflake really, but during that short span of only four hundred years, all the worlds chiefly religions came into being. You’d think that suddenly, for some reason, everyone became scared of . . . ghosts.’ He held David’s gaze.

  ‘Tell us, Lord,’ sang the Hat.

  ‘When was it again?’ asked Āmiria, curious.

  ‘The Axial Age went from 750BC to 350BC. In this short four hundred year stretch, Confucius was born in China, and Buddha in India. Both big names in their day. In Palestine they had the prophets Elijah, Isaiah and Jeremiah. And in Greece you had Homer, Plato and Archimedes. Pythagoras and Socrates too.’

  David was bewildered, his brow puckered. ‘And you think one of them . . . was Satan or something?’

  ‘In a way, and that’s the happy part. The Iranians invented him. Or the Persians, as they were called back then. Their prophet, a bloke by the name of Zarathustra, he’s the one that come up with the original Satan plan. He developed Zoroastrianism, which itself was a rehash of the Vedic mysticism the Aryans of the Russian steppes put together a hundred years earlier. Zarathustra, who grew up in northern Iran on a horse ranch not far from the Russian steppes, he rebuilt this mishmash of Aryan magic into his own religion, which they ended up calling Zoroastrianism.’

  ‘Is that where Zorro came from?’ she asked. ‘You know, with the mask and that?’

  ‘Yes . . . that’s one theory, certainly. But the Zoroastrianism I’m talking about is a separate offshoot from Zorro the Mexican. Zoroastrianism was the main religion in the Middle East for more than a thousand years, before it morphed into Islam when Mohammad turned up in 650AD, which was relatively late in the piece for a new religion, to be honest. Although Islam wasn’t really new anyway, it was just a slight reworking of the old Zoroastrianism rulebooks.

  ‘What happened was, in 600BC, the Zoroastrians invented the idea of “dualism.” It roughly meant the world is all about a giant struggle between an ultimate good, and an ultimate evil. Dualism means everything comes down to one good entity, versus one bad entity. Up until then all the tribes and civilizations scattered about the place had a much bigger mix-up of gods and demons. The Egyptians, of course, had stacks of them.

  ‘But this duality theory had a nasty side effect they hadn’t accounted for. If you bel
ong to any religion that has some human “prophet” spreading the word—and that’s just about every religion you can name—then duality theory requires there’s also got to be some human “baddie” working in the other direction too. Duality was like a virus: if your particular religion picked it up, not many steps down the road you’ll end up creating your own personal, living breathing Satan.

  ‘Don’t get me wrong, for the Iranians dualism was obviously terrific, and as a civilization they made enormous advances. In 530BC, Cyrus II of Iran virtually single-handedly invented Government bureaucracy. As well as the entire postal system as we know it today, so full credit and all that.

  ‘But the big crunch point was in 539BC, when a bunch of Judean tribes were freed from Babylon, which is in Iraq, by invading Iranians. The Jews had been held captive in Babylon for fifty-odd years after the Babylonian King Nebuchadnezzer destroyed Jerusalem in 586BC and carried the Jews into slavery, largely because they kept reneging on tax obligations, so he certainly had some justification, of sorts. When the Persian King Cyrus overran Babylon in 539BC, he told the errant Jews they could all go home if they wanted, and many naturally did, and more than a few took some free Iranian dualism with them. When this dualism got mixed up with your bog-standard Jewish monotheism, which is a belief there’s only one true religion, and one God, you’ve got it: you’ve cranked up your own fully-blown, live devil-type being.’

  Zelda frowned. ‘My mother’s Jewish. I can’t remember her saying any of that. Even when I was in Israel, nobody mentioned anything like that. My folks took us over when we were little.’

  ‘Did you enjoy it?’ Lord Brown inquired pleasantly.

  ‘Well, not really. It was the first time my sister and I’d been outside Australia, and we’d never seen so many people walking around with guns; it was stinking hot, and there were just old stone buildings to look at. The food wasn’t flash either. For a pair of nine-year-olds from Toowoomba, a bit of that goes a long way, I’ll tell you.’

  ‘Indeed. Of course the good news from all this, is that the devil is an invention. A myth. A pure fabrication of politicians. So if the worst thing you can possibly imagine is discovered to be completely make-believe, isn’t that a fantastically happy ending?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ wailed David, clutching his hands in his lap and shrinking into the seat. ‘Sorry, but I just don’t! . . . Did the Iranians have anything to do with that bomb on the school bus?’

  The rain came and went over the next couple of hours, most of the time sounding stronger than it actually was on the tin roof. Zelda had turned off the lantern. There wasn’t any point getting off the bus: the bare concrete floor of the shed was drenched because the front doors didn’t close properly, and the attached coffee room had two broken windows so was even wetter.

  The deluge finally ground to a halt, the silence surprisingly soothing and no one spoke for ages. The spell broke at the sound of the Kawasaki’s soft put-put-put in the distance, gradually growing until Āmiria realized it was definitely Ken. The others sighed in recognition too, and the atmosphere on the bus improved palpably. Zelda relit the lantern, unhooked it from the seat in front and got to her feet. ‘Now that’s a happy sound.’

  The Hat disembarked first, then Zelda with the lantern, followed by Āmiria and Jerry while Lord Brown and David waited onboard. As soon as they opened the shed door and saw Ken standing by the bike, removing his helmet, Āmiria could tell from his smile it must be good news.

  ‘Yep, they think he’s there.’ He pushed the bike down the right-hand side of the bus, which had slightly more room, then kicked the stand down and removed the key, giving the seat a small wiggle to check all stood secure. ‘Let’s get back on board.’ He rubbed his hands together with an air of smug confidence, like he’d just completed a secret mission. ‘I had a look down the list they had, but was kicking myself for not asking your surname before I left.’

  ‘Ruarangi. It would’ve said Wiremu Ruarangi? And the four men he works with are Tamati, Hemi, Rangi and . . . ’ She struggled to recall the name of the newest member of her Dad’s gang. An apprentice. ‘Geoff! That’s right! Tamati, Hemi, Rangi and Geoff.’

  ‘Doesn’t ring a bell. But they knew there was a team of four or five Māori builders staying there who’d come from Sydney, so I’d say it’s him alright. They wanted to come and fetch everyone, but I said you were all hiding in a house down the road and were a bit scared, so I’d get you. I thought it best not to tell them about the bus yet, just to be on the safe side.’

  ‘Is it dangerous?’ She suddenly felt worried that he might be in trouble.

  ‘No, no. Quite the opposite, it all seemed very civilized. I’m sure he’s fine. I only went about three kilometers up the highway—not even that—and just before you get to the town limits there’s a pile of bricks across the road, and a minivan with a couple of fellers in it. A man and his son. He’s a sergeant, and I was drinking tea out of a thermos with them while we waited for the rain to stop. He said we could come and go as we please, and the son did remember taking food to a bunch of Māoris staying in the gym yesterday. And you were right about the other day girl: they thought the sun come out for a minute then as well.’

  The walk to the minivan took three-quarters of an hour. Jerry and the Hat carried a rolled-up tarpaulin between them which Jerry said they could all hold over themselves if it rained, but it never did. The man and the boy at the roadblock appeared genuinely pleased to see new arrivals. ‘Welcome! Welcome!’

  ‘Are you a sergeant in the police?’ asked the Hat, after being introduced. Sgt Kevin wore jeans and Āmiria hadn’t thought him very official looking either.

  ‘No. Rotary. I’m a sergeant-at-arms for Rotary. Me and Tim are helping direct any outsiders coming into town. I report to the District Governor. Of Rotary, that is.’ He faced Ken. ‘That Kiwi builder you asked about, well Tim and I were talking about it again, after you left, and we’re ninety-nine percent certain he’s at the Banjo Patterson College gymnasium, like we thought.’

  Ken pointed at Āmiria. ‘It’s her father.’

  Sgt Kevin smiled. ‘We can take you there now if you like.’

  ‘Really! Now?’

  ‘That’s what I said.’

  Lord Brown stared at the pile of bricks across the road. ‘Are you alright to leave this? Is it far?’

  ‘Sure. Hardly anyone’s turned up in the last few days, and they can’t drive past this anyway. There’s a side street a block over we use. If they’re walking, we’ll see them when we’re coming back because we’ll only be gone half an hour, there and back. No worries. Usually there is another guy here with us, Jimmy, but he’s crook at the moment. He’s at the gym where her dad is, so I’ll check him while we’re there and kill two birds with one stone, so no worries at all.’

  Āmiria sat in the front seat next to Tim for the short drive to the gymnasium. The headlights caught seven, maybe eight people, during the journey, all walking quickly (and in one case running) but the streets appeared considerably safer than Dubbo. She thought Tim was probably about the same age as her, but leaner and wiry, with bronze skin and a long fringe and one of those trendy padded bomber jackets with a stars and stripes flag on the back, and stovepipe skateboarderish trousers which made him look older. ‘We’re feeding outsiders at schools and some of the halls. ’Specially places that used to be used for sports. I play league, and they’ve got six families staying in our clubrooms. Can’t play now anyway, so it doesn’t matter I ’spose. Did you see the sun the other day?’

  ‘Maybe.’ She looked out the side window then leant forward into the windscreen, trying to see directly overhead, then back out the side window again. ‘Not much sun out there now, is there?’

  ‘It’s two in the morning. There wouldn’t be.’

  She felt like an idiot, not even knowing the time, so didn’t reply so as to draw less attention to it.

  The van drew up before a single story, brick building. ‘We’re here,’ Tim announced,
opening his door and hopping out. To their left stood a larger building in a similar style, and further on, at the edge of the headlights, a wall with a basketball hoop. Obviously a school. Sgt Kevin pulled a torch off the dash, switched it on, then turned off the headlights and engine. Āmiria jumped out.

  Tim pointed at the right-hand corner of the larger building. ‘In there.’

  Her eyes began to adjust, picking up a pinprick of light moving and leaping back and forth, leaving a jagged fluorescent circle. Smokers passing a cigarette. A door opened behind the smokers, and a shaft of light spiked out. Two men, and one of them was . . . Tamati! The door closed without anyone entering or leaving and the light disappeared.

  ‘Tamati!’ Āmiria almost tripped on a hidden step, shouting his name on the run.

  ‘Hey girl. Thought that was you I saw getting out.’ Tamati stepped back and reopened the door so they could see. He gave her a hug, then pulled back, nodding at the sergeant. ‘You with these fūlla’s?’

  ‘Yeah. Dad here?

  ‘Inside.’

  Wiremu Ruarangi’s face looked thinner, and he had a woollen beanie pulled down to his eyebrows and a heavy knee-length greatcoat on, but it was her Dad alright and Āmiria was over the moon. It felt like this ginormous weight whisked off her shoulders, and at long last, she could finally relax. A bit embarrassed too, she had to admit, because he’d made such a huge scene of loudly thanking Lord Brown and the Hat for rescuing her. As if!

  Eventually the hubbub settled and she had a chance to look around. There were maybe a hundred people in the gym but it was hard to tell because there appeared no apparent order to the layout: bedrolls scattered everywhere, people sitting up, or lying horizontal or talking quietly in small groups. They’d kept a small area at the far end clear of bedrolls with a long table. It was darker down that end too. She counted five lanterns for the whole gym, and one of those was on a lifesaver tower by the main door where they’d entered. The tower looked like it’d been taken from the school pool, or maybe the tennis court. Perched on top, a man read, and occasionally looked up and glanced around. He hadn’t gotten down when they came in and it seemed rude he had a whole lantern to himself, when the other four were spread between so many people. He must really like reading, although if he were trying to keep an eye on people as well, Āmiria thought having a light right next to him would make it much harder, so he wasn’t very good at whatever he was supposed to be doing.