Eagle Swamp

By Des Hunt

Geology expert Professor Mike Rackman is studying the Alpine Fault, a 600 km long crack that runs the length of New Zealand’s South Island. Every 300 years or so, the fault cracks causing massive earthquakes and tsunami. Mike hopes his studies will help predict the next big one. Unfortunately, he disappears after an accident involving a local hunter.
Jack Stewart and his cat, Chainsaw, have had earlier adventures with the professor where they travelled back in time. Jack thinks the professor has done it again, and is trapped somewhere in the past. He and Chainsaw set out to save him.
They end up in the year 1409, just hours before the fault is about to crack. Not only must Jack save the injured professor, he must also convince the local whanau of the coming disaster. The problem is, if he succeeds then the only way back to the 21st century will be closed for another 300 years.

Eagle Swamp is the second story to feature Jack Stewart, Professor Rackman and Chainsaw. The first was Crown Park. Each adventure can be read independent of the other.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Des Hunt
• Release date: Mar 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9780995145108

Des Hunt

Des Hunt is a well respected educationalist and teacher, responsible for writing the national primary schools science curriculum. He has written a series of successful environmental adventures for 9-12 year olds. He lives in Whitianga, NZ and teaches at the Mercury Bay Area School.

Book preview

Prologue

The professor was bored. For three days he’d waited in his tent expecting something to happen. He’d even shifted places each day, thinking that might help. It hadn’t. He was still no closer to completing his mission than when he’d started.

No … that wasn’t quite right. He certainly knew more about this part of the Alpine Fault than when he’d arrived. In the times between lying in his tent, he’d been scrambling up and down cliffs with his rock hammer collecting samples. He now knew lots more about how the rocks had changed when the fault line moved. But that was not what he came here for. He wanted to see the fault line fracturing; feel the earth shaking; sense the release of stress. Only then would he fully appreciate what happened when one major plate of Earth’s crust moved against another. That’s what he wanted, but it seemed he wasn’t going to get it.

Perhaps he was waiting in the wrong place? Maybe he needed to be alongside the fault, not on it. With this in mind, he set off moving further up Gaunt Creek, not an easy task when many of the boulders wobbled dangerously.

Despite this he kept going until he was standing on the Pacific Plate, the chunk of Earth’s crust that stretched all the way to America.

Taking out his phone he held it at arm’s length, and scanned around. Not to get a signal, because there was none, but to use a sensor to check the electric field stress within the rocks. Sure enough, there was more stress here than on the fault line itself. Encouraged he headed further upstream.

After about a hundred metres the field stress reading began to drop. He’d moved past the best point, and yet he kept going, for his attention was now focussed on the call of a bird coming from the stream. A high-pitched whistle – whio … whio … the call of the blue duck. There was a pair of them beside the rushing water. He sat on a rock studying the rare birds, lifting his phone to photograph them.

This was disturbed by the growl of a vehicle crawling out of the main valley onto the track alongside Gaunt Creek. He’d seen the beat-up ute in the morning, heading up-valley, without giving it much thought. Now, as the ute stopped and a male climbed out, he gave it his full attention: this person was young, dressed in camouflage, and carrying a rifle.

First up, the hunter studied the sign on the fault line observatory hut, making out he was interested, but the professor was not fooled. He knew the youth had seen him and was working out his options. It was not as if the professor was difficult to spot – every item of his clothing was fluorescent orange, from his beanie down to his tramping boots. The hunter must have seen him when he first came into the valley, and again as he drove up the track. Now it was just a matter of whether he wanted to make contact or not.

He did. After a glance at the fault line, he started to trek up the creek. The professor waited, sensing this would not be a friendly encounter. Still, he was not frightened. He’d dealt with all sorts of louts in the past and he’d always got the better of them.

What are you doing here? barked the hunter.

Admiring the whio, replied the professor. I’ve seen them before in Auckland Zoo, but never in their natural habitat. The environment must be good around here.

By now the youth was standing over him. Oh, I get it,

he said with a sneer. You’re one of those greenie wimps.

Yes, agreed the professor, keeping up the friendly tone, I am a sort of greenie. I like to understand natural things, and I do become concerned when we humans mess around with stuff we don’t fully understand.

Well you’re messing around with my stuff, said the hunter, and I don’t like it.

"Your stuff?"

Yes. This is my valley and I want you out of here.

The professor nodded slowly. "Ah, and now I get it," he said, climbing to his feet.

This caused the hunter to take a step backwards, clearly not happy that the professor was taller and broader than he was.

Good, he said, so now you can leave.

Except this is public land, said the professor.

Yeah, but I have a permit to hunt here, and you’re scaring everything away.

And how am I doing that?

That crazy outfit. The animals can see you from miles away. I’ve been right up the valley and there’s no shammies or deer anywhere, and it’s because of you.

The professor shook his head. Not me as I haven’t moved from this creek. Must be some other reason.

Yeah, but you greenie wimps have still caused it.

Ah … yes, said the professor nodding to himself. Tell you what. I promise I won’t disturb any game animals and I won’t leave this creek. But I do need to stay here for a while longer. Is that okay?

It wasn’t. The hunter was annoyed at spending a whole day in the valley without having anything to take home.

Somebody had to be blamed. No! I want you out of here. Right now!

The professor weighed up his options. They weren’t great. It was either leave or confront a youth with a rifle.

Anyway, he’d been here three days without achieving his goal, so he might as well go.

All right, he sighed, but it will take me some time to pack my gear.

I’ll watch, said the hunter. He then stood to one side letting the professor pass, before following a few strides behind.

Exactly what caused the accident two minutes later may never be known. The professor certainly heard the thunk of one boulder hitting against another. Also, the curse from the hunter was loud enough to echo off the mountainside.

It’s also certain that the rifle’s safety catch must have been off, with a bullet already in the firing chamber. But whether the youth pulled the trigger with his finger or the rifle fired when it hit the gravel is not at all clear.

Whichever happened, a moment after that bullet left the barrel, the professor was lying in the creek bed clutching his left thigh screaming in pain. The hunter was also spread on the ground, but he was quiet, his head still in contact with the boulder that had knocked him out.

A short time after that, even the screaming had stopped and the only sound around the creek was the high-pitched whistle of the male whio.

1 – Missing

Jack Stewart lay on his bed fully clothed, his head resting against a large tabby cat curled into a tight ball on the duvet. What’s the matter, Chainsaw? he whispered.

There was no response from the cat. Normally when they lay together like this Chainsaw would be purring as loudly as an idling chainsaw. But today there were no sounds, not even the slightest mew. It had been like this for a week now.

Are you sick?

Still no reaction. Jack sat up and put his hand into the middle of the furry mound, lifting out Chainsaw’s head. The cat stared into the distance with blank eyes.

He seemed more lifeless than yesterday, looking worse than Jack could remember.

Not that Jack had ever seen him as a good-looking cat. By the time Chainsaw became his responsibility, he’d clearly been through several battles: one ear was almost missing, his nose looked as if it had been bashed by a hammer, and his tail was crooked towards the end.

Jack didn’t mind the flaws. They just made his friend more special.

Do you want me to take you to the vet? he asked. This should have got a response. The only time Chainsaw had been to a vet he had not liked it at all. This was right at the beginning. His parents had taken one look at the scruffy stray and insisted he was checked out by a vet in case he was diseased. He wasn’t, but then they wanted him desexed, vaccinated and microchipped. Chainsaw’s reaction was to disappear for so long that Jack had thought he’d lost him.

Eventually the cat returned, but ever since, whenever Jack used the word ‘vet’, Chainsaw would give a little growl. This time there was nothing.

What made it more concerning was the end of term three was tomorrow, and Jack had been looking forward to a fortnight when he could spend all day with his friend. But if Chainsaw continued to be like this, it would be two weeks of worry.

These thoughts were broken by a call from the lounge; Anna Stewart, his mother, was calling him to dinner. This was always at five minutes to six, so Anna and Jack’s dad, Dave, could watch the Ono Karaka News, a ritual in the Stewart household. Except Dave wasn’t there that evening as he was hauling logs to Napier and wouldn’t be back until Friday.

Although the news hadn’t started, Anna was already seated at the table when Jack arrived. How’s Chainsaw? she asked.

Not good, mumbled Jack. I think he’s going to die.

Anna looked up sharply. It can’t be that bad, can it?

He hasn’t eaten anything for a week, said Jack. I bought a can of tuna today, which he really loves, and he just turned away.

Maybe we should take him to the vet when your dad gets back. Have him checked over.

Jack nodded without enthusiasm and began picking at his food.

The news began with the usual headlines flashed on the screen: politicians arguing, countries fighting, celebrities acting badly… nothing that would interest Jack. Not until the last headline:

Famous professor missing in the mountains of Westland.

He let out a gasp.

What? asked Anna. Do you think it’s Mike Rackman?

Jack nodded. Why? Did he say he was going down there?

No. I haven’t had a text for ages. But that could be why Chainsaw is so upset.

Anna’s eyes went wide. You think the cat could know he’s in trouble? Not very likely.

Jack thought differently. There were things his mum didn’t know about Mike Rackman and Chainsaw. She knew the cat had once been the professor’s pet when he was living in Taupō, but she had no idea the friendship included things which many would call supernatural. And Jack wasn’t about to tell her now, not that she’d believe him anyway.

They had to wait through two blocks of ads before the presenters got around to reporting on the missing professor.

"Ono Karaka News has discovered the tramper missing in Westland is Professor Michael Rackman, the author of bestselling book Taupō Eruption – The Last Big Bang. A photo of the book appeared on the screen. Those close to the professor are concerned he has made no contact since Thursday a week ago. The last person known to have seen the professor was the publican at the Whataroa Hotel where he had a meal ten days ago, prior to tramping up the Waitangitaona Valley in search of the Alpine Fault."

The image changed to a scenic shot of a gravel plain with a background of steep, snow-covered mountains.

Professor Rackman was due to return to Auckland last Sunday. His partner, also a professor at the same university, notified the police on Tuesday. Since then a helicopter search has found no trace of the man.

A photo of Professor Rackman appeared. His bright orange clothing and shaven head made him seem like a madman.

The professor is known to be an eccentric. When researching his Taupō book, he lived rough in the town’s Crown Park for several months. While the disappearance may just be another example of unusual behaviour, the police ask anybody who may have seen him to contact their nearest police station or phone 111.

The item finished by urging viewers to visit the