Time Out to Survive: Crossedover Series, #3

By Janice M. Swanson

The year is 2231. A young eighteen-year-old finds herself alone and washed up in a rubber lifeboat on the bank of a river delta close to the sea. Having lost her memory, she has been living in a hut for the summer. Having the confidence and survival skills to face any problem, and after living in a small one-room hut for what was left of the summer, she decided it was time to move on when two names suddenly began to haunt her. She must make the journey to a place called Auckland where she knows a certain Peter and Dawn can help her. She sets out. 

 

Journeying inland, she arrives in a large valley where she might be able to rest up. But just before winter arrives, the owners arrive home. They take her in and are happy to help all they can, even as they realize things are not right with her on many fronts. Her memory partially returns, but only in small windows, a song, and a male voice giving her advice, which is eventually revealed as that of her father. She has been told her memory will return eventually. 

 

At winter's end, she sets out with a dog called Jak to find Peter and Dawn. The journey takes her through a country where crime is spreading at the hands of one man. With the help of Jak and some occasionally questionable people, she slips through the criminal organization's net many times. Her memory finally returns after two long years, and none of what she remembers is good. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Janice M. Swanson
• Release date: Feb 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215420683

Janice M. Swanson

 Born in New Zealand, married to a man who was salt of the Earth - a keen hunter and fisherman. An avid bush hiker and fisherman herself (trout, sea, and long-lining on the beach), Janice also bred show dogs and tended a one-acre garden. Eventually, her husband passed, well-educated son moved to the USA, and dogs dwindled in numbers. With a life full of wonderful experiences, she returned to the manuscript begun earlier. Later, she came to live in the USA where she finished the series. 

Book preview

Prologue

It was the year 2053 , toward the end of summer.

On a very early morning in the New Zealand Islands located in the South Pacific Ocean, the stars were bright, and the air was very still, breathless, and hot; everything was just too quiet. For several hours there had been a suspenseful feeling in the air, a feeling as if something spectacular was about to happen. People were jumpy and irritable while animals were restless and the birdlife eerily quiet.

Suddenly there were explosions—eruptions—while a spreading glow of red filled the sky. The brilliant rays of the rising early morning sun illuminated the thick cloud of smoke too, as ash drifted north to north eastwards, on a slow breath from the South Pole. And what spewed forth from the ground covered everything in its path.

The land was covered by a dark cloud and what looked like a glow deep from within the darkness, extending from the center and radiating to other parts of the North Island. The mountains there had always been active and had always been a cause for concern, as were the many cauldrons and near-surface volcanic activity in the Taupo and Bay of Plenty areas that lead northward to White Island and beyond, deep below the ocean’s surface.

Scientists had always predicted that a large earthquake could happen sometime. New Zealand is situated along the Pacific Plate where two earth’s crust meet. Extensive worldwide study of the massive fault that runs the full length of the eastern side of the North Island down and to the center of the country called the subduction zone demonstrated that it was capable of triggering a mega-thrust quake.

When the Pacific tectonic plate is forced under the Indo-Australian plate it causes earthquakes. New Zealand was named the Shaky Isles because so many earthquakes are experienced due to these forces. Many countries bordering the Pacific Ocean along the so-called Ring of Fire have all experienced them at one time or another.

But no one predicted anything this catastrophic. Not then. The land appeared to be destroying itself. The earth moved; parts of it rose while others completely disappeared. At the same time, a lot stayed as it was. But cities were devastated, either becoming buried or disappearing into the sea. Millions died.

And there were those who survived.

Chapter 1

Where Was She?

The year is 2231.

The minute she woke, she felt an excited anticipation. With spring still in its infancy, there was a need to move on. Two weeks earlier she’d climbed the mountains surrounding the cove and had seen buildings nestled deep in a large valley on the other side. It was to those buildings she would be heading today.

Earlier . . .

Having spent the last few days making ready to leave, she worked from sun-up, eating by firelight and falling asleep exhausted after sundown. Using flax leaves that grew in abundance near the hut, she scraped the outer layers back to the strong threads within. A length of one or two of these, when held taut at one end, could be rolled between the palm of her hand down her thigh to make a very strong thread. She made several of these threads using the same method until she had a strong cord.

Skye never questioned her knowledge, which came easy, as did the splicing of two ends to give her length. Right now, all she needed was a thin thread to mend a split in a very old backpack. She wove in two directions using a large bone needle she carried with her. Luckily, the seams of the pack still held and were in reasonable condition even though well worn.

She loaded all that lay on the table into the back pack. There was so little to remind her she had a past; she remembered nothing before waking in the dinghy washed up on the mudflats of the river. The intricately carved box she had found beside her in the dinghy held some significance but what, she had no idea. Removing the flat package from within the box that was wrapped and tied tightly with cord, she now placed that at the bottom of the pack. Courage failed her when she thought about looking inside the waterproof wrap; something told her it could well hold the key to a past she was not yet ready to face. Finally, she decided to discard the carved box since it was too bulky, and she was not going to be able to take it with her. There were also items found wrapped in threadbare clothing carried in a smaller bag in the dinghy, including a long necklace of many tiny colored shells and a large comb made from shell. Both were significant although she knew not why. Knowledge of the meaning of colored stones collected in an earlier time, and when that might have been, now evaded her. There were several smooth green stones (Jade) she’d picked up from the riverbed while she’d been out walking a few days ago.  These she also lay in the backpack along with; her medical kit that consisted of homeopathic cures secured in a wallet-type holder with a pocket for each of the many herbs. It could be rolled up and tied at both ends. She also carried the thread and the needle that she used on the pack, flint lighters still in their waterproof wrapping (themselves all wrapped in an old, faded shirt), also potatoes she’d found growing close to the cabin for roasting in a fire. Some she had already roasted and would be eaten cold along the way; lately they had been her staple diet. Last to go in the pack was the only change of clothing she had along with the rolled ground sheet on top, she would use as a sleep cover. It had once been the floor of the dinghy, but she had removed it with her knife. She would pass an apple tree on her journey, so she needed room to add some of the fruit. After securing the flap firmly to keep everything dry should it rain, she was ready.

She looked around the small single-room bevy she’d thought of as home since arriving and found the hut immediately. Hastily going back for the dinghy before the tide carried it back out to sea, she dragged it and everything she possessed back to the cabin. What was left of the dinghy now lay on the bunk bed situated along one wall. The table, with two stools beneath it, was attached to the wall under the only window in the bevy.

The first days she looked for food and then settled in to explore, enjoying the wonderful early spring days. Someone had made the furniture in the hut out of driftwood from the beach beyond the sand dunes. She had spent many hours walking and beachcombing as the huge waves pounded the shore. The furniture looked rickety but was strong. Opposite the door, the fire, a godsend during the very cold nights, now burnt low within the small brick fireplace. The screen, which she’d fashioned earlier out of dead branches tied together with flax rope, stood in the corner between the door and the fireplace, a few herbs still attached. She poured the last of the water from the pot onto the hot coals in the fireplace. It sizzled in protest then gave up, smoke and steam drawn up the chimney for the last time. She could not take the camp oven as it was too heavy, it now stood where she had first found it on the hearth.

Looking at the pot she held in her hand, she asked herself, Will I need this? I can always ditch it along the way if it becomes a bother. She tied the pot to the outside of the pack, along with the empty canteen, the newly made coiled rope, and a small pick-shovel. As she swung the pack onto her back, her glance fell to the carved box still sitting on the table. She felt she was leaving more than just a box; she wished she could take it with her. But disciplining her mind, she lifted the pack higher onto her shoulders and fixed the bottom straps around her waist to hold it in place. Yes, it was fine, not too heavy. She felt for the hunting knife she always wore in the pouch at her hip. Without a backward glance, she stepped outside, pulling the door shut behind her.

The sun was still behind the huge hills to her right, that she was about to climb. To her left sand dunes hid the sea, but she could hear the waves crashing on the shore as she walked along a track. The morning was still cool but there was promise of another warm day for the journey ahead. Reaching the apple tree with the last of the season's fruit, she took time to pick and pack several of the better ones while eating one of them, and then she set out once more.

The path had been unused for a long time. Overrun with ferns in places, it had a very hard feel, looking like many small chips of stone stuck together—a road, perhaps? She’d heard about such things. The bush on each side became denser as she moved inland. Her confidence grew but she realized this was the easy bit and that the worst was still to come. But the tall tree ferns that grew overhead would act as a filter for a hot sun later.

It took two hands to climb the steep washout, and water had scoured the plant life leaving a natural path. There was plenty of ferns and scrub growing on the sides she used to pull herself up. Singing birds filled the bush, twittering all the while as they followed her up the slope. They seemed reluctant to leave her. Small in size, they darted back and forth, tails spread fan-like. She paused on a flattened piece of ground to take a long drink from the fresh, smooth water trickling down from rocks above to soak the ground where she stood. While filling the canteen, she watched the tiny birds, Fantails, and realized that as she moved, she was disturbing the tiny insects and making them available for them to eat. She enjoyed their cheerful company and was pleased they were getting something from her being in their territory.

Meeting the full sun for the first time as she finally broke above the tree line, the sea stretched before her like a blanket of deep blue until it touched the lighter tone of the sky. In her mind's eye, a very hazy island in the middle of a deep blue ocean plagued her. She hoped one day her memory would return, but meanwhile she refused to worry about it. Looking down into the cove below, the shoreline ran in both directions, broken only by the river where the land turned toward the sea with rocks and cliffs at both ends. Hills blocked any further view of more coastland even though she could see snow-capped mountains, both ways, off in the distance.

Below, waves relentlessly pounded the sand. To her left lay the large silver span of wet sands where the dinghy had been stranded upon the bank. From this height, the deep channel could easily be seen from here within the shallow mud flats due to low tide and where the river met the sea. Behind the sand dunes, the small hut now looked like one of the many rocks scattered amongst the green-grey of the tall flax bushes.

Because they were her only memories, she had relived, many times, the days preceding this last week. She sat thinking of her earliest memory: how she had awakened on the floor of the dinghy, resting on the riverbank, upriver from where it met the sea. Where pictures of her past should have been tucked away, to be instantly recalled, now were only a blanket of nothing. This experience was frightening at first, but then reason took over. She had one of two choices: she could do nothing and sit around waiting for her memory to return. Or she could take time out to survive and leave the rest to nature. Common sense told her she would mend given time. She had not been in an accident for she had no other injuries; something else had cause it. Moving on now, she pushed through the thick low growing bushes consisting of storks and tiny leaves no higher than her knees that left scratches on her legs as she climbed the last slope to finally reach the saddle between the two peaks.

The sun all but coaxed her to sleep as she sat eating a meager lunch; she fought the feeling by drinking several mouthfuls of water while studying the thick bush below her. Away in the distance at the other end of what looked like an enclosed valley; lay a huge open lush green ground scattered with large trees and a lake that turned back into a river and disappeared between two hills. Magnificent snow-capped mountains behind the bush-clad hills, which were much higher than the one she now sat upon, surrounded the area. They shimmered with the inland heat. While her eyes skimmed the valley below, she could no longer see the buildings she knew were there, and then a feeling of relief surged through her as she saw animals grazing on the valley floor beside the lake. Trees in full leaf must be hiding the buildings, she thought. Suddenly it struck her that this is what a painting would look like within a large frame.

It had been while she was sitting up in the saddle days earlier when strong considerations on two points had swept over her. One, she needed to find people and, second, she need to find a place called Auckland. Two names were also very important, Peter and Dawn. But why were they important? She wasn’t sure, but she would focus her attention on this question.

Chapter 2

Descending into the Valley

Again motivated, she began her decent into the valley. The steep grade was every bit as hard as the climb earlier. It was extremely slippery underfoot, and she had no wish to fall to the bottom, so the going was very slow. The forest was cool and dark with ferns and thick, tangled vines offering handholds. It was several hours on before the slope gentled out a little, and now huge boulders were scattered about. Behind a concentration of large rocks protruding from the hillside she could hear the sound of running water. The ground dropped away steeply beside the boulders. There were tiny ferns whose hair-like roots acted like a sieve for the clear water bubbling from within the hillside. The stream ran silently over the stony ledge before tumbling into a small pool some feet below. It was an easy climb down and an ideal place to rest and eat. The bell-like song of a smallish green bird hidden in the green canopy above filled her with a feeling of peace. The fresh water flowed on over its stony path through the grass and would eventually feed into the lake below. The heat within the bush seemed unusually intense. Wet with perspiration, she took a long drink from the clear, deliciously cool water, splashing handfuls over her face that ran down her body front and back, cooling her very effectively. She sat down to eat one cold cooked potato and was pleased she had thought to do this now, for there was nowhere to light a fire here. After finishing an apple and attending to her ablutions, she set out once more.

She followed the stream as it flowed on downward, rushing over small rocks and covered with bright green weeds that streamed like hair with the flow of the water. Dampness underfoot made the going more slippery, and she had to negotiate uprooted trees where secondary growth had attached itself, forming a kind of nursery. It occurred to her that it was the natural rejuvenation of the bush.

The dense bush seemed to darken even more as she moved downward. Resting a moment, she took the time to watch a very large, brown-shelled snail make its way over the vegetation on the forest floor. The forest seemed especially lush and damp as the heat become more acute. The smell of decaying vegetation was strong.

It was quite impossible to see the sun through the thick canopy above. Suddenly she became aware of the changes taking place around her. The bird life had all but disappeared, and the forest had gone strangely quiet; listening intently, she could hear rumbles of thunder far away. A breeze annoyed the treetops as she moved slowly on downward, aware that more changes were taking place as the wind began to blow stronger now. The rushing of the wind through the treetops was deafening. Branches whipped as if in anger. Soon, large drops of rain began to fall, pushed along with the way of the wind and driving the wetness into every nook and cranny. Within a very short time, everything was drenched, including her.

There was no shelter from a storm of this magnitude, but she did need some sort of protection from falling trees. As if on cue, a large tree fell off to the side. It crashed through the canopy, snapping several smaller trees in its path.

Through the newly cleared space above came a flash of lightening that lit up the floor of the bush seconds after thunder rolled across the darkening heavens above. Not wanting to slide into the river, she made her way slowly down the hillside, keeping a healthy distance from the side of the ravine and the now-raging stream below. She had to find a safe place to sit this out. A flash of lightening enabled her to see a cave-like structure within the root system of a very large older felled tree.

She now shivered with an unexplained terror. How she would gladly exchange the hot, dry sun she had experienced earlier on the tops for the wet mud that now made up the ground under her feet as large drops of rain fell straight down, no longer driven by wind. There was no escaping the deluge or the thunderous sounds and flashes above. The only alternative was to sit it out and pray that the log she was wedged beneath would protect her from other falling trees.

Come on, girl. It can't rain forever; it will soon be over, she said aloud. Her stomach began to rumble, reminding her she had not eaten for several hours. She could do little about that since the pack was still attached to her back and there was no room to maneuver at all.

It was becoming a night of agonizing terror. A dreaded fear stirred within her as she waited for either the rain or the night to end; could it be a memory? She reached deep and called on a hidden inner strength to keep those dreaded feelings from growing stronger. Drenched, hair flattened to her head, the ground under her had long since turned to mud. She changed her position slightly, stretching her legs one at a time before again wrapping her arms about her knees. Her forehead dropped forward as she willed sleep to come, but it would not. Sometime later the rain was softer, allowing her to stand outside the shelter. Pulling the waterproof ground sheet and two apples out of her pack, she wrapped the sheet around her, ate the fruit, and took a drink. She was making a concentrated effort to ignore her predicament.

Eventually, she wedged herself back under the log and curled into as tiny a ball with the pack on her back, the ground sheet serving as a barrier to the damp mud. With rotting bush all about her, she finally fell into an uneasy sleep.

The rain finally stopped, and the moon moved across the now-clear dark sky. Still sleeping, she did not waken as the very large insect, a Weta, its elongated body banded alternatively between light and dark brown with a large head, hind legs with sharp spikes that produced a rustling rasping sound as it drew them across its abdomen. The Weta began its climb upward, slowly, first climbing the ground sheet, then onto her hair and up to the log toward its waiting mate.

It was the cold creeping into her stiffening joints that finally woke her. She needed to move, since she had been in the one position for too long. Had she looked, she’d have seen the Weta standing not a finger length away from her on the log and its mate a little further on. Stretching, she could see enough pale sky through the holes in the canopy to tell her it would soon brighten into a lovely day after a very long night.

The descent was easier now as the bush changed from Kahikatea to Black Beech and plenty of tree ferns (Pungas and Silver fern). There were lots of hen and chicken and water ferns scattered on a carpet of moss, with young trees beginning their long climb to the canopy above. A surprise came when the river she had been following fell away, turning into rapids and finally into a roaring waterfall at the end of a natural race. Without warning, her feet slipped from under her, she grabbed at undergrowth made slippery with the recent rain, but she was unable to stop herself. Then as suddenly as it began the slide was over, the landing fortunately soft.

Breathing deeply, she stood slowly. Nothing was broken, only a graze down one thigh where bruises might later appear. She looked about to find that she was on a small embankment beside what was now a much faster and larger moving river on a lower level from where she had been. Peering up stream, she could see a much larger stream that was the source of the larger volume of water she was now standing beside. The stream she had been following fell as a waterfall to join the larger much swifter flowing body of water.  

Here, large trees were more open to the sun, allowing the beams of light to show through the canopy. Further on was a tiny glade with a natural pool of quiet water surrounded by a sunny patch of grass. Skye did not wait to undress but placed the pack and her belt with her knife on the grass in the sun and waded into the water. Where she began cleaning herself, shedding clothes while removing mud from her night in the storm and the slide moments earlier, she washed seeping blood from the graze down her leg. Wringing out the thin material strongly, she shook the wet clothes and hung them over a fern in the sun light before returning to the water to wash her hair. The water was cold but the need to feel clean outweighed any discomfort. Feeling stimulated and in a calmer frame of mind, she moved into a patch of warming sun, while squeezing water from her blond tresses.

Her well-balanced frame had an athletic appearance, arms and legs muscled but streamlined with a look of speed. Her head sat proudly on a graceful neck, and she had a heart-shaped face set with almond-shaped lucid green eyes, a straight nose, and a mouth that lifted naturally at the corners that concealed straight pearly white teeth that showed when she smiled. She worked on her wet, sun-streaked, dark-blonde hair, pulling gently at the knots to free them so she could run her fingers through its long length without hindrance.

Jumping up and down, swinging her arms about her, she settled into a routine of warming exercises until her hair was almost dry. Without bothering to dress, she took to searching for something to eat, knife in hand. She was oblivious to the fact that she looked like a river nymph as she wandered downstream, seeking out something other than apples to eat this lunchtime.

The Nikau palms grew in abundance here. Two of the smaller ones within easy reach she sacrificed for the extremely nutritious heart at the head of the trunk. She also collected the base of the leaves. There was watercress beyond the bathing pool in the running water further on, and before the ground turned swampy there was another find: Raupo. She could see flowering spikes and new shoots just below the water level. Mindful of the oozing mud between her toes, she waded over to tug sharply at several of the young shoots, taking plenty for later.

Returning to the grassy bank, she proceeded to strip the outer layer of two of the Raupo shoots. The inner core was better when cooked but she didn’t want to spend time lighting a fire. After feasting on them and the base of the some of the Nikau leaves, she finished her meal by cutting one of the two remaining cooked potatoes in half. She crammed it full of the watercress and enjoyed the delicate flavors. Back where the river moved fast, she drank her fill. Wrapping what was left of the two small Nikau heads and the rest of the Raupo shoots in the newly washed but still-damp shirt, she placed them in the pack. Ablutions seen to, she dressed quickly in the fresh clothes, noticing how threadbare they were. The man's pants she wore were held up at the waist with a leather belt wound twice around her slim waist; they ended below her knees since the leg length had been torn away. While the oversized shirt sleeves had been removed, one button closed the front between her breasts, and the rest were gathered and knotted in front at her waist. The whole effect enhanced her figure rather than hid it. Her hair was nearly dry hung down her back to her waist. Using a piece of ripped cloth, she tied her still damp hair off her neck high at the back of her head. Beginning to feel more like her old self, She broke off a twig from a nearby tea tree, chewing one end to soften it to clean the surface of her teeth and with the pointed end she cleaned between her teeth, finally rinsing her mouth with a handful of water. She was now ready to move on. She knew she must hurry. To spend another night in the bush was no longer an option; she felt a desperate need for open spaces and a sky full of stars.

Keeping the river to her left, the terrain she was now in began gently leveling out, which enabled her to make good time at last. Urgency replaced the dread of last evening as she sensed the bush might soon end. The birds called loudly to one another, while fantails continued to follow her. All about her was evidence of destruction from the storm last evening. More than one tree had been struck by lightning, charred and blackened. The rest of the forest was saved from burning only by the dampness and the torrential rain.  

As the day wore on, a feeling of being watched haunted her. Hesitating and looking about her, she saw nothing. The feeling made the hair on the back of her neck stand up and raised goosebumps the length of her arms. She even called out twice. Who’s there?  Then it crossed her mind that whoever it was might not even understand her. She shuddered as she peered through the trees and undergrowth, but nothing seemed to be amiss. Moving on, she could see sunlight and fields through the trees ahead, so hurrying didn't seem to matter anymore. Then suddenly the valley opened up before her.

Chapter 3

The Valley

The river, now the beginning of a long lake, reflected the surrounding bush-clad hills in its mirror image as it wound down through the valley until it became a much wider lake. Grasslands on both sides extended to the bush-clad hillsides, with much more on the side on which she stood in the late afternoon sunshine. She looked about her; what had caught her attention on the ridge top two weeks ago could now be seen clearly away in the distance: buildings within the belt of trees. Trees of all shapes and sizes, many she had seen in the bush she had just come out of, taking a new significance here as specimen trees in a park like setting. Animals dotted about feeding on the lush grass. Here was the first sign of other people. The loneliness she had been feeling the past few weeks came rushing back to consume her. She felt compelled to run toward the buildings. Then something else crept in, a feeling of hesitation, of shyness. Enclosed within bush lined hillsides caught within the beauty of where she was. It would be better for her to stay the night under the cover of the trees and set out in the morning; there was still a long way to go. Her eyes searched the immediate area for shelter, noticing animals roamed freely.

She made for an outcrop of rock where a small thick stand of manuka grew. There was a large recess at the bottom of the rock, cave-like, creating a partial natural shelter from above. With the ground blanketed by years’ worth of tiny leaves from the Manuka, she anticipated a much better sleep as she spread the ground sheet out in the sun to dry from last night’s deluge. There was still plenty of heat as the sun travelled to where she had come in the west. She hollowed out the dry ground where she intended to sleep against the rock wall, while making a barrier against any draft.

Skye hung her still-dampened clothes over the manuka before walking down to the riverbank. Recognizing a plant that grew in abundance, she excitedly began to dig around the narrow grassy leaves for the small tubers she knew were just below the surface. It was a small, sweet potato. Oh, to be able to bake them in a fire! She remembered how delicious they were. Fetching the other food from her pack and the fire starters, she picked up nearby twigs and manuka branches, breaking the branches as best she could, and built a small fire on the riverbank. The warm heart of the Nikau palm with the hot baked sweet potatoes combined with warmth of the last of the sun gave her a sense of well-being. She leaned against the bank, enjoying the feeling of space after days enclosed within the bush. The evening star was high in the navy sky when the sun finally dipped below the horizon in the west.

She allowed her thoughts to run in anticipation. Whom would she meet? What would they look like? Wrapping her arms about her knees, she laid her cheek upon her arm, eyes dreamy. Thoughts drifted as the darkness gave way to the light of the almost-full moon. Standing, she stretched lazily before pouring water over the nearly dead coals. Tired from the lack of good sleep during the journey of the last few days. Wrapping the ground sheet around her, she crawled into her manuka shelter, curled up within the ground sheet, head upon her pack, she fell into a deep sleep.

She did not see the huge powerful wolfish dog appear; ghost like from the bush not far from where she had walked out from the bush earlier. He paused outside the tea tree she was under, a short distance from her sleeping form, He stood, quietly balanced, his nose high as he scented her in the still evening air. Finally satisfied, without a sound he turned to pace down through the valley toward the buildings.

Stretching and yawning, Skye felt well rested after a sound sleep. Awakened now to the loud morning chorus of many birds singing, she peaked through squinted eyes to find she was no longer alone. Alarmed, she sat up, holding her breath in fright, eyes wide. Staring right back at her were two sets of liquid brown eyes. Peering between the stems of the tea tree was a large cow and her calf. The mother stood chewing her cud quietly. It seemed an age before anyone moved. Expelling the air from her lungs, she watched as the calf began nudging her mother's side, grasping a teat and beginning to suck loudly as if it was the last feed it was going to get. Sensing no danger, Skye moved out from the trees after quietly packing everything a way.

With the sun still behind the mountains, she attended to her ablutions at the lake’s edge. She felt a need to stretch her limbs. As she exercised her stiffened muscles, she felt them slowly warm and then free up. She worked a series of set moves, for this had always been a big part of her life, just as much as eating and sleeping. The sun rose over the mountains, and after consuming the last apple, she took a long drink; with the pack on her back, she set out at a jog toward the buildings away in the distance. That was to take her almost two days; she stopped only to eat and sleep.

Eating lunch beside the lake, she was fascinated by the fish swimming near a ledge that fell steeply into the depths. The fish were feeding on flies caught on top of the water. Each time she approached the water the fish darted away into the darkness. She had another memory surge as she walked along, a song a hint of an image blurred, cradling her on a knee, a soft voice singing the song. The words and the tune came to her mind very easily as she sang it now in a clear voice . . .

It must have been cold in my shadow, to never have sunshine on your face. You were content to let me shine; you always walked a step behind. I was the one with all the glory, while you were the one with all the strain. Beautiful face without a name, beautiful smile to hide the pain. Did you never know you were my hero? And everything I would like to be. I can fly higher than an eagle if you are the wind beneath my feet.

Shrouded with a feeling of peace, she jogged along humming the tune.

The earlier storm had stirred a feeling of total fear. Or rather, not so much the storm itself but the fact she was exposed to it. Why? Other times when she tried to push beyond a certain point in her memory there was a feeling of overwhelming pain. Experiencing small but significant flash backs such as this made her think her memory would eventually return in its own time. Meanwhile, she was not going to worry; she was content to look to the future.             As the light began to fade, she decided to move inland and make for the nearest clump of trees. Soon she was met by the most dreadful smell. Advancing cautiously toward a pile of rocks, she rounded them to find the body of a half-eaten small sheep. Further investigation revealed bite marks around the neck and a gaping hole in the gut exposing blackish entrails, now amassed with maggots and blow flies buzzing around the wound.

What had done this? Something had attacked this poor animal and not all that long ago. She began to gag, covering her mouth and nose as she turned away. Suddenly she sensed rather than heard something off to her side and froze, wide eyed, as fear ran through her veins. Turning slowly to confront something she had never seen before, instinct told her this was a dog or a wolf, and if it was the former, she hoped it was friendly.

He stood still, as did she, in spite of the situation she now found herself. She could not help but admire his beauty. What a magnificent animal; his height would have him up to her waist, with thick coat; tan colored except for a black saddle over his back. He was well-muscled, long in body, strong of bone, and built for speed and endurance. His ears pricked, his eyes dark, fore face strong and long, nose black. She wouldn’t have a chance against an animal of this size and strength. But his dark liquid eyes, pricked ears, and overall demeanor told her she was in no real danger. As suddenly as he had appeared, he moved back to where he had been sleeping, while she moved away without hesitation from the dreadful smell. She chose another stand of trees further on. Exhausted, she decided she could not eat after the last experience. A drink would have to do until morning, so wrapping the sheet around her with her head on the pack, she fell asleep.

Waking with just a drink from the canteen, she set off, making for the building now not that far away. She used the clumps of trees for shade as she went. The worst of the heat was over by the time she came to a fenced area; inside were trees in four rows. Noticing the fruit that lay on the ground, she climbed over to walk amongst the obviously different fruit trees, noticing many with fruit already setting and others in full bloom, bees busy. Suddenly, there was a deep melodious voice saying, Juicy peaches have to be my favorite.  Where had this memory come from? She had no idea! Unhappy feelings arose from deep inside, totally consuming her as she stood there, so unexpected. She had to gulp air and hold it till the feeling subsided, tears filling her eyes. No sooner had she wiped them away with the back of her hand than they were welling up again. She felt so tired and lonely. Suddenly angry with this woe-is-me feeling, she shrugged off the pain. She climbed the gate out of the area, the better to see the very large building across a wide road and grassy area immediately in front of her. The curved road ran around both sides of the building that was far larger than she realized. The roadway to her right was tree lined on both sides.

The growing sense of shyness and also excitement with other humans close was and now a reality. Or was it? While it appeared to be in good order there was an air of emptiness and the lack of anyone around. If it were not for the preserved look about the place and the animals, she would have thought it abandoned. She would walk around the structure before deciding what to do. Standing at what was obviously the side of the building she had first seen from the mountain top; she could just make out the saddle away in the distance if she shaded the sun from her eyes. The building was massive. At its highest point, were two rows of narrow windows, the glass very thick and impossible to see through (to accommodate the building’s two levels, she guessed). It looked like a fortress.

She jogged along the driveway beside a very tall wall passing six large doors, and then further on, two sets of very large double doors. It was many times larger than she imagined. Turning the corner, Skye found the same tall blank wall, while the roadway swept on to more buildings out to her right. These she ignored as a returning thought struck her again: nothing appeared as she expected. Further out from the wall were stands of trees large oaks, elms, elders, and many trees she could not recognize but was to learn later were gums and several magnolias, full of pink, purple, and white flowers. Stands of large native trees Kauri, Rimu, Beech, and Totora, tall and magnificent in the company of Pittosporums, some with fine yellow flowers that gave off fresh lemon perfume as she passed by.

Turning the second corner, she followed the wall until the very end where the same sort of narrow windows accommodated the two levels as before. Stands of large trees were everywhere but running down this side of the building were several uniformed rows of flax bushes. In a small, fenced-off area halfway along, she approached a sadly neglected graveyard sheltered by a huge oak tree closer to the wall than most, with overgrown roses along the fence surrounding the graves inside. An overwhelming sense of sadness gripped her as she stood breathing heavily. There were three graves with wooden crosses at one end unlike the rest, with beautifully engraved head stones. Tears filled her eyes, but before they could run down her cheeks, she wiped them away.

What on earth is wrong with me? Her eyes filled with more tears. Come on girl, this is no time to fall to pieces.

She rubbed her eyes. The crosses in particular had a significant meaning for her, and her reaction to them was like a knock on a door to her past that refused to open. A great sense of loss consumed her. With her emotions in turmoil once more, she looked about, her face strained and weary. The buildup of clouds in the northeast was a worry, and there was a chill in the breeze now that caused her to shiver. More rain on the way. It was spring, and rain was to be expected.

She reached the corner to stand in the last rays of the sun looking at the last side of the building facing the lake, a few large trees scattered about. Where she stood was the same roadway from where she had started, circling the building. Wide steps led up to a large door. With the same long windows on either side of the door. From here the road also ran away in the opposite direction to disappear between the foothills of the distant mountains to follow beside the river. There was no shelter from the rain here. She was undecided about what to do and was close to turning back when out of the corner of her eye, movement made her first pause and then freeze. How could she have forgotten? Coming toward her at an even pace was the dog; he moved swiftly, smoothly checking his pace to a walk and finally stopping in front of her.

Chapter 4

Friend or Foe?

His mouth hung open , allowing his tongue to hang comically from one side. The stare was steady but soft from the liquid brown eyes. She had no idea what she should do. The dog moved slowly forward, taking the initiative. He took her hand softly in his mouth and gently pulled her in the direction from which she had come; she did not protest.

She shuddered as she recognized the lanolin smell about him, but she also knew instinctively that this animal would not harm her. He let go of her hand to disappear into a break in the flax bushes. It was only now that Skye noticed a well-hidden door in the wall only a few steps