The Last Haven: The Lost Land Series, #3

THE

LAST

HAVEN

TERESA SCHULZ

This novel is a work of fiction, and any similarity of characters in this novel to actual people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

First Published by Blue Phoenix Publishers, NZ, 2018

This book is copyright. Except for the purpose of fair review, no part may be stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including recording or storage in any information retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

Copyright © 2018 Teresa Schulz

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-0-473-43115-0

DEDICATION

When the power of Love overcomes the love of power,

the world will know peace - Jimi Hendrix.

The future is not what you expect.

But it is not necessarily something to fear.

World Made by Hand - James Howard Kunstler

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

To my children

Who always love me

unconditionally.

You make me want to be a better person.

Thanks for making me proud ─ always.

Mum

Only when the last tree has died

And the last river has been poisoned

And the last fish has been caught

Will we realise

We cannot

eat money.

Old Cree Indian Proverb

CONTENTS

1: Unrequited Love

2: Good Intentions

3: Romantic Memories

4: Neil’s Find

5: Reuben Grant

6: Birdman

7: Maude’s Still

8: Epiphany

9: The Babysitter

10: Pecking Order

11: Fight Club

12: The Greater Good

13: Mrs Redburn

14: Gods of Men

15: God Damned Hero

16: Changing Allegiances

17: Onna-Musha

18: Time to Go

19: Allie’s Distraction

20: Compliments of the Major

21: Alpha Males

22: Chivalry is Not Dead

23: ‘Shrooms!

24: The Chase

25: Danger in the Midst

EPILOGUE

CHARACTERS IN THE STORY

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

FINAL WORD FROM THE AUTHOR

1

Unrequited love

ARROW VALLEY, NEW ZEALAND

Thursday, 3 September, 2037

Gen sat down wearily on an old tree stump. Strands of her long, auburn hair had come loose from her plait during the day’s work and they caressed her cheeks, tickling in the cool breeze. The peace of this place was what she loved most about living out here in the valley. All she could hear was the distant screech of a pair of pukeko calling to each other in the long grass by the gently bubbling stream, and the soft cluck of hens around the chook pen behind her.

She admired the glorious crimson sunset, framing the lush hills that surrounded their farm, and sighed.

‘You know, I’m not as strong as they all think I am.’ She turned to face her captive audience, reiterating her feelings. ‘I can’t believe I’m admitting this, to you, but since Nate’s been gone, I feel vulnerable. I used to feel like I could do anything, you know, with him in my life. Now that he’s gone ... it’s like ... I’ve realized, I’m just a middle aged woman caught up in this ....’ she shook her clenched fists in the air in frustration looking for just the right words, ‘this almighty great mess that the world’s gone and dropped us in. Everyone expects me to know what to do, and I try, I really do. But to be honest with you, most days I just want to curl up in bed and cry, and sleep, and tell the whole world to just fuck right off, thank you very much! You know?’

Her heartfelt speech was met with silence.

‘You’re not very talkative today, are you?’ she added.

The young rooster she was talking to ruffled his feathers and uttered a short ‘brarrrk, brarrrk, brarrk!’

She leaned forward and grabbed him by the legs, holding him upside-down as she picked up the tomahawk from the grass nearby. ‘Oh well, sorry mate,’ she said, resting his head on the tree stump she had just vacated, ‘my kids’ve gotta eat.’ He stretched his neck out instinctually and she brought the blade down with a solid thunk.

‘EWW NANNY, IS CHOOKY dead?’ Wee Travis hopped off the swing Kyle had made for him from an old tyre, tied beneath a tree in the backyard.

‘Yep, hope so,’ Gen replied. She placed the headless bird on the door step, opened the back door and called to Livy inside for a bucket of scalding water to help with plucking out of the feathers.

‘Where he’s head?’ Travis asked, as he squatted to examine the deceased bird with great interest.

Livy opened the backdoor, struggling a bit under the weight of the heavy bucket. Careful not to splash it, she passed the hot water out to her mother. ‘Cheers love. You stay back squirt,’ she warned her grandson, ‘this is very hot! You wanna know where his head is? I chopped it off.’

‘Why?’ Travis asked, still entranced by the fate of the dead chicken.

‘Cause he was bein’ rude and swearing at me.’

The little boy’s mouth dropped open, gaping in shock. He knew full well he had been experimenting with a few curly words of his own.

‘You’ll catch flies with that mouth open,’ Gen added with a knowing smile.

He closed it again

Gen sat down on the step and dunked the bird under the hot water, careful not to burn her fingers. Steam rose up to caress her cheeks, with the smell of wet feathers.

‘Nanny’s tellin’ fibs again,’ Allie said, balancing a woven basket on her hip. She’d been getting in the dry washing from the clothes line. The sun had almost completely disappeared behind the hills and the air was cooling fast.

‘Nanny not chop my head off?’ Travis asked his Nana, as Allie scooted between them into the lounge.

Gen smiled and leaned forward to kiss her grandson on his little button nose. ‘Nah precious, I loves you too much.’

His chubby cheeks split into a wide grin.

‘I might wash ya mouth out with soap though, if you keep swearing,’ she teased.

‘You swear,’ Allie accused from inside the lounge. It was said with the bravery that only comes from growing taller than one’s mother.

‘I do not swear,’ Gen pulled a mock horrified look, purely for Travis’ benefit. She held up the chicken by the legs and began pulling downwards, wiping off feathers into the bucket.

Travis nodded in agreement with his mother. ‘You do. I hear-ed ya.’

Gen pulled a surprised expression, and then smiled at him. ‘Well that’s called Nanny Rules.’

‘Wos nanny rules?’

‘Do as I say, not as I do.’

Travis wrinkled his little forehead in a frown, as though trying to work out if that was fair or not. He decided it must be because Nanny had been around an awfully long time, so she must know what she was talking about. After a while he grew bored with watching the plucking and went inside to ask his mother for something to eat.

Eventually Gen got to the gutting part. Travis returned a few minutes later to sit on the step, jam sandwich in hand, not the least bit put off by his Nana’s activities.

‘You are just like your father. Nothing dulls your appetite, does it kid?’ He wasn’t sure what she meant, but shook his head.

Gen pulled a sharp knife out of the builder’s belt she wore while working round the farm. The oesophagus and trachea had already been severed when the unfortunate bird lost its head. Gen cut around the skin holding the crop in place under the neck of the chicken, to free it up so she could pull the entrails out. She flipped the bird over and very carefully cut around the rear end, making sure not to burst the rectum and risk contaminating the meat. When the hole was open enough she reached in grabbing the neck and trachea she’d severed earlier, and neatly pulled the whole innards out.

Standing up and dropping his half-eaten sandwich to the deck, ‘Woah!’ Travis said, impressed.

‘Yeah ... woah,’ Gen agreed.

The little man became unusually quiet, absorbed deep in thought for a time. Finally he took a deep breath and said, ‘I sad.’ Travis had his chin resting on his stumpy little fingers as he leaned on the arm of the outdoor chair, watching his Nana finish up washing the chicken.

‘You sad the chooky died?’

He nodded.

‘Oh sweetie, you have such a kind little heart,’ she kissed him on the cheek.

‘Did Gandy die?’ he asked solemnly.

She picked him up, cuddling him close, and whispered in his ear, ‘he did sweetie, and Nanny misses him lots.’ She plopped him inside the backdoor, patting his nappied backside softly. Then she picked up the prepared chicken and followed Travis inside. She gently stroked his dark brown curls. ‘You know what? Your grandfather would’ve thought you were the bee’s knees.’

Upon entering the kitchen, she saw the massive black and tan hairy form of a recumbent canine taking up almost the whole floor.

‘Don’t mind me Angel,’ Gen said sarcastically to the huge dark German Shepherd. Angel took no notice of her. ‘No, don’t you get up. You just stay right there girl.’ She moved around the small kitchen, trying to do tea around the huge dog dozing in the middle of the floor. Eventually she plonked a bowl of chicken scraps, minus bones of course, out of the way in the foyer. That got Angel’s attention. She dragged herself upright and quickly plodded over to the bowl before their cat could beat her to it.

Gen stroked her soft black fur. ‘There ya go girl.’ 

Finally she had some room to move. Gen wondered idly how Danni was getting on at their home over the other side of the valley. Having four cows to milk this year, she had a large quantity of extra milk built up. The best way to keep it was to make hard cheese. However, it was a lot easier to do these things minus curious, mischievous little boys. Take your eyes of Travis for a moment and he’d disappear and you’d have to drop whatever it was you were doing to hunt the little fiend down, before he hurt himself. Danni had asked Gen if she would mind watching wee Travis for a few days to give her a chance to have a go at the cheese making.

Gen loved her family, and with Nate gone these past two years, it was good to have her grandchildren around to distract her from her own loneliness.

After the delicious roast chicken meal, for which they all complimented Gen, Livy tried playing something recognizable and cheerful on the piano. The others, Allie, Kyle and Neil, who often joined them for dinner, were enjoying a quiet brew and a chat in the lounge room. The little ones, Allie’s little girl Serenity and Kyle’s little man Travis, were now in bed asleep.

Finally permitted to enjoy her fleeting childfree hours, Allie sat on the old lounge suite with a cool pint of cider. She noticed the way Neil was gazing adoringly at Gen as she patched a hole in her jeans. Her mother was squinting in the candle-light; oblivious to his silent adoration. 

Allie kicked Kyle, who was oiling his rifle, and gestured silently with her head for him to look. He shook his head knowingly and frowned. They were both aware of Neil’s growing affection for Gen. It was not unexpected. She was still an attractive woman and, when not feeling too down, quite fun to be around. But they also knew how deep her love for their father went. This unrequited love would bring Neil no joy and was a little painful to watch.

While looking through her junk drawers for a needle and thread, Gen came across an old cassette tape with songs from the eighties. ‘Oh, haven’t seen this for ages.’

‘What you got there, Gen?’ Neil asked while he gave his glasses a quick clean with his handkerchief.

She had been talking to herself and was a little surprised anyone was taking notice. ‘Oh, just an old tape of my mother’s I used to like listening too. Some old eighties songs, but they remind me of when Nate and I first met.’

Neil was just going to ask how they met when she put her sewing away, yawning, stood up and bid them goodnight. It was barely an hour since dinner but she always retired early these days. For only in her dreams, could she pretend her man was still around.

2

Good Intentions

LATE FRIDAY AFTERNOON, 4 September

Neil had been scavenging electrical parts and secretly working on the old retro cassette player all day. He had finally got it working and waited patiently for Gen to come in from feeding the livestock.

Gen saw him grinning when she came in the backdoor. He was standing by the table acting oddly, even for him, and it was beginning to pique her curiosity. The lean scientist’s fuzzy ginger hair was almost standing on end with excitement.

‘What are you up to?’ she said and noticed the old cassette player on the table. ‘Don’t tell me you got that old thing working?’

‘Ok, I won’t,’ he said cheekily, but his sparkling blue eyes said otherwise.

She rushed over and sat down at the table. She placed her finger on the play button, with one final questioning look at Neil. He gave her silent permission with a smiling nod, and she pressed it.

A short gargle came out before the end of an old song by Bryan Adams crackled slightly out of the dusty speakers. Gen’s smile beamed.

Neil had worked on it all day long, and that one beautiful smile was enough to make it all worthwhile.

As she sat there listening to the music, he could see from the far off look on her face, she was letting the sounds take her back in time. Times before the oil ran out, before the violence ... before her husband had been taken from her.

The next song to come on was one of her favourites; the sweet, melancholy voice of Richard Marx. When the singer reached the chorus, Gen joined him. ‘Wherever you go, whatever you do, I will be right here, waiting for you. Whatever it takes, or how my heart breaks, I will be right here waiting for you.’ As she sang the last few words a lone tear slid down her cheek.

Neil felt suddenly like his presence was an intrusion. He turned quietly and left, a little unsure whether he had made her feel better this day, or worse.

Gen was so absorbed in the music and her memories she hadn’t noticed Neil leave. She had forgotten he was there altogether, unintentionally. She wept bittersweet tears until the tape began to stretch and garble and she was jolted out of her reverie.

She grabbed the cassette player in a panic. ‘Oh no... no, no, NO! Don’t do this you piece of crap!’ The tape and music came to a strangled stop. The tape was thoroughly mangled. She ejected it and pulled it out carefully. Seeing the brown ribbon lying there on the table top like the intestines of some disembowelled gazelle, her innards felt as though they were doing the same dance in sympathy.

‘Damn it!’ She smashed her fist on the table. She looked at the heavens and snarled, ‘You can’t even let me remember him without taking that too?’

She shot out of her chair, wooden legs scraping across the kitchen floor, strode across the room and grabbed her jacket off the hook on the wall. Desperately holding back the tears, she shoved her feet into her riding boots and marched across to the barn. A few minutes later Gypsy was saddled and she galloped off down the driveway and down the road towards the pine forest.

THE LIGHT SPATTERING of rain did not deter