Jabba Rock

© 2013 MK Baker. All Rights Reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system,

or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 08/05/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4918-0298-4 (e)

Rev Date: 09/20/2013

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Contents

To New Zealand

Part Two, Alexander’s Tribe.

New Novel By Matt Working Title Jabber Way

Jabber Rock By Matt Baker. Mercy

This is the simple tale of survival (at first). All the characters wanted to be was safe and maybe go home, but it was not too be; instead, they became legends and, without magic or devices, visited their forebears, discovering paths and peoples they could not have imagined.

To New Zealand

I had not expected, the generous and kind feedback I have had. Thanks everyone, and if I could go there, yes I would.

Chapter one

It was getting late in the day for flying. I felt my silly grin make its appearance. If my tandem could see my face she would have seen how I usually look, around good looking women and flying. Even with a five eleven dark haired Greek lady strapped to my harness I was light as a bird. The view over Rotorua was wonderful as ever, and all was good. I looked down and left, checking the sky around is habit for any experienced Para glider pilot, more so for a new instructor. The Sky seemed mostly clear and empty but something was up, some pilots lower down, were making tight turns and losing height. I turned out of the thermal at about two thousand feet. The ridge behind me had almost disappeared in cloud shadow. The cumulus was a monster, flat and black on the bottom, and piled up like a fifty story building above.

oh wow, that cloud is magnificent said my tandem.

The grin was gone, my mouth went dry. The big cloud, just piled right over us, big and cold.

I pulled down on the straps, doing my best to lose height . I felt the lift, we climbed faster than I could have believed my breath snatched away, we were in big trouble, were the hell did that come from, I thought. The straps would not move, pulled to the stops. My canopy was all pulled up like a roman candle, except we were not falling down, The big cumulus had got us fast, the first grey tendrils, damp and cold I felt against my face. Then I saw below, two more Para gliders coming to join the death ride. The women in my harness was slumped forward, out cold. I was barely managing myself. Then the lightning, a split second, a pink sheet and that was all.

You see people come too in movies, and in seconds their up and about. I wished I was dead. The pain in my head battered violently against the deep cold, my bones hurt. My muscles cramped, the hard ground and the rain, were hardly torments, compared to the pain and the cold.

Part of me dearly craved oblivion, but it’s not my stubborn nature to quit. I forced myself up, and up onto my knees. Get fingers into harness, remove harness. I was slow, but with greater urgency as I realised I was still

Linked to the women. I thought as I rolled her over that she was gone, dead. So pale, her fine features still.

She felt as cold as death, her almost black hair lay in thick tangled ringlets about her face. I had been flexing my fingers in my thick wet gloves. I pulled of a glove and eased her out of her harness. The rain still fell, I tried all I know, I chaffed her arms, pinched her earlobes, nothing.

Against my hand the rain, it felt almost warm. Struggling I found her wrist, It took a minute but their was a slow beat. Dumb I know but tears of relief fell, even as I shuddered from the deep bone chill.

It took all of my strength, whatever was left, to get her up and onto my shoulder. I had to get her shelter. Shelter for us both. I staggered a few feet and then finding new energy, pulled myself more erect. My mind was trying to wander. I forced myself to think, shelter. I had gone only a few paces when I heard a new old sound, a surf. The soft sound of water on gravel. I leaned into my way, heading to the water sound. I found I was wadding in a shallow stream, which with a break in the light brush, brought me suddenly to a wide shallow bay. Sand and gravel, into grey water, small waves almost sluggish as they ran up and away, on each side there was nothing but green, and ahead ocean. Too the right side of the stream a higher bank had collapsed leaving a hollow. I laid the women down here. I was not sure what to do for a moment, then mind made up. I quickly went back to the landing site. I caught up my old paraglider, in my arms, as I begun to turn away I saw a streak of colour , it could only be Mikes, Paraglider pink and green (style ) I hesitated but urgency drew me away. It was still but a few minutes from that horrendous waking. My head still throbbed, as I made a nest of the Paraglider, I pulled of my outer clothes and her coverall. With our lovely

Flying kiwi badge. (We always tell people to dress warmly, they seldom do) outer layers between us and the ground. I crawled in next to her and wrapped as much of the remaining wing over us, folding it as I went, to make as many layers of the rip stop material that I could. I seemed to think it was getting lighter, just an impression. I snuggled in tight.

When I woke, my close companion, was audibly breathing. I had not meant to fall asleep, a cowardly fear of waking up next to a cold corpse. ( once bitten) I carefully unravelled myself, not so cold now, if anything a bare warmth, and my head felt better. I felt just this side of unpleasant.

I was just about fully kitted up again, when I saw her looking around in something like bafflement. Okay so I had some

Idea of what happened, but mostly if you get sucked up into a big cumulus, you freeze to death.

It happens not uncommonly in my world. The wrong kind of cloud, can suck up a light aircraft, so a Hanglider or Paraglider has little chance. Part of my brain was trying to figure where we were. I had not the faintest idea, somewhere not very busy. I could not see anything, or anyone. Only a long beach of pale yellow sand, the ferns and low trees behind me, spread in a gentle curve.

I knew the west coast had its wild areas, but I thought there must be some sign, or path.

I heard a struggled movement, and some Greek. Not happy Greek. It’s all right I said I’ll help you don’t struggle. I got her sitting up, she looked pale and confused. I am cold. " she said as she hugged her arms around herself. Did we crash?

Something like that. I said. It’s one of those million to one days. I continued under my breath.

Where are we. She asked. She still sounded more than a little confused. Keep your helmet on. I said. It will help keep you warm.

The weather was now fairly warm, a bit overcast, the sea almost flat the, beach dark from the rain still. A shudder ran through me. The kind off day I’m having. I may just catch the Flue.

Bye my watch it was six thirty in the morning, CHRIST. We launched , at about 1600 hundred. Over fourteen hours had passed. I needed a pee. Look I said, I have to check on something, I won’t be a minute all right. She looked angry, and a little scared.

It’s really a wonder we survived. I Thought

Look, I really need to check if we came down alone. " I said

She looked as if she did not believe me. Like I habitually abduct beautiful women, in life threatening circumstances.

I dashed back along the stream bank, pissed behind the nearest big fern, and soon made it back to the spot we landed. Another bunch of unremarkable flattened ferns. I carried on to where I had seen Mikes Paraglider. I approached slowly, expecting and finding the worse. He was dead. I had seen dead before. Too much. I’m English and ex Parachute Regiment, a drifter. I had fought in one short bitter war. And that, one to many. I forced myself to do what I had too. I took from his pockets his ID, his keys, coins and other personal affects, most particularly his small water bottle, first aid and, repair kit, for a wing, and like me a small sharp knife. Shit. I heard something moving around, but it moved off when I moved toward it. Hallo

I said somewhat tentatively. I took of my helmet and arranged Mike in a bit more human pose.

Not as I had found him, like a collapsed puppet. The strings from his glider all about him.

I could not leave her too long. Bugger, I did not even remember her first name. Mrs Feroufis? won’t be home for dinner, I thought aberrantly.

When I got back carrying Mikes Paraglider, she was nowhere to be seen. Her flight suite was gone.

Why can’t people stay put, I thought. I was not about to go charging around in the brush. She could not have gone far. I shouted a couple of times, but then decided what the hell, time to gather some wood. After a brief wander, I had found a good armful of sticks’. I was still cold, still shuddering uncontrollably.

She appeared running, raggedly. Leaping out between the ubiquitous ferns. It can’t be easy to run and hold a helmet on ( we fly usually in climbers helmets but it’s not a fixed rule).

I dropped the sticks and ran toward her, she veered toward me and ran into me hard enough to take my breath away, she then ran behind me. like I was a small tree, and peered intently into the brush.

All the time gabbling on in Greek of which I understand not a word, and never for a moment letting go of her helmet. It’s a bird, she finally managed. Her English to be fair was good, to be perfectly honest probably better than mine. She and I we were having a bloody strange day.

I managed to make eye contact with her for a moment and asked. "what, what’s up. ?

She was looking intently at the bush margin again. She told me she was trying to get a signal on her mobile phone, and she saw some big turkey birds, big, very big turkey bird, it chased her, "she said.

She had run back to the beach, but it hit her head. I reassured her that the coast was clear. Look I said, no birds, sweeping my arm along the whole beach front. After a while she calmed down and apart from the odd anxious glance and a few tears, she went back to being a bit withdrawn. . I explained there were flightless birds in New Zealand but they were harmless and merely curios.

I made a fire, not sure whether to tell her about Mike yet. She had not spotted the extra Paraglider.

I had dropped it on top of mine. Fortunately I had matches, which I used normally to light a small stove in my battered old camper. I used some Toilet paper I had in my pockets for starter. I soon had a small pile of shavings alight and added the small driftwood sticks slowly, until we had a merry little blaze.

She seemed both alarmed and reassured that I carried a four inch blade lock knife, I kept in the top pocket of my old ex, helicopter crew flight suite.

I kept it on a lanyard, my flight suite probably kept me alive, that and the simple fact we were two people close together.

My flight suit had been more than I could really afford, even from a charity shop. I still had spasms of shivers run through me, now and then, and my nose ran like a tap. She seemed to be having the same problem, and sat almost on top of the fire. Her eyes seldom left the fringe of bushes.

I’m going to make a Basha. I said

A What, she said . A shelter I explained, one that’s easy to see from the air. If you must. She said.

She persuaded me to carry everything up to the far end of the beach. From there, when I dumped the load, I could see around the tail end of rocks, to another shallow bay perhaps a couple of miles long.

Stopping at a long ridge decked with high fern type trees, and not a soul, nothing, just the odd seagull, way up in the clearing sky. I built a frame from drift wood and slung one of the Paragliders over the rough sticks. It made a bright wigwam. The other I laid out and put stones and large pebbles along its edges. This done I tramped back to the fire, and carried the burning sticks carefully, on spare wood. I would not waste matches or struggle to make a new fire. Bye the time I had returned she had curled up inside our den, and apparently fallen fast asleep. I looked at her so peaceful there for a few moments. She was a very attractive women. I thought.

When I first saw her get out of the Taxi, I watched as she walked in her own good time up the narrow path to the brow of the hill. Everyone watched even the few women. She seemed to be in her own perfect bubble hardly aware of anything except her own graceful long legged movement. Her curly hair looked soft and moved in the light breeze, her clothes, looked good. Being tall and slender she could have made a sack look good. Up close she had a tiny slightly ironic smile and dark, dark eyes in pale flawless skin. She explained her sixteen year old son went somewhere else with his father. She had decided to come and have a go by herself, if that was alright. Like how could it not be. With the kit and launch explained, I could not help but notice how everything about her smelt, clean and nice, even her boots shone and looked a soft as gloves. I felt a bit rough and crumpled beside her.

I was tired, I scanned the skies again and fed the little fire with sticks. At some point as I was beginning to doze, trying to work the problem of Mikes body left guiltily behind. She must have woken . "she said.

You will look after me won’t you, you won’t go off again? Me! I promise, "I said, we should stick together.

I started to tell her, a bit about me. She interrupted telling me to watch for the big Birds, and as something of an afterthought told me her name was Tatiana. She was on holiday from Athens and they had been visiting some cousins in Wellington. Everything feels so deserted here. " She said, it’s like no people have been here.

Well. " I said, this part of the west coast may well be empty, there are a few places on the mainland that are almost empty and pretty wild. We may be just at the edge of a wildlife park or something. Over the next hour she asked about, rescue, how long it would take ?No idea. What would we do for food. Did I think they would pick us up soon, because she had some packing to do and the boys, (husband and son) were very sloppy and always forgot things. )

I answered as best I could . I had no idea how far that storm had carried us, or for how long and we could have been in that ditch far a good while. She looked at me like it was all my fault. I got a little annoyed and pointed out calmly that the reason we now had two Paragliders, was not because I had a spare, but that we had come down, with company. Only he had not survived. I thought, had I been alone maybe I would be dead now?

She absorbed this with a few minutes silence and then, with a light sigh. She said.

Sorry , that my friend had died, and perhaps I was not completely at fault.

She explained she felt very drained, and the whole thing seemed impossible. It was the first time in her life that anything happened. Anything unexpected. Our clothes were damp, I felt bone weary, how much harder, was it for this expensive lady. I wish I could be so lucky, regarding death and the unexpected, most of my friends were dead. I lost friends in mopped crashes, two in a War. And one under a land rover, on a messed up parachute drop outside of Thetford in Norfolk. I had done three years in the Parachute Regiment, but stayed on, open engagement for two more years. I had become a veteran at 20 years of age. I had forgotten Taff, suicide. When I left the forces I married a local girl in my home town. It had not lasted long. she said I was I was damaged, unfeeling.

I just thought she was a pain in the backside, always wanting. But she was right. We were all messed up, all who fought, we came back with a big load of grief, and no way to explain it. Who would of thought, I mean we one, right? So this was just another day to me, odder than most but bloody lucky again. Anyway I thought someone’s bound to find us soon, and here I am with a lovely looking women on a warm day on a fine beech.

Death and turkey birds aside, ( I figured her imagination got carried away)so not all bad. No serious problem. She was maybe a bit older than me say forty, maybe less. At thirty eight I felt youthful and still fit. Afraid of very little. I had not much to lose, even my life seemed less than precious.

Toward late afternoon, five according to my Siako self-winding watch. We decided that I should go back and get my friends body. She said she would walk with me, but stay on the beach. I had sharpened the straightest sticks we could find. So with our crude spears, she felt safer against any sudden birds attack?

Mike was not as I left him. He was battered, his jump suit torn about. His eye was missing (great)and there were signs all about, big ostrich footprints. I wrapped some harness about him and fastened it with a karabiner. It took me a lot more than I thought to drag the beat up body through the bushes. Big birds, you’re not kidding those prints were as long as my boot prints. I had come to the lighter brush, at the edge of the short bank down to the sand. When having checked behind me, I looked forward again. In the dappled fern shadow . There it stood, dead still, less than twenty feet away, on the beaten down ferns. I had seen pictures, I knew what it was. The last one I saw was in the British Museum, made of plaster and Emue feathers. This was no model. The eyes looked through me like a ravens, cold calculating patient, and curiously indifferent. I thought it was maybe two metres tall, against the short fern scrub. My heart started hammering, my mouth, dust dry. I barely registered more turning up. It looked like a horde of them, came at me on a single thought. I went backwards fast, still dragging Mike, almost because I forgot to let go, over the bank I fell into the sand, Mikes body over me as I struggled and kicked him away. I was panicked. I made my feet, expecting the Moa birds to drop on me, rending with big black triangular beaks, ripping into me with three toad claws.

Nothing the bushes swayed for a second, then still. I raised a suddenly pathetic weapon. The dumb little spear I had made, to assuage the fears of an honest Tatiana. I groped for and found the