His mouth felt dry and sour, as if he hadn’t brushed his teeth for days. Maybe he hadn’t. Then came smell. Sea air, and wet concrete. He opened his eyes to a bright glare. His body ached everywhere. He was wrapped in his coat, propped against the side of one of the gun emplacements, in the approach path to the airport. A gull landed beside him and shrieked in annoyance. He shook his head groggily, and the memories of yesterday flooded back. The gull flew away. The tiki…Dad, Riki…Puarata! He crouched beside the emplacement, and looked cautiously around. The highway was humming with Saturday morning traffic. He glanced at his watch—7.11 a.m… the sun was well up. The beach was empty but for an old woman strolling a few hundred metres to the north. I’m going to the mouth of the Esk River, then I’m going to cut inland along the river banks, and hitch a ride to Taupo…I’ve got to see Mum…and go to Maungatautari Pa and see some tohunga. Seriously weird. He looked around him.
