Blood Roots: Are the roots strong enough to save the pandemic survivors? Read online

  Books by Michael Green

  ‘Big Aggie Sails the Gulf’ Aacorn International Limited

  ‘Successful Speechmaking’ Cobb Horwood Publications

  ‘The Blood Line Trilogy’:

  ‘The Crucial Gene’ MGC Limited, republished as ‘Blood Line’ by Random House NZ, translated to German and republished as ‘Stunde Null’ by Verlagsgruppe Luebbe, Germany, republished in English as an e-book by MGC Limited.

  ‘Blood Bond’ Published by Random House NZ, translated to German and republished as ‘Der Jungste Tag’ by Verlagsgruppe Luebbe, Germany, republished as an e-book by MGC Limited.

  ‘Blood Roots’ MGC Limited

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual events, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published by MGC Limited, PO Box 518, Whangaparaoa, Auckland 0943, New Zealand

  For more information go to www.mgc.co.nz

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the National Library of New Zealand

  First published 2011

  © 2011 Michael Green

  The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

  Kindle ISBN 978–0–473–30924–4

  This book is copyright. Except for the purposes of fair reviewing no part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Cover design: Mathew Trbuhovic, Third Eye Design

  Printed in New Zealand by AstraPrint, Wellington

  Dedicated to those with the Crucial Gene (Blood Line), including:

  Claude and Cora Chapman

  Joan (Johnnie), Edna, Donald and Mary Chapman

  Jean, David and Ian Chapman

  Andrew and Barrie Green

  Anne and Jill Murphy

  Stephen, Alan and Julie Smith

  Stephen and Amanda Chapman

  Stephen and Donna Green

  Helen and Katherine Green

  Emma and Joanna Green

  Annabelle, Caroline and Melanie Purdie

  Richard and Daniel Smith

  Charlene and Gina Carter

  Luke and Louise

  Sarah and Jennifer

  Danielle

  Daisy-Grace, Oliver and Billy

  Tommy

  And to those who added to the Crucial Gene, including:

  Leslie Green, Albert Murphy, Doris Stears, Leslie Smith and Stan

  For their help in improving this manuscript, my thanks to John Q. Henderson and the late Shirley Henwood of Hibiscus Writers, Sarah Ell and Harriet Allan, who made some valuable suggestions.

  And to Anne and David Chapman for the use of Primrose Cottage, La Salle, Avessac, France (where Blood Roots was written).

  The Chatfield Dynasty

  Contents

  Title Page

  Books by Michael Green

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Part 1

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  Part 2

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  Part 3

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  43

  44

  45

  46

  About the Author

  Part 1

  1

  Mark Chatfield sat on the edge of the bed, rocking backwards and forwards, weeping. The corpse of his great-niece Holly lay cradled in his arms, her hand still clutching the greenstone tiki on the leather cord about her neck. Her dark eyes seemed to be staring accusingly at him; his fingers gently pulled the eyelids closed. His face, as white as his hair, was strained. He looked every one of his sixty-three years.

  Everyone was crying. Mark’s tall, sensitive, thirteen-year-old grandson Zach was being comforted by his sister Nicole. Although two years younger than her brother she was coping with the crisis better than anyone, and in addition to calming Zach she was hugging her stocky four-year-old sister Audrey. The old grey cat Misty was rubbing himself against Zach’s legs, as if trying to comfort him too.

  The only other adult male at Gulf Harbour, tall, red-headed Fergus Steed was frantically trying to comfort his partner Jessica, her eight-year-old son Tommy and seven-year-old Gina, Mark’s orphaned great-niece. As if aware of the horror of an event they could not comprehend, Jessica and Fergus’s twin babies, Marion and Chelsea, were also crying.

  As Mark continued to sob, painful memories of the last five years threatened to overwhelm him. He remembered his family’s desperate fight to survive as the super-SARS pandemic took hold in New Zealand. Only he and his brother Christopher, together with their children and grandchildren, had survived — a mere eleven souls in the whole of the country. The Chatfield family alone appeared to possess the crucial gene which gave their bloodline immunity to the disease.

  Mark had realised that the group was too small and too closely related to guarantee the survival of future generations. This had prompted him and his son Steven to sail to England in search of other relatives. They had found forty-four of their relations living under the tyrannical rule of their cousin, Nigel Chatfield, at Haver House in Kent.

  After staging a daring escape, Mark and Steven had returned home, bringing with them some of those relatives in order to ensure the continued existence of the New Zealand population. However, they had arrived at Gulf Harbour to discover a tsunami had swept through their former home. Only the grandchildren had survived. The remains of Christopher and his two daughters had been found, but there had been no trace of Mark’s daughter, Jane.

  Fergus and Jessica, unaware of their uncle’s gloomy thoughts, became alarmed as his sobbing escalated into uncontrollable wailing. Mark’s loss of Jane had been compounded by the loss of his son Steven, who earlier that morning had sailed for England, taking his partner Penny, their baby son David, Penny’s son Lee and one of the other adult men, Luke Dalton, with him. Completing Mark’s misery was his discovery that his own pregnant partner Allison, desperate to return to her family, had stowed away on Steven’s yacht.

  Mark looked down at Holly, and eventually the peace on the little girl’s face calmed him. At last he was able to speak.

  ‘If only Steven had known the facts, he wouldn’t have left. They’ll come back,’ he said, his voice suddenly resolute. ‘Sooner or later Allison will be discovered aboard, and when she is, Steven will turn Archangel around and bring her home.’

  Jessica glanced up at Fergus. Had Mark seen the look on her face, he wouldn’t have been so confident.

  ‘We need to bury Holly,’ Fergus said gently.

  ‘We’ll have a tangi — it would honour her Maori heritage.’<
br />
  A Maori funeral — a tangi — might have been Holly’s right, but Mark was using the ceremony as a delaying tactic, hoping Steven would return before the burial took place. Then he could explain to everyone that though Penny’s son Lee was an asymptomatic carrier of typhoid, he posed no risk to the other children at Gulf Harbour. Mark was now certain Lee carried a modified strain of typhoid — a strain that was only fatal to those such as Holly and her sister Zoë, who had also died of the disease, whose genes gave them dark skin. There had been no need for Steven to take his family back to England to save them from infection.

  There was no Maori meeting house close to Gulf Harbour on the Whangaparaoa Peninsula where the surviving Chatfield family members in New Zealand now lived. The closest marae was at Northcote, close to Auckland city. Mark knew it was not feasible to take Holly there; roads on the low-lying areas of the peninsula had been washed away by the recent tsunami. The only practical means of travel, apart from walking, was on horseback. Hampered by carrying the babies, as well as fallen trees and landslips, even that would be difficult. ‘We’ll have the tangi in her old bedroom at Harbour Village Drive,’ he announced.

  Zach and Nicole looked at him. Jessica saw the terror in the children’s eyes. They rarely ventured down the slopes of Marina Hill to the ruined canal-side properties. The memory of scrambling up the hill as the tsunami swept through the Mediterranean-style buildings continued to haunt them, as did the terror of the second wave that had trapped them upstairs in their home when they had returned to search for their Uncle Christopher.

  ‘We should hold the tangi here — in the lounge,’ Jessica said gently. ‘This has been Holly’s home since the tsunami.’

  Mark reluctantly agreed. He knew he had only wanted to be down by the canal because that was where Steven would land when he arrived back.

  ‘Jessica and I will sit with Holly now,’ Fergus said. ‘Why don’t you take the children for a walk?’ Slowly Mark rose to his feet, and passed Holly to his cousin. Nicole took her grandfather’s hand and led him from the room, the other children following behind.

  Once outside, Mark’s strength and resolve returned. He became the leader again. Fighting his way through the long grass that covered the former golf course, he headed towards the clifftop. The going was tough, but helped by Nicole and Zach he struggled on. As they reached the promontory his pace slackened; there was no sail in sight. Archangel had not yet returned. He fought to hold back his tears.

  There is something very beautiful and special about a Maori tangihanga. The Maori believe that the deceased’s body — te tupapaku — should not be left alone before burial, and this was a practice the Gulf Harbour community embraced. Holly lay in the lounge in an open coffin, and the whole community slept on mattresses around her. The coffin was too big for her tiny figure. It was the coffin Mark had asked Steven, a joiner by trade, to build for him before he sailed. It had been his final throw of the dice, a last desperate attempt to prevent his son sailing.

  They all felt the presence of Holly’s spirit. When the adults were busy the children sat with her. Sometimes they would speak to her in Maori, practising the language skills they had learned at school. Misty the cat had abandoned his normal sleeping place on Nicole’s bed and taken up station at the foot of the coffin.

  The children stroked Holly’s oiled hair, and rearranged the feathers that had been placed in her locks. Gina and Audrey brought in the pet guinea pigs and rabbits to visit her and Tommy told her about the vicious stray dog that had been seen near the livestock, and how Zach had shot it with a rifle. Nicole explained that they were waiting for Uncle Steven to bring Archangel back home, and then they would bury her.

  The track to the clifftop became well worn. Fergus lost count of how many trips his uncle made across the golf course. At night, he would hear Mark sneak out of the lounge. Sometimes it would be well into the morning before he returned.

  ‘It’s time to bury Holly,’ Jessica said tenderly to Mark on the fifth morning.

  Fergus noticed the look of desperation in the older man’s face. ‘We’ll take her to the promontory overlooking Kotanui Island, and bury her beside Uncle Christopher,’ he said quietly.

  Mark nodded. He knew it had to be done, but again played for time. ‘We’ll do it tomorrow morning.’

  The following morning he suddenly said, ‘I want Zoë to be placed with Holly and Christopher too.’

  Jessica looked out the window to the little mound of earth on the lawn with a white cross above it. Holly’s sister Zoë had been hurriedly buried within hours of her death from typhoid. ‘You’re right,’ she agreed. ‘The two sisters should be together.’

  Fergus stood up. ‘I’ll go and dig their graves next to Christopher’s. We’ll bury them at sunrise tomorrow, for certain.’

  ‘Keep a lookout for Archangel,’ Mark said quickly.

  Fergus hurried off. Later that night, when the children were asleep and Mark had left for his nightly trek to the clifftop, he exhumed Zoë’s remains and placed them in what had been Steven’s old toolbox. The large box, Steven’s apprenticeship project, was just as beautifully made as Holly’s coffin.

  Shortly after daybreak the procession left the house on Marina Hill. Gina, Audrey, Tommy and Nicole led the way, carrying the toolbox. Behind them followed Mark and Zach with the beautiful coffin containing Holly. Bringing up the rear were Fergus and Jessica, holding the twins. As they trudged slowly along the well-worn path, Mark became aware of how tiny and vulnerable the Gulf Harbour community was. The loss of one child seemed to have tipped the scales disproportionately.

  Nicole began to sing the Maori funeral hymn ‘Koutou Katoa Ra’, the words drifting away on the breeze. It was a fitting tribute to the two little part-Maori sisters; they had been the last members of their race.

  Mark’s sense of loss intensified. Steven had to come back. They desperately needed him, Penny, Lee, baby David, Luke and Allison to return.

  As they neared the two freshly dug graves, Mark continued to search the waters off Whangaparaoa; there was no sail to be seen. And there was still no sail as he trudged wearily back along the footpath eight hours later to join the remainder of the community.

  2

  It was a further three weeks before Mark finally admitted to himself and everyone else that Archangel was not coming back. He was consumed by anger — anger that Allison had stowed away, anger that Steven had not turned the yacht around once she had been found, and anger with Steven’s partner Penny, who he considered the main villain. It was a homesick Penny who had persuaded Steven to sail back to England.

  How could anyone living in the community they had established in Gulf Harbour be homesick for England? Mark thought. How could anyone want to return to England and risk enslavement by Nigel and his sons? And enslavement was not all they risked. Nigel had condemned Steven to death, the very reason for their escape from England in the first place!

  Mark was not being fair to Penny. It was true she had been homesick, but the main reason for Steven’s decision to return to England had been his father’s refusal to allow Penny’s son, Lee, to be integrated into the Gulf Harbour community because he believed the little boy posed a fatal risk to the other children as a carrier of typhoid.

  Mark’s anger with Allison alternated with his concern for her. No doubt the tyrannical Nigel, back at Haver in England, would have realised that Mark and Allison, whom he had taken for a wife, had been lovers before they escaped. How would Nigel react to Allison’s return? Given Mark’s own anger at Allison’s desertion, he had no illusion about the rage Nigel would experience. He also worried whether Allison had swum out to the yacht safely. Maybe the reason Archangel had not returned was because she had never managed to stow away.

  When despair threatened to overwhelm him he reminded himself that the night before Archangel sailed, Allison had deceived them all by telling them she could not face the farewells and intended to walk to the end of the peninsula early in the morning to wave to
the crew as they passed Shakespear Bay. It had still been dark when he had felt her kiss him on the cheek and heard her creep out of the house. She had planned it all. She had probably swum out to Archangel wearing a life-jacket.

  When he was not worrying about Allison, Mark was worried about the rest of Archangel’s crew; had they not returned to Gulf Harbour because the yacht had been wrecked? For the umpteenth time he cursed himself for not having persuaded Steven to keep the single-sideband radio aboard. The anguish he and Steven had experienced when they had lost radio contact with Gulf Harbour during their first voyage to England had led to his own declaration that he would never again carry a radio in such circumstances. It was a sentiment that Steven had confided to Penny, and she, fearful Mark would use the radio to call his son back to Gulf Harbour on some pretext, had ensured the set was removed.

  It was the uncertainty that really depressed him. The not knowing. It had been the same when he had been unable to find any trace of his daughter Jane after the tsunami. It had taken many weeks before he finally conceded that she must have been carried away by the waters, and that her body would never be found.

  Slowly, life at Marina Hill returned to normal. The work carried out by Steven and Luke before their departure meant the windmills and solar panels linked to a sophisticated array of batteries and inverters were working well, and provided ample power to meet the community’s needs. The power tools, fridges, freezers and electric light were a boon.

  Fergus, aided by Nicole, Tommy and Audrey, looked after the farm and gardens, which were once again in full production. Zach took responsibility for fishing and for collecting scallops, crayfish, pipis and mussels. Jessica, aided by Gina, looked after the babies, smoked the fish Zach caught and bottled food to provide backup should the freezers fail.