Chapter 1

First Sight

Waitaki Valley, New Zealand, 2016.

Joanne turned the key to discover her car battery was completely dead. She swore into the dashboard, turned the key again, and swore again too. She repeated this ritual two more times and looked at her phone. It was halfway charged, and there was coverage. She had three options. She could ring her friend Digby in Oamaru and ask him to come with a set of jumper cables. Digby would grumble yet secretly consider his task an honour and a privilege — but at best this would take about an hour. Option Two was to call Roadside Assistance but that would involve a fee, and when you can barely afford the petrol that got you here a stupid fee is out of the question.

Option Three only occurred to her once she got out to look under the bonnet. She pulled a face at the grease-covered battery and heard the approach of a vehicle. Shielding her eyes against the glare of the summer’s day, she looked past the angled hood and up the long stretch of road. A van was coming. Maybe backpackers, maybe tourists. Hope so. Better a snap happy foreigner than some sexually repressed farm boy from the wop-wops. So, gross. Then again, better a sexually repressed farm boy than some gang member cruising to check his plot…

Unable to make out any rental company logos, she couldn’t really tell. A few years back a young prostitute was found at a rest area not far away — her cause of death traced back to The Road Knights. And then an even younger girl who’d gone missing from Ashburton turned up on a river bank a couple of hours drive from here. That time, a dodgy uncle.

Demoralising as fuck, she thought, that such a small thing as a dead battery in the middle of nowhere could make her feel vulnerable. A jump start would be sweet, but with every passing second the idea of waving the vehicle down seemed more like an invitation for trouble. Even somewhere as nice as the Waitaki Valley could home bad men.

What now, slam the bonnet and pretend everything’s okay? No time, the van was too close — surely the driver would’ve seen the bonnet raised and would suspect there was a problem. She pulled her white hoodie over her head and considered sitting in the car with the doors locked—if only that wouldn’t make her a total wuss.

Within seconds, the van with its lack of bloody logos was upon her. She tried not to look but failed, her safety instinct no match for her curiosity. Through the windscreen there was two figures — the driver, a serious looking guy in his twenties, and behind him, something weird, something huge — an oversized being in the approximate shape of a human that looked to be ducking down in a vain attempt not to be seen. What the hell? The evasive action of the looming figure caused a sharp intake of breath.

The van whooshed by regardless. Anguish gave way to relief, but this too was short lived. Some fifty metres down the road the van’s brakes made a high-pitched plea for the vehicle to stop. It came to a halt and there it remained, the diesel engine in recovery, the surrounding countryside windless and waiting.

The rear lights switched from red to white. The van backed towards her. What to do? Run up the track next to the road? Nah, leaving the car would not be smart. She pulled her phone from her jean pocket and held it by her side. The van finished its long, whining reverse and stopped several metres in front of her. There was a clop and thud that sounded like a horse inside a float. Over the engine, wisps of a quarrel. Something was up.

Only the driver hopped out. Skinny frame, fair, medium length hair and three-day stubble that didn’t look in any way manly. He rounded the back of the van all smiles and good intentions, yet the thing in the back stayed put. Fucking dodgy. She looked at her phone as though she’d just received a message. She dialled 111 and positioned her thumb above the call icon. The man glanced at the phone but pretended he hadn’t.

‘Need some help?’ he said.

She took two steps back and looked accusingly at the engine. ‘Think it gave up on me.’

‘Well, I’m no mechanic but I used to have a car just like this,’ said the man, still smiling.

‘All yours,’ said Joanne. She winced—dumb choice of words.

He strolled forward and put his head under the bonnet, giving Joanne the perfect opportunity to take a decent sideways look at the van, a chance to make out any shapes or outlines through its tinted back windows. Alas, the thing remained hidden. Her curiosity nagged for an explanation, but she dared not ask out of fear that her casual interest alone might be deemed ‘problematic’ by the friendly yet kind of edgy guy in front of her. She’d seen this happen on numerous crime shows — the innocent who puts herself in danger by sticking her nose into something she shouldn’t. Mind you, the edgy guys on TV were a tad more badass than this fella.

‘Uh-huh!’ he said, with genuine delight. He twisted the cable running to her car battery, slapped the top of the cell, and looked up with an accomplished grin. ‘Cable disconnected from the battery — used to happen on my old Toyota as well. Reckon that’ll be it — turn it over if you like?’

Joanne skipped to the driver’s door, hopped in, and started the engine.

‘What a relief!’ she blurted.

‘No worries. If it happens again all you have to do is push the cable over the nobbly bit so the current can run to the engine,’ he said, struggling to compete with Joanne’s revving. ‘It’s still a bit loose so you might need a mechanic to check it out. Should be right for now though.’

She nodded as though she’d heard every word.

‘Okay then, have a good one,’ he said, turning back towards the van. With that, she relaxed — the stranger was not out to get her after all. Emboldened by the knowledge that she could take off at any moment, she called, ‘What’s your name?’ out the window.

‘Jim,’ he said, still grinning.

‘Thanks for helping, Jim. You live around here?’

Jim put his hands on his hips and shot a look at the van.

‘Been here a few years, up back Duntroon — no, um, Kurow! I’m at Kurow,’ his foot tapping the asphalt.

‘Kurow? Definitely Kurow?’

‘Definitely.’

‘Sounds nice.’

‘Yeah, Kurow’s a good place,’ he said, the grin not quite as convincing.

There was a pause, and then a forced politeness. ‘What about you?’ Jim flicked his head up at the limestone rise adjacent to the road. ‘Here to see the rock drawings?’

They glanced up at the grey rock face. Heavily pock-marked from aeons of southerly squalls, the rock curved outwards to form a natural shelter. Underneath, the creamy stone a canvas for early Maori.

‘Yup. Writing about them for Uni. You seen them?’

‘Nope, not yet – probably should though,’ he said, tapping with greater intensity.

‘They’re just up there,’ she said. ‘Under that overhang.’ She pointed to a spot barely thirty metres up from the road knowing full well that a walk up to the Maori rock art of the Waitaki Valley was about the last thing this guy wanted to do. ‘You should go up there now—only takes a minute.’

His left cheek twitched, and a logjam of thoughts bulged his eyes. From the protective shell of her car, she enjoyed seeing him squirm beneath his veneer of bonhomie. But then, the logjam cleared. ‘How many years have they been there?’ he said.

‘Hundreds.’

‘Then they can wait another week – gotta fly.’

She smiled but couldn’t leave it there. ‘Someone special, is it?’

‘Yeah. Very,’ he said. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Joanne. Call me Jo.’

With a dandified flourish of his right arm, Jim bent his legs and performed an elaborate bow. ‘A pleasure, fair maiden Jo. May your good nature never be spoiled and may the cables to your battery forever remain intact.’ With his grin firmly reinstalled, he turned on his heels, bounced to the driver’s door, and into the van. Her eyes went straight back to the windows, scanning for signs of movement, listening for voices over the chug of the engine. Surely she hadn’t conjured the thing out of fear.

The vehicle pulled onto the road. With a jolt, she finally caught sight of something.

In the half-light of the tinted glass a very large head rose above the window line and a pair of the biggest eyes she’d ever seen slowly blinked back at her. The van took off, but the brown eyes held her gaze until the giant face receded with the slow dignity and menace of a monster returning to the deep.

Shit — I know who you are! Joanne released the clutch and stomped the accelerator — but her timing was out. The car lurched and stalled on the spot.

‘Fuck!’ she yelled into the dashboard. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!’ The mechanical hiccup let her take stock. The head — as ginormous and otherworldly as it seemed — was human, and, if her look of astonishment hadn’t offended him, giving chase like Ahab in pursuit of the white whale surely would.

Bugger it, she thought, turning the key again. The car didn’t respond. Bloody battery! Stupid bloody cable!

She popped the bonnet, got out and did all she could but for some reason nothing worked. Meanwhile, the van disappeared around the curve of a distant hill and she was back where she began, alone in the midst of the wide, open valley.

With her sight fixed on the faraway point where she’d last seen the vehicle, she barely noticed the strands of brown hair that fell across her face. There was a feeling of emptiness, in which her breath became rhythmical, and her body began to sway. She floated in this trance-like state for a minute or so. When she snapped out of it, she felt despondent as though something extraordinary had crossed her path but had somehow gotten away. What happens now? Somewhat reluctantly, she turned her attention back to the battery. Cable, nobbly bit, ignition. Too easy.

Instead of heading back to her home in Christchurch, she drove to Oamaru, where she pulled up in front of Digby’s flat and sent him a text to say she was waiting.

She’d known Digby since they were kids; family friends, complete with holiday photos of them squirming naked in a bath together as toddlers. So, when he got home from work and got out of his car, no pleasantries were required.

‘Digby! Guess what? I saw the giant!’

‘You what — the giant?’

‘He was in the back of a van heading into the hills.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Seriously!’

What’s that about?’

‘I don’t know — the last I heard he was in hospital.’

‘Was he okay?’

‘Don’t know,’ she shrugged. ‘It was really strange. I think he’s all right but I can’t be sure. The guy who was driving helped me with my car.’

‘What was he like?’

‘He was nice, but he was acting weird.’

‘Dodgy weird?’

‘No.’

‘Meth weird?’

‘No, shifty weird. Definitely more shifty. Said he lives at Duntroon, then he changed it to Kurow.’

‘Might just want some privacy,’ said Digby.

‘Yeah, but nah, something wasn’t quite right,’ she said, remembering the quarrel. ‘He was trying too hard.’

Digby’s raw freckled face looked concerned. ‘Should we tell someone?’

‘Not sure. I didn’t think to look at the license plate, but I was thinking that maybe we could find them with your drone?’

‘I wish,’ said Digby. ‘I’m still waiting on a part before I can fix it. This bloody farmer shot it down last week.’

‘You’re kidding me. Were you spying on him?’

‘Not really, I was just checking shit out and then boom! Took it out with his shotty. Wasn’t very happy.’

Joanne rolled her eyes. ‘You’re mental, did you know that? When can you fix it?’

‘New rotor blade should be here any day.’

‘Okay,’ said Joanne. ‘You’ll let me know as soon as it’s ready?’

‘Yes Jo, soon as it’s ready.’

‘Promise?’

‘Promise.’

‘Cool. Guess I just need to be patient.’

‘Patience is a virtue, crazy lady.’

‘Patience sucks mad cock, Digby. Mad cock!’

They shared a laugh, and she reached for her phone and started googling. There was something going on, she just knew it. Maybe the internet would provide a clue.

Her dissertation on the spiritual significance of abstract forms in Maori rock art would have to wait. For now, it was all about the giant.