The Number 8. Joel Arcanjo
in to the Karangahake Scenic Reserve car park it became apparent they weren’t the only group there. Four other buses were lined up neatly next to each other in the spots closest to the reserve’s entrance. It was only 9:00am. If it was this busy now he dreaded to think what it would be like at lunch time. All four buses were smaller than theirs. Different colors and sizes but most with a common clientele: young people on tours similar to theirs. The smallest of the buses held a very different group. The bus was a dirty shade of blue and had the words “NZ YMCA” printed in capitals on the side. But it was not young people that disembarked. It was a jovial group of elderly women dressed in sportswear. Comfortable running shoes, tracksuit pants and jacket with the letters “RPEC” printed on them. They began to warm up out of view as the Pleasant Pheasant passengers wearily evacuated the warmth of their coach. Barely anyone had noticed these spritely ladies lunging and jogging on the spot just outside. Dante felt a strange mixture of admiration, self-loathing and crippling fear that at any moment one of these ancient women would keel over and die right there next to their stolen YMCA bus.
Just behind the athletic grannies was a beaten-up blue Toyota Corolla with mud splashed all over the sides. Both wheels were caked in it but it was dry now. Dante would be surprised if it drove cleanly. There were two passengers. A man and a woman. Asmir and Mel.
Asmir swung the passenger door open and carefully maneuvered himself out. He didn’t look entirely comfortable. He moved mechanically and massaged his lower back with the ball of his palm. He turned slowly and Dante caught his eye. He forced a pained smile. He hobbled over and greeted the other members of the bus fondly. Viktor gave him a firm pat on the back as he passed. Asmir winced in agony and swore at Viktor in Russian. Viktor barely reacted and just shot a twisted grin back at him.
“What happened to you? I thought it was only your leg?” Dante said, confused.
“It was!” Asmir shouted. “They messed up the stitches and made me stay in overnight. Then, they decided to make me stay in a bed that I am 95% sure was made of stone.”
“So you have a stiff back?”
“Stiff back…stiff back?!” he shouted again. “This feels like someone took a sledgehammer to my back while I slept.”
“At least you got some rest though, right?” Dante said, trying to get him out of a ranting mood. But he would not be stopped.
“Oh no, no, no, no… A good rest would have been ten hours sleep. Eight even. But that crazy woman got me up at 5:00am to be here by 8:30,” he said pointing at Mel, who saw this and blushed a little.
“But you…”
Asmir interrupted, “Wait, I’m not done. After getting lost for two hours on our way here she found the only muddy road in the North Island and proceeded to take it on in a borrowed Toyota Corolla. That is the result,” he said pointing at the now brown car.
Dante took a second to make sure he was done.
“So I guess you’re not gonna come on the walk with us?”
Asmir just looked at him in amazement, not saying anything, just standing, mouth agape.
“I guessed as much.”
“You’re damn right. I haven’t slept, I’ve eaten the hospital’s food which shouldn’t even be served to rats, and I feel like that 300lb kid has been sleeping on my back, you know the one I mean, right? Half tonne kid or something like that?”
“Half tonne would make him 500lbs, Az. But yeah, I do.”
Asmir chose to ignore the correction. “Anyway, have a good little walk, I’m off to sleep on the warm coach.” Dante watched Asmir climb the stairs of the bus and stumble all the way to the back and out of view.
He turned back around to see that the group of old ladies had begun to power walk off into the distance. Arms and legs pumping hard. They were clucking away happily to each other as they hit the trail. His group had also started trudging up the path. But the body language was distinctly different. Hands in pockets, shoulders hunched over, kicking stones and all of it in absolute silence. Mel was right at the front looking weary and frustrated. She kept glancing towards the bus, presumably to catch a glimpse of Asmir. It seemed that nobody but Dante was in a good mood. Strange, seeing as the sun was shining and they were in paradise.
He shivered as he was hit by a rogue gust of frigid air. That was what prompted him to start moving. He picked up the pace to catch up with his group. His shoulders were back and his arms swinging.
Walk like a winner.
He caught up with the group and fell into a rhythm. Unbeknownst to them, they had been walking a very slight incline. No one had noticed, not even Dante. As Mel, the leader of the tour, reached the corner, she smiled. First into the distance then at them. One by one they got to the viewing landing where she was waiting and saw why she was beaming.
The view was barely of this world. It was like something from Avatar. Below them was a large gorge with a river bisecting the hills on either side. On the south-facing hillside the sun amplified the colors of the many plants and trees. Boulders lay scattered in a random, but strangely artistic pattern in between small sections of forest. A man and his dog could be seen navigating the treacherous terrain near the top of the northern hill. In the gorge the river thundered through the valley, meandering around corners and leaving only large stones behind. The water was clear and even at this distance, Dante could see the river bed. He took out his camera and snapped some shots. He knew Asmir quite liked photography so he would be a little upset that he didn’t get to see this.
“I hate this place…” was all Asmir could make out. One of the passengers had come back early and was crashing around in the bus. He was angry about something. Asmir would normally have got up and made sure he was all right, but he hadn’t slept much and this guy had woken him up. He wasn’t in any mood for conversation. The guy hadn’t noticed him slumped at the back and he wanted to keep it that way. He kept still and tried to fall back to sleep. But in the background all he could hear was the guy pacing up and down the aisle, muttering. Each time he got further and further up the aisle. Then he stopped. For a second there was silence.
Then, “Oi! Are you hiding back there?” he shouted.
Asmir kept silent, hoping that his silence would answer the question. He was asleep and he wanted to stay that way.
The guy didn’t get the message. “Oi! The brown one back there, I’m talking to you.”
For a second Asmir wasn’t sure he had heard that right. So he gave the guy the benefit of the doubt and kept his mouth shut.
“Are you deaf, brown kid? This isn’t a homeless shelter. This is a tour bus. Go and sleep off the hangover somewhere else.”
Asmir definitely hadn’t misheard that. He got up, walked over to the guy and stuck out his hand.
The guy looked disgusted by this and backed away. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Shaking your hand.”
“Why?” he stuttered.
“You have got to be the most ignorant person I’ve ever met. I wanted to congratulate you.”
The guy just stood there, unable to speak. Asmir could almost hear his mind trying to process this scenario.
“Do you realize how many assumptions you just made about me?” Asmir carried on. “No? I didn’t think so. You don’t know anything about me.”
The man stayed silent.
“First you interrupt my sleep. Then you call me brown and insinuate that I’m not meant to be here. What’s your name?”
“Um…Richard Smith.”
“Well, Richard, is it all right if I call you Dick?” It wasn’t really a question he needed