Kokopu Dreams Read Online Free Page A

from giggling, babbling madness, like he was right on the edge of some mental precipice, all his footholds crumbled away and nothing to hold onto.
    Hamu stuck his nose right in Sean’s ear. It was cold and wet and utterly shocking and it brought him back to earth like a handful of ice down the neck. Now he knew where to go. The place where everyone went to get what they needed — the mall. With its supermarket and specialty stores, it was probably the closest thing in Ngahere to a marae or a community centre — always somebody there using the public seating, the play area for the kids and the coffee bar where people gathered and gossiped.
    Sean rose and started walking. His sandal sole got looser and doubled under his foot, tripped him and landed him face down on the grass verge, his nose in the mud and Hamu’s nose once again in his ear.
    He should have known. The mall had always been full of light and life, purpose and activity, good smells and bright colours. It was dark now, and it stank. The reek of rotting food in the supermarket freezers seeped through the smashed doors and filled the empty concourse. The gloom was barely relieved by the merest smudge of light filtering through two or three tiny skylights. Sean picked his way carefully through the broken glass and into the supermarket, trying to ignore the smell. He grabbed two cans of baked beans and a packet of rice, not really out of need, more out of habit, and to Hamu’s obvious regret turned and crunched his way back out the door.
    The man probably didn’t mean to give Sean a fright, but he certainly did, blood-streaked in the half-light and making noises like a landed fish drowning in the air. His eyes were ringed with black, like a kid who’d been at the mascara, and, from the look of him, Sean could see they’d each given the other a terrible turn. They sized each other up. They were both thinking the same thing — A live person. What do I do now?
    The fellow collected his wits before Sean, and held out his hand.
    â€˜My name’s Brian,’ he said. ‘Everyone’s dead.’ They stood there in silence, too shocked for relief, able to do nothing more than stare. Eventually Sean found his voice.
    â€˜These sandals are stuffed. I need some new ones.’
    Hamu bounced, pleased to see another human.
    Neither of them said a word as they walked around the mall to the shoe shop. Still without speaking, Brian smashed the window with a Property Press box. Inside Sean found a pair of high boots with steel toecaps and in the shop next door a pair of thick wool socks. Back outside in the open air the smell was dreadful, but at least they could see. They sat on a bench and Sean struggled into his new footwear. His companion seemed unreal in his faded jeans and Hallensteins check shirt, one side hanging out and the buttons in the wrong holes.
    Brian hugged himself and rocked. Maybe, like Sean, he was trying to cope with alternating waves of grief, shock and numbness. Sean turned and saw him looking.
    â€˜I know you,’ Brian said. ‘My Sarah was in your Kiri’s class at school.’ His voice faded off.
    â€˜Where’s your family now?’ Sean remembered open days at the Ngahere Primary School.
    â€˜I buried them. I had them inside for a week but I couldn’t take the smell any more.’
    â€˜I burned my family,’ Sean told him, and with nothing else to say they just sat side by side, staring into space. Eventually they moved, both at the same time. Sean shifted along the seat so their hips were touching and Brian put an arm around Sean’s shoulders. They were both weeping silently.
    â€˜What are we going to do?’ Brian asked.
    â€˜Stick together,’ was all Sean could think to say. They sat in silence for a few more minutes, then Sean spoke again.
    â€˜Had any trouble with dogs?’ Brian nodded, then gestured towards the mall.
    â€˜We’d better arm