Acid Song (26 page)

‘People aren’t as stupid as you think.’

‘People are as stupid as the stories they tell each other.’

‘You can’t hide from the truth.’

‘So why won’t you listen when I tell it to you?’

‘YOU GETTING THIS?’

‘What do you think?’

It was better than she could have imagined.

‘Tape, have you got the tape in?’

‘Of course I’ve got the tape in.’

‘Just, you know …’

‘Unbelievable.’ He smiled at her.

‘Go closer. Go on, down the stairs.’

Amanda pushed Greg forward. He was shooting through the audience who were cheering for their side like it was a rugby match. All she needed now was for Susan to hit Richard. Or he could have a heart attack. She’d settle for a heart attack.

Amanda’s own heart was racing now. This was it. This was her breakthrough. You could plan, you could deal, you could attend all the courses, all the meetings, but in the end it came down to this. Right place, right time. It came down to luck.

THE FIRST THING Simon felt was the coldness of the steel. There had been a thump, like being punched, that was all. One of the little freaks having a go at his body. He’d get to him soon enough. Then he saw into his attacker’s eyes, and they were dark and gleaming: growing wide. The skinhead looked down. Simon felt the blade coming out, the pressure it took to pull it, the resisting suck of his muscles.

A new coldness came over him. It shivered up his body, he felt it tingling at his temples. The music was growing louder. He saw feet all around, legs moving. He’d fallen.

Screaming. In the distance. Far away.

He was flying. He concentrated on the flying.

A white wave breaking over a coral reef. He soars, swooping in low over the village.

Pigs, chased off the road as a bus ambles by, pink, yellow and green. Kids calling out through glassless windows.

Someone smiling. He goes in closer, tries to smile back. Wants to smile back.

Straightening up from the lawn: a brown body never looked so good. A machete dangles at his side, loose and natural.

Uncle Tala, but too young. A bright blue tarpaulin flapping behind him. Must be raining. Funny, he can’t feel the rain.

Somebody screaming. Faint and distant. A sound from another
world. Uncle doesn’t notice. The thick warm air, sweet with frangipani.

There are no smells in dreams.

Simon pulls up. The Pacific breaks beneath him. He cries out. The pain splits him in two.

Then, nothing.

BERNARD BECKETT is one of our more provocative and inventive writers. He has won many awards for his fiction and his latest novel,
Genesis
, has been highly acclaimed both in New Zealand and on the international stage.

In 2005 he was awarded a fellowship at the Allan Wilson Centre for Molecular Evolution where he found himself looking for ways to combine his passions for science, philosophy and storytelling.
Acid Song
is one of three writing projects he started during that time.

Bernard lives in Wellington and teaches at a secondary school in the Hutt Valley.

F
ICTION:

Lester
1999

Red Cliff
2000

Jolt
2001

No Alarms
2002

Home Boys
2003

Malcolm and Juliet
2004

Deep Fried
2005
(with Clare Knighton)

Genesis
2006

N
ON-
F
ICTION:

Falling for Science: Asking the Big Questions
2007