“Got a mobile?” she said.
“Yep.”
“It won’t work until Wairoimata. You have my number—call me when you get out. If I don’t hear by Wednesday, I’ll start asking around.”
“Will do.”
“Got a distress beacon?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded to the kayak.
“A GPS one? Bought locally, not overseas?”
“Yep.”
“Keep it on you. It’s no use in your kayak if you get swept out. But don’t use it unless you’re dying. I don’t want to fight my way up here at midnight in a cyclone to find you twisted your ankle.”
“This happens?”
“Some people treat those things like Uber. If you can kayak out safely, do it. It’ll make a better war story to boast about later.”
“Noted.”
She gave a sharp nod and walked away. Security briefing over.
“Well, thanks,” he said.
Right. He checked his watch. A few hours before dark. He’d scout out the river, get sorted for the morning, then settle in with a freeze-dried dinner and his e-reader. He rubbed his belly. Food would fix that empty feeling. Damn, twenty minutes in her company and now he had to get reacquainted with solitude. Maybe when he called her from Wairoimata he’d ask her for a drink. Even a place that small had to have a watering hole.
“Hey, Cowboy,” she called.
He killed his smile and swiveled. She was leaning into the helicopter, writing something on a clipboard.
“You got insect repellent?”
“Don’t usually get bit. No malaria here, right?”
She looked up. “It’s not the mosquitoes you need to watch for. It’s the sandflies.”
“I need to watch out for a fly?”
“You’ll see.” She pulled a spray bottle from a bag on the rear seat and lobbed it. He caught it one-handed. “I’ll add it to the tab. Oh wait, you prepaid, didn’t you?”
“You didn’t give me a choice.”
“On the house, then. And watch out for wild pigs.”
“Pigs? For real? I fucking love this country. You’re saying the most dangerous wildlife out there is flies and pigs?” He was crossing into flirt territory, drawing this out as long as he could. He wasn’t even sure why.
She crossed her arms and leaned against the door frame. “Less Porky Pig and more a rhino crossed with a bull. I’ve seen boars up here twice your weight. There’s also stags but they won’t take you on unless you corner them. And chamois and tahr—wild goats—but the smell is the biggest danger there. At least they’re herbivores.”
“Unlike the sandflies?”
“Spoken like a guy who’s never stood beside a New Zealand river at dusk.” She pushed off the chopper. “And watch out for kea—big green parrots. Cheeky buggers. Don’t turn your back on your dinner.”
“Noted.” He stuffed his hands in the back pockets of his shorts. “Okay. Guess I’ll go look at this river of death, then.”
“Good luck.”
