I awoke with a gravely hangover, I felt head heavy and like my eyes had been drilled out of my skull. I tossed under my covers, then eventually swung my legs out onto the floor. I rose and peeked onto Mav’s upper bunk. But found it to be empty, his sheets ruffled. Slightly puzzled, I figured he must’ve joined the flock of humans in the bunker.

I had a decent stretch, and set out upon the frosty landscape, tired, beat, and alone. I had dozed off for a moment or two, or three, and it seemed that Maverick had set off during this time.

It was the crack of Dawn, or maybe an hour or two later. The field had a mild sea of heads buzzing about making their breakfast of the day.

I walked through the field in search of Alice, for a moment I couldn’t find her until she called out to me;

“Hunter, Hey!” she said.

I looked over and found her with a small group, all wearing matching tie-dye tee shirts.

“Sup Alice, what are you having?” I asked her.

She looked up at me, her large green eyes, she said to me; “We’re having chicken rashers and eggs…do you want some?”

“Nah I’m sweet. Not too hungry.” I replied, scratching the back of my head.

“Yeah neither, I’ve hardly had an appetite since last night.” She agreed, “Have you had any sleep?”

“Barely,” I replied, crouching down.

“Yeah, same. That stuff was something else, wasn’t it,” stated Alice, picking at her food with a fork, but never eating it.

“Yeah, for sure. What did that guy say last night? MDA?” I asked.

“Something like that. So it wasn’t Meth…” she continued.

“I sure hope not.” I finished, looking amongst the sea of hippie delinquents.

The majority of them seemed absolutely whacked, barely able to go about eating their meals. No doubt a sober addition to each group had made the food. There was no way in hell someone as cooked as any of these junkies could turn on a gas cooker, let alone cook on it.

Most of them were in the same boat as Alice and I, barely eating. Staring off into space. Absolutely lost in the sauce.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“You might wanna eat something, you must be starving,” Alice said, Eventually eating a spoonful, and offering me the next one.

I leaned in and ate it, the rasher tasted as though it had been cooked in butter instead of oil. She scooped up some scrambled eggs and fed them to me too. The egg was stock standard. Pretty hard to fuck that one up.

She gave me a warm smile, and I returned it. They say you can get a bit giddy off of speed or whatever that dealer had fed us. But as I looked into her eyes she looked like someone I could spend a while with and not get extra bored. Must be something with shared Trauma.

I looked around in search of Maverick, but couldn’t seem to find him. So I left the search for a while.

I ate a few more forkfuls of food, while not feeling an ounce of hunger. Then Alice and I decided to climb the Mountain that overlooked the entire gathering as well as the landscape.

It took us the better half of an hour to climb it. This trip had been spontaneous, to say the least, and more precisely unplanned. Unlike Alice; I hadn’t packed a spare pair of hiking boots. Before reaching the summit my feet had already felt like they were giving out from underneath me, and my ankles had worn a hole through my socks with painful blisters to boot.

But once we did reach the top, the horizon was that of a masterpiece. The clouded sky, bellowing sun, smooth breeze and light air allowed us to see our breath. This summit was that of fantasy, and we took a seat on a boulder by the edge, gazing upon the seaside horizon, watching the distant waves crash.

“Shit chea, that’s mint.” I applauded, watching on.

“Yeah, it’s not bad aye.” Alice agreed, beside me.

“My brother used to be on those seas, y’know.” I shared.

“Really? Maverick?” Alice asked, watching me carefully.

“Yeah, he used to work on one of those boats. They’d set sail from Tauranga and end up in Nelson at the end of his fishing trips. It was on those boats that he started using.” I started, rubbing my hands together.

“He was a fisherman?” asked Alice.

“Yeah, for a few years. He went on with his girlfriend's cousin. They both were using quite a bit. I heard the work is pretty hard.” I continued, looking on.

“My Dad was a fisherman back in the day. Didn’t know him too much.” She replied.

“Yeah, it’s good pay, only have to work half the year,” I stated.

“He’d rinse most of his pay within a couple of weeks, tick up a bunch of money off everyone he knew, starve for the last week, then head back out. He’s a bum.” Alice expanded, lighting a cigarette.

“Sounds like your mother has a certain type of man.” I joked.

Alice laughed, “Yeah, ain’t that the truth.”

A chirp from a nearby pohutukawa tree sounded. I looked across to inspect and found an incredibly rare albino Tui. Singing on his branch, watching us from a distance.

“Damn! I wish I had my phone right now.” Alice noted, realising she’d left her handbag behind.

“I’ve never seen one of those before, you?” I asked.

“Never.” replied Alice, enchanted by its song.

And then the Tui flew off, never to be seen again. I faced back in front of me. Peering out at the sea as it stretched as far as the eye could see.

Alice placed her head on my shoulder, and so I took hold of her soft hand, and I thought to myself; “Not every day is a good day, but today sure is.”

I placed my hands inside my hoodie pocket, and inside it felt a plastic crinkle of foil. I pulled the object out of my pocket; revealing it to be a fifty dollar note.

I looked at it carefully, flipped it over to inspect the other side.

What I found was a blue ink drawing of a sailboat, with the phrase “Off to kick some heads off” underneath.

I stuffed the cash into my left sock, an old habit. Then I thought of Mavericks last clue. Was he really gonna make a mish for Thailand on a ship? And if so, was he going to hide inside a freight container? Or was he going to go back on the fishing boats?

Either way I doubted I would find out anytime soon. If I ever did. And I knew for a fact that if Maverick churned up another story asking for another 50 bucks; whatever story he gave me wouldn’t hardly be the truth.

The truth would be far more Surreal.