4 MMV: Taniwha in Albert Town

"Oh, I got a plan, well you don't understand/I was alone, all I had was just me and myself/And I did it/And nobody's been this/Now you want in"

–Stan Walker, New Takeover

7 am, Week 2, Albert Town Campground, 9382, New Zealand

The canoe's weight was causing Matilda's arms to ache, quiver, and nearly give out, as she staggered about, attempting to follow behind Wyatt's form uphill, his own canoe deftly hoisted under one arm. How the hell was he doing that? she wondered, feeling as though both of her arms were about to detach from the rest of her body, akin to a Mr. (or Mrs.) Potato Head figurine toy.

From what she knew of the crimson water-borne weather-resistant object, it was supposed to weight up to 75 pounds, was made of fiberglass and/or aluminum, and was manufactured in the local athletic goods factory two towns over. She considered it a boon to the local economy, but silently wondered whether they couldn't have added a lightweight charm to make it virtually weightless, so she didn't have to struggle nearly so much.

Her clipboard was in her waterproof drawstring knapsack, along with a keto-friendly, gluten-free granola bar, her BPA-free water bottle, chopped celery sticks with a tiny container of crunchy peanut butter, and a packet of trail mix. Matilda wondered when they were getting to the more fun aspects of camping—the s'mores, the sing-alongs, the blazing warmth of a fire—then realized all of those activities were largely evening ones in the company of others. As it stood, it was way too early in the day to be conscious, let alone fully-functional, and the only conversation companion she had was a beach-blond surfer lookalike, kind personality notwithstanding.

"Y'alright Val?" Wyatt laid his canoe on the sandy ground and looked behind his shoulder over at Matilda. Val, his nickname for her due to her last name, Valensi.

"Um—" Matilda began, then suddenly tripped and fell backward. Wyatt orbed behind her to break her fall, catching her canoe in his other hand, as she tumbled into his embrace. Her eyes met his, and for a seemingly infinitesimal moment, their breaths hitched as they felt an unexpected surge of tingling and…chemistry? Matilda yanked herself free of him and dusted off her shorts. "I'm fine, Wyatt," she stated brusquely, as she traversed the next half meter uphill, which then plateaued to a slow-moving, winding body of azure water.

"Whatever you say, Valensi," he replied, repressing the urge to roll his eyes at her stubbornness, as he followed her to the edge of the water, secretly admiring her unusual coppery curling tresses that adorned her head and flowed well past her shoulders.

7:30 am, Albert Town Campground, 9382, New Zealand

Mid-way through the canoeing expedition, Matilda stood up to admire the scenic view, and shake off a particularly fierce mosquito that had found a way to bite her knee three times in the past few minutes. She removed a flip-flop, making as though to swat at the insect, but the resulting rocking of the boat caused her to lose her footing, as her slipper flew through the air and sank beneath the frigid water. "Ugh, fuck me," she grumbled to herself, trying to turn her oar backwards so the handlebar could lift the flip-flop. After several attempts, she gave up.

7:32 am, Albert Town Campground, 9382, New Zealand

"Looking for this?" she turned around and saw Wyatt dangling her flip-flop in her direction, inadvertently whacking her in the chest, splashing her with water. "Oh, whoops, sorry," he said apologetically, as Matilda glared at him, ripped the slipper off the oar, and put it on her foot once more.

After several quiet minutes, Matilda spoke up. "Why are we scouting this place out, anyways? It seems pretty safe for campers—magical or not—"

Wyatt put up a hand, a signal to remain silent. He heard something, Matilda realized. She looked across her canoe to his in askance. "Taniwha," he whispered, pointing to a fast-bubbling surface of water up ahead.

"Tani-what?" asked Matilda. "Is that, like, code for swamp?" Wyatt shook his head.

"Taniwha, in Maori mythology, is a being that lives in deep river pools in New Zealand," explained Wyatt. "They're suppose to be highly respected kaitiaki, or "protective guardians," of people and places, but sometimes one goes rogue and—" he paused.

"And-?" asked Matilda. She locked eyes with Wyatt. "What aren't you telling me?"

Wyatt stared ahead for a few moments, then muttered, "rogue ones sometimes kidnap women to have…as wives."

"Are you freaking kidding me?" Matilda hissed at Wyatt, trying to keep her voice low enough not to attract the Taniwha's attention, its neck slowly rising, bearing a strong resemblance to the pictures she'd seen in children's books of the Loch Ness Monster. Oh, hell no. "You lured me here as monster wedding bait?"

"I was under camp orders, Val—" he replied, regarding Matilda with pleading eyes, "the director wanted to ensure campers were guaranteed safe from accidental digestion—"

"Accidental digestion?" Matilda's voice rose up a notch. "Are you serious?"

The next several minutes consisted of Wyatt attempting to calm down a now-frantic Matilda. "Look, Val, this is the job we're trained to do—we have the magical skills, we're fully qualified—"

"To get eaten?"

Wyatt ignored this and pressed onward in the conversation. "Our job is equal parts gopher and guinea pig. This is the gopher part. The camp wanted to expand its activities, but only if it's safe, environmentally sustainable, and doesn't create havoc in the indigenous community."

Matilda felt a tug at her curly hair and brushed it off, but the touching grew more insistent. Thinking she'd come across tree branches, she turned around and found herself face-to-face with the Taniwha.

Oh shit.

8 am, Fire Pit near Wanaka Tree, Glendhu Bay, Wanaka 9305, New Zealand

The last thirty minutes had been a blur. Amid Matilda's piercing shrieks, Wyatt whacked the sea creature with his oar, causing the Taniwha to release Matilda's hair it had stuffed in its mouth. Irate about losing its redhaired sea bride, the Taniwha furiously thrashed its amphibious tail about, its bellowing screeches causing the distant pine trees to shake, as flocks of birds scattered into the bleary haze of the early morning sunlight.

Wyatt then hurriedly jumped into Matilda's canoe, one foot still in his own, and orbed them all to what appeared to be a different, though altogether more tranquil part of the same Aotearoa island.

"W-w-where are we?" Matilda asked, her teeth chattering from having been drenched in lake water and smelly Taniwha saliva.

"Wanaka Tree," answered Wyatt, offering her his jacket, which Matilda reluctantly accepted, as she felt herself fast approaching hypothermia.

"May I?" she asked Wyatt, gesturing to the logs in the distance. He nodded but bade her sit as he orbed to the logs, gathering them, and popping in front of her, laying them neatly in the fire pit that they fortuitously happened to stumble upon. Placing her hand atop a log, she loosened one of her faux diamond earrings, and a familiar crackle and spark emerged from her hand, causing the wood to smoke and eventually set ablaze.

"Val," he began, "I'm really, really, really sorry about earlier—I should've warned you about the Taniwha before we left the campsite—I should've shared the canoe with you—kept you closer—"

"Wyatt, it's ok," she answered, staring at the flickering glassy amber flames ahead. "We're basically coworkers, it's not like we're married or anything—"

"Still," he continued, now sitting next to Matilda, "I'm your division partner, and I should've given you more guidance, especially since you're a rebel—and a novice camper—"

Indignant upon hearing this, Matilda spoke in protest. "I've been camping as a kid—"

"Yeah, sure, Val, glamping, not camping. It's a big difference." For once, Matilda didn't have the heart to argue.

"I thought," she spoke aloud, using a stick to poke at the contained inferno, "that camping was supposed to be…fun. I mean," Matilda hastily added, "campfires, s'mores, watching movies and all that. This is…dangerous."

"It gets better," Wyatt replied, as Matilda gave him a skeptical look. "I swear. We do all that stuff too, but camping isn't fun and games, all the time. Not right now, when you're early in your training. Anyways"—he poked around in his knapsack. "Want one?" He offered Matilda what appeared to be sticky, sugary clumps speckled in cartoon-bright sunshine yellow.

"What's that?" she asked warily as he popped one in his own mouth.

"Pascall pineapple lumps—a local New Zealand candy—pineapple taffy covered in chocolate," he replied. She nodded and took a piece from the proffered bag. Hmmm…not bad, she thought to herself, letting the fruity flavor melt across her palate. She brought out her own meal from her knapsack—the trail mix and celery sticks stuffed with crunchy peanut butter. "Oh, so you're one of those types," he surveyed her offering.

"And that would be what exactly?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Health nut, probably one of those vegan types, with a parent who banned added sugar from the house."

"That obvious huh?" Matilda smiled ruefully. "Though you're wrong about the vegan part—I like my share of organic meat, thank you very much."

Wyatt chuckled. "I grew up in a similar household. Then I went on my first-ever camping expedition and realized I needed fast-acting sugar after having the worst brain fog of my life. Even since then, I've carried these things with me wherever I go."

Matilda nodded in understanding, and they munched away in companionable silence.

9 am, Wanaka Tree, Glendhu Bay, Wanaka 9305, New Zealand

After warming up considerably and obtaining nourishment, Matilda and Wyatt carefully disposed of their trash in a nearby bin. Once the fire was fully doused, they went about their way.

"Wanaka Tree," began Wyatt, "is one of the most photographed trees of New Zealand, and the subject of many a hiking and amateur photography expedition. Most people typically begin in the parking lot at Waterfall Creek Track," he said, pointing in the left-most direction.

"So why are we pilot testing this trail then?" asked Matilda, staring about the surprisingly picturesque landscape. She pulled her phone out of her knapsack and began snapping photos of the lone tree, standing upright with branches solely on its right side, located on a miniscule islet no larger than two feet in either direction.

"Well, mainly because there's no signs directing people to this solitary tree."

"And that would be a problem because…?" inquired Matilda. She didn't see any sort of gargantuan Taniwha in this part of town as she skimmed the lake's surface for even a hint of the titular bubbles.

"Because," Wyatt replied, "the campers are impetuous, magical, and absolutely stupid at times."

"Damn, that's harsh," remarked Matilda. "I mean, you began as a camper—"

"I'm serious," he said. "If any of the kids get separated from the group, they could make the unfortunate mistake of hopping, swimming, or leap-frogging over to the Southern Alps mountains just a short distance away, and we can't have any of them dying of hypothermia."

"So…what do you suggest?" Matilda finally asked. A pristine lake with a single tree, no monsters about, no signage. To herself, this sounded like the perfect escape from humanity, as it appeared to be the very opposite of a tourist trap. A place to meditate, be alone—and avoid hurting people with her accidental flames.

"A signage of some sort—or I would, anyways, if such a thing were even possible."

"You mean," Matilda frowned at Wyatt's words, "the land's unplottable, or something?"

Wyatt nodded. "The last time a division counselor planted a signpost here, he came down with smallpox." Matilda visibly winced. Ick. Then a thought occurred to her.

"When exactly was that?" Matilda asked, examining the soil content as she sifted the granules through her fingers.

"Umm….1913, I think? It ravaged the area like wildfire and killed fifty-five locals. Their families were, quite understandably, devastated."

"Yeah," Matilda answered, mulling things over. "That sounds really terrible. Not to sound crass though, but—are you sure the guy didn't already have smallpox?"

Wyatt shook his head. "Val, I know what you're getting at, but trust me, you never wanna screw with local legends and history in this part of the world. And I don't plan on getting fired for knowingly exposing twenty middle-schoolers to smallpox either."

Matilda and Wyatt continued to walk along the perimeter of the lake, occasionally picking up and tossing a stray pebble into the water, creating undulating ripples. "What if…" Matilda paused. "What if, instead of risking germ warfare, we create a safe word instead? Like, if a magic kid's lost, he can say the word and he'll instantly be orbed back to the infirmary and held there until a camp counselor picks him up? And somehow, the infirmary nurse sends a signal back to the person in charge of the rest of the campers that the kid's with them?" She glanced over at Wyatt, hoping the idea didn't sound too weird or stupid.

"I mean," she faltered, "I dunno how the last part would work, but the safe word could be tried, right? Or, maybe it's a stupid idea—forget I said anything—"

"No—" exclaimed Wyatt. "That's a really cool idea! I'm visualizing it—give me a couple seconds for me to work it all out in my brain—" he paced back and forth, and suddenly stopped. "Since we're wrapping up with our session, let's go back to the fire pit and grab the canoes. I have an idea."

10 am, Fire Pit near Wanaka Tree, Glendhu Bay, Wanaka 9305, New Zealand to Camp Wanaka, Camp Infirmary

"The safe word we'll test is Wanaka. Don't say it aloud until I tell you and you're holding onto me with your feet in both canoes. Understand?" Matilda nodded. "Ok, I think," Wyatt looked around, "the coast is clear—on a count of three—one—two—three—"

"Wanaka," Matilda uttered, her feet in both canoes, holding onto Wyatt for dear life, as the scenery dizzily swirled about them, and they fell, feet first, onto the polished wooden floor of Camp Wanaka's infirmary.

"Great job, Val!" praised Wyatt, and Matilda felt her cheeks grow slightly pink as she dusted herself off and they began dragging the two canoes, one after the other, out of the slender doorframe of the infirmary cabin.

11 am, Camp Wanaka, Lakefront Gazebo

After securing the canoes in the athletics shed, the pair went off to their respective dwellings (Matilda to her cottage, Wyatt to his micro-chic tiny cabin) for a shower and a fresh change of clothes. Once that had been taken care of, the two convened at their usual meeting spot, the lakefront gazebo, clipboards in hand.

"What do we do now?" asked Matilda.

"We fill out our field evaluations," replied Wyatt, indicating the two corresponding pages.

The questionnaire was brief, and read as follows:

Camp Wanaka

Rate your experience (on a scale of 0-10, 10 being best) pilot-testing locations and rationale for your decision:

Albert Town Campground, 9382, New Zealand

Rationale:

Wanaka Tree, Glendhu Bay, Wanaka 9305, New Zealand

Rationale:

Matilda bit her lip and gathered her thoughts together over the next couple of minutes, jotting them down in her slightly lopsided cursive handwriting.

Albert Town Campground, 9382, New Zealand: 0

Rationale: Nearly got scalped by Taniwha mythical lake monster; lost flip-flop for several harrowing seconds and suffered mild unavoidable hypothermia

Wanaka Tree, Glendhu Bay, Wanaka 9305, New Zealand: 9

Rationale: Excellent well-kept scenery, accessible fire pit and trash bin, no Taniwha nor other monsters visible. Deducted a point for historical smallpox epidemic and semi-related lack of available signage. Possible resolution: enchanted safe-word designation; operational testing phase I complete. Full pilot testing and official launch: TBD (to be determined).

There, Matilda thought to herself with satisfaction. That ought to do it. She detached both sheets of paper, handing them to Wyatt, who would run them over to the director's office before close of business the same day. She made as if to leave Wyatt behind in the gazebo, but he hurried after her. "Say, Val, how did you come up with the safe word idea anyhow?"

She blushed. "Um—I feel weird mentioning my sources—"

"Please?" Wyatt turned on an impossible-to-resist puppy-eyed expression.

Matilda laughed. "Fine. I got the idea from this movie, "Fifty Shades of Grey," rated R. Obscene amounts of gratuitous sex. You've heard of it?"

"Most definitely," he breathed, his eyes taking on a rather fascinating and somewhat dilated expression.

"I never fancied you the type—" Matilda said awkwardly, before breaking contact and hurrying back over to the infirmary lodge, muttering something about having forgotten a notebook.

"Oh, Valensi, he murmured, watching her retreating figure, curly flaming-red hair and all, "you certainly are full of surprises."