Tina Staples was New Zealand’s most empathetic and emphatic news reader. Today, she looked visibly shaken.

  “Officials today are scrambling to contain an outbreak of Even Madder Cow Disease, which has now spread throughout the entire South Island.”

  “The disease is causing previously docile cows to engage in brazen acts of degradation—stampeding without warning, inhaling gas, and, in one particularly disturbing instance, holding up a small-town McDonalds.”

  Tina shuffled her papers, trying not to cry.

  “Health officials are urging citizens to limit beef consumption until we understand the full scope of—”

  Jim unplugged the television in the Koru Lounge, much to the annoyance of three interested patrons, and a now disgruntled staff member. “I’m trying to eat here,” he offered by way of an explanation.

  Was he supposed to be on a plane two hours ago? Yes. Did he care? Hell no!

  Someone else could cover the rampaging cows, because Jim “The Money” Devereaux had a date with the fishmen!

  He glanced at the incoming flights. Where did the time go? The fishmen would be landing in five minutes!

  Jim took one last bite of his standard-issue croissant, then handed the leftovers to the increasingly disgruntled staff member. With his hands free, Jim marched over to the arrivals hall.

  In the hall, people were jostling for position. Jim shoved his way to the front through fans, Atlantis heads, end-is-nigh-ers, and the eternally curious, finding a place amongst the eccentric welcoming committee.

  To Jim’s left stood a kapa haka group fifteen strong, waiting to perform a traditional Māori welcome.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  A cheer rippled through the crowd as the screen updated—Landed. Then, a moment later—Processing. They were here! They were finally here.

  Jim, however, couldn’t enjoy the moment—his phone was lighting up. Reality was calling. That reality? Executive producer Jeff Stubbins.

  “Jim, where the hell are you? The Minister is waiting.”

  “Something came up,” said Jim, manoeuvring himself to the crowd’s edge to better hear the call.

  “Something came up? Are you serious? Something more important than an agricultural catastrophe that threatens to derail our entire nation’s economy?”

  “Well, uh…” Jim glanced at a man in a homemade fish costume. “It might be.”

  “You’re supposed to be interviewing the Minister for the goddamn Environment, and he’s a real bitch about tardiness. How far away are you?”

  “I’m uh… still in Auckland.”

  “You stupid bastard! What the hell are you doing in Auckland?”

  At that moment, a vast cheer rang out in the airport. The creatures had arrived!

  “We love you fishmen!” screamed a man in an Atlantean t-shirt.

  Jim tried to mask the phone’s audio input as a haka roared into life, every patriotic Kiwi in the airport crying out in full voice.

  “Ka mate, ka mate! Ka ora, ka ora!

  Ka mate, ka mate! Ka ora, ka ora!”

  “Jim, is that a haka I hear?”

  “No, I mean - I dunno, is it?”

  “Tēnei te tangata pūhuruhuru

  Nāna nei i tiki mai whakawhiti te rā

  ā, upane! ka upane!

  ā, upane, ka upane, whiti te rā!”

  The crowd cheered as the haka came to a stirring conclusion.

  “I know where you are Jim!” said executive producer Jeff Stubbins, finally putting two and two together. “You’re waiting for those ridiculous creatures, aren’t you? And guess what… you’re fired!”

  “Wait, Stubbins, please!” Jim began, but the impatient producer had ended the call.

  “Shit!” Jim shouted. “Shit! Shit! Shit!”

  “Well, there goes everything I worked for!” sighed the once-proud reporter.

  Jim’s obsession was ruining his life. And thanks to Jeff’s god-awful timing, he’d missed the entire arrival.

  “Where are you?” Jim muttered. Then, mournfully, “Come back!”

  The crowd was now moving, in pursuit of the rapidly disappearing creatures. After a moment’s pause, Jim joined the stampede. They must know where they’re going, surely, he thought, putting his trust in the wisdom of crowds.

  Jim forced his way forward as the stampede slowed by the airport doors. He reached the exit just in time… to see Gary and the Fishmen disappear into a waiting cab.