by Geoff Palmer
‘It’s not due until tomorrow. And they can’t go anywhere. There may still be a way to get that syntho’s memory module. But first we have to get back to the control room and see what’s happening out there.’
38 : Phmmm
The cooler air outside the fungus room helped clear Tim’s head. He knew what he had to do. Set up defensive barriers against the Sentinels. Keep them at bay while he tried to find some way out or summon help.
He moved quickly, heading straight for the outcrop of rock salt. Once there, he made a swag of his jacket, loaded it up and slung it over his shoulder. Then, gathering as much as he could carry in his free arm, he kicked a few of the larger boulders into the channel behind him and headed back.
There were three other passages running off from the junction. All of them barred. He piled pieces of rock salt in front of each, leaving the larger lumps to dissolve slowly while grinding up the smaller ones and sloshing the water through the bars.
He thought about the fungus and how it was a source of food. They hadn’t seen any other rooms like it in the Sentinels’ lair. What if it was the only one? A good pile of salt around it would keep them away. And hungry. Perhaps he could even use it as a bargaining chip: food in exchange for freedom.
He returned for another load and piled the whole of it around the narrow fissure in the wall.
Finally satisfied, he went back to the entrance passage and checked again for buttons or switches or levers that would release the outer door, certain he must have missed something. But once again he found nothing.
* * *
Phmmm.
‘It work!’
A circular area of rock a metre in diameter glowed dull red as the laser pulse struck it. Coral and Ludokrus felt a backwash of hot air roll over them.
The cutter made a deep whine that grew steadily until it went beyond the range of normal hearing. Then, for several seconds, the air crackled with static electricity until the charge was suddenly released with a second phmmm of sound that accompanied another crimson bolt.
This time the circular area glowed cherry red and the first few millimetres of rock sagged and melted, dribbling away to congeal around the base of the tripod the laser cutter sat on. The charge built up again, slowly and inexorably. Twenty seconds later — phmmm — another layer of rock dribbled away.
The cutter was a boxy, briefcase-sized device with a tapering, conical end. It was aimed upwards at a slight angle so that melted rock ran back and kept the tunnel it was cutting clear.
‘How long’s it going to take?’ Coral shielded her face from the blast of hot air.
‘Hard to say. One hour maybe.’
Norman returned, drawn by the sound.
‘Find anything?’ Coral asked.
He shook his head. ‘But all that means is they’re not behind a metal door. Which kind of makes sense. That shelf and access tunnel were quick jobs. This one’s obviously better disguised.’
‘So how do we find it?’
‘The way we started searching in the first place. There must be a line or a join or a seam where the two sides fit together.’ He took back his torch.
Phmmm.
Another wave of heat washed over them.
‘Let’s check it out.’ Coral fanned her hand. ‘Better than slow-roasting here.’
* * *
The sound of a car turning into the reserve drew Alice back from her vantage point overlooking the coastal track. A green station wagon. The TV people. What were they doing back? She didn’t want them disturbing the mice.
Eric was looking over the closed-up caravan when she emerged from the bush. Crystal was still in the car.
‘Still no sign of the tourists?’ he said.
‘No.’
‘Just thought we’d pop in as we were passing.’
‘Are you leaving then?’
‘Heading to Fox Glacier. One of the missing men lives there. Those guys that were lost in the bush when the first meteorite came down. We’re going to interview him for tonight’s bulletin.’
‘Does that mean you won’t be using me?’
‘Not tonight.’
Alice sighed. There was still time to redeem herself.
‘Any luck with Glad Smith?’
He shook his head. ‘But there is one thing you could do.’ He opened the rear door and took a brown leather bag from the seat.
‘What’s this?’
‘Concealed camera. The lens points out here, see? There’s full instructions in the side pocket. And here’s my card in case you have problems.’
‘What do you want me to do with it?’
‘Fox Glacier’s about two hours drive so we’ll stay overnight. Be back sometime tomorrow. In the meantime, if the tourists show up and you manage to get an interview with this Albert character ...’ He gave her a knowing wink.
‘Yes, all right,’ she said and watched them drive away.
* * *
‘Ooohh!’
‘Oooww!’
‘What’s happening?’
‘The salt contamination’s getting worse.’
‘That wretched monkey boy! He’s trying to kill us. We have to do something or we’ll never make it back to the control room.’
‘There’s only one thing we can do.’
‘Do it then. Quickly. It’s us or him!’
39 : Awful Secret
Phmmm.
Coral looked back up the shaft as a stream of red-hot lava ran down from the steadily lengthening hole, congealing in waves at the base of the laser cutter. A waft of warm air reached her as the charge built slowly for the next pulse.
At least her clothes had dried out after the downpour, she thought, and she turned back to the wall she was examining.
Phmmm.
* * *
Tim waded back to the entrance of the fungus room. Was it his imagination, or was the water level higher? The flow seemed faster too. He watched it tug at the sides of a small piece of rock salt before carrying it away, tumbling it end over end down the smooth-walled passage. Before, the water had been close to the tops of his shoes. Now it was ankle deep.
He climbed back into the fungus room and checked on Alkemy. She was resting and seemed comfortable enough, but tendrils of fungus had begun attaching themselves to the side of her face. They pulled away easily enough, but he didn’t like the way it seemed to be growing on her. When he brushed it from her skin, it left tiny pockmarks.
‘Alkemy? Alkemy, can you hear me?’
She stirred and sighed lazily.
‘Try and keep this stuff off your face, OK? Just give it a wipe now and then.’
‘Mmm,’ she said.
He reached down to take off his cold wet shoes and found a young possum staring at him, its large brown eyes dark pools in the torchlight. It was less than a metre away. It blinked back at him and yawned.
‘What the heck?’
Possums were wild creatures, but not this one, apparently.
He reached out a hand to it. It sniffed at him cautiously then backed away.
‘How did you get in here?’
He moved towards it. It shuffled backwards, not comfortable, but not really taking fright.
A thought struck him: it had gotten in, so there must be another way out. The one place they hadn’t explored was the far end of this chamber. He picked up his torch and followed the possum.
The roof at the back tapered sharply to the floor. At first sight it looked like a seamless line of fungus, but as he drew closer, Tim saw there was a gap about a hands-breadth wide between the ceiling and the ground. He could smell something too. Fresh air. There was some sort of opening or vent back there.
The air seemed to revive the possum. It took a long sniff then suddenly seemed to remember it should be scared of humans and scampered away, racing through the gap and disappearing up a small hole in the rocks behind.
Tim reached out and pulled the fungus away from the sides of the opening. It was much too small for him, but the fr
esh air smelled good and he sat back wondering what was going on.
Something gave way beneath him. A slight shift in the heavy fungus mat. Curious, he started tearing it up.
He dug deeper. The stuff was half a metre thick, but he finally managed to pull out enough to make a decent hole. He found his torch, shone it down, then started back in alarm.
Bones.
Hundreds of them.
Thousands.
The bones of small animals stripped completely bare, the roots of the fungus wrapped round and round them.
He suddenly realised the awful secret of the fungus and rushed back to Alkemy, calling her name, desperately. ‘Alkemy, wake up. Wake up, we can’t stay here!’
The tendrils had grown back over her face. He swept them aside.
‘The fungus, it’s carnivorous,’ he gasped. ‘The smell makes you sleepy. Like an anaesthetic. You fall asleep, then it eats you.’
He could imagine the far end of the opening where the possum had crawled in. A fissure in a rock face or an opening in a cave somewhere in the bush that surrounded Gizzard Gully. Drawn by the alluring scent of the place, a procession of small animals — rabbits, possums, rats, mice, weasels and stoats — had come down here to rest and fall asleep. And die. Thousands upon thousands of them over the years. And the fungus fed on their remains.
Back at the entrance of the fungus room, water was lapping round the lower rocks. The level was rising steadily. It took him a moment to register what was happening, then he realised his mistake. Filing the passages with salt had been a good defensive move. Too good, because now the Sentinels were trying to flush them clean.
‘We really are going to have to move,’ he told Alkemy.
Torn scraps of fungus floated in the pooling water. Tim had an idea. He tore off a thicker piece and submerged it. It bobbed to the surface.
‘Yes!’ he muttered and got busy, tearing off a mat of the stuff then securing it around Alkemy. Hopefully, away from its roots, it would lose its carnivorous tendencies. And if it didn’t, well, it probably wouldn’t matter now.
By the time he was finished, there was five centimetres of water in the base of the room and Alkemy was already partly floating. He zipped up his jacket, stuffed some more bits of fungus inside to help his own buoyancy, then made for the exit, guiding Alkemy along behind him, her head cradled on a pillow of the stuff.
The passage outside was now one-third full. The current was steady and growing swifter, sweeping back towards the junction and the barred grilles beyond. He didn’t want to get caught against them if it got any deeper, so he struggled against the flow and guided Alkemy back to the short passage they’d first entered. The water there was just as deep, but it was a dead-end. That meant there was no current.
Alkemy slept on, floating on her fungus life raft.
The level was up to his waist now and kept rising. Tim shivered and wondered how much deeper it would get.
* * *
‘Ah, the relief. I can feel it already.’
‘Yes, much better. And we might even get some explosive accompaniment.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘When the monkey with the memory module dies, it will self-destruct, remember?’
‘Ha, yes! I’d forgotten that. Just a pity we can’t watch it happen.’
* * *
The torch bobbed about near the top of the tunnel, illuminating the last few centimetres of air. At least the rising water let him check the upper edge of the closed entrance door. Before, it had been an awkward stretch. Now, with his fungus-padded jacket acting like a life preserver, it was easy to make a minute examination of the rock wall.
Not that he expected to find anything. But at least it kept his mind occupied.
And then he saw it: a pinhole on the left-side disguised by a fold in the surface. It was near the roof. A perfect circle of darkness barely a millimetre wide.
Of course! It all made sense now. He thought of the Sentinel driving him away with finely pointed antennae tips. Such gooey creatures would have trouble with regular buttons or switches, but they could make fine, jabbing needles. He could still feel some of the wounds it had inflicted.
And that was all he needed. A needle. A pin. A paperclip. A piece of wire. He searched his pockets. String, coins, bits of soggy paper, the leftover scanner block already falling to bits from the damp. The stub of a pencil, some forgotten chewing gum — but nothing he could use.
He took another breath. His nose was pressed against the ceiling now. And still the water kept rising. He could feel it lapping round his mouth. One or two deep breaths was all he had left.
He tilted his head, pressed his face to the glassy ceiling, and filled his lungs. The water closed over him, leaving a few tantalising bubbles of air in the surface of the passage, but that was all. When this breath was gone, that would be it. His struggles would be over.
40 : Last Gasp
‘That soon cleared up.’ Emma Townsend peered from the kitchen window as the last of the dark clouds passed overhead. ‘Funny little storm. All over in no time.’
‘That’ll be the opposite of “mainly”,’ Frank said. ‘The weather bloke said it’ll be “mainly fine”, so that must be the other bit. And speaking of funny little storms ...’
Alice swung into the drive and pulled up outside. She got out of her car slowly, then gently closed the door, as if there was someone sleeping inside that she didn’t want to disturb. As she headed for the house, she held out the key and pressed a button on it. The car gave a chirp and flashed its lights.
‘She’s locking it,’ Em said.
‘Smart move. There’s some pretty dodgy cows round here.’
‘Ssshh!’ Em said.
‘Hi Em. Hello Frank.’
‘You sound like you’ve had a good day,’ Em said.
‘Yes, I have rather.’
‘Been shopping?’ Em nodded out the window. There was something on the back seat under an old blanket.
‘Oh ... just an old birdcage I picked up in town.’
‘Birdcage?’
‘Mmm. It’s a bit tatty at the moment. Needs cleaning up and painting.’
‘I didn’t think you liked caged birds.’
‘No, no you ... put plants and things in them. For interior decoration. They’re all the rage right now.’
‘Did you speak to that reporter?’
‘She’s gone away. To Fox Glacier. Might be back tomorrow.’
‘Will you talk to her then?’
‘I might. I’m ... still thinking about it. Shall I put the kettle on?’
‘We’ve just had a cuppa, but help yourself.’ Em glanced out the window. ‘Oh look at Smudge. Straight up on your bonnet. It must be the warmth of the engine.’
Alice let out a squawk, slammed the kettle down and raced out.
‘Nooooo! No Smudge. Off. Get off. Go! Scat!’
‘What on earth is wrong with her?’
‘I gave up asking that question years ago,’ Frank said.
* * *
A droplet of water ran down the wall. The movement caught Coral’s eye. It was followed by another. She turned to investigate, then Norman’s voice said, ‘Hey, hear that?’
‘What? I don’t hear anything.’
‘Exactly. The tunneller’s stopped. Either it’s broken down or it’s broken through.’
They paused and listened. He was right. There was no more steady build-up whine, no static pause, no phmmm.
They raced back to check. Ludokrus led the way and let out a whoop of joy. ‘Can see the daylight. Look. She is through! Now all we need is time for her to cool.’
‘How long?’
Coral and Norman sighted along the sides of the cutter, peering at a small circle of sky and shifting clouds at the far end.
‘Rock is still red hot, but the new air will help. Half-hour, maybe.’
‘We’d better get back to finding the others then.’
They headed back down, their steps lighter,
their mood brighter, three torch beams playing over the bottom of the mineshaft. They walked side by side, then stopped mid-stride.
‘What the heck?’ Coral muttered.
* * *
The pink glow continued beneath the surface of the water. At least it wasn’t dark, Tim thought. Maybe drowning wouldn’t be so bad.
Alkemy’s head bumped against him, her hair swirling round him in the half-light. How much did she know of their predicament? How much was she aware of through her pain and the anaesthetic fungus? Not much, he hoped. And soon her suffering would be over.
He felt like crying out at the injustice of it all, like yelling one last defiant insult at the Sentinels, but fought it back, holding his breath as long as possible.
Alkemy’s head bumped him again. He touched her. The skin of her cheek was still warm. He wanted to tell her he was sorry he’d broken his promise, that he hadn’t been able to get her out after all.
Silvery strands of hair drifted past his face, clouding the cold clear water.
Her hair.
She didn’t wear it loose. She brushed and tied it back, securing the wispy bits at the sides with clips. The recollection of her doing so that morning in the caravan came flooding back to him; Alkemy brushing her hair and pinning it back.
Pinning it back.
With clips.
Hair clips!
He scrambled frantically, tugging at her hair until he found one of them. It was tangled in a swirling knot, took precious seconds to work loose. A doubled-over piece of wire with blobs of resin on each end to blunt the sharp points. He straightened it, bit on one end, and dragged it through his teeth to remove the resin.
It jerked free and he dropped it.
He wasted precious seconds, torn between diving down to try to find it or searching out another one. Forcing himself to ignore his clumsiness, he resumed combing his fingers through her hair.
There! Another one! Careful now ...
He repeated the process as his breath strained to escape, his body wailing that he had to breathe. He held on. Focussed on his task. Straightened and cleaned the wire, then swam back in search of the pinhole.
It was a tight fit, but it was his last chance. He pushed it in. Hard.
