by Des Hunt
He stopped and slowly gazed around the island. Robbie recognised the manner. He’d seen it all before. Richardson was behaving just like bullies at school. The so-called tough guys. He had ways of dealing with them. Maybe they might help here. That thought gave him a little hope.
“So what was a boy doing snooping around in my RANDES account? Well I think he had a silly idea in his head that I’m illegally dealing in endangered species. Now that simply isn’t true. RANDES is a group that looks after rare animals. An important service these days, with so many species becoming extinct. Some very important people belong to it, even prime ministers and princes. It’s all above board and perfectly legal.”
“Bullshit!” blurted Robbie. “You stole Puku and her babies. And you’re trying to sell them.”
Richardson looked puzzled. The lackey nodded towards the boat.
“Ah yes!” Richardson said. “The kaweau and her young. Four animals that wandered into one of your play huts. That doesn’t mean you owned them. But now I have them in a cage, they belong to me. But the important difference is, I’m not breaking any laws. As far as the law’s concerned, these animals don’t even exist. Anyone can take them. So tell me — am I doing anything wrong?”
Robbie remained silent. He’d found out what he wanted to know. Puku was on the boat. Now he had to figure out a way to save her.
“I’ll take your silence as a no. And you’re quite right, I’m not breaking any laws at all. So where does that leave us? On one hand we have a boy with some crazy ideas. On the other, we have myself, a very important businessman, who has friends in very, very high places.”
Robbie had tuned out. He stood staring at the crater wall; staring but not seeing.
Then a movement caused his eyes to focus. Some rocks were falling. The crater wall was breaking apart. A few rocks were beginning to roll down into the pipe. He never hesitated. This would be his only chance.
“Look!” he shouted, pointing at the falling rocks.
The men couldn’t stop themselves. The fear was already in their minds. They turned and looked.
Robbie caught a glimpse of more hillside falling before he was off. He had no plan. All he knew was that he had to get to higher ground. But to do it in the middle of the activity would be dangerous. So he followed the path back towards the sea and into the steam fields.
The two men stood looking at the crater wall for a moment before it sunk in. When they turned, Robbie had disappeared in the steam.
Richardson looked at the lackey. “Get after him,” he ordered.
“Get him yourself,” came the reply. “I’m getting out of here.” Instead of following Robbie, he took the direct route up the opposite side of the crater dodging through the steaming vents. Richardson followed.
By then Robbie was through the steam field and away from the worst of the activity. Only then did he begin climbing.
At first it was reasonably easy going, but the higher he went, the steeper it became until he found it best to crawl. The rocks were rough and sharp, and the ash between was crumbly. Twice he fell back until his fall was stopped by a rock. Everywhere the ground was hot under his hands, with steam coming from some of the gaps. Almost every movement had to be gently tested before he moved his weight forward. And all the time he was expecting disaster.
When it didn’t come, he opted for a rest on one of the smoother rocks. Only then did he risk a look behind.
The crater rim was still falling in small slides. There seemed to be more steam pouring from the pipe, but that was all. Maybe there wasn’t going to be a disaster after all.
He looked uphill to see what the going would be like if he went higher. It was steeper there, and without rocks to hold on to. Going there would be dangerous, and going sideways pointless. He decided to stay put. He looked for Richardson and the lackey on the wall. There was no sign of them. Then he thought he saw some movement through the steam. If it was them, then they weren’t anywhere near the track.
When he looked back to the vent, he saw that the rock falls had almost stopped. It looked as if the main part of the crater wall was going to hold. Robbie was strangely disappointed. Despite his fears, he wanted something to happen, an eruption or a lahar. Anything, as long as he could look and not be a part of it. Again he looked down to the steam field. This time he definitely saw two figures. Then he heard a call.
“How do you get out of here?” It was the lackey.
Richardson replied with a string of swear words. There was fear in his voice, the absolute fear of panic. He was past the stage of being able to reason his way out.
A movement caught the corner of Robbie’s eye. He turned back to the rock fall. A whole chunk of the crater wall was now moving, hundreds of thousands of tonnes of it. Then the sound reached him — the roar of millions of rocks smashing into each other. Even in the bright sunlight he could see sparks as they struck each other in their rush down the crater side. Soon everything was hidden behind a great cloud of dust, steam and toxic gas. For a moment there was silence.
“Is that it?” yelled Robbie.
Vulcan’s reply was a huge belch. Steam rushed out of every vent. From the tiny cracks to the Donald holes, everything was a rush of gas. Robbie felt the ground rise as steam jetted around him. Everywhere was steam except for the pipe. For the moment it was blocked with rock. The belch seemed to die away as if Vulcan was saving energy for something stronger. Then Robbie heard the screaming of the two men below. Loud, piercing screams that echoed off, the crater walls.
For an instant Robbie felt sorry for them. Then he had to worry about his own safety, because spewing out of the pipe was the most awful mix he’d ever seen.
Vulcan’s vomit, was his first thought. If ever the earth was to spew this was it — a disgusting yellow-green mess of rock, sulphur, acid and steam. It came in surges, spurting out of the mouth of the pipe. Soon the pipe was invisible, and yet still more came. Vast volumes of it.
Then, like some huge yellow soup boiling over and spilling out of a pot, it began to flow. At first it crawled, until it reached the top of the mound. There it quickened, urged on by the slope and the push from behind. Once it was moving there was no stopping. Soon it covered everything, pausing for nothing. And in its mass were huge lumps of rock, bouncing along like beach balls in the surf. As it came closer, Robbie could see blue flames licking the surface. The brimstone was burning. It passed over the Donald steam field, but there were no cries of pain. The men must’ve already been dead.
Soon it was below him, much closer than he would have liked, yet far enough to be safe. He glanced down the crater towards the sea. The boat was still moored in the bay, exactly where they’d left it.
The flow slowed as it reached the flat and spread over the ground near the ruin. For a moment it looked as though it might not reach the sea.
A false hope. The stuff still moving beneath him kept surging on, flowing over the first front. It piled into the sea with the hiss of hot steel plunged into water. The bay became hidden in billows of steam. Robbie watched, horrified as more and more hot rock poured into the ocean. A couple of times he imagined he could see the boat through the steam. But how could he be sure?
Finally it slowed. The lahar stopped flowing and the noise eased. Urgently he watched and waited for the steam to clear. Eventually it did. But there was no sign of the boat, or the jetty. Nor were there birds anymore, for a very simple reason. The beach had gone.
“Oh Puku!” he cried. “What have I done to you?”
Then the poisonous fumes from below reached up and claimed him.
Chapter 20
The view of the lahar from out at sea was truly something. Price and Johnny were about seven kilometres away when it started. There was no doubting something had happened. A mass of reddish dust rose from the back of the island.
Johnny handed Price the binoculars. “It looks like the crater rim is collapsing.”
Price had a perfect view. The boat was heading directly into Sh
ark Bay; there was nothing between him and the back of the crater. Crater Bay was hidden, and so was Richardson’s boat. But the GPS said it was still there. He saw the collapse of the rim into the pipe before the whole island changed to steam. It was as if someone had turned on a tap feeding steam to every one of the vents. For a moment the island seemed to be so much bigger.
Then it stopped. For a while it seemed as if nothing was happening. A horrible coloured gas began rising from the back of the crater. It grew and grew until he could see the source — a great tongue of rubble heading down the crater.
The tongue split in two as it reached the flat. Most went towards Crater Bay. A smaller flow headed towards Shark Bay. Some reached the sea in a cloud of steam, but most of its force was already spent and soon it was all over. Vulcan was resting again.
* * *
Half an hour later, they were at the island. They first called at Crater Bay because, the GPS said Richardson’s boat was still there. It wasn’t. The bay had been filled with stinking volcanic rubbish; there was no way the boat could have survived. Particularly if it had been tied to the jetty. Yet the computer said it was still getting a signal.
“I can’t make it out,” said Price. “The boat must’ve sunk. But the GPS or transmitter can’t be working under water. It’s impossible.”
“Perhaps there’s a big air trap?”
“Yeah, maybe. But still, the radio waves can’t pass through saltwater.”
“Could be a fault in your program.”
Price’s look told him what he thought of that idea. Johnny ignored it. “What do you want to do then? I can’t put ashore here.”
“Let’s have a look around the corner at Shark Bay.”
It took only a few minutes to go the few hundred metres around the high rock of Troup Head.
The wind had shifted; it was now coming from the east and heading straight into Shark Bay. The chop was breaking as waves on the beach.
“I don’t like the look of it,” said Price
Johnny motored back and forth a couple of times. “Do you think they might still be on the island?”
“It’s possible.”
“Right then. Get yourself ready. I’ll beach the boat on what’s left of the sand. You’ll find a gas mask and hard hat in the locker below. Make sure you wear them.”
Five minutes later Price was ashore. Right away he could smell the gas. He took Johnny’s advice and put on the gas mask. The heat coming off the lahar was almost too much for him. He moved part way up the wall, where it was cooler, but harder going.
There was no way he could search the whole of the crater. All he could do was to check the walls as best he could. It was no use checking the floor. Anyone down there would be well and truly dead.
He used the binoculars to do a full check of the opposite wall. It was a quick check because he had to take off the mask. He knew the danger. The gas had the rotten-egg smell of hydrogen sulphide. It was poisonous. One of its first actions was to dull the sense of smell. Then you could inhale increasing amounts of it without knowing. Death could come within an hour.
He was almost sure no one was on the other wall. He then did a quick check behind the pipe and on the rocky ridge dividing the two bays. There was no sign of life. That left this wall, and that was going to be tricky. He couldn’t see much with the binoculars, and it would be a very difficult path. He called a couple of times, with no result. The only thing to do was to climb around it a bit.
* * *
It was Robbie’s green shirt that saved him.
As the only bit of green anywhere in the crater, it stood out like an oasis in a desert. Price saw it as soon as he got round the first sharp piece. Yet ten minutes of agony passed before he got to the boy. It took only a moment to check he was still alive. Price removed his mask and put it on Robbie. While it was much too big it was better than nothing. The smell of hydrogen sulphide was strong. That was a good sign. It meant he wasn’t poisoned yet. But it was bad for the boy — he’d probably been in it for almost an hour already.
Price wondered about Richardson. He could be further around. He yelled out, but all he got back was an echo. If he was there somewhere, then he was going to have to stay on the island. There was no way Price could help two people.
The trip back to the boat was one of the hardest things Price had ever done. Most of it was on his hands and knees with Robbie a dead weight on his back. He fell off twice. The second time the gas mask smashed. That urged Price to move even faster, without any thought about his own body.
Eventually it was over. Johnny had seen them coming and beached the boat again. The waves were bigger now. Price managed to lift Robbie up to the waiting arms. Then he collapsed into the water. His hip had finally failed.
“Come on, Price. Don’t give in now! Let’s get out of this place before we get stuck.” Johnny stretched down and grabbed an arm. “Come on, man. Just one more effort.”
Somehow Price found the strength to move despite the intense pain. Johnny grabbed him under the armpits and dragged him aboard, dumping him like a sack on the stinking deck.
Johnny slammed the boat into reverse and gave it full throttle. At first it didn’t move. Then a wave slightly bigger than the others lifted it and the propellor bit into the water. They were clear. Not long afterwards they were on a direct route to Whakatane.
Chapter 21
Price recovered first. Maybe the stench helped revive him. Nobody would want to stay face down on that deck for too long.
Johnny had laid Robbie across a couple of seats. He’d cleaned the boy’s injuries as best he could. Part of one leg looked like a piece of raw steak, there was so little skin left.
Price immediately examined the boy in detail. He was worried about his body temperature. An hour spent lying in the blazing sun could have caused hyperthermia. His body seemed a bit too hot, but not dangerously so. They put the canvas awning up, shading him from further heat.
Johnny and Price spent the next half hour on the radio. The first call was to Whakatane hospital to warn them they had a very sick boy on the way. They gave them very little extra information. The next call was to the police telling them of the volcanic activity on the island, and that Richardson was still missing. The officer who took the call said that they already knew something was wrong from the loss of three of the sensors. But from what Price told him he reckoned they wouldn’t be able to do anything for at least a day — not until things cooled down a bit.
Price was talking to Jim Walker when Robbie rejoined them. Jim was asking about the boat.
“Hang on a minute, Jim. I think he’s back with us. Look … I’ll call back later.” He moved over to the boy. “How do you feel?”
“Not good. I’ve got a stinking headache. And everything hurts.”
“You’ll be all right. Just rest up. We’ll have you in Whakatane in a couple of hours.”
“What happened to the boat?”
“We think it must have sunk.” He turned to the computer screen. “The GPS still shows it … Hello! What’s happening here?” The signal from the boat had shifted. It was now well clear of the island.
Johnny looked at the screen and then grabbed the binoculars. He scanned the sea to the right of them.
“Nothing there that I can see,” he said.
“Well, something’s sending a signal,” replied Price. “It’s moving!”
Johnny handed him the binoculars. “Here, you have a look. Maybe your eyes are better than mine.”
Robbie stared at him, willing the man to see something.
“There it is!” cried Price, pointing. “It’s very low in the water.”
He turned to Robbie. “Could Richardson be on board? Did he escape?”
“No! They were dead before the acid hit.”
“They?”
“The lackey was with him.”
Johnny said: “It must be drifting then. That’s about where it would be in this wind.”
Robbie stretched up and
pulled Price down to speak to him. “Puku and the babies are on it,” he whispered.
“It’s all right, Robbie. Johnny knows about Puku.”
Johnny turned around. “Is the kaweau on the boat?”
“So Robbie says.”
The two men looked at each other, without speaking. Then they looked at Robbie. He simply nodded.
That was enough. Johnny swung the wheel round. The boat tilted over at a sharp angle, almost throwing Robbie off the seats. When it righted, Johnny set the bow towards the drifting spot on the horizon.
* * *
Richardson’s boat had lost all its beauty. Volcanic stuff was still sitting on the front where it had melted or burnt the plastic deck. A bit of rope dangling down the side also showed signs of melting. That was what had saved it. The anchor line had burnt through in the intense heat, setting the boat free. But it was now wallowing low in the sea — a sure sign that water was getting in.
Robbie managed to lift his head enough to see. The sight disturbed him. There would be water down below where the cages were. Maybe Puku and her babies had already drowned. He watched anxiously as Johnny brought the two boats together. It was not easy in the swell.
On the third attempt Price took the chance and jumped across. He collapsed heavily onto the deck in a cry of pain.
“You all right?” asked Johnny.
Price staggered to his feet. “No. My hip’s playing up. But I’ll get the job done.”
Johnny threw a line across which Price attached to the side. Then Johnny took his boat back to stop the two smashing against each other.
Instead of heading down below, Price climbed up into the cockpit and started fiddling with the instruments.
