‘You’re nearly there, Zach.’
Zachary held on to the pinnacle of the tower with both hands when Father Stephen’s torchlight flashed into his eyes, momentarily destroying his night vision.
‘See anything?’
‘Toss up my torch.’
Father Stephen threw the torch with perfect momentum. It hung in the air and Zachary reached out and clasped it to his chest.
He shone it on the tower, illuminating a hinged black hatch that he lifted by a handle to expose an opening.
‘Steve, I’ve found an entrance.’
Father Stephen prayed Zachary would find nothing. He dreaded the thought of having to climb the tower. The Taser attack and the poisoning in Gemelli had greatly sapped his strength.
‘I won’t make it up, Zach.’
‘Okay, wait there and switch to channel seven.’
‘Be careful, Zach, and you’ll need these.’
Father Stephen tied the laces of Zachary’s boots together, stuffed his socks inside and flung them up as adeptly as the torch.
Zachary made an easy catch and directed his torchlight into the hole. Hewn from the lava-rock, a steep spiral staircase descended into darkness. Supporting his weight with his arms, he dropped onto the first step.
‘I’m in, Steve.’
‘Good luck.’
Zachary reached out of the hole, pulled the hatch closed then put on his boots. At the bottom of the staircase, the floor angled upwards into a perfectly-rounded lava-tube. Its walls were bare and as he walked along it, the flare of the torchlight corked the blackness behind him.
Zachary travelled the tube up a steady incline that ended at a ladder beneath a round wooden manhole cover. He pushed it up with his hand, poking his head through to find himself surrounded by the polycarbonate water tank. A plastic pipe ran from the top out the bottom. The tank itself held no water.
Zachary replaced the manhole cover and exited the tank through a tall hinged panel in its curved wall.
The Coldfire Queen was ablaze with light on the dark ocean. Zachary could see Rachel and Paris lounging on the rear deck. He radioed Father Stephen.
‘I can hear you, Zach. Where are you?’
‘I’m at Hyde’s shack. A tunnel brought me straight here. I’m going to stay on the island tonight and search for the Professor’s hideout. Get Captain Coburg to take you back to the launch. I’ll call in the morning when I’m ready to go. See you for breakfast.’
Zachary switched the radio off, took a mouthful of water from his canteen and stepped onto the veranda. The shack door was unlocked and he entered slowly by torchlight. The main room remained untouched but the thirty-two gas cylinders in the second room were now rearranged against the opposite wall in evenly-spaced columns. Each must have weighed a hundred pounds.
Zachary ran the torchlight amongst the cylinders, casting steep shadows up the wall onto the ceiling. He noticed a gap in the back row and a square patch of wood in the floor, darker than the bordering timbers. He prised it out with the point of his pocket knife, exposing a chute chiselled from the rock and fitted with a ladder descending into the unknown. Zachary resisted shining his torch down for fear of alerting Hyde. He replaced the square of wood and sat in a corner of the room, hidden by the gas bottles. Within a minute, he nodded off to sleep.
Zachary heard a noise inside his dream and woke with a start. He glanced at his watch and stayed perfectly still. Three hours had passed with sunrise imminent. He peeked through the bottles to see Hyde emerge from the chute like a troll from the bowels of the earth. Zachary heard the patch of floor slot into place and saw Hyde holding a fishing rod. The shack door slammed shut and Zachary waited several minutes for Hyde to escape.
Outside, Zachary cautiously opened the panel on the side of the tank. Hyde had removed the manhole cover to the lava-tube. Out to sea the Coldfire Queen was bathed in pink light with the dinghy tethered off the back. The decks were deserted.
Black clouds suddenly rolled in on the breeze, accompanied by percussive thunder. The viscous air, expectant with rain, gave him an idea.
In the tank, he kicked at the pipe where it entered the floor. When it snapped, he aimed it into the lava-tube.
The first large raindrops slapped against the tank and the veranda roof. The patter soon quickened into a tropical deluge. Zachary sheltered on the veranda behind a solid curtain of rain that hid the ocean. To his right, white water stormed out of the corridor in the cliff, rocketing over the sea.
Great thunderheads marched above the Coldfire Queen dousing her in torrential rain. When the sun burst through, the squall evaporated as quickly as it had arrived.
Zachary stood away from the shack to see onto the roof. Water was funnelling into the tank-pipe, emptying into the lava-tube. The corridor runoff slowed to a trickle as the gulls again took to the air. He breathed in the humidity.
‘Coldfire Queen, this is Zachary.’
‘Good morning, Zachary,’ Captain Coburg said.
‘Enjoy the bath down there?’
‘Are you ready to be picked up?’
‘Not just yet, Captain. How is everyone this morning?’
‘All’s well. A whale surfaced beside the dinghy on our row home last night which caused Father Stephen some consternation. I’ll stand by for your call. Everything fine with you?’
‘Yes, I’m at the shack. Professor Hyde has gone fishing and I want to check something while he’s away.’
Professor Hyde luxuriated in the summer downpour. He faced the ocean, letting the warm rain wash over him. He’d already caught two fish with his pink lure.
Hyde’s rod bowed with another solid strike and he hauled a fish out onto the flat rock. Hungry schools of mackerel carved up the boiling baitfish as gulls dived into the cauldron to pluck their share. Hyde could have fished all day.
Instead, he collapsed his telescopic rod, hung the three fish he’d caught with a length of orange rope and slung them over his shoulder to clean later at the shack.
Nimbly, Hyde climbed the lava tower, switched on his torch and dropped through the hatch. Halfway down the staircase the torchlight reflected back at him. The bottom stairs were under water, blocking the lava-tube. A poor swimmer and without goggles, Hyde had no idea to what extent the tube was flooded. Claustrophobia chased him back up the staircase and he poked his head out of the tower into the fresh air. He could not understand how the water had got in, and since the rock was porous as black glass, it had no chance of draining away.
Hyde climbed back down onto the fishing rock and cast a worried line into the sea.
With the shack shedding the last drips of water from the cloudburst, Zachary weaved through the gas bottles, removed the hatch using his knife and backed down the steel ladder that ended at an entrance to a passage. A labyrinth of turns led to a broad landing and a soaring space lit by thousands of tiny white Christmas lights strung across the ceiling. The cylindrical cavern had three levels, and stairs carved out of the lava-rock linked the wide porches encircling the walls. At the bottom was a large circular pool of water.
The air smelled fresh, and it was eerily quiet. Zachary climbed the steps to the first level. Piles of unbound paper sheets were neatly stacked on tables alongside the walls. Zachary took a single sheet and read it by the Christmas lights. Hyde’s forward-sloping handwriting described a gecko, endemic to Darwin Island.
Gas bottles spaced along the walls were connected to a number of unlit lamps. Zachary ascended the stairs to the second level where tables supported glass terrariums. In one, he spotted a small lizard camouflaged against a speckled grey rock. Most housed insects such as beetles, ants and giant cockroaches. One contained a fat red frog that Zachary struggled to believe could survive outside on the barren island.
In spite of Hyde’s apparent eccentricity, he clearly possessed an acute and inquisitive mind. Surrounding Zachary was spread a quarter of a century of detailed research papers.
Against a wall, a single foam mattress simil
ar to those on the Coldfire Queen was neatly made up with sheets and blankets. Nothing was out of place. Hyde’s scruffy appearance belied the order inside the cavern. A stretch of shelving was evenly stacked with a plethora of tinned food. Dual burners mounted in a bench were rigged to a gas bottle, and a small square table was set with a clean dinner plate, knife and fork.
A loud hiss filled the cavern as the pool at its centre dropped away, the sea water sucked down a huge sinkhole. Zachary leant over the empty well, unable to see the bottom even with his torch. A light flow of air pushed into his face, quickly becoming a rush. With it the sea water returned, surging up the well, foaming and bubbling, settling mirror calm. Zachary checked his watch and continued along the tables of terrariums.
On a table, askew to the other piles of documents, lay a thin batch of A4 paper stapled in one corner. The handwritten title on the cover page caught his attention: Spiders of Wolf and Darwin Islands.
Zachary leafed through the dozen pages. On the third page was a large black-and-white sketch of a Domino Cardinal Tarantula, instantly recognisable by the distinctive dots on its abdomen. The life-sized drawing sent a shiver up his spine.
Several startling journal entries followed.
25th April 2003
Terrible things happened at Tower Rock today. As I observed the Cardinals, Barbara descended to the water’s edge to hunt for food. To my horror, a white sea-snake with a body as thick as my arm, reared out of the water, biting her head-on. Barbara struggled, desperately trying to drive her own fangs into the snake’s mouth while waving her legs furiously in a futile attempt to break free. The snake tightened its body around her in a crushing knot. I watched helplessly until it relaxed and swam away, head out of the water with Barbara’s purple body clamped between its ugly jaws. Finally, it sank beneath the waves, drowning her.
To make matters worse, Barbara’s egg-sack hatched its spiderlings two hours after the snake attack. I saw fifty or sixty of them scurrying aimlessly over the rock in all directions, with Jimmy nowhere to be seen. Like moths to a flame, the gulls arrived to pick them off and in a few minutes, they were all eaten. Because they were high up on the tower my frantic efforts to scare the birds off were useless. The spiderling I did see fall off the tower was quickly sucked into the mouth of a fat groper like a fly on a trout pond.
Now it seems Jimmy is the last of them. Until the spiderlings hatched I formed the opinion he and Barbara were the last pair living on the island. Though the world assumes the species died out nearly twenty years ago, it is only now I am left with great sadness at their imminent demise.
28th April 2003
Today I have decided to collect Jimmy from Tower Rock. It may be pointless after the events of three days ago, but perhaps in the near future he can be cloned to save the species. Until then I will keep him safe from natural predators in the hope he can live to a ripe old age.
The hiss came again, the flush cycle repeating. It was sixteen minutes since he’d checked his watch. Zachary made a mental note of the time and continued reading.
29th April 2003
Catching Jimmy yesterday proved difficult. As usual, I waited until low tide to walk across the reef to Tower Rock. I saw two thick purple legs poking from a crack in the lava-rock above my head. I put a fresh fish on the end of my spear, raising it up in front of him. His legs tapped the rock and he darted out, jumping on the fish, trying to drag it into his lair. At some resistance, he released his grip, backing out of sight. I challenged him by holding the fish further from his reach and he crept out again like a wary crab, lured by the scent and movement until I succeeded in bringing him to the water’s edge where he rubbed his legs over the fish’s slippery flesh. He contentedly siphoned the fish’s juices with little concern for his immediate safety. I laid the spear down gently, careful not to disturb him feeding, and pulled a sturdy bait scoop from my backpack. I knelt close to him, slowly lowering the net, but Jimmy reared on his back legs, baring his fangs defiantly rather than scurry off. To fight instead of taking flight was his downfall. I quickly dropped the net over him, pushing the steel rim firmly against the rock so that in attempting to escape he became entangled in the end of the sock. Worried he might injure himself I picked up the spear and hurried back across the reef on the turning tide, keen to get him into his new home inside the island.
I emptied him into a large terrarium packed loosely at one end with rocks so he had somewhere to hide, and half filled it with fresh sea water from the sink hole. In their natural environment, I observed Barbara and Jimmy dip their bodies in water and climb to higher ground to comb off the moisture with their bristly legs. What purpose it serves I do not know, but it seems an innate behaviour.
4th May 2003
Jimmy appears happy enough in his new home, gladly accepting the cubes of fish I have been leaving for him each day. He’s a chilling creature, so large I sometimes think he is too big to be real. I see him prowl over the rocks and it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I am concerned how much to feed him. His abdomen is plump, perhaps a sign he is consuming too much food. I will reduce his feeds to twice weekly and monitor his condition henceforth.
I feel somewhat ashamed to have taken Jimmy from his home on Tower Rock but it’s preferable to him vanishing at the hands of another predator. I will do my best to save what God created and the devilish mites and apocalyptic goats have done their best to destroy.
Zachary flipped the page but the entries ended. Behind a stack of paper, he spotted an old book with a faded title: Spiders of the Americas. A worn, coloured drawing of a large Bird-Eating Spider graced its hardcover. Its pages were better preserved, filled with fabulous painted plates of the most diverse spiders imaginable. There were four separate handwritten inscriptions inside the front cover, one beneath the other.
To Thomas, love Grandpa Cantwell – 1831
To Lindsay – treasure the joy of discovery.
Thomas Cantwell - 1865.
Happy 15th birthday Janet,
Love Mum and Dad - 24th August 1910.
To our dearest Robert,
Merry Christmas ‘42.
The hiss returned. Zachary put down the book and checked his watch. Sixteen minutes had elapsed. Based on the three flushes he’d witnessed so far, the strange phenomenon occurred regularly as clockwork, and he wondered how Hyde tolerated the noisy disruptions.
The water settled into another sixteen minutes of tranquillity as Zachary continued around the living laboratory. He caught a whiff of fish. On a table, stood a large rectangular shape covered by a black cotton sheet. Warily, Zachary tugged the sheet off the largest terrarium in Hyde’s laboratory. Its glass walls were crystal clear. Rocks packed at one end, rose out of shallow water, and a Perspex lid supported a fish carcass. Zachary’s heart skipped a beat. Perhaps somewhere at the core of the rocks hid the last Domino Cardinal on the face of God’s earth. He slid the lid to one side, slipping the decimated fish through the gap into the tank. It landed draped over the rocks with its head in the water. Zachary watched in anticipation but nothing happened.
The sink hole flushed again on cue. Zachary heard a mild rumble and the surface of the terrarium water shuddered.
He nervously reached into the terrarium to remove a rock. The next rumble was stronger, a distant thunder, the water in the sinkhole roughening with tiny corrugated waves. The table trembled, loose objects rattled. He lifted out more rocks, lobbing them onto the platform. As the pile in the terrarium shrunk, the more anxious Zachary became. The nooks and crannies he exposed seemed too tight to hide the world’s biggest spider.
As Zachary thought about the sinkhole it flushed again. He removed a lump of lava-rock bigger than his fist, exposing a purple segmented limb, arched and motionless, hairy and thick as his thumb.
Zachary wanted a long pole to prod away the remaining rocks, worried the tarantula might burst from its nest and attack him.
The leg did not move. Zachary picked up a metal spear from against
the wall, using the blunt end to nudge a rock into the water. The tarantula seemed unfazed by the dismantling of its nest. A rock fell away, exposing two more thick purple limbs. Zachary’s stomach churned and the spider squeezed deeper into its den.
The next tremor was more violent, and Zachary steadied himself against the wall. Two gas cylinders clanged against the platform as a basketball-sized chunk of rock split from the roof, and bombed into the sinkhole, sending a circular veil of spray around the cavern walls.
Captain Coburg sputtered through the radio. ‘You okay, Zachary?’
‘For the moment.’
‘Where are you?’
‘Inside the island.’
‘I suggest you meet me at the ladder. Something is wrong. There are strange rumblings all around, and the birds are screaming overhead like banshees.’
‘I’m nearly finished. Ready the dinghy and head in. I’ll be half an hour at the most.’
Zachary was not leaving without the tarantula.
‘Hurry, Zachary.’
‘I’ll do my best, Captain.’
The sinkhole flushed and refilled. Zachary continued to push away rocks with the spear. A fourth purple leg appeared, then two more until he tipped a rock into the water and uncovered the whole tarantula. It withdrew its legs under its body, its fat abdomen clearly visible, three white dots angled evenly across it.
Zachary smelled sulphur. It bit at the back of his throat, making him gag. He pulled off his T-shirt and tied it over his face.
A quake shook the cavern. Zachary crouched on the platform to keep his balance. Tables banged across the porches, shedding reams of paper, bucking terrariums onto the lava-rock and into the sinkhole. Most of the gas cylinders had toppled. The tiny red frog flew through the air and splashed into the water.
Zachary agonised between fleeing and retrieving the tarantula. His mind was soon made up. A section of the roof, the size of a small car, broke away, thumping onto the platform where he had exited the passage, sealing it off.
The Jesus Germ Page 35
