The Jesus Germ

by Brett Williams

  The shaking eased and the eerie stillness returned. The sinkhole sucked out the debris littered across its surface, renewing it with a freshly aerated column of water.

  Zachary heard Captain Coburg trying to call him.

  ‘Zachary, if you can hear me, I’m almost at the ladder. I think the whole place is going to blow. There’s steam and smoke towering from the eastern end of the island, and the vent below us has come to life.’

  Zachary didn’t answer. He knew Captain Coburg would wait a while longer. The next tremor could be calamitous and there was now only one way out of Hyde’s lair. But first he needed the tarantula to cooperate, to accompany him on the treacherous journey to safety.

  Zachary picked up the spear, gently prodding Jimmy in the face. The tarantula tried to retract his body further inside the rocks then suddenly pounced out of the hole, expanding his legs like a tightly sprung umbrella, stabbing his fangs at the metal prongs so they dripped with poison, taking on a venomous aura of their own.

  Zachary retrieved a black plastic drum from the edge of the sinkhole, unscrewed its lid and cautiously smelled inside. He tipped out a small amount of fresh water then floated it in the terrarium.

  When Zachary touched the tarantula’s abdomen with the spear it scurried off the rocks, spreadeagling in the water.

  The rumble built again, louder this time. Zachary felt deep explosive cracks and imagined colossal blocks of rock crunching and grinding far below the island. The shaking erupted. As if to cut itself off from the chaos, Jimmy paddled through the mouth of the drum and Zachary screwed down the lid as a block of lava left the roof, smashing the terrarium into the floor. A shard of glass pricked Zachary’s left thigh, drawing blood.

  Holding the drum tightly by its handle, he made his way to the edge of the sinkhole, the tremor so strong he had difficulty standing. Through the thunderous din the roof started to collapse. Zachary sidestepped a lump of falling rock that shattered on the ground next to him. If Captain Coburg was trying to radio him, he could not hear over the terrifying noise. Slabs of ceiling smacked into the pool, launching spray in all directions.

  Thirty seconds.

  The porches tilted, dropping debris into the sinkhole, filling the cavern with dust. The Christmas lights still shone through it all.

  Fifteen seconds.

  A rock exploded in front of Zachary, blowing grit into his eyes.

  Five seconds.

  The Christmas lights went out. Zachary shone his fading torch through the dust and falling cannonballs. The hiss of the sinkhole was inaudible over the powerful racket. With blind faith, he leapt into the water. He heard a rock fizz past his head and scythe into the depths.

  The watery world where he floated suddenly dropped from under him and he fell. Zachary expected to die. His torchlight ran across walls of black lava-rock, and the top of the sinkhole shot from view. He waited for the horrible impact, but instead caught up with the water, submerging into a bleak and sightless universe. When he thought his chest would burst, his head popped into air and he gasped it in.

  He travelled quickly but now horizontally, bouncing along with the rush of water. Zachary still clutched the plastic drum but the torch had been jarred from his grip. He accelerated through twisting turns, his head whipping from side to side.

  In total darkness, Zachary rode an upward curve that pitched him into the air. His head cracked against rock and he jarred down onto his coccyx. Again, he was rammed under water, short of breath. The drum pulled his arm out to the side, dragging him through bubbling clouds of sand. As he headed for the surface, he tried to relax and resist inhaling the cool water into his burning lungs.

  When Zachary was close to blacking out, the drum breached the surface and he followed it out of the suffocating realm into the sea. The pristine water he’d sailed into yesterday was covered in grey ash, the air clogged with thick brown smoke that clouded the sun. His first desperate breath resulted in a coughing fit and he stretched the T-shirt tied loosely around his neck, over his face as a filter.

  Zachary was lost. The hazy ring of the sun was directly overhead and visibility was poor. Salt water stung his cuts and he worried about blood and sharks. Paper and splintered wood littered the water around him. A yellow plastic drum floated past.

  Zachary heard thunder, a guttural subterranean moan. The ash settling on the water shook like feathers in the wind, piling up in drifts before sinking under its own weight.

  His radio was wrecked. Swimming toward the island, he might intercept the Coldfire Queen or Captain Coburg in the dinghy, but if the island blew up it meant paddling to a certain death. He decided to swim away from the commotion to find clearer air and water. His boots were waterlogged but he kept them on as an irrational defence against the monsters of the deep.

  Zachary tried to pull the black drum under his chest and propel himself by frog-kicking but it was too buoyant and he rolled off. He resorted to swimming on his back, abandoning the idea of getting his body out of the water away from the unseen creatures lurking below. He believed each thrust of his legs was signalling the fiercest carnivores in the Pacific to investigate. But already, every mobile animal in the waters around the island had fled the vicinity, their innate sensors guiding them from a danger they did not understand.

  As ash rained on Professor Hyde, blending into his unruly swathe of grey hair, he wished he’d worn a shirt to pull over his face.

  A cracking explosion vented above the cliff. A geyser of orange lava shot into the white sky. It slapped down around him in great pats. Hyde ran under the lee of the wall as fire rained onto the fishing rock and blobs of lava hissed into the sea. A molten speck splashed his shin, firing searing pain to the bone.

  Hyde’s last chance of survival lay in the ocean.

  A louder blast sent more lava spouting into the air. Exploding rocks spun like shrapnel. Only when the cliff threatened to collapse and crush him would he leave. At worst, he’d heard drowning was peaceful, sinking through the depths in darkness, being squeezed into unconsciousness.

  A waterfall of glowing rock poured from above. Hyde ran onto the fishing rock, catching two slugs of lava in his left thigh. He dived into the cool sea. The ash washed off his leathery skin and he surfaced as the front of the cliff sheared away into a pile of rubble. Red creeks of lava drained into the ocean, sending clouds of steam billowing up through the dust and smoke.

  Hyde turned his back on the chaos and swam away from the island.

  Captain Coburg yelled into his radio to raise Zachary. Unable to wait any longer at the ladder, he powered the dinghy off in the direction of the Coldfire Queen, now invisible in the pollution spewing from the island. He radioed the crew to guide him using loud hailers, and followed their piercing beeps until the launch’s white hull materialized through the pall of smoke. Father Stephen helped Captain Coburg off the transom and tied up the dinghy.

  Captain Coburg ran to the bridge, hit a button to retract the fore and aft anchors, started the big turbo-diesel engines and rammed them into gear. The motors growled in protest, stammering as the intakes sucked bad air. The Coldfire Queen turned in a wide arc away from the island as a massive boom sounded off the stern.

  Father Stephen appeared at the bridge door, catching Captain Coburg’s attention.

  ‘Are we going back for Zachary?’

  ‘Right now, Father, my responsibility is with the crew and the other passengers. Wolf Island has also erupted and seismic activity under the entire Galapagos chain is ratcheting up. I want to find deep water away from the island, out of the smoke.’

  Both engines died, starved of oxygen and clogged with ash. Captain Coburg cursed.

  ‘If the smoke clears and we get the engines running again I’ll consider going back to Darwin. If I think it’s too dangerous, that will be the end of it,’ Captain Coburg said, heading for the engine room.

  Father Stephen held his tongue. A series of rapid bombs ignited in the distance, making it unlikely the Coldfire Queen would
revisit the building fire-storm.

  Father Stephen entered the main cabin and shut the door. Smoke had already penetrated inside. He sidled past Rachel and Paris to his quarters, re-emerging with a backpack and three plastic bottles of fresh water.

  ‘Where are you going, Father?’

  ‘To find Zach.’

  ‘I’m coming too.’

  ‘No, Rachel, I’m taking the dinghy.’

  ‘You don’t have Captain Coburg’s permission.’

  ‘Rachel, there’s no time for moralising. Release the bow rope once I get the outboard started.’

  Rachel followed him out of the cabin, leaving Paris behind.

  The crew were busy below deck with the malfunctioning engines. Father Stephen stepped off the transom into the dinghy, praying there was enough fuel in the portable tank. He wanted the motor to start first pull of the cord, and to be away before Captain Coburg came to investigate. He checked the fuel line and pushed the starter switch to on. The floor of the dinghy was already covered in a thick layer of ash. Father Stephen braced himself and ripped the cord. The outboard revved once and died. He pulled again and again, fearing discovery and the end to his grand plan. As he thought about giving up, the motor held on and coughed to life. He nursed it to an even idle then revved it harder until it shot bluish smoke out the exhaust.

  Rachel threw the bow rope into the dinghy as a crewman ran at them across the deck.

  ‘Stop!’ he shouted.

  Father Stephen saluted Rachel who unexpectedly jumped down into the dinghy as it moved away.

  The crewman dived off the stern in pursuit only to be thwarted as the dinghy’s propeller bit into the water and carved a wash in his face. Father Stephen and Rachel careered away through the smoke.

  Father Stephen sighted the fuzzy ball of the sun and took a bearing using his watch as Captain Coburg appeared on deck in time to hear the fading buzz of the outboard.

  A huge rock exploded in front of the dinghy. Father Stephen swerved instinctively, easing off the throttle momentarily to regain control, cutting a dark path through the ashen water toward the cataclysmic blasts coming from the island.

  Under a heavy wind the dinghy drove out of the blanket of pollution to be confronted by Darwin’s Arch, now a gateway to hell. Pillars of black smoke leant tall into the air, accompanied by soaring jets of lava. The birds were gone. Great deforming forces purged boulder after boulder from the island’s throat into the ocean.

  Lava flowed down the corridor behind Hyde’s shack, folding off the top of the cliff, slopping onto the tin roof and melting straight through. The veranda burst into flames, the exploding gas bottles muffled by the deafening death throes in the belly of the island. The tunnel connecting the fishing rock fractured and buckled as lava hit the water trapped inside. The ladder on the cliff glowed white-hot and the sea at its foot bubbled away.

  A deep bomb discharged a shockwave that shifted Father Stephen and Rachel on their seats. The island collapsed and began to sink. A mountainous ring of water expanded rapidly from the bubbling void into the open sea. Rachel cried as Father Stephen spun the dinghy away from the inferno.

  As the solitary wave rolled under him, Zachary spotted the dinghy hammering across the chop. He pumped the plastic drum above his head.

  Rachel saw the black shape yo-yoing against the dirty grey sea. She pointed in front of Father Stephen and he curved the dinghy around and dropped the throttle.

  ‘What took you so long?’

  Tears ran down Rachel’s face. She balanced the dinghy as Father Stephen dragged Zachary aboard, then she fussed over his cuts and bruises.

  ‘Are you alright, Zach?’

  ‘I think so, Steve.’

  ‘How did you get so far off the island?’

  ‘I’m not quite sure but let’s get back to the launch.’

  Zachary leant over the gunwale and picked the drum off the water.

  ‘What’s that for, Zach?’ Rachel said.

  ‘I’ve got Jimmy.’

  ‘Jimmy?’

  ‘The last Domino Cardinal Tarantula on Earth.’

  Rachel’s eyes widened and Father Stephen’s jaw dropped.

  ‘Where did....’

  Rachel’s voice became inaudible. The last of the island disintegrated in a shattering explosion that tore at their eardrums. Boulders rocketed up in all directions, trailing smoke, and dripping lava, falling relentlessly into the ocean.

  Darwin Island drowned beneath the waves as the boiling sea absorbed the immense heat frying up from the depths. Ash and smoke billowed toward South America, casting a ghostly yellow pall that turned the sun into a muddy globe.

  Darwin’s Arch stood defiant - a lone sentinel.

  Father Stephen steered into the rising swells toward the Coldfire Queen. The motor spluttered and he pumped the throttle as the outboard choked to a stop. Zachary kicked the steel fuel tank that rang hollow.

  ‘We still have the oars,’ Father Stephen said, squinting ahead through the smoke in search of the launch.

  ‘What happened to Professor Hyde?’ Rachel said.

  ‘He was back on his fishing rock this morning when I diverted water down the lava-tube during the thunderstorm.’

  ‘Then his only way off the island was to swim. He might be floating out there awaiting rescue,’ Rachel said

  ‘It’s doubtful he survived,’ Zachary said.

  ‘You must have considered his predicament, Zachary, since you are partially to blame for it,’ Rachel said.

  ‘It’s not that...’

  Scratching came from the black drum. Zachary sat it between his knees and unscrewed the lid.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Rachel said.

  ‘Fresh air.’

  ‘Let him out and I’ll be over the side.’ Rachel stiffened with anxiety until the lid was screwed back on.

  ‘There she is!’ Father Stephen yelled his excitement as the Coldfire Queen appeared through the smoke, drifting as if its engines were still disabled.

  Captain Coburg adjusted the patch over his dead eye as the dinghy approached. The entire crew and Paris watched as the dinghy gently nudged home.

  ‘The prodigal son returns,’ Captain Coburg said.

  Rachel sheepishly threw the bow rope up at the crewman who had dived after the dinghy. He helped her onto the deck.

  Father Stephen waited for Captain Coburg’s onslaught that was gentler than expected.

  ‘You’ve survived Mother Nature’s fury and lived to tell the tale. I should charge you double for the experience. The engines are ready to go. We’re heading back to Isabela.’

  ‘What about the Professor?’ Rachel said.

  Captain Coburg raised the brow of his good eye.

  ‘Hyde might be floundering in the sea off the east end. We should search for him,’ Zachary said.

  ‘One hour, no more. Wolf Island has gone too, and three tourists were killed there. Thank your lucky stars you’re still alive.’

  Captain Coburg made for the bridge, and when the diesel engines rumbled to life, the Coldfire Queen eased toward the sunken island.

  The ash slick stretched as far as the eye could see, coating the waves and dirtying the hull. Zachary stood at the bow scanning the ocean, his bruises and cuts causing him discomfort.

  As the sun touched the horizon it infused the sky with gold, lighting a giant bonfire on the edge of the ocean. When it died, Zachary knew Captain Coburg would steer away for Isabela.

  Silhouetted against the bright sky, a shape dipped in and out of view on the rolling swell. Paris caught Captain Coburg’s attention on the bridge and he banked the launch around, taking the moderate waves on the port beam. He disengaged the engines, left the bridge and dived off the superstructure, punching a neat hole in the ashen sea, stroking through the wet slurry toward a thick sheet of semi-submerged wood.

  The launch came closer on the breeze and Rachel saw the wood was a table covered in tangled ribbons of kelp. Captain Coburg rested against a corner, pushing it
slightly under water. He peeled away the weed, flinging it into the ocean, exposing Hyde’s body. He was checking for a pulse in the Professor’s neck, when a flaying arm cracked him on the head.

  Professor Hyde sat bolt upright, woken from a nightmare, fighting off invisible demons. The fiery red sky prompted visions of hell and then he remembered what had happened.

  ‘Good evening, Professor.’

  Hyde snapped his head around to see Captain Coburg framed by a giant boat and people craning over the side.

  ‘Where’s my island?’

  ‘We’ve renamed it Atlantis, Professor. It sunk over there.’

  Captain Coburg pointed north of where they bobbed in the swell. The launch was upon them so he pulled himself onto the transom, extending a hand to help Hyde off the table.

  ‘Leave me alone.’

  ‘You can’t stay out here, Professor.’

  Hyde folded his arms and looked to the horizon, sulking, not wishing to make eye contact with anyone. Captain Coburg shrugged his shoulders and gently shoved the table away with his foot. Hyde threw him a furtive glance. When the table had drifted well astern, the Professor finally slipped into the sea and struck out in a feeble breast-stroke. It took him a minute to reach the Coldfire Queen. This time he accepted Captain Coburg’s hand and stood up, like a drowned rat, offering no thanks for his rescue. His mind ran elsewhere, thinking to the future, how to again isolate himself from men.

  ‘Your usual cabin is available, Professor, destination Isabela. Dinner will be served in an hour.’

  Captain Coburg adjusted his eye patch and headed for a hot shower.

  The night sky hid behind cloud. An uncomfortable quiet permeated the group while they ate. Hyde was particularly insular. Captain Coburg broke the silence, raising an awkward moment.

  ‘Did you find what you were after, Zachary?’

  Captain Coburg had no idea of the real reason behind the charter but Hyde knew exactly why the nosy tourists had invaded his island.