NEPTUNE ISLAND, page 12
Roland struggled with every step. His breathing came in gasps, and he stopped regularly to catch his breath.
“Hurry up!” Enheim scowled from behind. Napoleon, still secured inside the foul weather jacket, poked his head out for Enheim to stroke his head. “Onkel Roland shouldn’t smoke, should he? He’s going to get us all killed.”
Roland nodded as he paused again. “Maybe it is time to stop smoking, you know.”
Lincoln brought up the rear behind Michio, keeping an eye on the emperor crab at the bottom of the shaft. The creature was still uncomfortably close. Roland’s smoking won’t kill us; that thing will.
Its bulky frame too large to fit into the narrow shaft, the creature writhed and thrashed furiously, hammering its giant claws into the rock wall in an attempt to reach the escaping intruders. Chunks of rock splintered off, spraying in all directions.
Lincoln could deal with the creature, but the crustacean wasn’t his only problem. They had climbed a good two hundred feet up the shaft now, so the bottom was becoming increasingly distant. The creature was no longer the problem. Lincoln couldn’t deal with the height.
Don’t look down.
Look at the ladder.
Look up. Look at the top of the shaft.
Just don’t look down.
Lincoln tightened his grip on the rung and rested his head for a moment.
Think of Sienna. You have to find her killers. You don’t give up. You never give up. Do what’s right. Relax.
The crashing and cracking of the claws as they smashed into the rock echoed and reverberated up the shaft. Michio peered beyond Lincoln to the creature below. “It looks really pissed.”
Napoleon trembled, his eyes wide with fear.
“Enheim. How’s the little guy doing?” Lincoln asked, trying to distract himself from the height of the shaft.
Enheim beamed and patted Napoleon’s head hanging out of his coat. “He’s tough, just like his old man.”
Enheim’s words resonated with Lincoln. He’s a tough dog. Lincoln took a deep breath and wiped the sweat from his brow. He forced his vertigo to the back of his mind and climbed.
Intermittently, a smaller crustacean would emerge from the shadows of the shaft, but a quick backhand from Katya or Roland would send them falling to the cavern below. The rain was beginning to abate. Soon humid air from the jungle above wafted down with the intensity of the tropical climate.
25
2:15 a.m.
They climbed from out from the top of the shaft and emerged into the bowl-shaped cauldron of Agrihan Island’s long dormant volcano. The sides rose up, surrounding them with a thick ground cover of vines, bushes, and palm trees that comprised the bulk of the island’s topography. Although the dark night and ominous clouds offered little illumination, they could still perceive the jungle around them. Trees and local flora reached high to form a partial canopy over the center of the cauldron, offering some shelter from the light rain. The occasional crab would scuttle past, but it appeared that the worst of the cavern nightmare was behind them.
They rested near but far enough away from the shaft entrance to be able to prepare for any surprises. The stifling humidity clung to them like heat from a sauna despite the continuous cooling rain. They removed their foul weather gear and placed the jackets in a neat pile.
Lincoln, on a hunch, searched the immediate area with his flashlight.
“What are you looking for?” Michio asked, cradling his injured arm.
Lincoln examined the ground nearby. “That stench back in the cavern wasn’t just dead crabs. It smelled of human garbage, too.” He pulled back a gathering of palm leaves. Beyond the clump, more fronds and vines obstructed his view. He circled the area and checked out the adjacent jungle. Through the dim light of the night sky, beyond a cluster of palms to his right, Lincoln glimpsed a small clearing. He made his way over and found what he was looking for.
The flashlight illuminated a dirt track, almost hidden on either side by undergrowth. He followed the track to the north but it disappeared into the night. The fronds and small shrubs that littered the path were untouched, fresh ground vegetation or newly fallen from the trees. Lincoln changed direction and lit up the trail that curved around a hillock to the south. Crushed and broken foliage lay scattered across the track. He followed the trail around the rise and directed his flashlight at an object shimmering in the dull light ahead.
On the ground was a circular metallic lid, ten feet in diameter, resting upside down. The metal cover was dented and battered. Next to the lid, another ancient lava tube disappeared into the depths of the earth, its craggy sides covered with slime and refuse.
Lincoln peered cautiously over the tube’s rim. Even from this distance, he could hear the faint clacking of claws from below. A reflection on the tube’s wall caught his attention. Several feet below the rim, a torn plastic bag hung from a ragged outcrop of rock. Most of the contents had vanished into the dark hole but a few items remained. A dull red glow that flashed intermittently radiated from the bag’s interior.
Lincoln pulled a vine from a nearby palm and knotted it around the tree. He tied the other end around his waist and slowly backed up toward the void, checking to ensure that the vine had the tensile strength to hold his weight.
A hand grabbed his shoulder. Startled, he spun around.
“Vat is it?” Roland asked.
Lincoln took a deep breath. “Don’t do that.”
Roland removed his hand from Lincoln’s shoulder. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “So, vat is it?”
Lincoln lowered himself over the rim. “I’m about to find out. Do me a favour, Roland. Make sure the vine stays secured to the tree.” Roland nodded and pulled the vine tight as Lincoln disappeared below the rim.
The odor of rotten garbage drifted from below, consuming Lincoln’s olfactory sense with disgusting smells he hadn’t known existed. His eyes watered from the stench as he released more vine and warily inched his way down.
Within arm’s reach of the bag, he pulled a small tag from the torn opening. Lincoln recognized the hexagonal badge as a dosimeter, a device commonly used around the world for radiation detection. He had seen them worn by doctors and hospital technicians while spending long nights waiting in ERs for medical results from gunshot wounds after he had broken up fights. Another badge caught his attention, this one with a glowing red LED orb. He reached into the bag and retrieved the credit-card-sized label. The label featured a small readout display and keypad. Lincoln suspected this electronic label was an updated version of the older badge-style dosimeter. Inside the bag, Lincoln identified other types of radiation safety paraphernalia: wristbands, finger rings, and more body badges.
What the hell would Kane want with radiation badges?
Days of relentless rain had softened the vine’s sinewy fibres, and rubbing across the lava tube’s rough rim weakened the strands further. The vine snapped.
Arms outstretched, Roland lunged forward to grab the loose vine, but the vine shot over the edge and disappeared into the gaping black hole. Roland’s heart skipped a beat. He froze, horrified.
Lincoln’s hand appeared over the rim, groping for a hold. Roland gripped his hand and helped him over the edge. Lincoln rolled to the ground and sighed.
“I-I vas vatching vhere the wine was tied around the tree. The rough edge of the rim must have cut through the wine. I’m-I’m sorry. I didn’t s-see it in the dark, you know.” Roland stammered his apology.
Lincoln flashed him a thumbs up. “It’s okay,” he said, gasping in a lungful of air.
“Find anything interesting down there?” Roland asked, clumsily trying to change the subject.
Lincoln pulled himself up from the wet ground cover and wiped away the clinging leaves and dirt. “Yeah, radiation badges.”
Roland frowned. “Vy vould Kane need radiation badges?”
Lincoln considered the info: revolutionary technology, mercenaries shooting journalists from the sky, an island fortress, the death of Sienna in a so-called boating accident, a full frontal attack on a residential home, and now the discovery of radiation monitoring equipment. All of this for a tourist attraction? The island hid a darker, deadlier mystery, a secret to unravel.
“That’s what I’m going to find out.” Lincoln re-examined the broken leaves and foliage across the track. He directed his flashlight beam over the palm stems. Picking up one of the stems, he studied the tread marks across the frond and then those on the track as it curved away into the dark jungle.
*
“Group meeting, everyone,” Lincoln announced when he and Roland rejoined the others. “There’s a trail just beyond that small hill that will, if I’m right, lead straight to Kane. Apparently, even billionaires still prefer the cheaper option of waste disposal. He’s dumping his trash down a shaft next to the one we came up.”
Katya shook her head in disgust. “Typical rich jerk. Thinks he can do whatever he wants,” she said, unwinding the blood-soaked cloth from Michio’s arm.
Enheim nodded and stroked Napoleon under the chin. “Daddy’s going to punch Kane in the face, isn’t he?”
When he saw the fresh blood dripping from the makeshift bandage wrapped around Michio’s arm, Lincoln focused his attention on Michio, concerned that the humidity was preventing clotting. He watched as Katya rinsed as much as she could from the torn cloth and redressed his arm.
Michio winced as Katya tightened the bandage. “I’ll be fine,” he said unconvincingly.
Roland dug out a vial of tablets from his pocket and handed two to Michio. “They’ll help vith the pain, you know.”
Michio swallowed the pills and rested back against a palm trunk.
Roland discreetly jerked his head at Lincoln indicating that he should follow him. When they were out of earshot of the others, Roland spoke quietly. “I have seen this before, you know. Ve don’t have long before your friend becomes anemic.”
Lincoln nodded. Michio needed medical attention—and soon. The constant loss of blood would weaken him further. It was only a matter of time before his body shut down.
The rain subsided to a light drizzle, and the leaves and branches glistened in the dim night light. Lincoln started. The crunch of distant leaves had caught his attention. He listened, but the sound disappeared into the night.
He addressed the group. “That old sixties song got it wrong. Time is not on our side, people. Let’s go.”
26
2:45 a.m.
Katya led the group, followed by Enheim and Roland, with Lincoln supporting Michio at the rear. The humidity bore down on them like an open furnace as they followed the track linking the island’s north end with the south.
Katya excelled in this type of physical activity. She power-walked along the track, oblivious to the all-encompassing heat. She had tied her hair back and still wore her high-cut bicycle shorts and tank top, so the men behind were pleasantly distracted from the overbearing humidity. She, too, dripped with perspiration, and the glistening moisture made her athletic body even more alluring.
Enheim sweated profusely. He constantly fed Napoleon water from a custom-made sports drink bottle with a nozzle attached. Although water trickled into Napoleon’s mouth, he continued to pant.
The humidity caused Roland to wheeze as he walked. He took in several puffs of his inhaler, but they did little to help with the moisture-laden air.
Lincoln labored to keep up as the humidity fought to overpower him. He didn’t mind walking, and actually enjoyed it most times, but not in this soul-crushing heat. He slowed his pace to allow Michio to keep up. Beside him, Michio struggled to maintain speed with his injured leg.
“Sienna— would have—enjoyed this,” Michio said, breathing heavily.
“What do you mean?” Lincoln asked.
“Trekking.” Michio paused to catch his breath. “She’d go for long walks by herself. Said it cleared her head. She used to take walks all the time when we were together. Sometimes I wouldn’t see her for days, although she’d call and let me know where she was. She always said she needed the solitude. I’d get jealous and think she was with someone else. It used to drive me crazy.”
“Yeah, she did the same thing with me,” Lincoln said. He wiped the sweat from his eyes as they continued on the trail. “When she got that job promoting the rock band, she’d just disappear and show up a few days later. I never could figure her out. And going from one job to another didn’t help. I think deep down maybe she did need to be alone. Sort out her life.”
“She always seemed distracted, like her mind was occupied with other things.”
“You mean, ditzy?”
“No, not ditzy. Just… distant.”
“Yeah, you’re right there.” Lincoln’s thoughts drifted back to his days with Sienna and the fun times they’d had together. “Did you ever watch Star Trek with her?”
“She’d only watch the original series,” Michio said, laughing.
Lincoln chuckled. “Oh, yeah. She always said the others captains paled in comparison to Kirk.”
“And she was right,” Enheim piped up. “Kirk was the best captain. He didn’t take shit from anyone.” His tone became serious. “Plus, he had Spock.”
“And Kirk had Uhura,” Lincoln added, smiling.
“Oh, yeah… got that right.” Enheim nodded in approval.
Roland decided it was his turn to contribute to the conversation. “Captain Picard from The Next Generation vill always be the best captain. He vas an intelligent and sensitive man and thoughtful to those around him. He understood art; he understood human emotion. He vas a Renaissance man, you know.”
Lincoln nodded. “Picard was a good man. I respect that.”
“Picard was definitely the coolest of the captains. He was the sort of guy you could sit down with, talk philosophy, and enjoy a glass of wine,” Michio said.
“Bahhh,” Enheim said dismissively. “Did Picard ever punch a Gorn in the face? No. Did Picard ever have sex with a green alien chick? No. And you know why? Because he was a wimp. He captained by committee. Now Kirk, he captained by his balls, by his gut instinct. A true leader.”
“I always thought Archer from Enterprise was the best captain,” Lincoln said. “He was a combination of Kirk and Picard.”
“Enterprise? Wasn’t that the one with the female Vulcan first officer?” Michio asked.
Lincoln smiled. “Yeah, her name’s T’Pol.”
“Yeah, that’s right,” Michio and Enheim said together. Silence followed as the men recalled her curvaceous body and alluring looks.
“Loved those… ears,” Lincoln muttered.
“You men are all pigs,” Katya called from the front. “The best captain was Kathryn Janeway from Star Trek Voyager. She was smart, resourceful woman.”
“Okay, honey.” Enheim turned to the men and rolled his eyes. He never saw Katya raise her hand but the slap across the back of his head was unmistakeable.
Notwithstanding, the Star Trek debate continued. After an hour of strenuous walking and heated discussion over the preferred captain, Lincoln called a five-minute rest. Only Katya protested. The men collapsed to the ground, heaving and panting.
Katya remained standing. With her hands on her hips, she addressed them like a coach challenging athletes. “You are all little girls. Back in Georgia, we would train in sauna for hours—then run for hours, and go back to sauna again. What about poor Mitch-o here?”
Michio coughed, but gave a thumbs-up. “I’ll live.”
“Well…” Enheim paused, wiping the sweat from his eyes. “Napoleon needed a nap.” Napoleon had stopped panting and was almost asleep, his head resting on the harness.
“He looks fine to me,” Katya said, unconvinced.
“Looks can be deceiving.” Enheim gulped in oxygen. “Napums needed a rest, didn’t you, my little man?” Napoleon barked once. Enheim turned to Katya. “See?”
“The dog is fine. You are all piss weak.” She turned her back on Enheim and began jogging on the spot, as if this was all some training exercise.
The winded men sat, breathing heavily or drinking their water with gusto, finishing off their bottles in seconds. All they could do was watch, shamefully, as Katya continued her exercises.
Back on the track, Katya again took the lead, followed by Enheim and Roland, with Lincoln and Michio bringing up the rear. The sound of the jungle was not as Lincoln remembered it from his CDs. The fauna had disappeared when the storm hit, but now the life of the tropical rain forest had returned. He owned the complete musical collection of Sounds of the Rainforest and loved listening to the calming, almost hypnotic resonance on balmy nights. The real sounds, however, were far from soothing. Birds screeched continuously, squawking at each other as they fought for territory, and the constant chirping of a thousand insects coupled with the incessant chatter of jungle life made the journey unbearable.
“When we get back to civilization, Michio, remind me to burn all my rainforest CDs.” Lincoln laughed as he wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Limping alongside, Michio nodded. “I’ll bring the matches.” He gulped from his second bottle of water and looked up. “At least the rain stopped.”
A drop of water hit Lincoln’s face. Instinctively he peered up into the rainforest canopy as a second and third drop hit. Michio, too, scanned the overhead foliage. Far above them branches and leaves swayed, as if some unknown force weighed on them. Lincoln sighed and gave Michio a deadpan look.
At first, the rain was light and refreshing. The water hitting their bodies cooled them down after the heat and humidity of the tropical climate. Then the moisture turned into a shower, and moments later a torrential downpour.
Soaked to the skin, they edged their way along the side of the trail, their foul weather gear long ago discarded. The deluge came in thick sheets, wave after stinging wave burning their skin. Michio slipped and fell heavily on the rocky ground. Lincoln helped him up and propped against his side. What more could possibly go wrong?
Without warning, the foliage tore apart, spraying fronds and small ground cover in all directions. Startled, they beheld the giant emperor creature towering from the jungle growth, its yellow and black shell glimmering in the rain, its pincers snapping as its outstretched claws swayed from side to side.
