Under snake island, p.10
Under Snake Island, page 10
“Yeah, I already have that worked out. We have a window.”
“A window?” Malcolm said.
“Yes. We’ve got four days to have everything we need on a boat and ready to go.”
“No pressure,” said Duncan, then slipped out his phone and stared at the screen. He was probably already figuring out what tech to bring.
“None at all,” Elisabeth said. “We’re professionals at this, remember?”
Malcolm sighed and said, “I remember a hell of a lot of things going wrong.”
Elisabeth nodded reverently, but smiled just the same. “We learn and we persist, gents. Learn and persist.”
Peruíbe
30 Kilometers from Ilha da Queimada Grande
Unlike the time they ventured into the Hole, Elisabeth ensured someone outside would know her whereabouts. She entrusted this information with her brother, Arthur, although she downplayed the danger. The only thing she texted was the longitudinal and latitudinal coordinates of the island and if she didn’t call him by next week to alert the authorities.
This was the closest family Elisabeth had, at least by blood. The men who were accompanying her on this adventure had been more like brothers than either of her natural-born kin.
Malcolm and Duncan viewed Elisabeth much the same way. Neither of them had close family—in fact, when she suggested they let someone know they were on Snake Island, they both informed business associates.
They worked well as a group. Although they had no ties to the outside world, the outside world would crumble if they weren’t successful. Thankfully, Elisabeth was no longer shouldering that tremendous burden alone.
The day after she picked up the guns, Malcolm insisted they remain in the car’s trunk before inspecting. He did a little scouting and found a small coastal warehouse a few kilometers south of their hotel. Elisabeth purchased it sight-unseen from the seller, a man who wasn’t even in South America. Business was so much simpler since the days of wireless transfer.
The warehouse connected to a dock suited for quietly launching a boat—something that came two days before their scheduled trip to the island.
It was called a WaveSkipper, and Elisabeth tuned out Malcolm’s excited description of the engine and the cargo space. She only cared that it was sleek and black as a starless night. This would be perfect for getting them to the island unnoticed.
They spent most of their time in the warehouse. It was little more than four standing aluminum walls and a roof, but it locked from the inside and provided them with enough storage space and secrecy to plan their trip.
Malcolm laid out all the guns on the table, a veritable arsenal if Elisabeth had ever seen one.
“Do you know how to use these?” she asked, picking up a handgun from the collection and peering down the sights.
“Probably better than you,” Malcolm told her.
Duncan shook his head and laughed. “Oh, Lizzy. What were you ever gonna do, lass?”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine, I was in over my head. But luckily, I have two knowledgeable Scotsmen who know all about this stuff.”
“Eh, not so much,” said Malcolm. “We’ve shot plenty of guns but we’re no experts. We can load ‘em and fire ‘em at the snake lady but don’t ask us to break them down and build them back again.”
“Hopefully that won’t be necessary. We have all we need, correct?”
Duncan said, “Aye, we do.”
The Bryant bought Elisabeth eight handguns, two shotguns, a pair of rifles, and a gun so absurdly large that she thought it looked more at home in a cartoon than in real life.
“What the hell is this thing?” she said, lifting it and marveling over its weight. The barrel was long and wide, the stock heavy and inlaid with the word Nyati.
Malcolm said, “This will be our Medusa killer if ever we have one. It’s an elephant gun. Something like this is meant to stop a charging animal in its tracks.”
She nodded, feeling impressed that something like that existed. “I’ll let one of you handle that one.” They chuckled, for it was clear someone as small as Elisabeth would likely be pitched back when it fired.
More equipment arrived.
It was oddly reminiscent to see descending gear. Nylon rope, brakes, anchor drills. Her mind raced back to Bethel and the horrible part that wasn’t spiders, but the dangerous terrain.
“What’s all this then?” she asked Malcolm.
“Lizzy, I doubt this monster is circling the island, waving at boats. She’s got a lair under it. You know this.”
Duncan said, “Island probably goes down into the Earth quite a ways. Warm water like this? It could all be lava tubes, just big open underground chambers unlike anything we’ve ever seen before.”
The thought of it gave her shivers. She’d vowed to never go underground again, as long as she lived.
The mound of supplies increased. A tent, army rations, flares, batteries, lights, and this time, a mobile cell tower so they might get the word out if things didn’t go as planned. This was all secondary to the medical supplies Elisabeth had ordered.
Because of the deadly nature of the snakes, Duncan, having worked as a field medic in his Royal Regiment days, gave them a crash course in how awful a bite from the Golden Lanceheads would be.
“If you’re bitten, you’ll use a marker to write the time on your skin near the wound. Swelling will start immediately. In a few hours, your organs will shut down. Lanceheads are hemotoxic, meaning they break apart blood cells and cause hemorrhaging.
“We don’t wait for symptoms, we don’t apply a tourniquet, and we don’t try to suck out the venom. What we will do is get off the island ASAP.”
Malcolm said, “Now we have protective gear. We have boots and shin guards that can withstand the pressure from one of these bites but you’re still going to want to be careful.”
Duncan said, “Ideally, one of us would stay with the boat in case of an emergency, but since there’s only three of us, that might be a little difficult. We may have a way to get around the snakes but . . . I wouldn’t count on it.”
“Wait . . . what way?” Elisabeth asked.
From a large wooden crate next to the medical supplies, Duncan pulled out what Elisabeth first thought was a knife. But upon closer inspection, it was just a stake with an electronic box on top.
“This is a battery-operated snake repellent. It makes a high-pitched sound, vibrates, and flashes a light—all things snakes typically hate. At least your garden variety snakes. If the snakes are to Medusa what the spiders were to Arachne, then this may be useless.”
“Worth a try,” said Malcolm.
“Anything for the lady who can turn us to stone?” asked Elisabeth.
“Not much,” said Duncan, returning to the supply crate. “We don’t know much about her, other than the story of how Perseus used a reflective shield so she was forced to gaze upon her own horrible appearance, thus turning her into stone.”
“But she’s apparently still alive, so that never happened, mate,” said Malcolm. “Which means there’s no guarantee it will work.”
“Right,” Duncan conceded. “But it’s all we got.” He produced what looked like night vision goggles, complete with a tortoiseshell helmet and chin strap. He held it up so they could see the front of it. “It has night vision, but also a simple camera for normal vision. That’s because your actual eyes are hidden behind a mirrored visor. So, you can see . . . but she’ll be faced with her own reflection.”
Elisabeth nodded. It sounded good in theory.
They stood around their pricy supplies in silence, all questioning the same thing: Was this even going to work? Elisabeth didn’t have an answer, only hope. And she hoped she wasn’t leading her friends to their death.
*****
The night they were to sail to the island, Duncan installed a shortwave radio to listen to the Brazilian Navy. Through their translation app, they learned it was mostly unimportant chatter. A stalled boat needing help back to port. Assistance finding a missing bag that went over the railing of a party yacht. Most of the talk revolved around the training exercise down south. As the night progressed, the chatter dwindled.
Malcolm approached the warehouse entryway and peered outside. The trees along the beach were swaying, as was their black boat, already loaded with everything they’d need.
“I think a storm’s coming,” he said.
“Good thing we have umbrellas,” Duncan said, then laughed harder than Elisabeth thought the joke warranted.
Malcolm stared at his watch. “This exercise was supposed to start at nine. They should all be out of our path. We don’t know how long it will last, Lizzy. So, it’s now or never. Are we really doing this?”
She stepped up to the doorway next to him. It was going to rain soon—she could smell it in the air. The rain was different here, quite unlike the London chill. But a storm was a storm no matter where it fell. Beyond the beach and black water, somewhere far out there, an island hid one of the most dangerous creatures ever to slither across the Earth.
The cool air hit her lungs and she doubled over and coughed uncontrollably. At first, the boys thought little of it, but once the hacking intensified—the kind of hacking that came from deep in her gut and pained every muscle on the way up—they rushed to her side.
“Lizzy? What’s wrong, lass?” said Duncan.
“F-fine,” she said, doing her best to stifle the coughing fit. She could feel spittle running down her chin and she tasted a little more than her saliva.
“Christ, that’s blood!” said Malcolm. “You’re coughing up blood, Lizzy!”
She shook them off when they offered support. “I’m fine,” she said, voice weak and ragged. She put a little distance between herself and them, and threw her back against the wall. She couldn’t even see them because her eyes were watering so heavily.
“You’re not fine,” said Duncan. “You’re obviously very sick. This trip is off.”
“Like hell it is!” she said, surging forward. “We have worked hard to get to this point and I’ll not let a bit of blood stop it.”
Malcolm eyed her quizzically. “This isn’t a surprise to you, is it?” She looked down, unable to meet her stare. “God, Lizzy, what’s wrong with you? Tell us.”
“Please, lass. We want to help.”
“You can’t help with this. But you can help over there.” She pointed through the door just as a crack of distant thunder highlighted her words.
Malcolm shook his head. “It’s bad, yeah? Cancer?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“How long’s it been going on?” Duncan asked.
“Almost a year, I suppose. Started seeing blood when brushing my teeth. Then I started coughing it up. I’m fine, though, fellas.”
“Lizzy . . .,” Malcolm started. She held up a finger to silence him.
“We are going to get this done. And we will not talk about my health anymore. Clear?” Her sternness caught them off guard.
“Fine,” said Malcolm. “But when we’re finished, you and I are going to have a talk about this.”
Elisabeth nodded. “Fine. All in, gents?”
“Yeah,” Duncan said. “We’re with ya, Lizzy.”
Malcolm stepped out of the doorway shaking his head. “C’mon. If we’re lucky, we’ll be back with her head before the navy even sails north.”
Elisabeth had confidence until his words shattered it. It was reminiscent of their descent into the Hole. They were certain it would be as simple as gathering skeletons and bringing them to the surface. Even knowing the horrors of the island, Elisabeth figured there was just as much they didn’t know.
Ilha da Queimada Grande – Snake Island
Using the night vision helmets, they didn’t need headlights. Elisabeth liked the idea, as it kept them from being seen by faraway boats. Plus, the high-tech helmets also enabled them to view far out on the water. The approaching storm forced most of the other boats back toward the coast.
Thirty minutes later, Elisabeth could see the island. They’d been tracking it with GPS, but there was nothing like seeing it emerge out of the haze. Black all around, but especially the land—it rose out of the water like a giant, jagged tooth.
They were approaching from the west, which put the lowest edges of the island on the opposite side. Duncan gave it a wide berth as he circled the north end. Here, the island shattered into smaller pieces, as if a giant had pounded it with a hammer. She searched for the lighthouse, but it was too dark and the angle was wrong. All she saw were wavy, finger-like trees above.
Elisabeth had studied satellite maps of Snake Island and knew its layout well. The northern tip, where they were currently circling, was a narrow stretch of land, and despite the lighthouse standing on this side, was not the highest part of the island.
The highest part was to the south, within a heavily forested region that satellites failed to highlight. As Duncan turned the WaveSkipper south along the eastern side of the island, Elisabeth spotted the dock.
“There,” she said. “I don’t know if we can even stand on it. Looks awful.”
“That’s why we brought the wood, lass,” said Malcolm. She couldn’t see his face well, but assumed he was grinning.
Duncan shut off the engine as they neared the dock, letting the waning momentum carry them over. They passed by so slowly that Malcolm and Duncan grabbed the edge and pulled the boat toward it. Duncan tied it off, then helped Malcolm with the piece of plywood they’d brought with them.
They laid it across the dilapidated dock, providing a bit more stability in which to carry their supplies. A brilliant flash of lightning made Elisabeth’s night vision go wild with digital noise. She pulled it off and rubbed her eyes, then inspected the island in all its eerie darkness. There could be anything out there.
Malcolm was the first to step up and gaze out at the quiet, yet creepy, rolling hill. Leaves blew in the wind, and the grass swayed and turned inward with the promise of the storm.
He pointed up the hill, a few meters from the lighthouse. “That looks flat enough for the tent and should be high enough not to flood should the storm linger. No external lights. Not even our phones until we’re safely inside the tent,” he said. “Duncan, want to make a perimeter with the repellents?”
“Right,” he said, and dug them out of the supplies. Elisabeth waited while he drove the stakes into the ground and turned them on. She couldn’t hear a sound, but saw a small flash of light every few seconds. It was dim and low to the ground so the grass kept it hidden.
If not for a flash of lightning, she might not have seen the pile of sticks next to where Duncan was driving the stakes into the dirt.
It was tall, maybe two meters, and arranged so the sticks created a cone. Little strips of white silk kept it all from coming apart. A cluster of small animal skulls hung inside it. A purple cloth wrapped around the top—a color that struck Elisabeth as odd. The trademark color of her brand had been purple, and purple had also been a favorite of Arachne’s . . .
“Lizzy, help with this?” said Malcolm, shaking her from her thoughts. He unfolded their tent right on the grass just a stone’s throw from the dock.
She pulled herself up on the plywood and walked across it, minding the heavy shoes. They felt awkward, as if she were wearing part of a space suit.
The moment she stepped on the grass, she felt it fighting her, attempting to slip away.
“Shit!” she cursed, lifting her foot in time to watch a green snake slither into the underbrush.
“You alright?” Duncan asked. “These repellants are likely to send them skittering by.”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Didn’t think I’d see one so soon.”
“One every three meters, remember?” said Malcolm, but his final word was drowned by a crack of thunder. They needed to erect the tent and carry up the supplies before the storm blew it all away.
Once Duncan had placed the tent within a box perimeter, he helped them finish setting up. This tent inflated like a mattress, something far superior to the one she slept in as a child—for fun—with her brothers and father on their own property. That one had poles and took the boys two hours to set up.
Elisabeth’s current tent was large enough to accommodate all three of them and some supplies. Waterproof totes would hold the rest.
Duncan returned from the boat with the guns, which were the first things to go into the tent. Once he laid them out, he offered both Malcolm and Elisabeth pistols, already secured in holsters.
She gave him an apprehensive look and she wasn’t sure why. What did she expect when she came here?
“Take it,” he urged. “Not only for the snake lady. Could also be boar. If the snake venom doesn’t get you, the boar tusks might.”
She nodded and allowed him to help attach it to her belt.
It was a slow process of moving all the gear up to the tent. Duncan laid out more repellents, mainly to give them a clear path to the dock and back. Elisabeth wasn’t sure if it was the wind or something slithering in the grass, but she kept hearing swishing noises from the ground.
Duncan directed his path of repellents up to the lighthouse, where he erected a canopy. The most expensive piece of equipment Elisabeth had bought was the mobile cell tower that was built for hard weather. Malcolm said it was the same thing climbers used on Mount Everest. Once Duncan had it secured to the ground, he had everyone check their phones for connection. No Bethel isolation this time.
Lightning flashed and far out, she spied a wall of water as it churned angrily in the storm. While Snake Island had its dangers, it was better than being on the choppy sea.
Duncan and Malcolm secured the WaveSkipper with ropes. They’d chosen a charcoal-colored tarp that matched the boat, but more importantly, matched the craggy rocks where it floated. Hopefully, no one would notice it when the sun came up.
Elisabeth shuddered at the thought of spending an entire night here but she saw no other way. They probably would not go exploring with the storm settling in. This place was dangerous, especially with the muddy, wet terrain. They would likely sleep in the tent and go searching for Medusa in the morning . . .
