|
Copyright:
Thursday, March 10, 2005 12:48:24 PM
PARADISE
ISLAND
ATLANTIC OCEAN
MORNING - DAY 3
"I know what a tidepool
is, Esther. I just don’t understand how you could construct one so
quickly!"
Scully’s patience was
already worn thin from hunger, thirst, and lack of sleep. Being stuck on a
deserted island, when she should be safely ensconced in her gleaming laboratory,
only made things worse. And Max’s newest stunt, sneaking away from their small
campsite before dawn without alerting anyone, had put the cap on her foul mood.
It took every ounce of
willpower she possessed not to snap at Penelope when the girl jogged
energetically past, kicking up wet sprays of golden-white sand. She dodged aside
to avoid being peppered, and threw a reproving glare at the perky teen’s
retreating back.
"At least one person is
enjoying this little adventure," Mulder chuckled, watching in amusement as the
effervescent youngster eagerly clambered over rocks and scattered clumps of
driftwood ahead of them. "Sure you don’t want to join her? She looks like she’s
having fun!"
Penny’s white blouse was
casually knotted around her midriff, and her long blonde hair was laced with
flowering vines. She looked more like a child exploring Disneyland than any
shipwreck survivor!
"This isn’t an
adventure," Scully snapped. "And the sooner she realizes that..."
Mulder gave up trying to
coax a smile out of his disgruntled partner, and sighed. "Well I, for one, am
grateful that she’s trying so hard to keep everyone’s spirits up. She could be
having hysterics about losing her GameBoy in the crash! Or whatever it is that
teenagers nowadays obsess about."
Though she hated to admit
it, he did have a good point. Max’s attitude was bad enough, she should be
grateful that Penny was facing this entire ordeal with such sunny excitement.
Shrugging, she morosely kicked at an upturned shell. "Well, I’m damned if I’ll
wear flowers in my hair," she muttered. "It won’t do a thing to change
the reality that we’re stranded on this island!"
Reuben and Esther had
tactfully dropped back a few lengths to allow them some privacy. "We won’t be
here for long," he promised, deliberately raising his voice. "Skinner won’t rest
until he finds us--and that won’t take him long."
Scully knew he was trying
to be encouraging, but she resented how intently he was watching her conflicting
expressions. Dammit, she could practically feel him reading her deepest
thoughts! It was no wonder his classmates at Quantico had nicknamed him
‘Spooky.’ His unnerving knack of seeing past her carefully-erected defenses
was downright spooky!
She gritted her teeth in
frustration, then heaved another deep sigh. "All right," she muttered. "I’ll try
to relax. But don’t expect miracles!"
"From a scientist?" he
retorted, smirking. "Perish the thought!"
Penelope came jogging
back at that moment, her small face glowing with pleasure. "Look at the big
shell I found, Agent Mulder!" she exclaimed, thrusting an immense pearly conch
shell into his hands. "Isn’t it pretty?"
Mulder lifted the shell
and turned it around, letting the rising sun gleam through its fragile
translucent layers. "It’s beautiful, Penny!" he agreed. "If we can clean it out
well enough, we can use it to hold water!"
The girl beamed with
delight as he carefully handed it back to her. "I’ll take it to our campsite!"
she exclaimed. Then she was gone again, buoyantly racing back up the beach.
Esther chuckled. "I get
tired just watching her!" she confessed. "Where do they get all that
energy?"
"Condensed adult," Mulder
quipped. "Less body mass to move, so the same amount of energy goes further."
"Now that describes our
grandkids perfectly!" Reuben grinned. "If we could just harness all their
energy..."
"Speaking of harnessing,"
Scully interrupted, her impatience barely concealed, "you were going to show us
how you made that tidepool?"
Esther was proud enough
of their invention to quicken her steps. "Just you wait and see," she predicted,
gesturing. "The tide’s in now, so it’s probably all underwater--but later, we’ll
be able to catch lotsa fresh fish and seafood!"
Scully turned to follow,
but not before Mulder caught another glimpse of her gnawing concern. "Let’s be
grateful for the small blessings where we can find them," he advised in a gentle
undertone. "Your shoulder’s better today, that’s cause for celebrating!"
It was...yet Scully found
it intensely perplexing. Yesterday she’d have staked her medical career on
having re-fractured her left collarbone. Hell, she’d heard it snap when
she’d slammed into Mulder during the crash! How could it possibly have healed so
quickly? Her muscles were stiff from being confined in Mulder’s makeshift
sling, but otherwise both the swelling and the pain had entirely vanished.
It seemed like a
miracle--and she was deeply skeptical of miracles.
Penelope sprinted past again, and
nimbly scrambled across the slippery rocks. Mulder anxiously drew Reuben’s
attention to the lithe teenager’s explorations. "Those undercurrents are pretty
strong!" he warned, watching the foamy waves surge in and out. "If she slips,
she could get pulled out to sea before we can reach her!"
Esther patted his arm.
"Penny told me she’s a championship swimmer. Lots of ribbons and medals on her
wall. She’ll be fine! Now the big rock she’s climbing, that marks the edge of
our tidepool!" she explained, pointing across the wave-tossed southern bay.
"Three pools on this side, and one over there! If we can make a net, then
we’ll catch some good fish!"
"A net!" Mulder stared at
her in surprise. "But we don’t have enough rope!"
Reuben grinned up at the
tall agent. "One thing this island’s got plenty of, and that’s vines! Big vines,
little vines, all nice and strong! We weave them together, and nothing
can get through! You’ll help us, yes?"
Scully slowly nodded.
"That would work, Mulder!" she agreed. "We can help for a while, but we need to
finish exploring the island, too!"
The devious sparkle in
Esther’s dark eyes almost made her reconsider hiking off with Mulder again.
Maybe she ought to take Penelope instead--just to nip any more matchmaking
attempts in the bud. She and Mulder preferred to keep their relationship
private, but it was progressing quite nicely without any well-meant
interference.
On the other hand, Scully
didn’t feel like hearing Penelope Kensington gush about her charismatic partner
all afternoon. They had more important things to worry about--like finding fresh
water and shelter, and then devising a way off this remote island. She couldn’t
wait to return home again! Her rough sketches had been lost in the crash, but
those intriguing interlocking genomic models were firmly fixed in her mind. She
wasn’t about to forget them.
Anyway, Penny might be an
expert swimmer and have a wicked tennis backhand--but she had absolutely no clue
how to survive in the wilderness. She wouldn’t know a shelter-half from an
entrenching tool, to borrow a line from one of Mulder’s favorite
60’s-underground songs. Already she’d nearly walked right through a huge
spider’s web, kicked over a fallen log crawling with stinging centipedes, and
almost eaten some juicy white berries that would have given her severe stomach
cramps. Only quick action on Mulder’s part had prevented several other minor
crises--and given the girl even more reasons to worship him.
Mulder spotted the
dangerous light in Scully’s narrowed eyes, and quickly intervened. People had
been trying to play matchmaker with them for years, and he knew how much it
infuriated her.
He’d learned to shrug it
off the way he did with most things he couldn’t control. For Scully it hadn’t
been quite that simple. She’d taken a lot of teasing in the beginning, when
certain co-workers had thought their partnership was based on budding romance,
not direct orders from her superiors.
Esther seemed blissfully
unaware of the undercurrents she’d caused. "I started stripping some vines
yesterday, while Penny and I were fishing," she announced. "We need to store
that grain you found, and there’s plenty of fresh berries for flavoring. You
wanta learn how to weave baskets, I’ll teach you how to do it."
Penelope was already
rocketing further down the beach. Chuckling, the older couple followed her at a
more sedate pace.
"Mulder?" Scully
hesitated a moment, then laid a gentle hand on her partner’s arm. Frothy waves
were tumbling over the rocks, spraying him with fine mist, then ebbing into the
next barrage of incoming waves. The perpetual crash-and-hiss was hypnotic. He
blinked a few times, and seemed to come back from a tremendous distance. "Come
on, Mulder, let’s go!" she urged. "We’ll see the tidepool later, when there’s
something to see."
"Yeah." He slowly turned
to follow her, then glanced back over his shoulder again. "It’s beautiful, isn’t
it? I’d almost forgotten how powerful the ocean can be!"
Scully favored him with a
baleful glare. "It just seems that way because it’s got us trapped here!" she
muttered.
"It seems that way," he
corrected, unruffled, "because it is. Primitive cultures have always held the
sea in the highest respect! Look how many myths and legends are based around the
ocean’s mystique!"
"Deluded primitives," she
scoffed, quickening her pace.
He couldn’t resist
teasing her, just a little. "Now Scully, where’s your sense of romance?" he
protested.
Romance!
Incensed, she stopped
short and jammed both fists on her slender hips. "This may have escaped your
notice, Mulder," she snarled, "but we are FBI agents, responsible for protecting
civilian lives. The world is about to be destroyed, we are shipwrecked on a
deserted island, and there are no rescue ships in sight! We do not have time
for romance!"
"Oh yeah?" He risked
bloodshed by stroking her windblown auburn hair. "Last night by the campfire was
pretty romantic, don’t you think? Just you and me and the stars..."
"...and a thousand hungry
mosquitoes out for our blood!" Dammit, this was a crisis situation! Why couldn’t
he understand that too much was at stake for these kinds of sophomoric games?
Where was the practical, objective agent she’d come to rely on?
Mulder let his hand fall
away, and stepped back. He was just as practical and objective as he’d ever
been--but over the last year, he’d also learned to cherish the small, quiet
moments that made life worthwhile. She’d taught him a lot during the past
decade. If he could someday return the favor by impressing that one small lesson
on her, life would be good. For both of them.
But now wasn’t the time,
when her eyes were sparkling with anger and frustration. "Too bad there was no
mosquito repellent in the emergency kit," he shrugged, and turned to follow the
Schaumbergs.
His sudden withdrawal
left Scully oddly troubled. Just when she thought she understood him, he kept
changing the rules. It was maddening--and disturbing.
And that, she thought
with a resigned sigh, was Fox Mulder.• • • • • •
The
first thing that struck Mulder, when he rounded the southern point, was how
natural everything looked. Esther and Penny were huddled close together near the
waving grain field, concentrating on a pile of wide fronds in the older woman’s
lap. Reuben was a few yards away, methodically slicing broad leaves off a long
woody vine. He felt as though he’d stepped right into a scene from Little
House on the Prairie. If a dusty Conestoga wagon had rattled past at that
moment, it wouldn’t have surprised him at all.
Given their grim
predicament, the last thing he’d expected from their four civilian companions
was cheerful competence. He’d been braced for fear, complaints, hysteria, anger,
even depression. Instead, they were behaving as if shipwreck was an everyday
occurrence! To be sure, he was grateful for the reprieve--but it was a
little unnerving.
"Now you hold the pieces
together like this," Esther was explaining as Scully joined them, "and tighten
the slipknot at the center. Then you start weaving this long piece in and out
real careful, in a circular pattern. Press it tight each time. You see how it’s
done?"
Penny watched intently as
the older woman curled plump fingers through several wide fronds and drew them
together in a rough circle. "It looks easy when you do it," she exclaimed,
impressed, as a sturdy basket began to emerge from the tangle of flexible grass
blades. "Look, Agent Mulder, isn’t that just totally cool?"
It was, but basket
weaving was a skill he’d prefer leaving to Esther. Before he could be included
in the impromptu lesson, he took a hasty step back.
Reuben reached for
another thick vine, and his pocketknife flashed in the bright sunlight. "Once
all these leaves are gone, we need to strip off the outer bark," he remarked.
"Takes strong hands to peel bark off without damaging it. And we’re gonna need
lots of vines, to make that big net of Esther’s."
Another task he was
dreading. Swallowing, Mulder glanced around the clearing, as if seeking escape.
"We, um...we still need to check out the eastern cliffs and the north point
today, Scully," he reminded his grinning partner.
Some devilish impulse
made her ignore his silent appeal. "Oh, I don’t know, Mulder!" she exclaimed,
her voice sugary-sweet with teasing malice. "I’d really like learning how
to weave baskets! Think of all the ways we could use them to clean up your old
office!"
His answering glare could
only be described as murderous.
Reuben chuckled. "Go on,
you two, get out of here. Find us some fresh water and a nice big cave! Momma
and me, we’ll handle things here."
Mulder needed no further
urging. Forsaking dignity, he beat a hasty retreat into the sheltering forest.
• • • • • •
"Watch
your step, this shale is treacherous." Mulder grabbed Scully’s arm as she slid a
few feet down the steep slope, then awkwardly regained her balance. "Not a very
inviting landscape, is it?"
Thoughtfully she shaded
her eyes, and peered up the coast. The island’s eastern side was startlingly
different from the western shore where they’d landed. Instead of lush trees and
rounded hills sloping gently down from the summit, these craggy hillsides were
covered with loose razor-edged shale.
Three hundred feet
downhill, the steep mountainside sheered away abruptly, plunging down to the
ocean in a dizzying drop. Almost like it was hacked away with a gigantic cosmic
knife, she mused, eyeing the stark panorama with a pensive frown.
Rolling surf pounded
against the lower cliffs with unceasing vigor, sending plumes of foam soaring up
into the air. She lifted her face, briefly enjoying the water’s cool caress, as
wind-driven mist sprayed across the shale plateau.
"Look, I’ll bet there’s a
cave down there," Mulder pointed. "See how the cliff face curves in at the
bottom? Classic textbook case of water erosion. Depending on which direction the
fault lines run, the wave pressure either forces upward to create a spout, like
the ones showering us right now, or chisels deeper into the hillside, creating a
cavern."
"It’d only be accessible
at low tides, then," Scully contended. "That won’t do us a lot of good."
Mulder conceded her
point, but couldn’t resist slip-sliding closer to the edge for a better look. "I
still think we should check it out! Look at those narrow rocks, Scully, jutting
out from the cliff base like two long fingers! That’s probably what’s left of
the original cavern entrance, before the roof collapsed."
Scully’s heart pounded as
his feet slipped, and he skidded perilously close to the sheer drop-off before
scrabbling to a clumsy stop. "Mulder, be careful! How are you going to get back
up here now?"
He grinned back up at
her, and pitched his voice to carry over the roaring surf. "Going down!" he
yelled. "There’s a path here! Have to find a way back up somewhere else!"
Before she could do more
than gasp, he careened off the edge and disappeared.
"Mulder!"
Sheer panic propelled her
into motion. Then she saw the path he’d taken, barely wide enough for a mountain
goat, and so steep that her chest clenched tight with momentary terror. "Damn
you, Mulder!"
She had no choice but to
follow, and cursed him under her breath with every perilous step. He had no
right risking his safety this way, when so many lives were depending on him!
Then she saw him ahead,
clinging to an outcropping of rock so he could lean far out over the edge. "I
was right!" he yelled over his shoulder. "There is a cave! See, right between
those two stone fingers! I wonder how deep it goes!"
Exasperated, she jammed
both fists on her hips. "I don’t care if it honeycombs the entire damned island,
Mulder, we can’t get in there until the tide recedes! So forget about it! How
are we going to get back up to the summit again?"
He turned then, eyes
sparkling with excitement, and pointed to a narrow ledge extending around the
cliff’s edge. "Twelve paces out, there’s a narrow blowhole, and it’s dry right
now. Tide hasn’t risen far enough to make it dangerous. We can climb up that, no
problem!"
No problem, huh?
"Fine!" she yelled back. "You go first!"
Grinning, he motioned for
her to follow, and edged out onto the narrow ledge. Scully kept her back firmly
pressed against the cliff wall as she cautiously inched after him.
Nine steps... Ten
steps... Eleven steps...
Her outstretched fingers
curled into a deep cavity. Barely daring to breathe, she peered over her left
shoulder and glimpsed a dark hole in the glistening black rock. Mulder was
already inside, clinging to the sheer walls like a gangly monkey. "See! I told
you it was here!" he yelled out to her. His rich voice sounded distorted,
echoing, through the narrow crevice.
If he could do it, so
could she. Scully gritted her teeth, and swung around to face the cliff. For one
brief moment she was suspended out over the churning waves; then her searching
fingers dug into the sturdy rock. Heart pounding, she gulped in a deep breath of
air.
The blowhole was several
hundred feet tall. She could hear surf pounding at the bottom, booming every
time a wave plunged into the crevice. Before long, pressure would force the
salty water up, making the walls too slippery to scale.
"Come on!" Mulder was
already climbing, grabbing weathered handholds she hadn’t noticed. No worse than
the rock walls back at Quantico, she consoled herself, and scrambled
into the confining fissure. Her ears instantly popped.
Cold stone cut into her
palms as she struggled to ascend the sheer face. At least here, unlike at the
Academy, she could brace a foot on the opposite wall and give her aching
shoulder a quick rest.
The chasing echoes were
starting to play tricks on her mind. Or maybe it was seagulls screeching far
overhead. Only her imagination could possibly be creating half-audible words
from the wild sounds pummeling her ears!
Gasping, Scully scrabbled
faster, then nearly screamed when Mulder’s strong hands clasped around her
straining wrists. One quick pull, and she was sprawling across the sharp rocks
beside him. A low groan echoed in her throat as the elusive sounds faded into
merciful oblivion.
The overhead sun was hot
on her back, but she couldn’t muster the strength to move just yet. Her mind was
whirling in a dozen different directions at once, peppering her consciousness
like overzealous gnats. Yesterday’s crash, Mulder’s insane ‘bounce’ theory, her
shoulder’s miraculous healing, their harrowing climb up the blowhole...
Suddenly she bolted
upright, scattering loose shale in all directions. "How did you know that hole
was there?" she demanded.
They'd taken shifts
staying awake last night to watch for ships, but neither had gotten much rest.
And the sunlight and waves were so soothing, Mulder had almost fallen asleep.
His eyes slowly opened as she leaned over him. "What?"
"That blowhole!" She
grabbed his arm, and waved back down the coast. "You shot down that ledge like
you’d traveled it a hundred times! But we’ve never been here before! How could
you possibly know that blowhole was twelve paces further along the path?"
"I..." His brows slowly
drew together in a bewildered frown. "I don’t know," he finally confessed. "I
just--knew it!"
A cold shudder rippled
down Scully’s spine, and she scrambled to her feet. "This place is creepy. Let’s
get out of here!"
• • • • • •
The
more she saw, the spookier the island was becoming.
For one thing, everything
was too big. Or else she’d somehow shrunk. She’d seen large trees before, but
who had ever heard of eighteen-inch bananas? Wild grain nearly triple its normal
size? Purple grapes the length of her thumb? Lemons the size of navel oranges, oranges
the size of grapefruits. And all of them sweet, succulent, utterly delicious!
The crystal-clear water
that fizzed on their tongues, the huge tender fish that had practically
sacrificed themselves on Esther’s fruit-baited fish hooks, the gigantic coconuts
that fell open in neat sections with barely a tap. She was starting to feel like
Alice in psychedelic Wonderland!
Something really strange
was happening here--but she hadn’t a clue what could be causing it.
"Look at those papayas!"
They were climbing back down the western ridge again, and heading north. Mulder
whistled reverently, and pointed up into the branches of a huge overhanging
tree. Heavy greenish fruits the size of basketballs were dangling in clusters,
tantalizingly out of reach. "I’ve never seen them grow that big before!"
Scully’s damp skin
prickled with foreboding. "Then it isn’t just me," she frowned. "Mulder, doesn’t
it strike you as odd, how big everything is?"
He thought about it for a
moment, then dismissed her concern with an airy shrug. "This is a closed
ecology, Scully," he pointed out. "These trees might have started out as seeds
dropped by birds from the mainland, but over time they’ve evolved in their own
way. The right mix of mineral nutrients and fresh water could easily explain
it."
She leveled a hard glare
at him. "Do you have any idea how long it would take for plants to evolve the
way we’ve seen?"
He laid a hand on thick
gnarled bark, as if trying to estimate the tree’s age through physical contact.
"No telling how many millions of years ago the original seeds were scattered
here," he concluded with another shrug. "Don’t worry about it, Scully.
Everything’s delicious, and no one’s gotten sick yet. Not even Penny. Under the
circumstances, I’d say this is the least of our worries."
Scully slowly nodded, but
he could see worry gnawing away inside her. "What’s wrong, Dana?" he urged,
looping a comforting arm around her shoulders. "Still worrying about your
collarbone?"
She took a deep,
steadying breath as they sank down to rest beneath the massive papaya tree, then
leaned her head against its shaggy bark. "I’m worried about Reuben," she
murmured.
Mulder blinked, and
carefully reorganized his thoughts. "What’s wrong with Reuben? He’s old, of
course, but I’d say he’s holding up tremendously well. It’s like a grand
adventure to him!"
She pursed her lips, then
confessed, "I found a bottle of nitroglycerin tablets in the sand where he was
sleeping last night."
"Nitroglycerine?"
Mulder sobered.
"You think he has a heart condition?"
"Probably vascular
angina," she clarified. "I’m afraid of what might happen if he’s pushed too
hard."
Their simple first aid
kit could handle cuts, bruises, minor burns. A heart attack could be fatal,
particularly for a seventy-year-old man.
Still, if he was taking
regular medication... "Chronic angina is controllable, isn’t it?" he urged.
Scully laced her fingers
around one dirty knee, and released a heavy sigh. "It can be contained with
proper medication," she agreed. "Angina is commonly caused by arterial blockage,
a buildup of cholesterol plaque deposits that clog the arteries and impairs
blood flow to the heart. When the heart’s circulation is sufficiently impaired,
a shortage of oxygen results, causing terrible chest pains.
"Nitroglycerin is the
most widely-used vasodilator on the current market," she added with a frown. "It
relaxes and expands the blood vessels surrounding the heart, effectively
relieving the patient’s pain. But it won’t cure the condition."
Mulder scowled. "So it’s
like a time bomb, just waiting to go off at the worst possible moment."
Scully took a deep,
thoughtful breath. "In some ways, yes," she conceded. "Proper diet, moderate
exercise, and basic common sense can reduce the possibility of a serious attack.
We can help by making sure that Reuben doesn’t overextend himself."
Mulder considered for a
moment, then nodded. "Right. Well, he enjoys cooking, and he’s damned good at
it. So--we bring the food to him, keep him from exerting himself, and dine in
high style. That sounds like a win-win scenario to me!"
It wasn’t nearly that
simple, but his optimism made Scully smile. "I figure, if we hurry up checking
out the north point, we just might have time to backtrack for some of those
grapes and oranges we saw earlier up on the ridge."
Grinning, her lanky
partner jumped up and dusted off his dirt-stained jeans. "Then what are we
waiting for?"
• • • • • •
Mid-afternoon found them carefully hiking around the island’s northern flank. It
was like walking onto a barren lunar landscape. The lush sheltering trees ended
abruptly where huge gray boulders rose from the rich dark soil. Only coarse
lichen and a few tiny flowers dared to brave the stark vista.
"We’re not going to find
any food here," Mulder commented, touching a patch of dried moss. It crumbled
beneath his restless fingers.
"Four different sides,"
Scully murmured, her smooth forehead creased in an anxious frown. "Four totally
disparate environments. It’s like somebody split this island into quadrants,
Mulder, and used it as a giant Petri dish to see what would grow in each
sector!"
His shocked stare made
her realize how fanciful her impulsive analysis sounded, and she tossed him a
quick apologetic grin. "Come on, let’s get back in the shade, before we fry
completely. Maybe we’ll find something useful on our way back to camp."
Cooling mist sprayed over
them as they gratefully slipped back into the leafy shadows. Bright-colored
parrots darted overhead, screeching in raucous voices. Scully’s sample
bag--their survival kit’s plastic outer pouch--bulged with the fruit she’d been
collecting all morning. But she couldn’t resist snapping off a gigantic lime and
trying to tuck it into a spare corner. "One thing’s for sure," she decided with
visible satisfaction. "We won’t starve to death while we’re waiting to be
rescued."
"Not while Reuben and
Esther are around," he agreed. "I wonder if Penny’s learned how to make a basket
by now."
"Probably looks like a
flat tire," Scully scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I’ve never known anyone less
suited for traipsing around outdoors!"
Privately Mulder had to
agree. Penelope Kensington was an accident waiting for a place to happen. But
somehow he felt honor-bound to defend the girl. "She’s young yet, and she’s
never even been on a camping trip," he pointed out. "She’s learning fast, and
excited to be having such a wonderful adventure."
Adventure! Scully
kicked at a trailing vine in rampant disgust. Didn’t anyone understand
that this was a disaster, not a Sunday picnic?
Suddenly she skidded to a
halt so abruptly that he bumped into her. "Mulder--don’t move!" she hissed,
staring up into the overhead branches. "We’ve got company!"
A large green snake was
coiled a few feet over their heads, lazily flicking its amber tongue through the
hot air. His nerves tightened. "It’s a tree python," he murmured in her ear.
"Not big enough to hurt us--but your hand might go numb if it wrapped around
your wrist."
It was a snake, that was
bad enough for her. "Let’s not test it," she muttered, and took several slow,
cautious steps backwards.
Mulder warily retreated
with her. "Now we know what eats all those frogs we heard a while ago," he
commented as they made a wide berth around the python’s perch. "Too bad they
aren’t bigger, we could have frogs’ legs for dinner sometime!"
Scully grimaced. "You get
to clean them!" Then she cast wary eyes at the nearest foliage. "I wonder how
many other snakes are hiding in the shadows!"
He didn’t particularly
like snakes, but he didn’t hate them like she did. Of course, he didn’t have the
same reasons to hate them, either. "Probably a few," he shrugged. "But it can’t
be any worse than back at the Bureau! At least that one wasn’t poisonous..."
This time he was the one
who halted abruptly. Scully’s head snapped up in alarm. "Mulder, what...?"
Then she saw it, too, and
her pulse quickened. "A cave?" she whispered, dropping her sample bag onto a
thick pile of moss.
In unison they reached
for their guns, and inched forward. "No large animal tracks around the
entrance," he observed, peering through the scattered bushes. "No snake trails,
either."
Scully made a disgusted
sound, and he grinned. "Ready to check inside?"
The entrance was narrow,
barely wide enough for them to step through together. But inside, it expanded
into a spacious dimly-lit chamber. Faint shafts of light slanted through the
ceiling, and glittered off mica fragments in the sandy floor.
"We’re going to need a
torch," Scully advised. "Come on, let’s get back to the others. They’ll want to
see this!"
• • • • • •
Penny’s basket did indeed look like a leaking tire, but she was
so proud of it that Scully couldn’t bear to tease her about its odd shape. As
Mulder had said, the girl was learning fast, and seemed eager to prove herself.
A lot like she herself had been at that impressionable age, Scully thought with
a pang of wistful surprise.
The moment they mentioned
the word ‘cave,’ the morning’s exertions were forgotten. All three refugees
surged to their feet, eager to explore. Scully prudently grabbed the first aid
kit, while Mulder and Reuben fashioned rough torches from sap-sticky lengths of
wood. Then she led the way back up the beach.
"We should have
headed north this morning, Mulder," she suddenly chuckled, slanting a humorous
grin up at her partner. "We’d have found it right away. Last time I let you
lead the way!"
It was an old joke, but
Mulder matched her knowing grin. "Ten years, Scully!" he retorted.
"Yeah, but you weren’t
driving this time!" she countered, nudging his ribs with one elbow.
If one knew where to
look, the shadowed cave was just barely visible from the sloping sandy beach.
Scully was glad they’d taken a moment to build a small rocky cairn at the trees’
edge, because the fitful breeze had already obliterated their shallow
footprints.
Mulder stepped through
the entrance first, and raised his flickering torch high. Now he could see that
the chamber extended deep into the hillside, and split off into dark passages at
the far end.
"It’s big enough to hold
twenty people!" Esther gasped in delight as she crowded in on Reuben’s heels.
Any shelter in a storm would have been sufficient, but she’d dreaded being
crammed into a tiny rat’s hole. This was everything she’d dared hope for, and
more!
Reuben watched their
torch smoke pool along the ceiling, then slowly seep through the sunlit little
holes. Probably left over from tree roots that had bored through the heavy stone
eons ago, he guessed. And the sandy floor was dry and clean. Perfect for
cooking, if he could dig deeply enough to make a firepit. Delighted by the
prospects, he thrust his long torch deep into the sand, and bent to scrape away
at the top layer.
Esther and Penny were
already peering into the left tunnel, their eyes wide with avid curiosity.
Mulder held his torch high as they edged forward, cautiously exploring. Four
mid-sized chambers opened off the short passage in a rough semicircle. Though
Scully searched the sandy floors carefully, she saw nothing to suggest animal
visitations. Her tensed nerves began to relax slightly.
"These would work
perfectly as bedrooms," Esther murmured, nodding her approval. "Not that we’ll
need ’em long, but we might as well be comfy while we’re here."
"I want to see what’s in
the other tunnel," Penelope decided, and eagerly traipsed back out. "C’mon,
Momma! Hurry up!"
The right tunnel
dead-ended in a wide crevice that sank several feet deeper into the grayish
bedrock. "Gee, it’s cold down here!" Penny exclaimed, jumping down for a closer
look. "This’d be a great place to store the food we’ve collected, wouldn’t it,
Momma?"
Esther beamed down at the
girl. "Best place in the world," she agreed, pleased by how well the teenager
was coping with being marooned. "Those baskets we wove this morning, they’ll fit
nicely in this corner here. We can make racks to dry fish and seafood, and pile
up fresh fruit on that ledge back there by your shoulder. A perfect larder!"
Mulder was perfectly
content to let Esther take command of their food supply. Anyone who could manage
a thriving restaurant for thirty-five years could certainly handle feeding this
small motley group.
He was just turning to
follow them back outside when a darker shadow caught his attention. He lifted
the torch higher, and took a closer look. "Scully!"
She dashed back in, one
hand reaching for her 9mm, at his startled shout. "Mulder, where are you?"
"In here!" Wavering light
spilled out of a tight fissure in the wall. "Come look!"
She eased into the rocky
slit, and followed it to the left. Cool humidity prickled her exposed skin.
Mulder’s torch reflected off a million sparkling facets as she stepped into
paradise.
Water! It was
trickling down the stone walls, dripping from the ceiling, overflowing a huge
rocky basin at their feet. The very air seemed fresher here, sweet and full of
energy.
Suddenly parched, she
bent and lifted a double-handful to her mouth. It tingled on her tongue, just
like the rainwater they’d sampled up on the ridge. Only here, having already
been filtered through rock and sand on its trip down the mountainside, it was
undoubtedly safer to drink.
"Agent Mulder? Agent
Scully?" Esther’s worried voice seemed very far away.
"In here!" she called
back, then winced as echoes bounced around the room. "Can you make it through
the opening?"
Esther was plump, but
determined. Puffing with the effort, she forced herself through the narrow
niche--then goggled in wonder.
Penny and Reuben charged
in after her. "It looks like Aladdin’s cave!" the teenager gasped, delighted.
"Totally cool! Is it safe to drink?"
Yes, she was learning
fast. Mulder jammed his torch into a niche in the wall, and bent to follow
Scully’s example. "It’s cold and clean and delicious!" he announced, sighing
with pure atavistic pleasure. "Plenty for all, dig in!"
They needed no further
encouragement. Laughter echoed around the chamber as they satisfied deep thirsts
only partially sated by fresh fruit and the tepid rainwater still in their
emergency raft. Never again, Mulder reflected as cool droplets trickled down his
unshaven chin, would he take drinking for granted! If it was possible to get
drunk on sweet spring water, he was going to die a happy man.
Finally he leaned back,
and struggled to marshal his scattered thoughts. "Scully and I saw some heavy
clouds building along the horizon earlier. If they head our way, we may get some
rough weather."
Esther’s round face
puckered in dismay. "All the work we did this morning! It’ll be ruined if the
rain washes it away! Penny, you help me carry in the baskets and grain. We’ll
need more firewood..."
"We’ll all help." Scully
pushed herself upright, and followed the older woman back through the narrow
entrance. Later they’d have to see about widening it, so Esther could get
through without risking injury. "Mulder and I collected plenty of fruit.
Everything can be stored here."
Suddenly Penelope dashed
past them. "Listen! I hear Maxie! And he’s calling for help!"
Before the others could
respond, she sprinted outside, and dashed down the shore. Frightened gulls
soared into the air, hazing the air with white and gray feathers, as she rounded
the corner and disappeared.
The two FBI agents
exchanged chagrined glances, and rushed after her. How could they have forgotten
about Max all day?
Esther and Reuben trotted
out of the cave. Mulder hesitated long enough to wave them back. "You get more
firewood!" he ordered. "We’ll bring everything else back with us!"
"But watch out for tree
pythons!" Scully shouted over her shoulder, and sprinted down the beach.
A strange sight greeted
her as she pounded around the ridge, weapon drawn. Penelope and Max were darting
in tight circles, arms flailing, around a huge lumbering shape in the sand. A
sea tortoise? Relieved, she holstered her gun and hurried to help them.
"Get around him!" Penny
gasped, waving her arms as the bewildered tortoise butted hard against her legs,
nearly knocking her down. "He keeps trying to get back into the water!"
"There’s a big storm
brewing!" Max gasped, holding his ribs with one arm. "I was coming back--to warn
you--when I saw him on the shore!" He fell back, breathless, as Mulder and
Scully took his place, herding the large turtle away from the surf.
It outweighed them by
hundreds of pounds. Reluctantly Scully drew her gun, and sighted on the
creature’s massive head. "Stand back, everyone!"
Penelope screamed in
horrified protest as she pulled the trigger. The tortoise emitted a shrill,
strangled cry, then slumped gracefully into the sand.
"How could you?"
Tears streaming down her face, the distraught girl hurled herself at Scully.
"How could you kill it? It wasn’t hurting anyone!"
Mulder grabbed at Penny
before she could take a wild swing at his startled partner, but she wrenched
away from him, then dashed back up the beach. Max stared after her in blank
confusion. "What’s her problem?" he demanded. "Now we have enough food to last a
couple days!"
"And a pot to cook it
in," Mulder agreed, tapping the sturdy tortoise shell with one foot. "Don’t
worry, Max. She’ll get over it soon enough."
Scully was more shaken by
the near-attack than she cared to admit. She forced herself to take a deep,
calming breath, and carefully reholstered her gun. "I imagine she’s never seen
anything die before. Catching this poor fellow was just a game until I shot it."
Max stared down at the
massive carcass for a long moment. "I know you had to kill it, but I feel bad,
too," he finally admitted. "It was so confused and frightened. It didn’t know
what we were going to do."
Scully laid a gentle hand
on the boy’s shoulder. "We all feel bad, Max. But we need to survive,
too! People are searching for us right now--our supervisor, your parents,
Penelope’s father--and we can’t let them down!"
Sudden hostility blazed
in Max’s eyes as he threw off her hand and backed away. "My parents don’t give a
damn what happens to me!" he snarled. "All my life I’ve just been in
their way! That’s why they keep sending me off to boarding schools, vacations,
anything to get rid of me! Penny’s father may be searching for her--but
I’ll bet you a month’s salary that my parents aren’t lifting a finger!"
The two agents stared in
silent dismay as he turned and charged up the beach after Penelope.
"Well!" Mulder finally
murmured, shaking his head. "That certainly explains a lot!"
Scully slowly nodded. It
did, indeed--but right now, that explanation solved nothing. The wind was
rising, a storm was brewing. They had crucial supplies to gather, and a very
heavy meal to drag up the shore.
She bent down to study
the tortoise shell for a moment, then grabbed a corner and tried to flip it
over. "Help me roll this thing onto its back, Mulder," she urged. "It’ll slide
better that way."
|
