Airborn (12 page)

We just stared at her, the three of us, in amazement.

“We’re lucky to have you, Miss de Vries,” said Bruce graciously.

“Miss de Vries,” I said, “please don’t tell the captain what useless clods we are, or we’ll all be out of work.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” she said, smiling.

“We’d better go take a look at this stream and report back to the captain,” said Baz. “Everyone’s agreed I found it, right, and I had to fight a crocodile and piranhas on the way? Good. Thank you very much, Miss de Vries. You’re a font of wisdom.”

“All from books,” she said.

“I must read them more often,” said Baz.

The three of us said good-bye and ventured up the beach to find Kate’s stream. Before long we caught sight of a little network of rivulets cutting through the sand and emptying into the lagoon. We followed them into the forest where they all joined up and formed a single stream. I bent down and had a taste. Silky fresh. I splashed some on my face. It was cold enough to make my cheekbones ache. I closed my eyes.

“All right?” Baz said to me. “You look a little woozy.”

“I don’t like the way the ground feels under my feet,” I told him.

“You should get some sleep, mate.”

“I’ll sleep later. I’ll sleep when we get off this blinking island.”

“Don’t fancy lugging buckets of water back to the ship much,” said Baz, turning to see how far it was to the
Aurora.

“Well, the captain’s not giving us that order yet,” Lunardi said. “He just asked us to find a stream. Here it is. Not going anywhere.”

“Right you are,” said Baz. “This is good news. We won’t die of thirst, at any rate.” He sighed and his shoulders sagged a little. “Bloody hell. I had plans in Sydney.”

“I should get back,” said Lunardi. “Still plenty of patching to do.”

“Will there be enough hydrium left?” I asked. I didn’t like having to ask him. Were I a sailmaker, I would’ve known. Then I wouldn’t have to be making picnic lunches for the passengers.

“I don’t know,” Lunardi admitted. “Shall we head back?”

“You two go on ahead,” I said. “I need some more fresh air.”

“See you back at the ship, then,” Baz said, asking me with his eyes if I was okay. I gave a nod.

I walked a little farther out along the beach. If I’d seen this view in a book, I would’ve said it was beautiful, an image of tropical paradise. But I felt like a convict who’d just been dumped on a prison island. All my thoughts were of escape.

I turned and slowly made my way back toward the
Aurora.
Kate was still standing alone with her journal, scribbling. It irritated me suddenly, all her intense talk about mysterious winged creatures—it seemed childish right now. What was important was the ship, getting airborne. I felt too sour to speak with her and would have turned away, but she’d already seen me.

“Hello,” she said with a smile. “I was hoping you’d come back alone.”

Amazing how a few words can change everything. I felt a bit of air enter my lungs.

“I wanted to thank you,” she said.

“For what?” I asked, confused.

“When you were helping us on with our life jackets—”

“I was just doing my duty—”

“But it was the way you talked to all of us. You made things seem like they were going to be
perfectly all right.”

“I was lying,” I said.

“I thought you were, but it was still immensely comforting.”

“I shouldn’t have said I was lying,” I added hurriedly. “I don’t want you to think we lie all the time or anything. And everything did turn out all right, didn’t it? Maybe not perfectly all right, but—”

“I understand.” She smiled. Despite her parasol, her cheeks were flushed from the sun. Her hair looked redder in the full light. Maybe it was just the red bows—girls knew how to do these things.

“A desert island,” she said, as if it was the most fabulous thing in the world. “Do you have any idea where we are?”

“They said it was uncharted.”

“Uncharted,” she repeated with real zest. “Do you think we’re the first people ever to set foot here?”

“Can’t say I’ve given it much thought.”

I gazed over at the
Aurora,
bellied up on the sand like a beached whale. Palm trees shifted in the warm breeze. My feet felt alternately heavy as cement blocks or so light they barely touched ground. The whole world looked swimmy to me, unreal.

“Well,” Kate was saying, “I read this terrific book
a few months ago about a girl shipwrecked on a desert island. Completely alone.”

“No chaperone?” I asked.

“Actually, I think she did have a maid, but that was it. They had to build their own shelter and hunt for food. It’s really fabulous.”

“I’m glad being shipwrecked appeals to you.”

“Captain Walken made a point of avoiding that word.”

“Well, he was trying to keep everyone jolly, wasn’t he? It’s no good having everyone running around screaming and eating each other.”

“I wouldn’t run around screaming,” she said. “I can see eating someone in a pinch, though. If it really came down to it, I mean.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“Come on, Matt Cruse, don’t you find it just a bit exciting, being here?”

“No.”

She looked at me as if I’d suggested we stop breathing for a few hours.

“Well, I’d expected more from you,” she said.

My heart raced with anger. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we’ve been boarded by pirates, had one of our crew murdered, and crash-landed on a desert island no one knows exists. The ship might not fly
again. Me, I find this upsetting. But go ahead, think of it like a voyage, tropical beach holiday, and fairy tale, all three for the price of one.”

Kate looked at the sand, contrite, and I almost regretted my sharpness. “I’m sorry. How obtuse of me. You must think me a complete fool.”

I couldn’t help smiling.

“Although,” she said, looking off into the distance again, “I guess technically it’s not really a desert island. That would imply very little flora or fauna, which is obviously not the case here. Are you off duty?”

“For a time, yes.”

“Well, here’s what I’m thinking, Matt Cruse. I don’t think we’re the first people to lay eyes on this island.”

“No?” She had that look. There was no turning away when she shone her eyes on you like that. I should have known we weren’t in for just a simple little chat on the beach.

“No.” Sand and palm trees and blue sky blazed in her eyes. She patted the journal. “Did you read Grandfather’s description of the island?”

“Skimmed over it mostly. I wanted to get to the creatures.”

“Completely understandable. Just listen to this.”
She opened the log—she must have had a bookmark, for she didn’t even need to flip pages. She just started reading: “It looks a tropical place, with a crescent shaped beach behind a green lagoon, and densely forested.’”

She closed the book and looked up at me triumphantly. No wonder she was so chipper. We’d crash-landed in the middle of nowhere, but she was in high spirits because she actually thought we’d ended up on the same island where her grandfather had sighted his winged creatures.

“Miss, that would—”

“You’re supposed to call me Kate.”

“Kate. That would describe pretty much every volcanic island in this part of the Pacificus.”

“Yesterday you said our course would take us close to his coordinates. Sometime in the early morning you said?”

I sighed. “Anything’s possible, but let’s say I think it improbable.”

She frowned and opened the book again, turning pages, looking for more evidence.

“I could ask Grantham if he has coordinates for the island,” I offered. “He might not have exact ones; I don’t know how much time he had to chart our course with all the business last night.”

“Would you?” she said, looking up.

“Yes,” I said, but then something in the log caught my eye. It was one of the drawings of the creatures. In the background Kate’s grandfather had sketched a bit of the island. I hadn’t really paid attention to it before.

It was the mountain, the bony peak poking into the sky. I remembered the outline of that peak as we’d made our dawn approach. Startled, I looked back at Kate.

“We’re here,” I said.

I’d scarcely uttered the words before Kate was walking across the beach, away from the ship, away from the other passengers, toward the forest. I fell into step beside her as she strode through the palm trees.

“Where do you think you’re going?” I asked.

“We need to explore.”

“The captain doesn’t want us wandering off.”

“That’s not what he said.”

“That’s what it sounded like to me.”

“No. He said to make sure a crew member accompanied us if we ventured inland. Are you a member of the crew?”

“You know I am.”

“You’re accompanying me.”

“No, I’m not. I’m not coming.”

“Good-bye, then.”

We’d left the palms behind and were now in a bamboo grove, the yellow knobbly trunks as thick as
my body, towering a hundred feet in the air. The white sand had given way to soil and ferns. Before us hung the dense green veil of the forest. Just looking at it made me feel all hemmed in.

“What about Miss Simpkins?” I cried.

“Her? She’ll sleep for hours. She excels at sleeping.”

Not much of a chaperone, our Miss Simpkins.

“Look, you can’t just wander off alone!”

“Are you going to stop me?”

“Yes.”

“How?” She stopped and looked at me, genuinely interested. “Would you grab me and drag me back?”

I blushed at the thought of it.

“Do you have handcuffs?” she wanted to know.

“Of course not!”

“You’d have quite a job if I struggled.”

“I suppose I would, yes.”

“Do you think you could flip me over your shoulder and carry me?” She puzzled over this for a moment. “I’m not sure you could manage it, if you don’t mind me saying so. Otherwise, you’d just have to drag me. Really, it seems hard to imagine you bringing me back unless I cooperated.”

I laughed despite myself. “I was hoping you’d
listen to a bit of reason.”

“Reason,” she said. “How’s this for reason: this is the same island my grandfather saw. The creatures flew around this island. Remember, he saw that newborn fall into the trees. If it died, its bones should still be here somewhere. And surely there are others who died here. Bones, Matt, that’s what I’m after.”

“Fine, but we can’t just go wandering into the forest. It’s not safe.”

“It’s perfectly safe.” She kept walking.

“Miss de Vries, I must insist you come back.”

“I’ll be fine,” she called over her shoulder with a cheery wave. “Don’t you worry about me.”

I folded my arms across my chest and smiled. She would stop. When she realized I wasn’t about to rush after her, she would have second thoughts about pushing on into that forest alone. By this point she was getting quite far away and showed no signs of faltering. She pushed through some thick fronds, and I lost sight of her altogether.

I started counting. By ten she’d be peeping out from behind the foliage to see if I was coming.

By twenty she hadn’t reappeared.

“Bloody hell,” I muttered, running to catch up.

The foliage was so high and thick now I couldn’t
see the sky. The humid air pressed against my chest. Great pinelike trees, with slender drooping branches, bristled with spiky flowers. Ferns and fronds and vines and brilliant petals were everywhere. A shrieking parrot flashed by, scarlet and green. Insects chattered in the perfumed heat. I kept looking for the light between trees, the brightness overhead, just wanting to punch through it all. Just wanting a horizon.

“Brilliant, you’ve decided to come,” said Kate with barely a backward glance as she kept walking.

“Miss de Vries—”

“You said you wouldn’t call me that anymore.”

“You haven’t traveled much, you said so yourself. But I’ve been all over.” I gave her a smile that I hoped she’d see as sophisticated and world-weary. “I’ve been all over the tropics and there’s things you’ve never even heard of. All kinds of wild animals—”

“I’ve read up on it, actually,” she said briskly, wacking away foliage with her furled parasol. “We shouldn’t run into anything too fearsome. Plenty of birds. Bats. Skinks. Lizards. Big toads. You won’t be seeing any big mammals, no tigers or lions or bears. Possibly a wild pig.”

“How can you know all this?” I demanded,
keeping pace with her.

“How do you think? My grandfather flew over the Pacificus and I wanted to know all about the world he saw. I read up on Oceanica. Especially after I read his log. I’ve stared at pictures and memorized the names of the animals and trees and plants. What else was I supposed to do with myself?”

She looked at me defiantly, challenging me to contradict her.

“What about snakes?” I said, jabbing a finger at her. “Pythons!”

“Not indigenous.”

“Boa constrictor?”

“No.”

“Anaconda!”

“That’s South American. You won’t find any snakes here at all.”

She did have a way of stealing the wind right out of your sails. But I wasn’t quite finished with her yet.

“Just stop a second, will you? There may be people living on this island,” I said ominously. “And who says they’ll be happy to see us.”

She didn’t slow down. “Good point. But we mustn’t be governed by our fears, Matt Cruse. We have a duty, you and I.”

“A duty?”

“To science, absolutely. If there are bones on this island, we must find them.”

I sighed. I was still far from convinced these winged creatures even existed. But I could see she was hell-bent on looking for them, and I couldn’t very well leave her to go off by herself. Yes, Miss Simpkins, I saw her skipping off into the woods. No I didn’t go after her. Why would I? She seemed perfectly fine on her own. Wasn’t at all worried about her, no.

“It’s a big island, Kate.” I was starting to feel quite defeated. “You can’t explore it all. Where do you intend to start?”

“We just start,” she said. “Bones could be anywhere, if the creatures just fell from the sky. Of course, they might have been picked up by other animals. Unlikely, though—there’re probably no substantial mammals on the island.” A little furrow of concentration appeared over each eyebrow. “But all animals feed on carrion. So, around trees with bird nests, or the lairs of skinks and lizards.” She paused. “That’s fun to say. Skinks and lizards.”

The ground was rising now, and she was getting a bit puffed, with all the walking and talking. Heat sifted through the trees and fronds. My back was wet. My heart felt loose in my chest. I’d never heard
such a ruckus of birds. They were chirping and warbling and hooting and tooting and screaming nonstop. You only had to look up to see a swoop of bright feathers and flashing tail plumage, and you couldn’t take many steps without getting pooped on by one of them. Cheeky things they were, and obviously not fearful of people, for they would sit and stare until we came quite close, crashing and slapping our way through the foliage. A truculent little budgie waited until I nearly trod on her before flitting away.

“You’ll get tired of holding that book,” I told her. She’d got it in a little purse with a braided strap that she had slung over her shoulder.

“It’s not heavy,” she said with a shrug.

I kept waiting for Kate to get worn out. Her dress looked like cotton, airy enough, but it went all the way down to her ankles, and she kept hiking it up with one hand so she could move more easily. She was bound to get hot and want to go back to the breezy shade of the beach. But she didn’t. I marveled at her stamina. When needed she scrambled over rocks and up little hills. She kept going.

I was not at all sure of the sense of this, but part of me was glad to be moving, relieved to be busy rather than lying still in my bunk, welded to the
earth. Every few minutes I would turn round to take a sighting, so we’d be able to find our way back. It was hardly necessary, though. I was good with directions, as if I had a lodestone in my skull. You could spin me round and I could tell you the bearing without opening my eyes. I felt my compass, cool in my pocket.

Kate never looked back once. She was only interested in what was in front of her. Her eyes swept the ground, and she’d often stop and kneel to push back some ferns and peer about closer to the earth. Sometimes she’d look up into the tall, strange trees or just listen. She seemed to know what she was doing, but so far we hadn’t seen any bones, big or small.

It was midday now, and hotter than ever. The air was thick and heavy with scent. My temples streamed. I wished we’d brought water. But we hadn’t brought anything. We hadn’t planned. We were walking aimlessly through the tropical forest, in search of the bones of a creature that might not exist. I’d have to be back in a couple of hours. Not that Kate seemed at all aware of my duties and obligations.

“If I can collect a set of bones from this creature, imagine that!” she said. “Pictures, photographs
would be excellent too, of course. But the Zoological Society might poo-poo them. Fakes, like the faeries, they’d say, like the Schlock Ness monster. Imagine the furor when I show them real bones. ‘How do you explain that?’ I’ll say to them.” She already saw it playing out in her mind like a cinema reel.

“I’m expected back soon,” I told her.

“Turn back any time you need to,” she said absently.

That was rich, I thought, feeling grumpier with every step. She’d taken no note of her path; she had absolutely no hope of getting back on her own. But maybe she knew that, just like she knew I would stay on with her and be her navigator. And she was right. I felt disgusted at my own powerlessness.

“You’re different here,” Kate told me. “On the ground, I mean.”

I said nothing.

“I think you’re more frightened down here than you were when the ship was about to crash.”

“You’re right,” I said. “I don’t like being on the ground. I don’t feel at home.”

“Do you think it’s because you were born in the air?” she asked. She looked at me as if I were a picture in a textbook.

I didn’t reply. I didn’t much like her calling me frightened.

“I can’t go back without you,” I told her impatiently. “You’ll get lost.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Which way is it, then?”

She paused, frowning, as if this were all a terrible and needless annoyance.

“I’m not ready to go back yet.”

“But when you are.”

She sighed. “I know my way.”

“Just point.”

Her chin lifted and her nostrils narrowed. I tried to narrow mine too. I’m not sure it worked.

“That way,” she said.

I nearly hooted with delight. “Quite wrong. You’re off by forty degrees or more.”

“Forty degrees,” she muttered disdainfully. “I’ll just walk downhill. That’ll take me back to the coast.”

“There’s a lot of coast on an island.”

“I’ll just walk round.”

“Simpler if you knew where you were going.”

We looked at each other. I was waiting for her to ask me the right direction, but she didn’t.

“Listen,” she said. “Water.”

A little ways off was a sizable stream, half hidden beneath ferns. I reckoned it was the one that emptied out near the lagoon. We knelt down to drink. The water was clear and cold.

“Well, this makes things simple, doesn’t it?” Kate said jauntily. “We’ll just follow this upstream and, when we’re ready, let it lead us back down to the beach. See, now we know exactly how to get back.”

“I already knew.”

“Maybe you’d better go back to calling me Miss de Vries. I’m not accustomed to being spoken to so boldly.” For a moment I thought she was serious, but I caught the light dancing in her eyes. “You’re quite right. I’m hopeless with directions. I’m lucky you’re with me.”

I scratched my cheek, looking into the forest.

“I’m not frightened here,” I said. “Not exactly.”

“I didn’t mean you were scared. I just thought it was interesting you felt more at home in the sky than on the ground. With most people it’s the complete opposite. That’s all. It’s really quite fascinating.”

“I’m fascinating now, am I?” I said.

“Absolutely.”

“I just like to keep moving,” I said. “On land I feel like I’m going nowhere. I’m not good at standing still. I’m like a shark; if I don’t keep moving
forward, I can’t breathe.”

“A shark,” she said, raising her eyebrow at me. “That’s quite a comparison. I wouldn’t say you’re really very sharklike, deep down. The dangerous, carnivorous man-eating Mr. Cruse!”

“I suppose not, no.” I blushed. “I just meant the moving part.”

We walked on and after half an hour seemed to have reached a bit of a plateau. More light was getting through the forest canopy. The birds really were tremendous here, and by now I was used to having them so close overhead, their quick shadows soaring over me, blinking out the sun.

Kate sighed and for the first time looked discouraged.

“Nothing,” she said.

“It’s a big island. It would take years to search it properly.”

“And we don’t have years.”

“There might be time for another look around.”

I couldn’t believe I’d gone and said that. It’s just that she looked so crestfallen and I wanted to cheer her up. But she was smiling at me now, and I had the uncomfortable feeling I’d just been juggled.

“Really?” she said. “You’d have another look around with me?”

“If there’s time,” I muttered. “Maybe. I can’t promise.”

“Thank you so much. I know you’ll try your best. Well, I suppose we should head back soon. I don’t want to get you into trouble.”

“I’m sure that’s uppermost in your mind,” I said.

Something slithered past my foot, and I stepped smartly out of the way.

“I thought you said there were no snakes here.”

It was curled innocently under a big fern frond. It seemed a harmless little thing, not more than a few inches, and a pretty bright red—a daft color for a snake among all that greenery. You couldn’t miss it. Any bird of prey would see it a mile off. A dainty little tongue lapped the air. This was no anaconda, no king cobra, no boa—I’d seen those snakes, and they were enough to make you run.

“Don’t move,” Kate said, her face pale.

“What?”

“I think that one’s poisonous.”

“This little thing?”

Then, in the unfriendliest way possible, it jumped. It launched itself sideways and arced through the air, straight at my face. Kate squealed, and I gave a shout, a not very polite one, and staggered backward. The snake landed not two feet from
my shoes. Kate and I danced back some more, and that little red demon jumped again like it was half pogo-stick and scarcely needed to touch earth. I wouldn’t turn around to run, for fear it would land on my back without my knowing. So I ran backward, shooing Kate on ahead of me. The snake sprang again and this time lighted on the toe of my shoe. I gave a great footballer’s kick and sent it spinning through the air and into the distant undergrowth.