Ch 3 - Follow The Sun

Surrounded by the morning rays, which were

now much brighter, Lucy Lane looked almost angelic.

Her father watched her face for a few seconds and so did

she, both fearing that a hug would not be allowed after

so long. At last, she hugged the stooped body of her

father, who then reciprocated the gesture.

— I was afraid you wouldn't come, — he said,

crying softly.

— I couldn't leave you. — Lane felt his pain

increase slightly as he heard this.

In the remaining days of that week, we prepared

for the expedition by integrating Lucy into the schedule

of our adventure. Seeing Lane listen attentively to

someone without retorting was one of the most

interesting phenomena. Keene was in charge of getting

extra material since now we would have another member

on the team, something he had doubted we would

manage. I, for my part, kept as far away from the Lanes

as I could, only going to the Doctor's house when called

upon, so that they could be alone and chat. He rarely

came to the lab either, and I'll give him that — after all,

what importance would bones and jars have when his

daughter came to visit? On the rare occasions we talked,

I tried to understand Lucy's thoughts, but felt a certain

strangeness in talking to a young person, my experience

with friendships being limited to older people.

By the end of that week, we had all four tickets,

minimal luggage in our backpacks, and a strong

handshake from the Dean, accompanied by a look that

said — Dare to return empty-handed. — We arrived as a

group at the Tweed New Haven Airport, Dr. Lane being

boarded first, along with the other seniors, which caused

him to run gleefully to the gate, not even caring that one

of his feet always maintained contact with the ground.

Frankly, if the criterion for the elderly to be boarded

before others is that they are physically limited, I would

have barred such a lithe figure. Already inside the

aircraft, the Lanes chatted happily in the row behind

mine, leaving me temporarily free to think. Before

anything interesting could form, though, Keene came to

my row and started an innocent conversation, which

soon proved to be an excuse to show off his careful

programming:

— I see that your master has changed his point of

attention. I believe we should take that matter into our

own hands. — Unrolling an ancient map over my lap, he

continued:

— First stop is Soekarno-Hatta, then Jacksons in

Port Moresby after 16 hours, and a connection in

Singapore. Finally, Hoskins in New Guinea.

— And how do we get south and reach the

archipelago? — I asked, feigning interest.

— Oh, I have contacted a pilot in Kimbe, one

who will not see us only after a check-in, — he replied,

winking.

— An illegal pilot, you mean?

— Your words, — Keene retorted, leaning back

in his chair and pouting like a spoiled child.

— Does Dr. Lane know that his daughter will be

in a helicopter piloted by a man of dubious skills?

— I'll give you a chance to look back and ask

that again. — I flinched for a second at the acidity with

which he said the sentence, but I couldn't deny it — my

mentor had his mind miles away from the Ambungi

archipelago and any details related to this trip. Next to

me, Jacob Keene gave an exasperated sigh and finished:

— At last, another bloke, living on the southwest

coast, from whom we shall hire a speedboat.

There was a reason for me to think this was

another of the suspicious types Keene knew around the

world, but I didn't have the spirit to say anything. At last,

he was silent and I was able to take advantage of the

window I was given and meditate. Through my eyes, an

extensive journey unfolded, from the row of trees

leading to an immense arched entrance at Soetta to the

image of a reddish bird-of-paradise at Jacksons and, of

course, the unfriendly figures of pilot Michael Somare

and the man from whom we would rent the speedboat.

Arriving at his residence in Murien, Keene wanted to

chat straight away about the payment arrangements, and

so was going to do the man, when he recognized

Anthony Lane.

— Hey, you're...Lane, the one who discovered

the thylacine! — he remarked, remembering a job we did

in New Zealand.

— Why, yes. And this is my daughter and these

gentlemen are the team that was with me and...

— It was you I spoke to on the phone, wasn't it?

— asked the man again, interrupting the honor Lane was

planning to render us.

— Well, yes, my boy, it was me, yes.

— Good, because I want to give you more

details. I saw these large feathered creatures on the

island, with claws the size of a carrot!

— Excuse me, — I had to interrupt at that point.

— Are you Muinepe? The eyewitness?

— But of course. I was minding my own

business and those demons appeared on the beach.

— And you claim they were covered in feathers?

— Like a cuckoo, boy! — Still counting the bills,

Keene teased:

— And you claim you were sober?

— What do you mean, man? I was driving a

speedboat; do you think I would be that irresponsible?

— I'm just asking. It's a little late to come back,

but not to pocket my money back.

— Well yeah, I was sober and I can assure you

those demons are very real.

— Demons, pfft! — sneered Keene. As the

witness's gaze grew angrier and angrier, Dr. Lane

decided that he should intervene:

— Please, Jacob! Respect the man's beliefs!

— Whatever, — Keene retorted, — I'll take a

look at this speedboat to make sure it's worth what I'm

paying for. — Leaving the premises with pomp, Keene

left us to observe his departure and Mr. Muinepe to ask:

— Dr. Lane, is this man related to you or

something?

— No, my boy, he is only an associate. Why?

— Because I'm having a sudden urge to smash

his face and I don't want you to take offense.

— Now, I apologize for Jacob's outrages. Only

our tickets and equipment are funded by the university;

the rest is left to him. You understand, don't you?

— Yes, all right, I'll let him stay in one piece, out

of respect for you, — he replied, clenching his fists.

— And I thank you for your kindness, Mr.

Muinepe, — and finished with a wink, — Let him pay

you first.

Laughing at Lane's quips, the man was now as

harmless as if he were incapacitated. In that good spirit,

we left his home and set off also to meet Keene who still

had an expression of doubt as to the speedboat anchored

at the pier.

— Come on Jacob, — said Lane. — What's

wrong with the boat?

— This charlatan promised me a speedboat, not a

rusty canoe.

— Come on, you whiny baby. It's floating, isn't

it? — Now, please, go back and pay that man, without

making any more trouble.

As he walked up the sand line towards the

houses, Keene heard Lane's voice calling him again:

— Oh, and Jacob?

— What now?

— Canoes don't rust.

Frowning, Keene went on his way, huffing like a

bull, and we waited for him to disappear between the

houses to laugh again, this time at the expense of his

unreasonable grumpiness. Seeing him return without a

black eye, we asked no questions, but at least we knew

he had kept quiet during the proceedings. He passed by

us in silence and made his way with the key into the

boat, soon to be followed by the three of us. Taking up

his position in the cockpit, Jacob Keene began the final

leg of the journey that would take us to the diminutive

archipelago. We followed the coast, for the waters were

shallower and the scenery more agreeable, and so we

passed the coastal towns and villages of Okur and

Yumiello, the islands of Apugi and Aviklo, describing a

curve after the latter to skirt the coast and pass the last

civilizations — Akinum and Poi'iek. Arriving finally at

the mouth of the Andru River, we could see the three

islands in the distance. Keeping three meters deep, I

dropped 16 meters of chains, as was the pattern I had

been taught, and there, to the mercy of calm waves, we

planned our next move, anchored near the meeting of the

muddy waters of the Andru with the turquoise waters of

the Pacific Ocean.

— Anchor cast! — I shouted to our Captain.

— I had already noticed, Kevin. I believe it's up

to you now, Dr. Lane. Doctor? Doctor Lane?

As there was no reply, Lucy and I went to the

bow and found him sitting cross-legged, rummaging in

his rucksack. Deaf to any voice other than his own, the

old man pulled from his rucksack a yellowish notebook

with a loose spring. The notebook was in such a bad

state that pages began to fall out and we had to help him.

Gathering the aged pages before the sea swallowed them

up, we returned them to Lane.

— What are these notes, Dad? — Lucy asked.

Happy to be asked about his project, Lane invited us to

sit with him.

— Come here, you two, I have something to

show you, — he said, laughing like a child. We sat down

next to each other and he continued:

— You will remember this notebook, Kevin.

Here are details of expeditions in search of cryptids that

some might only dream of undertaking. — And then,

choosing one of the pages, he showed us this list:

Thunder31.7428168,-93.4447784

Partridge Creek60.0160109,-135.1575939

AM-3.3600402,-60.0205559

-14.9461096,133.1674972

Arica -18.6088663,-70.1246427

Kaiaimunu -6.3019228,149.8187452 Rift Valley

5.1946573,29.5278808

Jago-Nini -0.9175359,9.2288412

Kulta -21.0697658,95.3386452 Gbahali

6.4114298,-11.6975338

Pukehina

-37.8276339,176.4706101

Muc-sheilch 57.6846373,-5.5940175

Ngoubou 7.3580742,7.7937722

Silwane Manzi -28.4284664,32.079679

Nzefu-Loi 0.4861014,25.1952421

Mt. Boomer29.3543848,-100.7343507

Bringing the paper close to his eyes, almost to the

point of leaning the list against his face so that his tired

eyes could discern the text, he read it for a few moments.

He then held it where we could both see it and resumed:

— The being's common name, plus the

information needed to find it.

— Are those...coordinates? — Lucy ventured.

— Precisely, my dear.

— Have you made expeditions to all these

places?

— Not exactly. You see... we have already made

some, but others are planned for the future. A future to

be shared, child. — Looking at Ambungi with a glint of

discovery in his eyes, a glint perhaps only seen before in

Leif Erikson's eyes, Lane continued: — Once we return

with evidence from that island.

Smiling, Lucy slung her arm behind Lane's

shoulder and I did the same on my side. We leaned back

against the cabin and admired Ambungi, Alage, and

Amge for a moment. With a long sigh, Lane finished:

— I wish you were siblings.

⬫⬫⬫

It was not long before I was up and going to our

Captain for orders. I was afraid that he would soon

emerge on the bow or that Lane himself would order me

to raise anchor, and, as I see it, it is much more pleasant

to put oneself at disposal than to be commanded. I

reported the summary of our conversation to Keene,

omitting the emotion I doubted he would be able to feel

anyway, and asked if I should raise the anchor yet.

— Do that. I want to see something interesting

later today, — was the reply I received. We set off

swiftly towards Ambungi; Lane still sitting on the bow

with Lucy, as if to make up for all the years of neglect in

a single afternoon. Leaving the muddy waters behind, we

were now in bluer, deeper waters — and somewhat

scarier for those who know the reality about cryptids and

always wonder what might lie beneath the waves. The

blue waters were ending when I could spot the village

that rested on the northwest of the island — a small

cluster, about thirty houses, facing the sea. Ambungi has

a small lagoon, surrounded by the foundation of coral

and sand that over millennia gave rise to the island. On

this same foundation, we were now passing with our

boat, about to finally reach our destination. We docked

and I ran for the chains before someone decided to shout

orders again. Jumping out of the speedboat and wetting

his suede shoes, Lane admired the village for a moment.

— Come and see what a picturesque place I have

found! — he exclaimed happily, — And... rather eerie

too...

With everyone quiet, we could now agree with

the Doctor's observation. How silent that village was!

Going to the bow, we looked at both ends of the village

horizon and not a soul could be seen. We descended,

accompanying the old scientist, and approached the

simple neighborhood of that island. Keene then took the

lead in knocking on the first door and waiting, as good

manners dictate, and Lane clapped his hands in front of

the houses while shouting — Hello! Is anyone at home?

— Getting no response, they both started to peek through

the windows and finally entered the residences. Lucy

and I kept our distance as we feared that a naked native

would come out angry from his house. From the left then

came Keene, with a nauseated expression, saying:

— By God, there was spoiled food in that last

one!

Anthony Lane, coming from the opposite

direction, brought a similar report:

— In that one there was spoiled food in the past,

but the window was left open and I don't think the

animals left anything behind.

We looked once more at the village as a whole

and a shiver took over us. Dusk was approaching now,

with the sky already dark and a wind that hissed between

the houses of that ghost town. Lucy left my side and

ventured towards the farthest part of the village.

— What the hell happened here? — Keene

asked.

— Not sure, Jacob...but I'm afraid it's no longer

safe for these younglings to accompany us.

— Doctor? — I asked, perplexed at the

possibility of not participating in the most interesting of

the expeditions we had undertaken so far.

— I'm sorry, Kevin. You have as much

experience as Keene in expeditions, but I need someone

to take my daughter back and I prefer that you do it.

Where did she go, by the way?

On the way to find Lucy, I thought of the sadness

I would feel at being sent back to Murien to ensure her

welfare. In that sadness there was also certain poetry, but

how was I to admire the complexity of feelings when my

dream was about to end? I admit that I felt certain anger

towards Lucy. Nonetheless, I am thankful that I am not

capable of showing anger, since it was not only

unreasonable but also unnecessary, as the following

event showed:

— Dad! I think you'll want to see this! — we

heard her call.

Skirting the houses, we reached the source of the

call and found Lucy in front of one of the houses, or

what was left of it, more precisely. The hut lay with the

back and front wooden walls completely knocked down

and with large holes in the side.

— A Deinocheirus would have no reason to

attack a house, would it? — Lucy asked, showing that

she had recorded well what she had heard from Lane

during some rare occasions in her childhood and more

recently on the boat coming to the island.

— No, those creatures are herbivores...as far as

we know. Anyway, my child, I have spoken to Kevin and

he will take you back to the base at Murien, just to be

safe.

— To be safe? — she repeated.

— Why, yes! See what we can find on the way!

— Lucy was silent for a second, suppressing every word

that she felt an impulse to use and remind him that she

had been able to look after herself all her life. With a

sigh, she said simply:

— With all due respect, Dad, if anyone needs

looking after, it is you. — Saying this, she walked away

again, taking the lead in entering the island jungle.

Behind her, we watched her bravery in facing the

unknown. Her father, wide-eyed at her answer, silently

admired her. Ahead of us all, a great green wall rose like

a portal — a portal to a world that no longer existed.

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