Ch 23 - The Cave’s Rock

The straight line trip would cover 2,830 km, but

of course, our route would not be absolutely straight, as

the wild waves warred against the propellers that were

taking us toward Tristan da Cunha. Lucy and I occupied

two adjoining cabins, close to Frost's. With us were a

few tourists, the maximum amount allowed by law and

by the elders who controlled the entrance and exit of

people from the island. The place needed to be protected

to preserve the local fauna and, looking around, the sad

image of passengers throwing their packages on the deck

made my hope fade. There were only the three of us as a

team this time; Keene had stayed in Cape Town, as Frost

did not want him to accompany us, without explaining

the reason for this. The Dean had not left his room since

we left Africa, leaving only Lucy and me on the deck

surrounded by tourists. Many of them, Scottish, Irish,

and Welsh, were keenly watching the storm that was

brewing over our humble vessel. Despite all the chatter

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going on around us, we kept silent, which was an

excellent trait Lucy had inherited from her father. The

horizon all around us was an ominous dark gray,

bringing more storming weather. As the clouds grew

darker, the louder the chatter grew, and the longer the

tales of those around us became, claiming to have seen

storms far greater than that one. Despite this, we could

still hear the soft sound of engine rotors, indicating the

presence of a speedboat in the area.

— How can anyone sail in weather like this? — I

asked myself aloud.

— It just takes someone to value something more

than life, — Lucy argued, and then pointed to a tiny dot

on the horizon. — Look, they're right there.

The boat moved with difficulty as if it were

bobbing over the waves, crossing them erratically. Time

after time, the small vessel was swallowed by the grey

mass that the Atlantic had become, until it came close to

us. Now, much closer, we expected it to pass by at high

speed and disappear on the opposite horizon, but the

pilot seemed to have other plans, coming directly

towards our ferry.

Getting ready, the passenger grabbed onto the

ladder that was being thrown by the crew, climbing the

rope steps until he reached the deck. We both just took

the trouble to turn to face the scene and wait for the

sailors to return to their positions. Stepping back, they

then revealed the figure of the newcomer, who

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maintained his characteristic taciturn expression.

Recognizing him, Lucy exclaimed:

— Dr. Keene?

At that moment, the door leading to the deck also

opened and Frederick Frost came in, asking hurriedly:

— What is it, children, what has happened? I

heard a commotion and... Jacob? What are you doing

here? How did you know where we were?

— I bribed the agent who allowed you to visit the

island, — he said simply, walking straight through the

doorway that led to the rooms, not even casting a glance

at Frost.

Frost turned to us, still perplexed, as if asking

both of us for an explanation for Jacob's behavior. Since

we also had no way of justifying his manner, we simply

shrugged and went inside to see Keene, leaving

Frederick Frost on the deck. Behind him, the rotors were

already turning again and taking the speedboat back into

the clutches of the storm that surrounded us. Soon it

would be a dot on the horizon once again, and the pilot

would enjoy the money he had received from Keene —

if he made it through the storm alive, that is.

Already at the bedroom door, we watched Keene

open his suitcase and spread its contents of clothes on

the bed. The mattress on which the suitcase was resting

was Lucy's bed, and the one now covered with clothes

was mine. We continued to stare disconsolately, hoping

that he didn't intend to leave his belongings where we

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would spend the night. Not to get to the point, Lucy

asked:

— So, Dr...You've caught up with us, as you said

you would. You know that this trip is not an expedition,

right? We are just carrying the samples to the island, as

Mr. Frost suggested.

Pausing the movement for a few seconds, he

returned:

— I know that, Miss, and that's the place I'm

interested in, not the trip itself — and then he said,

turning slowly towards us:

— I worked with Anthony for years, but he never

revealed where he kept the samples. This left me with a

bitter taste, to say the least. I'm going to this place...and

see for myself!

— And why do you want to see the old samples

so badly, Doctor? — Lucy asked with her arms crossed.

— Well...to relive the thrill of each adventure. —

Keene turned to the wall as he said these words, hiding

his face from us, and went back to rummaging through

the suitcase he had bought after we left Cape Town.

Lucy kept her gaze inquisitive and now, full of suspicion

about Keene, but nothing was clear yet. Leaving the

cabin we heard Keene's voice order:

— Close the door when you leave. — But we

were already almost at the end of the corridor and left

without answering him.

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Back at the bow, the night was setting and the full

moon reflected in the east, providing sufficient light for

the preparations that were being made on deck. Brought

by the crew, some tables were set up and fixed to the

deck by small hooks, as was done on rainless nights. We

sat at the table with the other strangers, on chairs that

were also fixed, trying to hear what the conversation was

all about.

— Do tell me, who was that man who arrived

today in a speedboat? — asked one lady to another, who

was accompanying her.

— Well, he must be a philanthropist, —

suggested the other. Still a third person ventured:

— A retired military man is what he must be.

These folks risk their lives because they miss the time

when they made something of their existence.

— Actually, — Lucy interrupted, helpfully, —

He's a biomedical scientist; part of our expedition team.

— Sitting at one of the ends, she was an easy target for

the stares that spread across the table.

— Expedition? — asked the man who had

spoken earlier, he himself matching the description he

had given of a retired military man. — What kind of

expedition?

— Cryptozoological.

— Oh, by God! That unicorn hunting? Don't tell

me that the government uses taxes to fund such a thing?

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— No, sir, — and then, pointing to Frederick,

who was sitting on the other end, she resumed:

— Mr. Frost funds our trips.

A wave of glances went from Lucy toward

Frederick Frost, who lifted his face from his plate of

oysters.

— Do you support this sort of thing, Freddie? —

the first woman asked in surprise.

— Freddie? — I whispered to Lucy, who

returned my surprised look.

— Mrs. Campbell, — explained the dean,

addressing the lady who had asked him the question, —

Look, it's just a way of supporting the dream of these

young people; it doesn't mean that I believe any of these

creatures could be real.

— You better be sure of that, Frost. — said the

man who sat closest to me, his vast grey moustache

twitching with the fury of his words.

— Well, — I said at last, — there is conclusive

evidence that at least some of these beings have survived

to the present day...

— Nonsense! — returned the man. — Didn't you

hear what Frost said? Dream. That was the word he used.

Show some respect for your elders and believe us, boy!

Am I right, Frost?

— Yes...yes, sir.

Despite being about the same age, the Dean

lowered his frown to agree and shut up, without even

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trying to defend our work. At least Keene was not there.

The result could have been much worse. But even with

his absence, we had little appetite after this imposition of

opinions. Getting up politely, we left the sumptuous

supper table and headed for the inside of the boat. On the

way, we turned to Frost, but he refused to lift his face in

front of the other passengers. Pathetic.

In the corridor leading to the cabins, we felt

nervous about entering the room, perhaps taking Keene

by surprise; but what could be done if the man had taken

our cabin by force? Staggering slightly with the subtle

movement of the ship, we reached the cabin door and

opened it so slowly that even its creaking could not be

heard. The cabin was in deep darkness and he might as

well have been there, hiding among the shadows, as was

his custom. To avoid doubt, Lucy pulled out of her

pocket the flashlight she had obtained in Bluewater Bay

and covered it with her hand before turning it on. Then

gradually she raised her hand, allowing some light to

escape and reflect off the surrounding wicker furniture

and finally the beds. Nothing. They were empty and

tidier than we had left them previously. Where had the

biomedical doctor gone after his dramatic entrance?

Anyway, at least he was not here, which meant that he

was not our problem. He was probably in the captain's

cabin, claiming to be able to pilot the ship better than the

poor man. If that was the case, he would soon be put out

and we would hear the story in the morning. But now, we

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had to prepare for a fresh start — one that didn't involve

criminals and the death of innocent people. We went to

our beds and blacked out, not daring to talk on such a

dark night.

The morning awoke with screams from outside

our cabin. The booming voice was that of Frederick

Frost, making up for all the frustration of keeping quiet

the night before. We left our beds and opened a crack in

the metal door to see what the dispute was about.

— This time you've crossed the line, Keene! —

The figure that said this could not sound threatening

even if it wanted to. With a swollen face and puffy eyes,

Frost bore all the signs of someone who had been beaten,

but fortunately, this was only the result of sleep

deprivation, which has similar effects. Listening to the

accusations was Jacob, his face serene and with a wry

smile, his features lush and well-rested, unimpressed by

the vociferations that Frost interspersed with endless

yawns.

— Mr. Frost, what's wrong? — Lucy asked,

opening the door wider.

— Nice to see you awake, Lucy, — he greeted,

still maintaining his angry tone. — This scoundrel broke

into my cabin the night before and locked it from the

inside. Since I couldn't knock and wake the others, I had

to sleep on the deck table!

— Why, you didn't seem in any hurry to leave

that table, — Keene hissed.

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— Now listen here! — Frost threatened with his

forefinger in the air. — When we get to this island and

unload, I want this to be the last time you show your

snout anywhere near me, is that clear? — Without

waiting for an answer, Frederick Frost left the scene,

returning to his social group, which now surrounded the

table that had served as the dean's bed.

We turned together to Jacob, who said simply:

— He can't stand the fact that I replaced him on

Anthony's team.

Also leaving the scene, he made his way to the

opposite side of the table, heading to the other side of the

bow, where he could cool off in the salty ocean wind and

still be visible to the dean and his friends, who often

targeted the biomedical doctor with condemning glances,

before whispering their mischief to each other. Despite

the bad impression we had made last night, we also

joined the president and his retired friends in enjoying

the breakfast of omelettes and toast that the others were

already enjoying. This menu, of course, was only

possible on relatively short trips like this one. It would

also be our last meal on the ferry. On the horizon, the

first place to be seen by the Moshulu crew was also

rising out of the sea for us to see now; the extinct

volcano of St. Helena — the Inaccessible Island.

True to its name, the rise depended on perfect

conditions to be docked at, requiring a high enough tide

and the skipper's skill in approaching the dock.

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Fortunately, this had all been calculated before, in the

various expeditions made without success, until the

numbers were added and the result became much more

apparent. With surgical precision, our captain slowed

down the engine room well in advance and positioned

the boat perfectly, approaching the harbor extraordinarily

slowly, as was necessary. Upon docking, we were finally

allowed to leave the ship and proceeded as a group out

of the huge vessel. To avoid that at this stage a tourist

would already leave the group and somehow harm the

wildlife of the region, a man was waiting for us as soon

as we got off the ferry. He was considered an elder, as

those were the only people living there, but there was

nothing about him that indicated this title, other than his

age. His clothes were like those worn by other people in

the area, ranging from jeans, polo shirts, and even some

with writing in several languages, which fortunately they

did not speak fluently, otherwise, they would have been

shocked by the meaning. The more sensitive among the

retirees even blushed when reading the message on the

shirt, but maintained their respectful silence. Since

English was the local language, the group of elders who

welcomed us took care of leading the other tourists

ahead to the only house on the island, where they would

be tested. On the large platform that was Inaccessible

Island, it was possible to see all points of its surface, and

the large red-roofed house that housed the native elders

was located at the other end. The four of us stayed

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behind, as one of the elders was going to attend to us

privately. As the noisy group was being led away, one of

the elders broke away from the entourage and returned to

survey us, he being the one chosen to deal with our team.

Approaching, the kindly old man had a gentle and

welcoming expression, a hat covering his scalp, and

high-grade glasses, all giving him an illusory image of

fragility.

— Who of you is related to Anthony? — asked

the old man.

— I am, sir. I'm his daughter, — Lucy said

proudly.

— Very well. Your father kept the location of his

most valuable samples a secret for years, ever since he

asked us to protect them for him.

— And do you have any idea...what was the

danger my father feared?

— He never explained what threatened their

safety, — said the man, now looking at the albatrosses

taking off from the rocks around the shore. In any case,

the decision to keep it secret or not is up to you now.

Your team has no rights, as they have no direct relations

with Lane.

— Hey, listen, — Frost spoke up, — I paid for

years so that Lane could do his research.

— And for years I kept the results of that

research, — said the elder, abandoning for a moment his

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fragile appearance, — Do you think your money paid for

that?

— Well, — Lucy then answered, — I trust my

team. Show us around, please.

— Now, you already know the place as your

home, — the old man said with a broad smile.

At this, Lucy tilted her head, trying to understand

the elder's words. Before anyone could ask, however, he

was already heading for the house, at a healthy, almost

galloping pace. We hurried to follow him, as he left us

behind with such agility.

— Are you going to show us...with all those

people there? — Frost asked almost out of breath.

— There's nothing to worry about, — our guide

assured us, — They will be there...but they won't see

anything.

Our curiosity about this mysterious hiding place

increased with every detail described by him. What kind

of hideout could be so mystical as to hide an entire

collection of samples right under the noses of a group of

tourists? Well, we were soon to find out, as we had to

run to keep pace with the elder.

When we arrived at the door of the manor, a

voice sounded loud, in an authoritative tone. When we

entered the place, we found the group sitting around an

elder who, standing up, turned to one and to another,

asking personal questions and demanding their reasons

for being on the island.

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— And you, Colonel? — he said, looking into

the eyes of the ex-military man. — Do you want to

know how fertile our land is? Do you plan to bring

domestic animals here? Perhaps you, then. You have

come to survey the land and bring your pigs later, haven't

you? — Evelyn Campbell looked astonished at having

her plan revealed, and Arlo Griffiths twiddled his

mustache at what seemed an affront to his authority, but

kept quiet when he remembered that this old man could

send him off the island, and not on a comfortable ferry.

Noticing our presence at the door, the elder focused his

eyes on those of our guide, who warned him:

— We'll...take a look at the second floor.

With a nod, the former agreed, returning to comb

his thick beard in front of Colonel Griffiths. We were

then led to the staircase, which was hidden by the wall of

the room where the tourists were, but we were not told to

go up.

— Lucy, — called the old man who was guiding

us. — Lane himself designed the hiding place. I think

that's enough for you to find out now.

Turning toward the staircase leading to the

second floor, Lucy stared at the wooden details. They

had been carved in such a way as not to reveal the

location of the hiding place, and this spread to the ones

adorning the side of the staircase. With a smile, she

explained:

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— Don't you think the house looks smaller on the

inside than it is on the outside? — Saying this, she

pushed the lower side of the staircase open and the

wooden wall opened, revealing a large internal space,

similar to the hiding place Lucy had at home, only

several times its size. Closing the door behind us, Keene

isolated us from the outside sound and we were now

completely surrounded by more jars, crates and

unidentified bones.

— Since his expeditions began, — the elder

explained, — Lane asked us to hold this priceless

treasure for him. Many samples were taken to the

modern world, but even they did not convince people.

Teeth, vertebrae and accounts — none of this was

enough, but that was all he brought. His policy was not...

— Not bringing live animals, — Jacob Keene

completed.

— Exactly, — agreed the old man. — Now, the

boxes that were left at the docks must also be brought in.

We stopped paying attention at that point. Lucy

pulled me gently towards Frost and asked:

— It was...he who designed my house too, wasn't

it?

For some reason Lucy wanted me to witness the

scene. Faced with the question, Frost stammered, but,

sighing, he replied:

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— Yes...He was afraid you wouldn't accept the

gift if you knew he designed it, but it's a bit late now to

hide that from you.

— Is there anything else you have hidden to

please my father, Mr. Frost?

— What? No, of course not! You already know

everything else, dear. — Saying this, he walked away,

still having a not-at-all reassuring smile, before joining

Keene in listening to the elder's explanations.

— It's admirable to see that he doesn't know how

to lie, — I commented.

Lucy agreed and said:

— Let's get those crates before I start inquiring

someone around here too. — We were about to push the

heavy wooden wall and go back outside, when we heard

light footsteps outside. Someone was standing at the

base of the staircase and was soon climbing it to reach

the second floor. When footsteps sounded on the wooden

steps above us, Keene, Frost and the guide also stopped

talking, concentrating on what would happen next.

— Do you think it's one of the elders? — I

whispered.

— No, — Lucy replied, imitating the tone, — an

elder would have entered the hiding place by now. It's

one of the tourists.

— But... if he goes up and doesn't find us...

— He will become suspicious. Yes...

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The footsteps suddenly stopped and a loud cough

was heard coming from the top of the stairs. Then they

continued, but then we heard other footsteps; these were

coming from the central room of the manor.

— Hey, you! — the second voice shouted, —

You're not allowed up there! Go back to your seat in the

lobby!

Apparently reluctant, the first voice began its

slow descent, still clearing its throat.

— That was Fowler's voice, — said Constantine,

our guide. He was referring to the old man we had seen

interrogating the tourists in the hall. — It seems that

Fowler got too busy threatening one of the tourists and

another had the chance to come and spy.

— Well, — Constantine said, now in a lower and

more cautious tone, — let's go to the port and get those

crates.

The three men joined us near the entrance to the

hiding place, and we listened to make sure that there was

no one else trying to discover the secret. We opened the

door, whose shape was distorted by the carvings in the

wood, and were about to go back into the hall, when

Lucy held Constantine and me. Pulling us along, Lucy

whispered her plan to convince the others that we were

upstairs.

⬫⬫⬫

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— Why did you want to go upstairs? — Fowler's

authoritative voice continued to question, with no

answer.

From his right, echoed the sound of footsteps

descending the stairs frantically, as if all five were

descending them at once. It was all a trick, though, since

only three of us were doing it. Leaning on the banister,

Lucy, Keene and I would quietly jump up to a higher

step and then noisily descend the lower ones. Because of

their age, Frost and Constantine waited at the bottom of

the flight of stairs while we repeated the process for the

third time, to the point where it was becoming fun to do

it. It was enough for us to return to the lobby and pass by

those present without them suspecting anything. When

we did, we saw Fowler harshly interrogating the man

who was now clearing his throat with a dry noise —

Colonel Griffiths.

Temporarily setting his victim aside, the old man turned

to the group that emerged from his right.

— We're getting the crates that these people

brought, — Constantine explained. Fowler looked

alarmed and announced to the group of tourists:

— Well, you have been approved; shall we go

down to the slopes of the island?

The colonel seemed suspicious at the sudden

decision, but stood up obediently. Everyone else did the

same, but they seemed relieved that the questioning

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session was over. Guiding his group, Fowler opened the

door and let everyone through, then warned us:

— Wait until we are out of sight before you enter

the hiding place with the cargo...and leave someone

watching the secret door.

Disappearing with the small crowd that

accompanied him, he then closed the door and made his

way quickly across the plain of the island. Lucy opened

the door just enough to peep and waited until the tourists

had descended the rocks, where the albatrosses were

nesting, which was now watched by the eyes of a petrel,

waiting for the opportunity to grab a nestling. At Lucy's

signal, we left the red manor, heading for the harbor, but

often turned around to make sure that no swallow had

escaped Fowler's clutches. In the harbor were a few other

elders, now working on collecting shellfish for dinner,

and our boxes were stacked, still on the dock as they had

left them. Each of us piled as many boxes and jars as we

could on our arms, to avoid too much travel; Lucy being

the one who had chosen the biggest load, and we walked

back at a brisk pace, not without hearing Keene's

complaints on the way.

— Lucy, — I called, suddenly realizing, — we

forgot to leave someone in charge of the entrance!

— No, we didn't, Kevin. How are we going to

find out what the colonel wants so badly if someone is

standing guard at the door?

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⬫⬫⬫

— It was easy to fool that old fart, — thought

Arlo Griffiths, cooing gleefully under his grey mustache.

Griffiths was already at the door of the manor again. —

Fowler talked a lot, but had little action. Taking us to the

cliff as a group? Why, he practically asked me to escape!

— he boasted. With such a large group, the man had

gotten careless and lost sight of the old colonel, who was

now climbing the stairs again, this time unhindered. —

Ah, damn! — he exclaimed with the sharp pain coming

from his lungs. It seems that there were impediments,

after all. Years of smoking had smoked his internal

organs, but that was of little consequence now; it was not

possible to go back to the past — if it were, he would

have destroyed Anthony Lane with his bare hands. When

Lane and Griffiths were young, their professions had

positioned them as mortal enemies, the cryptozoologist

being the one who brought back all kinds of evidence

from his expeditions, and the military man, in his role,

the one who bribed the media and experts in many

different fields to reject the samples as true and thus

protect the government from having to deal with civilian

panic, which would surely spread when people learned

that the world was still a place populated by monsters. In

more recent years, the Colonel had heard from a reliable

source that Lane had a cache for his samples, but even

this source did not know the location; and at last, here it

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was! After so many years, the secret had finally been

revealed, and the only thing standing between him and

the samples was Fowler. And maybe Lane's daughter. —

That bastard! — How had he had enough time to scour

the world for monsters and still raise a daughter? In any

case, all that no longer mattered, because there were only

a few steps to go now, and he would be right in front

of...a room? Griffiths stopped; a confused expression

permeating his face. Before him, a series of beds were

arranged throughout the entire upstairs. — But how? —

he thought, — Where were the samples? — Turning

around, the colonel noticed that the wall behind him had

a door. — I wonder. It seems like such a tiny room.

Maybe the samples were not as many as I thought. —

But when he turned the knob, nothing. Turning it harder,

he tried to break the mechanism, but the material did not

give way so easily.

— Looking for something, Colonel? — asked a

voice coming from his right. At the top of the stairs, with

a wry smile, stood Jacob Keene, followed by the rest of

us. The boxes, resting on the step before the one we were

stepping on, limited the space between one and the other.

Addressing the military man, Constantine threatened:

— Will you stand back, sir, or do I need to call

Fowler? — Pride wounded and begrudgingly, Griffiths

descended the steps, passing by each of us and staring

hatefully at everyone, especially Lucy and Constantine.

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Keene followed him and stopped him from

closing the door.

— I'd rather see you get to the rocks, — the

biomedical doctor said.

Snorting, the colonel lowered his frown and

made his way back, being followed all the way by

Keene's eyes. When he was long gone, we descended

again and entered the hiding place, concealing the crates

as fast as we could, leaving Jacob behind as we went out

to get the others. With four people, the process became

more efficient, even though Frost couldn't carry more

than a single jar; and in about an hour, we were closing

the staircase door again. The night was also approaching,

and now all the work the other elders had done during

the day would prove useful, because they were carrying,

in large wicker baskets, the shellfish they had collected

on the seashore, along with a few mackerels and

trevallies. There were large predators in the sea around

us, such as tuna and wahoos, but the elders knew that

overhunting the organisms at the top of the food chain

eventually brings it down as a whole. And even the

smaller fish they brought back were necessary just so

that the tourists wouldn't complain about having only

mussels to eat, as was previously the case. Digging a

hole in the ground, Fowler and I piled up the wood, lit a

star fire, and placed over it, attached to two wooden

supports, a large cauldron of seawater, into which we

poured everything that had been caught during the day.

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On that one occasion, I saw Fowler abandon his hateful

expression and smile slightly. He seemed genuinely

happy to have some help in doing the work of pampering

those ungrateful people, whose little financial help they

gave only covered the expenses of the guardians' stay on

that island. We all sat down around the huge bonfire and

began to tell our stories, but not on our own initiative.

— So, most of you already know what the late

Dr. Lane did, — Fowler said aloud. — The man was a

hero, capable of clearing jungles and unravelling every

kind of mystery he came across. — The old man said

these words as if he had been a close friend of Anthony

Lane. — Unfortunately, few believed him, out of sheer

ignorance. Now... it's too late for my good friend... —

Lucy and I exchanged a look of surprise. — But

Anthony left someone to take care of his legacy — these

two young people who are with us were willing to

resume where he left off, and from what Frederick has

told me, they have already done a lot to honor their

father's name. Why don't you tell us the stories you have

already lived through as a team?

Lucy turned to me and then to the crowd around

us, still not knowing where to start. — Well...I received a

call from my father, saying that a witness had reported

seeing a Kaiaimunu in Ambungi and...

— What is a Kaimumu? — one of the tourists

asked, curious.

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— I think Kevin can answer that, — Lucy

replied, smiling as she called me over to the fire. Still

stuttering a little, I explained:

— Kaiaimunu is the name given in the region to

the genus of dinosaurs known scientifically as

Deinocheirus — large animals, reaching up to 11 meters,

with huge arms and claws and bodies covered in down.

There are some local legends about the creature that I

believe Dr. Jacob Keene can give you more details

about, since he speaks the language of the local people.

— Me?

— Yeah, Doctor. You are an important part of our

team.

— Now, I...I could tell you in detail the myths I

have heard from the people, but...I don't see the point in

doing so when it is not a scientific matter. But you know,

as you mentioned, Kevin, it's a knowledge that only I

possess...

And so we took turns telling about the encounters

with the Kaiaimunus and Probactrosaurus herd, the

terrible discovery that Sinornithosaurus and

Australovenators also inhabited the region, the losses we

had in Amge, the Leptocleidus colony in Hluleka and

our investigation, and the horrible accident that had

happened to Thabo Amaechi. As they listened to the

description of each scene, tourists and elders alike were

terrified, smiling and even crying, but two of them —

Colonel Griffiths and Mrs. Campbell seemed bothered

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by the stories. The military man even got up and headed

for the door, but Fowler questioned him:

— Where are you going, Colonel?

— To sleep early! Is that forbidden too?

— If no one is there to watch you, yes, it is

forbidden. Now, get a bowl of soup and get back to your

seat!

Twisting his grey mustache, Arlo Griffiths

returned to his seat in the group, but without serving

himself soup, to feel that he still possessed a little

autonomy. Our story went on until late that night,

because even as we finished it, questions came pouring

in about what kind of animal Sinornithosaurus were,

why the second Australovenator didn't follow us into the

sea, how Keene managed to eat biltong, and so on. When

finally everyone's eyes could no longer remain open and

the colonel had been tortured enough, Fowler ordered us

to enter the manor to prepare to rest for the night. To

prevent any unexpected attack, one of the elders was

already waiting in front of the door that Griffiths had

forced earlier, with his arms crossed and the firmest

expression he could fake, although the expression of all

the inhabitants of the island was naturally affable. We

each took our beds and closed our eyes, except for the

colonel, who kept his wide, staring firmly at the poor

elder guarding the room. Sitting on his bed, he remained

like that until dawn. When I then needed to go to the

bathroom, I remembered that I had not seen one

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anywhere in the house. Noticing that I had woken up,

and still without opening her eyes, Lucy commented in a

whisper:

— Thank the colonel that we don't have a

bathroom.

— Why him?

— Because Fowler wanted to throw him off,

making him obsessed with this room that he thinks is the

hiding place.

— So, this room is...

— Yeah.

I leaned back again. The only alternative would

be to leave the manor, but doing so was not safe with the

kind of people who surrounded us there. It was more

worthwhile to wait until dawn came.

When we got up in the morning, Griffiths had the

weeping eyes of one who had not closed them for an

entire night, while the old man guarding the room had

fallen asleep by the door and was now blocking the way

with his body. Fowler entered the large room of the

manor, announcing that the ferry would be arriving soon

and that we should get ready.

— You two, — he said, pointing at Lucy and me,

— stay behind; I want to talk to you before you leave the

island.

The other tourists went down the stairs,

supporting the colonel so that he would not roll down the

stairs, as he was now staggering from sheer fatigue.

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When everyone had already left the official residence of

the elders, and after asking permission from the elder

who was sleeping at the door, I came forward together

with Lucy to hear what Fowler had to tell us.

— Listen, — he said, softening the usual gruff

tone in his voice, — there's a document left here by

Anthony that can go back to the owners now. — He then

handed us a thick, bound notebook. Opening the huge

register, we saw that it was something familiar. A

sequence of numbers accompanied a name or codename

and this was repeated endlessly throughout the

document.

— Are these...the cryptid location coordinates?

— Lucy recognised.

— Exactly. I remember how he explained all this

jumble of numbers to each member of the expedition.

Anyway, the creatures he researched are crossed out, as

you can see. There is a line in South America, another

one in Oceania, and so on. There are numerous places he

didn't have enough time to explore. Well... you'll do it

now.

— Y-yes, sir, — I said, still emotional.

I was not sure how we would say goodbye to

Fowler, but he looked cold, as it is customary for elders,

and Lucy seemed to agree with me. Together we threw

ourselves against the old man, hugging him. Somewhat

surprised at first, he seemed astonished, before returning

the gesture. Hugging us back, I felt something I haven't

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felt since we visited the archipelago, perhaps because

there I lost forever what I felt now.

We let go of Fowler and made our way to the

staircase, which we went down to reach the lobby, not

before taking one last look at the hideout door and its

intricate details carved into the thick wood.

We walked across the plain feeling an incredible

nostalgia; a longing for the small island that had

sheltered us for only one night, but which held an

immense treasure for both of us. Upon reaching the

harbor, most of the faces still looked tired, as they had

not had proper hygiene when they got up. Griffiths and

Campbell were the ones who seemed most upset about

leaving the island so quickly, but they would have to,

because the ferry was already carefully approaching to

anchor in the harbor of Inaccessible Island. Before we

could climb the ramp, however, Frost had to answer the

phone and asked the two of us to wait.

— Yes, yes sir, I represent Lane's team, yes, —

he said. — A what? Are you sure it wasn't another

animal? Yes, I know you're not an idiot, I'm sorry. —

Lucy and I looked at each other, trying to guess what

was coming next. — And where is this area, Mr.

Boseman? Yes, don't worry ... it's pretty close to home.