14th October 2005
An Opening
He remained sceptical that something deeper was happening on the island than the rest of the castaways thought. They were treating everything as if it was little more than a game, yet he was convinced there was an ulterior intention to their situation. The odd little clues, so vague, hinted at a larger picture, but try as he might, he couldn't see it.
The party made its way back to the beach. It was a sign of their growing confidence that although the outward journey had taken quite some time, the return trip seemed to be accomplished within a few short paragraphs. As the sound of the breakers on the reef became clear and the sandy expanse was glimpsed between the trees, a lone, shadowy figure was made out approaching the party. By this time the castaways were so used to unusual happenings that no one even broke stride as the figure closed in.
It was a man, of striking features and intense eyes. He looked confused, yet didn't seem to be surprised to see a group of people.
"Hello," called Beck. "Can we help you at all?"
His voice was captivating. "I'm not really sure," he said. "I don't know where I am or why I'm here."
"In answer to the first," said Robert, "you're on an island that is not quite as deserted as it seems. But I can't help you with the second. What's your name?"
"I'm John. John Littleshoe. I. . . I seem to have amnesia. Apart from my name, I can't recall anything else."
"Well, come back to our base camp on the beach and share our hospitality, such as it is," invited the Captain cordially.
John Littleshoe fell in with the group as they broke through the line of trees and emerged on the beach, heading straight for the two remaining containers. One was fairly large, about five feet high and wide and several feet in length, and was marked with a large 19. The second was smaller, a cube of about 2 feet per side, marked with the number 37.
"Hang on," said Fredster, "now I remember why we haven't opened them. We can't!"
"Um, yeah," said Dr Keir, "I forgot to mention that. Don't worry, we'll work something out."
Tutahunter began by throwing his spear at number 19, which only broke the shaft. Rocks were smashed against them, water was poured on them, poetry was read at them, Bluebeard even had Fluffy charge them, all to no avail.
"Wait a minute," said John Littleshoe, who had been watching with a look of concentration on his face. "I know how to open these! I'm starting to remember now. Someone showed me the trick to it not long ago." He bent over number 37 and started fiddling with the latch. "This is bringing back my memory," he mused as he worked. "Yes, it's all coming back to me now! I was sent here specifically to find you all. I have a very important message to tell you. As a matter of fact, it's quite vital that you hear it."
By now he had everyone's attention. Who was this strange man and what was his mysterious message? John Littleshoe threw the latch on the container, and flung its lid back.
"You see, I must tell you. . ."
There was a flash of movement from the box. Something leapt out of it and clasped onto Littleshoe's face. There were cries of shocked astonishment from the party.
"What's wrong?" called Nina, running over. "Is John hurt?"
Littleshoe was lying on his back, some creature on his face. It had the appearance of a mutated cross between a crab and a skeletal hand. Several multi jointed legs wrapped around his head, what looked like a tail curled around his neck, and another appendage seemed to have disappeared down his throat. Dr Keir bent to examine him.
"He's still breathing, and his heart rate seems to be fine. Quick, let's get him to the shade under the trees and try and get this thing off him." Several people carried him to the jungle's edge.
"Just what is that thing?" asked Verleye, disgusted.
Cloud had been eyeing it up appraisingly. "It's dinner," he said. "Looks like a crustacean. We can have a delicacy tonight, lobster. Quick, get it off him and into the pot!" He bent towards Littleshoe, but Dr Keir's hand shot out to stop him.
"No, we must be more careful," he said. "See how when you got close its tail curled tighter around his neck? If you try and wrench it off it might kill him."
Cloud subsided, muttering. "I still think it would taste good."
"Has anyone got a knife?" asked Dr Keir. "We'll try removing the legs first."
"I've got my trusty pocket knife," said Tutahunter, producing it with a flourish. Everyone was rather surprised at this, as Tutahunter had only been wearing a grass skirt and face paint of recent weeks, yet they were all too polite to ask where he had been carrying it.
Dr Keir bent over Littleshoe, and slowly moved the blade towards one of the creature's jointed legs. As he made the first cut, a stream of fluid spurted out of the wound, hissing, some landing on his hand.
"Ouch!" he yelled. "It burns!"
Cloud scooped a little up onto his finger and tasted it. "Mmm," he said contentedly, "vindaloo sauce. Quick, get it off, I have to cook this up right now!"
"No, it's no use," said Dr Keir, "we can't remove it this way. I'm sorry Chef Cloud, but your delicacy will have to wait. I need time to think about it."
The party watched on for a little while, but moved away as they became bored. The Captain grabbed a shell of jungle juice from the bar and sat under the shade of the trees. Littleshoe had come to them with a message. Yet that thing was hugging his face before he could get it out. This was getting stranger by the minute. And there was a vague memory that he might have been through all this in a dream, except with a beautiful woman having something wrapped around her face, but she was calling out to him, calling him by that old name, that name of his youth. . . Anyway, he hoped Littleshoe would be alright.
"Captain! Come quickly, you've got to see Littleshoe!" called Dr Keir.
"Is he alright?" called the Captain, up on his feet now and heading towards what he guessed had become the infirmary.
"You'll have to see for yourself!"
The Captain arrived with several others following, to be greeted by an unexpected view. John Littleshoe was sitting upright, the creature nowhere in sight. "How are you, John?" he asked.
"Good. Actually, I feel great!" Littleshoe replied. "In fact, I've never felt better."
"Do you remember what happened on the beach?" asked Leelu.
"I remember an awful dream, a dream of smothering and suffocation."
"Do you remember you had something important to tell us?" asked Anna.
"Yes, that's right. Yes. Something quite vital I must tell you all. But first, can we have something to eat? I'm ravenous."
The Captain laughed. "Why not? It's about dinner time by my reckoning."
"But where has that creature gone?" asked Dr Keir. "It's not around here anywhere."
"Grubs up!" announced Cloud, walking over carrying a pot. "Something special tonight; Lobster Vindaloo Surprise! Would you like some ketchup with that?"
"Ketchup? With lobster?" asked Dr Keir. "Sure, sounds good."
The castaways gathered for dinner hour. Cloud's lobster vindaloo was supplemented by the endless stream of fish that FX and Fredster kept producing, a pig that Tutahunter had caught, and all the coconuts and bananas one could eat. And, of course, Cloud cooked up lots of peas. He'd had peas b'fo.
Littleshoe was ripping into the food like his life depended on it. He had a large serving of everything, and then a second large serving of everything.
"You eat like a pig," criticised Nina as he reached for his third helping.
"Hey, I am not an animal," he replied.
"Now, John," opened the Captain, "what was the important message you had for us?"
"Yes, the message," he said, wiping his mouth. "Thanks for the food, by the way. For the fare of castaways it was delicious. Anyway, I was sent to tell you something, something that is absolutely vital. You see, it starts with. . ."
Suddenly he let out a blood curdling shriek. He pitched forward onto the sand, then rolled over to his back, convulsing wildly. Keith and Sparky grabbed hold of his arm and leg on one side, Drumjay and Cappsy on the other. Dr Keir, fearing he would bite off his tongue, was trying to get a stick between his teeth. And all the time he kept screaming, screaming like no one else had ever heard.
There was a bulge under his shirt over his stomach, pressing upwards. The second time was high enough to grab everyone's attention, and the boys let go of his arms and legs, horrified and fascinated. A splatter of blood appeared on the shirt, then sprayed out onto those closest.
Suddenly some thing tore through the shirt, poking out of a bloody rend in Littleshoe's abdomen. It was about a foot long, black and plush, its chest white. Two small appendages on its side had the appearance of useless wings. Its mouth looked like a soft yellow beak, and it wore a small bow tie. But its eyes; its eyes glowed red, evil. It slowly looked around at the group, standing in mute horror, unable to move at this unbelievable shock, as it stared at them like some demented glove puppet. It opened its mouth and gave a hiss, then scurried off into the undergrowth faster than a rabbit.
Afterwards, no one was sure who screamed first, but it set the entire group off, screaming and running in every direction, Littleshoe's twitching body still lying in a ruined heap amongst the remains of the lobster vindaloo.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
The castaways were very subdued around breakfast the next morning.
"What on earth was that thing?" asked Liz.
"I'm not sure," replied Dr Keir, "but we shouldn't quibble about it."
"Did anyone one scribble down a drawing of it?" asked Keith.
"No, but it looked like it was covered in giblets," said Leanne.
"I think we should find it and grind it into kibble," said Tutahunter.
"Ugh. Josh, don't dribble," said Fabienne.
"Sorry," said Josh. "I just can't believe how Cloud turned out to be such a good chef!"
"There's always been a certain amount of professionalism in my family," said Cloud with pride. "My father was a detective, and a good one at that. Inspector Clued."
"So, what are we going to do today?" asked Clare.
"Maybe we should go and hunt that. . . that thing," said Vicky.
"That might be a good idea," said the Captain.
"Are you all mad?" asked Dr Keir. "We're on a large island, it could be anywhere! And what do you propose we do when we find it?"
"Cook it!" yelled Cloud.
"First you've got to catch it, Chef," said Keir. "Remember what it did to Littleshoe. And there's something about its eyes which scare the hex out of me."
"Still, we must hunt it down," said Tutahunter. "I will lead the way!"
"Argh, the boy be right," said Bluebeard. "Such a thing cannot be let wander round uninhibited."
"Okay then. Well, we'd better set off," said the Captain, standing.
"Wait a minute," said Cappsy, walking to the group. "Here, I've sewed you all some belts to carry sharpened sticks in."
"Ah," sighed Cloud, "just like my old mama, who was a dressmaker. Mama Clad."
Tutahunter went sniffing around the place where the creature was last seen. Only Dr Keir seemed to notice that Littleshoe's body was gone, everyone else admiring their new Cappsy-made utility belts and sharpened stick daggers. Tuta struck off into the jungle in a low crouch and everyone followed.
No one had been onto this part of the island yet. It was dark and brooding, a feeling of eyes watching from behind every branch, of being unwelcome. Very little sunlight made it through the dense canopy far above, making their journey one of shadows of dark green, brown and grey. Tutahunter, sometimes crouched low, sometimes on all fours, carefully following the spore of their prey, was leading through the almost impenetrable undergrowth, Fluffy and Bluebeard behind him breaking the trail for everyone else.
Eventually the party noticed they were following a trail of sorts, the vegetation not growing on a thin train of dirt, which slowly grew into a more respectable path. Tutahunter had noted this and was glad. The creature's tracks were clearly visible in the soft soil. The path reached a Y junction, but the creature's trail went straight ahead, into a tunnel right at the junction. He started to crawl through it.
Suddenly Fluffy let out a roar and reared back, throwing Bluebeard to the ground. The castaways stopped short, Tutahunter retreating from the tunnel. Right in front of them, in the V formed by the two paths, was a giant totem carved out of wood. It showed a winged creature of some sort, something like a male harpy, about twice the size of a large person. Seated on its back was a man wearing a strange, hideous mask. Vines grew around it, circling limbs and clinging to bodies, giving it the appearance of existing as one with the jungle, almost as if it had grown in that shape.
"Well, this was unexpected!" announced the Captain.
"More proof that we are not alone," said Dr Keir.
"But it looks very old," said Keith. "It has the look of something tribal in nature, but we haven't encountered anyone that looks like a tribesman."
"Listen everybody," called Liam suddenly, "I thought I heard drums coming from along the left path."
"So did I," said Josh. "I'm positive I heard them too. And they were out of time, they need to work on their technique."
"You guys are sounding like my dumb little brother, Clod," said Cloud.
Everyone strained to listen, yet no sound came forth. Which was strange in itself, thought Dr Keir. No sounds at all, not the wind, not animals, nothing.
"I think it may have been suggestive," he said. "Nothing against you two as musicians, but it seems odd that you suddenly heard them straight after Keith mentioned tribesman, yet no one else can detect them."
"I'm positive," asserted Liam, Josh nodding.
"Hey, look!" said Beck, trotting a short way down the right path. She bent over and picked something up. Coming back to the group, they could see that Beck held an old ball, or at least, what was left of it. There was a smiling face painted onto it, and the top had been cut to allow stalks of palm leaves to be inserted, creating hair for the face.
Beck turned the ball around, revealing the brand name Wilson on its back. "Do you remember that first person we encountered a while back, the strange guy with the long hair and beard? He was looking for someone, or something, called Wilson. I remember his description seemed odd at the time, but now it makes sense! He might be down the right path. We should go that way, because he might also be able to help us out."
"But the drums are down the left path," protested Josh.
"Yes," said Liam, "if there are drums then there must also be drummers. Perhaps an entire village of people. I think we should follow the left path."
"Are you all forgetting why we're out here in the first place?" asked Tutahunter, annoyed. "We're hunting the beast. Its trail leads through a small tunnel underneath this statue, but then its onto another path just a short way beyond. We must capture that beast."
"Argh," said Bluebeard, a little shaken but unharmed from his fall, except that the dead parrot on his shoulder had slipped a bit. He adjusted it as he spoke. "Ye be forgetting, lad, that I have me Fluffy with me. She cannot be fitting through that hole."
"You'd only have to go a small way down one of the other paths and then cut through to the middle path," replied Tuta. "No problems."
"I remember days of riding through the forest on my old draught horse, Clyde," said Cloud. "Sometimes my cat, Claude, would jump up into the saddle with me."
"This is becoming disturbing," said the Captain, "as yet again we come to another three way decision requiring a vote. Why is it always three choices? And why do we feel the need to vote on these decisions?"
"I've been wondering about these sorts of things myself, Captain," said Dr Keir, who was wondering just what the Captain really thought about their ordeal. He had been studying the Captain's dreams lately; maybe he should announce his conclusions to everybody.
"I had a cousin from Scotland who used to wonder about his entire life," said Cloud. "He always thought that nothing was real, as if someone was writing his whole life like a story. Ah, poor old cousin McLeod."
"So," said the Captain, "do we continue tracking the beastie with Tutahunter, do we follow the left path with Liam and Josh to look for their real or imagined drummers, or do we go with Beck down the right path to try and return Wilson to his companion?"
Which path should the castaways follow?
A - Hunt the beast with Tutahunter.
B - Look for drummers with Liam and Josh.
C - Help Beck return Wilson to his friend.
Vote now, A, B or C!
A - 16
B - 1
C - 8