Deep Ark 6 - Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

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I've been asleep for more than an hour, dreaming of a snake with the head of my dad and bulging eyes like Hammerhead.

Old Joe wakes me with a gentle shake of the shoulder. "We're here, Rom ... Deep Ark 6."

I sit up and immediately feel pain shooting through my bruised ribs.

"You okay, lad?" Old Joe asks, with a concerned look on his whiskery face.

"Sure," I lie. "I must've slept on something sharp, that's all."

The Sea Slug is dark and stuffy. Hammerhead is still hunched over the glow of dials on his control panel.

Old Joe thrusts a cup of black tea under my nose.

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"It's all I could find, but it's sweet and hot."

I sip in silence, peering through the grubby porthole. The ocean outside is cold and black. The dark shape of a fish shimmies past the glow of the porthole. Suddenly, up ahead, caught in the Sea Slug's yellow beam, a silhouette emerges from the darkness.

A huge dome of steel.

"That'll be your dad's snake zoo," says Old Joe grimly.

A shiver runs up my spine.

We approach Deep Ark 6 slowly, on the northern side. The undersea lights guide us to the airlocked entrance.

Old Joe puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "It seems the quake hasn't hit out here. Power's still working."

Hammerhead nudges his rust bucket into dock and springs up the ladder to open the hatch. A spray of icy water pours down from above, but he doesn't seem to mind. He scrambles topside and Old Joe and I join him in the docking bay.

There is no one around.

"I'll stay here with the boat," Hammerhead

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mumbles, holding a match to his pipe.

"You lead the way then, lad," says Old Joe uncertainly.

I head off down the brightly lit tunnel towards the main entrance. The steel door at the end of the tunnel looms. I tense, waiting for the crabby guard to step out of his security post.

Something is wrong. The security post is empty, and the steel door is open.

"I'm guessin' by the look on your face, lad, that this ain't supposed to be open," Old Joe says. "Maybe the guard's on a coffee break?"

Yeah, right!

We step through the gate into the small chamber on the other side. Rows of protective suits hang like dead aliens on hooks.

"We gotta put those on." I gesture to the suits.

"Are you serious, lad?" Old Joe cries. "I'll look like a clown in one of them yellow fancy dresses!"

"The snakes won't be laughing," I say, with more humour than I feel.

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Kitted out in our protective gear, we move on through the tunnel to the parking bay. A line of camo-coloured jeeps awaits, but there's still no sign of anyone. No guards. No workers. No one.

"Can you drive one of them things?" asks Old Joe, his voice muffled behind his laminated mask.

"Sure," I say, jumping into the driver's seat. The truth is, I can't. Dad always does the driving.

But I've watched him. The jeeps are battery-powered and have a pretty easy set-up: three gears, an accelerator, a brake and a steering wheel.

I turn the ignition and the jeep hums into life. Easing off the clutch, I stomp on the accelerator. The vehicle leaps forward and smashes into the rear of the jeep in front.

"Exactly how many times have you driven one of these?" asks Old Joe, his eyes wide behind his mask.

"I'm just a bit rusty," I lie.

The second try is a little better and we

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kangaroo-hop forward. Finally, I get the jeep moving smoothly and put it in top gear. We zoom down the tunnel, which grows dimmer and narrower. I switch the headlights on. Up ahead, caught in the beams, is the next security gate. Razor wire and mesh.

I don't bother to slow down. It's wide open.

"What kinda place is your dad runnin' here?" mumbles Old Joe in the passenger seat as we fly past the gate.

I don't answer. But I feel sick in my guts. Something is very wrong. Dad would never allow those gates to be unguarded and open. Never!

Maybe there has been a quake out here after all. Dad and his team could have been evacuated, just like at Basin City. Yet I can't see any obvious damage. No fallen debris, no cracked roads or smashed glass. Apart from the open gates and lack of guards, the place looks normal. Well, as normal as a snake zoo can look.

The Hub is lit up like a mall at Christmas. I park the jeep outside the entrance and bound up the steps to the main door. And here's a

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surprise — the door is locked.

I rattle the handle and shout, "Dad! Are you in there? It's me, Rom!"

There's no answer.

Through the windows, I can see lights on, computer screens glowing, the bank of security TVs flickering. Yet the Hub is as empty of life as a graveyard. 

"Where'd they all go in such a hurry?" I ask aloud, peering through the glass door.

"Let's find out. Stand back!" shouts Old Joe.

He grabs a fire extinguisher from the back of the jeep and heads for the doors, swinging it over his head. The glass doors smash into a thousand shards on impact.

We search the Hub and Dad's office but find no one. The lab door is locked until Old Joe hurls a chair through it. We step into the lab and survey a scene of chaos.

Benches are upturned, test tubes and vials smashed on the floor, papers and books scattered everywhere. There has obviously been a struggle of some sort. A violent struggle.

Old Joe points to a dark red pool in the far

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corner. He kneels down to inspect it, taking off his gloves to sample it with his fingers.

"Blood!" he says.

"Joe, I'd put those gloves back on if I were you. Now!"

"Did you hear me, lad?" he says, holding up his fingers. "It's blood!"

"I heard you Joe," I say as calmly as I can. "But you need to step back from that corner and put your gloves on — fast!"

He stands up, a look of confusion on his face. "What's got into you, lad?"

I don't answer — just point to the right of the dark corner, beyond the bloodstain.

He turns to look. Now he sees what I've seen. Slithering in the dim light, tongue flicking in and out, is a snake.

Old Joe leaps back with such force that he crashes into an upturned bench. Wood splinters and glass shatters and he hits the ground. His gloves slide off across the floor.

The snake strikes as quick as lightning. Its head is a blur of frenzied action as it buries its fangs into Old Joe's unprotected right

hand.

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Joe lets out a savage cry and whips his arm back in horror. The snake clings on, its tail whipping back and forth. I try to grab it, but Old Joe is staggering backwards, tripping and stumbling over overturned tables and chairs.

The snake won't let go!

I grab a piece of broken glass and get hold of its tail with my gloved hand. It's at least a metre long, greenish blue with bulging red eyes.

I slash at the snake, striking it just below the head. The body falls away, but the head is still attached to Old Joe's hand. Joe dashes it against the concrete floor and finally it releases its grip.

The head falls to the ground and lies there, quivering.

Old Joe is sitting hunched up against the smashed remains of a desk, clutching his hand. He's as white as a ghost.

"That oversized worm bit me on my good hand," he says. He tries to smile, but I can tell he's in agony.

I look at the sliced snake, then back at the wound on Joe's hand. My blood runs cold. "That's a boomslang!"

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The old cook looks into my worried face. "A boom what?"

"Boomslang. It's poisonous, Joe."

"How poisonous exactly?" he asks, clutching his damaged hand more tightly.

I leap to my feet and begin searching the chaotic lab.

"How poisonous, lad?" he asks again, fear in his voice.

"I've got to find a vial of antivenom — that's how poisonous!"

I'm desperate now. My head is spinning If only Dad were here, he'd know what to do. He'd know where the antivenom is.

I'm scrambling about on all fours, over­turning boxes and tables, tipping out drawers, rifling through the chaos for any sign of the antivenom vials. Old Joe is already in the throes of toxic shock. He's almost unconscious, his eyes rolling in their sockets.

Stay awake, Joe!" I shout. "Stay with me!"

I have to stay calm. I have to remember where Dad keeps his precious antivenom vials. I force myself to stop and think.

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On one of my rare previous visits, Dad had been working in the lab. He'd been collecting venom from a cobra of some sort. I remember watching with disgust as he forced the cobra's hooded head over the collecting jar. A milky stream of venom trickled down the inside of the glass.

He'd dropped the coiled snake back in its cage and held up the jar with obvious delight. "That's how it's done, Rom. Want to have a go?"

"No way! I'd rather kiss an octopus than touch that thing."

He'd laughed, but I'd seen the look of disappointment on his face.

"Well, at least pop this jar in the container then." He'd pointed to a white aluminium box on the lab bench.

A cloud of chilled air had wafted out when I gingerly lifted the lid of that box.

"Careful, son," Dad had said. "The contents of that box are worth more than their weight in gold."

It had just looked like a cooler full of jars and test tubes to me. A mad scientist's picnic. I'd

                                            

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slammed the lid shut and made some excuse to leave DA6 early.

I have to find that white aluminium box. That's where I'll find Dad's antivenoms. I curse myself for not paying attention back when I had the chance.

In the meantime, Old Joe has slipped into unconsciousness. I don't know how long I've got to find the antivenom, but I guess it's no more than an hour. After that, Old Joe will be ...

I don't even want to think about it!

I resume my search, keeping an eagle eye out for any other snakes that might be lurking amid the debris.

How had the boomslang got loose anyway? An icy finger runs up my spine.

If the security gates are open and unattended, maybe the reptile cages are open as well. That would mean the whole zoo is on the loose.

I have to shut the thought from my mind and keep focused. Old Joe deserves that, at least.

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But, after fifteen minutes of fruitless searching, I've found nothing. Maybe Dad has moved it. I scramble into the Hub and search among the desks and drawers.

Nothing.

I catch a sudden movement to my right. A blur of black.

Snake?                •

Whirling around, I send a computer crashing to the floor.

Whatever it was, it's gone.

I kick over a desk. Nothing. Maybe it was my imagination.

I resume searching for the vials. I reckon I've got thirty minutes left.

Suddenly, I feel a hand on the back of my neck.

I spin around. There's no one behind me.

I reach up behind my neck. I feel movement across the top of my head.

I drop to my knees, shaking my head violently from side to side.

When I look up, it is straight into the eyes of a hideous, hand-sized tarantula spider clinging

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to the front of my face mask!

I lash out in horror and the spider goes spinning across the room. It lands on its back, then flips over and comes scurrying back towards me at an amazing speed. Its fangs are raised and even I know that's not a good sign.

I bolt for the shattered door, heading for the safety of the jeep. As I run, I trip on the fire extinguisher Old Joe used to smash in the doors. I scoop it up quickly and pull the trigger. A stream of white vapour erupts from the nozzle.

The tarantula is blown back against the far wall in a jet of foam. I don't hang around to see if it's still alive. I have to get back into the lab and drag Old Joe out of there.

Now there are spiders on the loose as well. Great!

It takes all my strength to pull the old man's limp body across the wreckage to the jeep. By the time I have him on the back seat, I'm dripping wet inside my protective suit. I've spotted at least a dozen giant spiders lurking in the shadows, but no snakes. Not yet anyway.

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I've left the lights on! The battery is as flat as a flounder.

Another jeep is parked nearby, away in the shadows. I scramble over to it and turn the ignition. The motor hums to life. Before I drag Old Joe over to it, I quickly check under the seats. As I'm reaching for the back seat, I suddenly think of Mum. I pull my hand away fast. Just in time

Coiled in the back of the jeep, under an old lab coat, is the flickering tail of a snake.

I stare at it for a long moment, my heart pounding out of my chest. Mum wasn't so lucky, but her memory has saved me. My eyes fall on something else.

Sitting on the floor at the back of the jeep, partially covered by the same lab coat, is a white aluminium box. The antivenom box!

How did it get there? Who put it there? What's going on?

My mind is pumping. Too many questions with no answers.

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I need to get that box out of the back without being attacked by the snake coiled beside it. If I'm not careful, a bite could penetrate even my protective suit.

race across to check on Old Joe first. He's still breathing, but he doesn't look good. His hand is swollen terribly and he's delirious. The venom is taking hold. I guess I'm down to mere minutes.

I run back into the Hub and grab a broom lying on the floor. Snapping the handle in half, I approach the jeep.

I've seen Dad use this method before. He holds a length of stick in each hand like giant chopsticks. Then he gently scoops up the head and tail of a snake at the same time. As the snake coils around the sticks, he kind of juggles each end so that it never gets anywhere near him.

I don't have the time or the expertise for that kind of snake juggling. I thrust the two sticks into the back of the jeep and flick the snake up and over the back seat in one violent motion. It's a black mamba!  Then, before it can slither back under the

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seat or, worse, strike out at me, I whack it over the edge of the jeep and onto the ground, where it slides under some wooden crates at the edge of the tunnel.

The jeep's motor is still humming. Leaping into the front seat, I accelerate across to Old Joe, drag him into the back seat and speed off down the tunnel towards the dock and the Sea Slug. I've got to get Old Joe and myself as far away from snakes and spiders as I can.