When I reach the dock, the sub-trawler
looks even rustier in the
harsh white light of the airlock.
"Skipper!" I shout. "Give me a hand, quick —Old Joe's in trouble!"
There's no answer.
I don't have time to go searching for him, so I fling open the box. A
cloud of cold air swirls
out.
Old Joe is moaning softly now.
"Hang
on, mate!" I cry, as I pour the contents of the box onto the back seat of the jeep.
There are all kinds of vials and small jars. I quickly begin checking them. Each one is carefully labelled in my dad's handwriting. There are dates and a lot of scientific mumbo‑
pg 48
jumbo
in Latin. And on each one there is a name in
parentheses: the common name of the snake. This is
what I'm after.
Within minutes, I'm holding a vial in
my trembling hand: Dispholidus typus (boomslang). Good on you, Dad!
Next question is, how to administer it?
I find a
pouch with syringes in it. I've never seen Dad actually administer antivenom, but I've seen enough medical dramas on TV back in Basin City.
I plunge an empty syringe into the vial
and extract some of the
clear liquid. Then I tap the needle, just like I've seen them do on TV.
Now where the heck do I jab Old Joe? He's moaning softly, his eyes wide open, but seeing nothing There's no time to lose. I rip
off his protective suit and
jab the needle into his right
forearm. He makes no sign of having felt a thing
I prop his head up against the jeep door and wait. Wait and pray. I have no idea how long the antivenom will take to work, or even
if it will work at all.
pg 49
I sit next to Old Joe and stare back up the tunnel. I need to get back to the Hub and keep searching for my dad.
Just then,
I hear a muffled thump from inside the Sea Slug. It sounds like it's coming from the engine room.
"Skipper?" I shout. "Is that
you?"
There's no
answer except another muffled thump.
I climb
through the open hatch and down the ladder into the dim interior of the rusty sub-trawler.
"Skipper! It's me, Rom! Are you okay?"
No reply.
I begin to
squeeze down through the narrow hatchway to the
darkened engine room. Suddenly, there's a
loud thump, like someone kicking against the side of the hull.
It's
Hammerhead. And he isn't alone. Coiled around his lanky body is a giant boa constrictor! Only one foot still dangles free of the
snake's crushing grip and
it thumps urgently against the
metal hull.
Stunned,
I freeze where I am. I can see
pg 50
the
boa's hideous body tightening its hold, squeezing
the life out of the poor skipper. What can I
do? My mind is spinning. In a moment, it will be
too late. I will myself to grab the snake, wrestle
it off Hammerhead, but my limbs are frozen in terror.
The thumping foot stops. Is he dead? It's my
fault ...
Suddenly, there's an explosion. The force of it topples me sideways and, when I stagger back to my feet, my ears are ringing
violently.
The deafening noise has filled the cramped engine room. My whole head feels as if it's splitting in two. When the smoke
clears, I'm stunned to see
the boa lying on the deck, oozing fluid from a huge hole in its head. Its green coils twitch and loosen, then it lies still.
Dead.
Hammerhead lies amid the coils, gasping like a stranded fish. And, standing in the hatchway, flare gun in hand, is the biggest
surprise of all —Old Joe!
"Got the blighter!" he says, with a smile on his face.
He still looks like death warmed up, shakypg 51
on his feet, clutching the hatchway for support. But he's very much alive.
"I don't know what you did, lad,
but it worked!" he
says, dropping to his knees to catch his breath.
Hammerhead staggers to his feet, still shaken. His eyes bulge even more
now. "I owe you, Joe. Reckon
you saved my life. One more minute and that vorm vould've crushed the spit out of me!"
My ears are still ringing from the explosion. "Where'd you get the
flare gun?" I ask.
"I came to in the back of the jeep. Heard you calling the skipper and the thumping
on the hull. I managed to
climb inside the Sea Slug and saw that snake wrapped round the skipper and you frozen like a statue. Then I
remembered that Hammerhead keeps an underwater flare gun stuffed down the side of his chair?'
He stops
to catch his breath. The effort has completely drained him. Suddenly, he plunges face forward towards the ground.
Hammerhead manages to catch him under the
armpits and I come round and grab his
pg 52
legs.
Together, we lay him down in the grubby captain's chair.
"He needs to sleep," I say, and then I tell the skipper everything that happened
back at the Hub.
"Snakes on the loose!" he
says when I'm finished.
"That explains why I found a giant vorm in my engine room. Snuck up on me, it did!"
I help him drag the dead boa up
through the hatchway. It
weighs a tonne and leaves a slimy trail behind it. By the time we've got it to the docking bay and thrown
it into the sea, we're exhausted.
I decide to bring
the box of antivenoms back on board the Sea Slug for safe keeping. Meanwhile, Hammerhead checks and
double-checks every inch of the engine room and forward cabins, in case any other stowaways have sneaked on board. There's nothing.
He's about
to seal the hatch against other stray snakes or spiders when he sees me climbing the ladder. "Vere are you going, boy?" he
asks.
"I'm
going back to find my dad," I say, with more courage than I feel. "Will you wait for
me?"
pg 53
He laughs gruffly. "Ain't nowhere else to
go, boy. Basin City is kaput!"
In all the excitement, I haven't given a thought
to Basin City, or where we'll head to next. I'll worry about all that once I've
found Dad. If I find
Dad.
I'm zipping up my suit and about to get into the jeep
when the skipper calls after me. "You'd better
take this vith you, boy!" He tosses me the flare
gun. "Take care with it."
I accelerate back down the tunnel — back into the
dangerous heart of Deep Ark 6.
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