Escape to the Moon Islands: Quest of the Sunfish 1

by Mardi McConnochie

  They were jostled through an open archway into a courtyard that opened onto jungle. The people were all moving towards what seemed to be a communal kitchen—probably the source of the smoke they’d seen earlier. Pod’s eye was caught by something on the far side of the courtyard. There, where the jungle encroached, was a great midden, a heaped pile of rubbish, the detritus from their kitchen and their banquets. There were the shells of many shellfish there, but there were other things as well, things that were too big to have come from anything that swam in the sea.

  Bones.

  Long bones. Human bones.

  ‘Run!’ Pod hissed at Annalie.

  He grabbed her arm. She looked at him, startled, for just a moment. Then they rammed through the crowd that was surrounding them and broke into a run.

  The crowd moaned and cried and came rushing after them.

  ‘Stop!’

  ‘The gift!’

  ‘We need you!’

  ‘Don’t go!’

  Pod and Annalie ran, ducking and dodging. Finding the archway they’d just come through blocked by more people in white, they turned and slipped through a different doorway and came out into what had once been a swimming pool area. Rising up out of the pool was a colossal figure, built out of chrome towel rails and old TV sets, broken chairs, pool recliners and tennis rackets. It had a huge, dreadful painted face with an enormous mouth, smiling and red, the pointed teeth made out of shards of broken crockery. In each upraised hand she held a human figure. Scattered at the foot of the figure were skulls and leg bones, carefully carved.

  This was their god. A cannibal god.

  Pod ran towards the statue and grabbed up one of the huge carved leg bones. A few people behind them gasped.

  ‘We’re not your gift,’ Pod shouted. ‘We’re not your banquet.’

  Then they began to run again. The white-clad people gave chase. Somehow they found their way back to the main path to the beach and Annalie ran down it, fleet-footed, Pod following behind. Whenever anyone tried to grab him, he swung his bone-club, not caring how much damage he did.

  At last they reached the beach. The dinghy was still there, heavy with its weight of water. Annalie put her back into it and shoved it down towards the water while Pod turned and faced the white-clad cannibals.

  ‘You must give us your gift!’ they cried. ‘Your gift is a blessing!’

  ‘We already paid!’ Pod shouted.

  ‘Come on Pod!’ Annalie called.

  Pod tossed the club at them, ran down the beach and leapt into the dinghy. They roared away from another island, back to the safety of the Sunfish.

  ‘Cannibals,’ Pod said in disgust. ‘I hate cannibals.’

  Little Lang Lang

  With the water safely on board they sailed east without stopping, towards Little Lang Lang. They didn’t want to risk any more encounters with the strange and dangerous people of the Islands, and they knew now that their best hope of finding help was to get to Uncle Art’s house.

  The weather turned bad, and rain and strong winds made life a misery for a day or two. Essie did her best to look after Will, but his condition did not improve. He was weak, pale, plagued by fever, drifting in and out of consciousness. But at last they sailed up the strait towards Little Lang Lang, with Annalie at the wheel. After all the trials and dangers they’d been through, she could hardly believe their journey was almost over. Soon they would be safe at Uncle Art’s house. Safe with Spinner.

  Little Lang Lang Island was long and gently sloped, with a smallish mountain—really, more of a large hill—in the middle of it. There were scrubby, windswept trees on the island, but it was mostly open ground sloping towards pebbly bays, with a few caves scattered around.

  Annalie and Will had spent many summers here with Spinner, so the landscape was familiar, although the angle of their approach was different: before, they’d always arrived from the north and this time they approached from the south. But the mountain loomed up just as it always had, and soon they were sailing into the bay where Art had a jetty.

  Art’s house was old—it had been old before the Flood—a large, rambling, draughty place with wide verandas and lots of bedrooms, set up high on a ridge of hill well above the highest sea levels. It had had various uses over time: once it had been the lighthouse keeper’s residence, although the lighthouse no longer stood; it had also been a trading post, a communications array and a military outpost.

  Now it was a weather station; Uncle Art maintained the instruments and made sure the readings were relayed properly. It wasn’t a well-paid job, but the house was included, and Art had five children. There was a little town at the other end of the island, so they weren’t completely isolated, although they seemed isolated enough.

  The house had commanding views over everything that moved up or down the strait; by the time Annalie and Pod were tying up the Sunfish at the jetty, Art and his wife Rene had come down to meet them. Art was a small, smiley man with a roly-poly face, and Rene, who was slightly taller than her husband, had a freckled face and a very long fountain of frizzy hair.

  ‘Annalie, welcome!’ Art said, coming towards them, smiling, his hands out. ‘To what do we owe the pleasure?’

  ‘Where’s your dad?’ asked Rene, her brow crinkling.

  Annalie looked from Art to Rene in dismay, and then burst into tears.

  Art and Rene exchanged a look. ‘You’d better come up to the house,’ he said.

  Where’s Spinner?

  Will was carried up and a doctor sent for; Pod and Essie were introduced; Uncle Art’s cat was locked outside so it couldn’t try to catch Graham; sandwiches and fruit and drinks were provided and consumed; and then the children told their story.

  Art listened while they described the wrecking of the workshop, Spinner’s flight, the visit from Beckett, the theft of the Sunfish, and the story of their long and eventful journey to reach Little Lang Lang.

  ‘I can’t believe you managed it,’ Art said, when at last they were finished. ‘I don’t know if I could have pulled off a journey like that.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have let you try,’ Rene said.

  ‘The main thing is, you’re safe now,’ Art said, smiling at them kindly.

  ‘First things first,’ Rene said, ‘we’ll need to get Will’s leg looked at. The doctor should be here soon. I’m sure she’ll have you fixed up in no time.’

  Although still terribly pale, Will had refused to be put to bed. Rene had tucked him up on the sofa and dosed him with the strongest painkillers they had in the house while they waited for the doctor.

  ‘We can look at getting the Sunfish mended properly too,’ Art said.

  ‘But what about Spinner?’ asked Annalie, still unable to believe that he wasn’t actually here.

  ‘I’m sorry, Annalie,’ Art said. ‘To think you came all this way . . . What made you think he‘d come here?’

  ‘When we heard he’d gone to the Moon Islands, we thought it must’ve been to stay with you,’ Annalie said, her chin beginning to wobble.

  ‘You’re his oldest friend,’ Will said. ‘Where else would he go?’

  ‘I hate to say this,’ Art said, ‘but did it ever occur to you Spinner might have been trying to put people off the scent?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Annalie.

  ‘Maybe he put the word out that he was going somewhere really far away, because he was actually planning to stay right where he was,’ Art said.

  Annalie and Will looked at Art in dismay. ‘You think he never left Lowtown?’

  Art put his hands up. ‘I don’t know where he went. If I did, I’d tell you. All I know is, he hasn’t shown up here.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean he won’t show up here,’ Rene put in soothingly.

  ‘That’s right,’ Art said. ‘And you don’t need to worry about a thing. You’ve got a home with us for as long as you need it. Your friends, too, if they want to stay.’

  ‘Or we can find out about sending you home,’ Rene added, s
miling at Essie and Pod.

  Essie smiled uncertainly back, then looked at Annalie for reassurance. But Annalie was staring down at her hands, overwhelmed.

  Pod was scowling. ‘I got no home,’ he said.

  ‘Then you’re welcome to stay,’ Rene said.

  A silence fell. Rene eventually broke it by getting to her feet and saying, ‘I’d better get out the spare bedding.’

  ‘I’ll give you a hand,’ said Art.

  ‘Feel free to help yourself to more sandwiches,’ Rene said. And then the two of them left the room, leaving the children alone.

  ‘I thought he’d be here,’ Annalie said brokenly.

  ‘Maybe he’s been held up,’ Will suggested gamely.

  ‘He could be anywhere,’ Annalie said, ‘which is just the same as being nowhere. We’re never going to find him.’

  And she broke down and began to sob.

  Essie put her arm around Annalie and made soothing noises, rather frightened by it all. She was used to Annalie being strong and in control; her certainty had helped carry them all this far, to what seemed like a simple and undoubted conclusion. Now, suddenly, everything was confusion. She had no idea what they were supposed to do next.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Will said, trying to sound commanding. ‘We’ll stay here for a while and get the boat fixed, and if he doesn’t come, well, we can just go on and keep looking for him.’

  ‘Where?’ Annalie sobbed. ‘We don’t know where to start.’

  ‘What about the list, the people from the desert? One of those addresses was here in the Islands.’

  Annalie shook her head hopelessly. ‘I’m sick of wild goose chases. I’m sick of danger. We can’t just keep on sailing.’

  ‘Fine. Go back to your school, and I’ll keep looking for Spinner. Pod’s with me, aren’t you, Pod?’

  Annalie glared at Will. Pod looked uncomfortably from Will to Annalie.

  ‘Let’s not make any decisions now,’ Essie said soothingly. ‘We’re all tired. Will’s got a gammy leg. Let’s wait until he’s better and the Sunfish is fixed. No one’s going anywhere until that happens, right?’

  Later that afternoon, Art’s children came rampaging home from school, and Art went off to town to make enquiries about getting the Sunfish repaired.

  Art had five children: Jake, who was two years older than Annalie, Daisy, who was Annalie’s age, then two more boys who looked like twins but weren’t, and Alice, who was the youngest. Evidently Art had told the kids something about what Will, Annalie and their friends were doing there, but it was nowhere near enough to satisfy their curiosity. They carried Annalie off to the garden to bombard her with questions, while Essie showed Pod what a trampoline was for.

  ‘Is Spinner in trouble?’ asked one of the younger boys.

  ‘No,’ Annalie said, ‘it’s just a mistake.’

  ‘Then why did he run away?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Are you all going to stay with us?’

  ‘I guess so. Just for a little while.’

  ‘You can stay in my room,’ said Daisy, who was already slightly jealous of Essie.

  ‘Thanks,’ Annalie said. She’d always liked Daisy the best out of all her adopted cousins.

  ‘What did Spinner do to get in trouble?’ asked Jake.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Was it something really bad?’

  ‘Is he a smuggler?’

  ‘Is he a pirate?’

  ‘Of course not!’

  ‘Do you think he’s been arrested?’

  ‘Maybe they’re going to take him to Rogue Island!’

  ‘No!’ Annalie protested.

  ‘I don’t want to go to Rogue Island,’ wailed the youngest girl, who was afraid of everything. Rogue Island was an Admiralty prison with a terrifying reputation.

  ‘That’s where all the worst people go,’ Jake said.

  ‘I heard they keep people in dungeons there.’

  ‘And they keep them in the dark forever and ever.’

  ‘And once you go there, you never get out.’

  ‘He hasn’t been arrested and he’s not going to Rogue Island!’ Annalie cried. ‘He hasn’t done anything wrong!’

  Rene looked out the back window and yelled, ‘Kids, leave your cousin alone!’

  The kids backed off, although not before one of the younger boys said, ‘He must have done something.’

  The doctor arrived to see Will. She cleaned, stitched and redressed the wound and prescribed strong antibiotics and plenty of rest; she expected him to make a full recovery. Art returned and reported that the Sunfish was booked in for repairs. Annalie felt a little anxious about handing the boat over to someone else, but she knew she was being silly. They were in a safe place now. The boat would be fine.

  The night closed in. Art and Rene made dinner.

  Dinner in this house was always a scrum, because all the children had huge appetites and there never seemed to be quite enough food to go round. Jake had once stabbed Annalie’s hand with a fork as they reached for the same potato—he’d claimed it was an accident but Annalie had known it wasn’t, quite. That day, Annalie tried to eat the food Rene had served her, but worry had dissolved her appetite and soon her cousins were eyeing off her leftovers.

  ‘Are you going to eat that?’ one of the younger boys asked, and when she said she wasn’t, her plate was cleared in moments.

  When dinner was over, Aunty Rene took the other kids away for some post-dinner clean-up, books and bed. Art stayed at the table with Will, Annalie, Essie and Pod.

  ‘I think it’s time we talked about your father,’ he said.

  The Collodius Process

  Art inclined his head towards Pod and Essie. ‘Is this something you’d rather do in private?’

  ‘We don’t have any secrets from them,’ Annalie said. ‘They came all this way, they might as well hear it too.

  Art paused, then began. ‘How much do you know about Spinner’s past?’

  ‘Not much,’ Annalie said.

  ‘That Beckett guy said Spinner used to work for the Admiralty, in the Science Department,’ Will said. ‘But Spinner’s not a scientist.’

  ‘Admiralty Science was where they put all the smartest people,’ Art said. ‘Not just scientists, but engineers, mathematicians, all kinds of people. They put them into teams and gave them problems to solve. Food problems, water problems, energy, transport, communications . . . Lots of problems, all serious, all needing solutions. Your dad was on one of those teams, and so was your mum. That’s how they met.’

  ‘So Beckett was telling the truth about that too,’ Annalie said.

  ‘Their team was pretty good—one of the best. So the Admiralty decided to give them the biggest project of all.’ He paused. ‘Have you heard of the Collodius Process?’

  Pod shook his head, while Will looked vague.

  ‘It was something to do with the Flood,’ Essie suggested.

  ‘It caused the Flood,’ Annalie said. ‘It’s one of the great scientific disaster stories.’

  Art nodded. ‘That’s right. Fifty years ago, we were suffering from rapidly rising temperatures and catastrophic climate change. We were transitioning to low-carbon energy, trying to adapt to the changing climate, but one thing was a real problem: we were running out of fresh water. Did they teach you about the droughts, the water riots?’

  Annalie and Essie nodded. ‘There was one year where the crops failed and whole countries were starving.’

  ‘Even people in rich countries were hungry,’ Essie said.

  ‘The North Dux Dustbowl,’ Annalie said.

  ‘That’s right,’ Art said. ‘It was terrible, truly terrible, and something urgently needed to be done. A lot of scientists were looking at large-scale geo-engineering solutions to try and fix some of the problems. There were plenty of wild ideas around, but no one wanted to put them into practice—for one thing, they were expensive, and there was no real agreement that they’d even work. They might ev
en make things worse.

  ‘A group of scientists had been working on a radical new technology which they believed could work on the biosphere to release more fresh water back into the system. It was called the Collodius Process, and in lab tests and computer models it seemed to work. After the famine of ’92, the government of Brundisi was desperate enough to give it a try. I guess you know what happened next.’

  ‘It went haywire and caused the Flood,’ Will said.

  Art nodded. ‘The process started a chain reaction which caused massive worldwide flooding and a permanent change in sea level.’

  ‘But what has any of that got to do with Spinner?’ Will asked, a little impatiently.

  ‘Under the global accords that were drawn up a few years later, all research into the Collodius Process was halted permanently. The device was destroyed, and everyone thought that all the research was destroyed too. But it wasn’t.’ Art paused. ‘About fifteen years ago, the Admiralty heard a whisper that an outlaw group had uncovered some of the original research and were working on it.’

  ‘Why?’ Annalie asked, astonished.

  Art shrugged. ‘Maybe they were hoping to use it. Maybe they just wanted to hold the world to ransom. I don’t know. But once the Admiralty thought someone else was working on the Collodius Process, they couldn’t risk letting anyone get ahead of them. So they put together their own top-secret group of scientists to start working on it too.’

  ‘Spinner?’

  ‘And your mother,’ Art said. ‘The Admiralty set up a secret research base out in the desert and sent them off to study the data, look at what went wrong, and find out what they could do to stop the process—or even reverse it.’

  ‘What, you mean put the sea back where it was?’ Essie asked incredulously.

  ‘It’s a little more complicated than that,’ Art said. ‘But yes.’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ Will said. ‘If this was all so top secret, how come you know about it?’

  ‘Spinner told me later. None of the classified stuff. Just the broad outlines.’

  ‘But why would they do something like that?’ Annalie asked. ‘Why build it again? What if they made things even worse?’