Jurassic Waters

by E. Coulombe

  George sat and nodded his assent.

  “Okay,” Andrew went on, “here’s what I do know. In the next short period, only about one hundred million years, we had the Cambrian radiation, when all of the body plans known today, first evolved. And it was during that time that all of the hox genes found today were formed.”

  “And during that time,” George added, “the rates of body plan evolution were amazingly fast, thirty-five unique body plans were made, like the urchins, the insects, the mollusks, reptiles, amphibians, mammals, all were laid out, and then, in the next 430 million years there were no more. Now that’s really odd, don’t you think?”

  “Not at all. I think the genetic program got too complex. So interconnected that the chance of large-scale changes causing fatal errors increased exponentially. Only smaller changes were possible. Things could be tinkered with like fins could change into feet, necks could grow longer, arms could become wings, but they could not change into spinal tissues and develop a second brain. You see what I mean? Still, with so much genetic material overall to act on, the number of smaller changes that could be attempted increased greatly, and there was a correspondingly huge increase of biological diversity, but, within the confines of the thirty-five body plans.”

  "But why stop with thirty-five?" George asked.

  "I don't know. However, I imagine that at some point the genes could not decrystallize. They could not go backwards. Similar to computer programming or language of any kind. Like a novel. The author can rewrite paragraphs but the further back he jumps, the more nonsense he creates if he doesn't correct the following paragraphs as well. He can change a single word though, anywhere, without disintegrating the whole. Same for the genetic program. The more complex the program the fewer changes one can viably make.”

  “Perhaps that is the so-called nonsense DNA?” Kerri added from inside her sleeping bag. “Acquired pieces of DNA never incorporated into the program, because it would have been too disruptive.”

  “Maybe,” Andrew was the first to respond, “but let’s not try to make this the all encompassing theory, okay?”

  And George,” he said as he turned back to his friend, “I know you’re not entirely convinced, but go with me on this one okay, cause I could really use your input. Speaking bluntly, your intellectual powers are adequate, your work is always professional, well thought out and thoroughly researched. You do not fantasize the way some of the scientists who study the past tend to do. And, believe me George, right now I have neither the time nor the need for fantastical theories – my experiments are fantastical enough.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I can’t go into that just yet.”

  George sat and shifted his weight to settle more comfortably on his backside.

  “So Andrew, I take it you have a theory on directed genetic changes and now you want me to glean the proof from the fossil evidence.”

  “Exactly,” Andrew beamed.

  “Which is why I’m still here, isn’t it Andrew? Grant would have had me out of here days ago, but you intervened, didn’t you?”

  Andrew stared down into the fire, saying nothing. Deep furrows creased George’s brow, and when he spoke his voice was earnest, foreboding.

  “Okay, we’ll take that silence for now Andrew. But pretty damn soon buddy, you’re going to have to start leveling with me.”

  An uncomfortable moment of quiet filled the night air, but not for long.

  “Are you two done?” Lono said. He was sitting up on his bedding, arms wrapped around his legs, body curled up like a fist. “Jesus effing Christ—how can you all go on and on like this, with your stupid talk and your crazy ideas? Talking, talking, talking. Don’t you see what’s happening? He looked first at George, then at Andrew. “Dale and I nearly died in that cave. Hell, my grandfather, the best fisherman on the island, is dead! There’s something very wrong here and all you can do is talk crazy theories.”

  No one spoke. Lono’s unexpected outburst had stunned them all.

  “Oh, forget it,” Lono said. “While you sit around and talk us all to death, I’m going out to search the tide pools.” He grabbed a flashlight and disappeared. Kerri kicked up the coals to make some tea.

  “Well, how’s that for a party stopper?” George joked.

  “He’s right though, I probably shouldn’t have returned. I have nothing to add, another mouth to feed. Several more mouths actually. I can only make it harder for these generous people.” Andrew said.

  “You came back for us,” Michael said slowly, his voice strained. Andrew’s head jerked around, surprised by his son’s voice.

  “We came home for many reasons Michael, one of which was you, and all in all I’m glad we did.”

  “Are you dad?”

  “Yes,” he said hesitantly, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

  Michael started to answer, but suddenly George jumped up and shouted Lono’s form materialized in the twilight, and hanging from his outstretched arm was a writhing eel, at least five feet long and as big around as Lono’s biceps, its body jerking and the tail nearly touching the ground. The eel’s jaw clamped a piece of meat that Lono held in his hand. Lono lifted it over the fire and then, suddenly let it go. It moved away from the heat and slithered around their feet. George and Kerri scrambled to get away.

  “You not ‘fraid of a little eel?” Lono laughed. The eel hid under a rock, mouth turned towards them, hissing, its jaw snapping.

  “Jeeze, Lono, get that thing out of here. That could really hurt someone,” George said.

  “So I guess that means you’re not interested in this other thing I found in the pool?”

  “What?” George looked into Lono’s outstretched hand. On his palm was a black, wet, blob, no more than four inches across.

  “What is it?”

  “I don’t know. Never seen it before.”

  “Really? What do you think it is, Andrew?”

  “Looks like a bivalve without a shell. Is that possible? They don’t molt, do they?”

  “I think we need to send it to Dr. Kaneshiro. He’ll know what it is.” George thought for a moment. “Or maybe he’ll only know what it’s not.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Could be he won’t recognize it. Could be Lono has made another discovery. I can’t say for sure, but that thing looks vaguely familiar to me. Not from Hawaii though, from an old photo…or text book….” George stopped.

  “We need to do some night diving.”

  No one moved “I’m kind of tired tonight George,” Lono said. “Why don’t you just go do the diving for us?”

  Chapter Twenty Four

  They awoke the next morning to a pounding rain. “Guess we stayed one night too many,” George said apologetically.

  Kerri, who had moved her sleeping bag next to Lono’s when the rains ended their night search, propped herself up on one elbow. She looked fresh, as if she had stayed the night at the Ala Moana Hotel. George stuck his head around the flap of his single-man tent, and together they watched Lono, dressed in a sou’wester and cape slung round his shoulders, trying to find semi-dry firewood on the beach.

  “Andrew!” George bellowed. “Some vacation I’m having. Really have to thank you. Love camping in the rain and now it looks as though we’ll have to pack out in this downpour.”

  “You needed a break from that degenerate desk life you’ve been living. Put some hair on your slick little hairless chest.”

  “Don’t bother with a fire, Lono,” George said. “We need to get back with your creature.”

  Lono joined them under his tarp. “Think I’m going to go now.” He clearly wanted to leave. “I can hike faster than you guys. I’ll get to the ranch, bring the boat around and pick up all of you, and that thing in the jug.”

  “No, that won’t work” George argued. “It’ll take you at least six hours no matter how fast you run, and then several more to return on the boat. By then it’ll be dark, and we’d have to wait til tomorrow. Besides,
we’d probably have to swim out to the boat again, which I don’t relish.” George stared out from under Lono’s tarp, watching the sand turn to rivulets. “I say let’s all hike out now. Even if it takes us all day, at least we’ll get back to the house by nightfall.”

  “Okay,” said Andrew, “But I have to warn you, George, this trail is going to be tough. Slick and muddy and parts will be like walking in a river of soup. Then there’ll be the river crossing near the end. No telling how high the stream is going to be. And if it’s too high, we could be stranded on this side for several days.”

  “Not likely” Lono said. “I brought rope just in case. We can get across.”

  “If it’s still light when we get there. If we get there too late, we won’t try to cross in the dark. Agreed Lono?”

  Lono pretended not to hear. He stepped out into the rain to untie the cords to the tarp.

  George bent over to break down his tent. “I can hustle, Andrew. You don’t need to worry about me.”

  Andrew nodded, thinking that George was exactly the thing he was worried about.

  As Andrew had predicted, the trail was difficult. Lono wore spiked tabis, the Hawaiian hiking shoe of choice. The shoe came down between the toes like an Asian sandal with army-green canvas wrapped up to the calf and small metal spikes across the rubber bottoms. The perfect footwear for gripping on slick and muddy trails, George thought, as his own hiking boots backslid down the trail.

  Lono went on ahead, to set up the rope for the crossing. “He doesn’t look forward to taking care of us another night,” George joked to Andrew. Kerri, Andrew, and George soon fell behind, although Michael kept pace with Lono.

  The weather worsened as they approached Kahili’s summit. The winds blowing from the south whipped the air up the slope and fog thickened around them. Not the quiet fog that George knew from New England--this was a wind-whipped frenzy of white mist curling around him. He felt like he literally was walking with the ghosts, as if the fog lent an air of mystery to their expedition.

  “Hell, this whole trip is one big mystery,” George said, more to himself than to anyone else, not caring if he could be heard over the rain. Hell, it’s a mystery to me that I’m even on Nakoa, he thought. Everything since I arrived—finding an Ediacaran, carrying, through the pouring rain, a creature that no one has ever seen before! Should I be surprised that ghosts would descend on us?”

  As they neared the summit, it was gray in all directions, with no hint of sunlight breaking through for miles. In fact, the rains got heavier, streaming down in torrents. As Andrew had predicted, the trail turned into an ankle-deep stream. George had trouble finding his footing, sliding around as he held tight to the box with the creature inside.

  I should have given my pack to Lono, he thought. George had been stubborn, not able to trust anyone else with his precious cargo.

  “Where is Lono anyway? He shouldn’t have left us like this. We may need his help getting down this slope,” George said irritably.

  “No, it’s good that he went ahead,” Andrew answered. “With rain like this there’s no way we’ll get across the river without a rope. I just hope he gets there in time to set it up.”

  When they arrived at the river an hour later, they found Lono and Michael squatting on the riverbank, the rope already set. The stream, which had been no more than two feet deep and twenty feet wide when they had crossed it two days ago, was now a raging torrent -- at least six feet deep and twice as wide as before. Brown muddy waters with white-capped foam surged across their path and the rumbling sound of boulders scraping the bottom came from the depths.

  “Wow!” Andrew said. “How did you ever get that rope up?”

  “It wasn’t so bad when we got here--only a couple of feet,” Lono said. “That last downpour did it.”

  They stood for a moment, watching the river, sensing it was still rising. Lono urged them to get started..

  George hesitated. “I don’t know. Maybe we should camp here and try it tomorrow.”

  Andrew disagreed. “No,” he said. “We could be stuck here for days. It won’t get better until the weather clears.”

  George looked dubious and Kerri showed signs of fear, but Andrew urged them forward, pointing out another downpour building on the peak.

  “But that’s way up there,” George said.

  Andrew shook his head. “Sometimes a wall of water comes down this stream. My father told me one time he was up in this valley on his old mule, racing down the trail just ahead of a two-foot rise, trying to get to the crossing before the water did. He just made it, too. But when he was out in the middle he looked upstream, and a huge five-foot wall of water was barreling down on him. He said the mule looked at that water, his eyes got the size of baseballs and he snorted a loud HHOONNKK and he took off, just getting out before it hit. It’s amazing how quickly it can rise. You don’t want to see it.”

  Lono agreed. “I’ll go first, with Kerri close behind. Michael next, to be the anchor in the middle, and we’ll make a chain between us. First we’ll get the people across, then the gear.”

  “Michael?” Andrew said. “I don’t want him standing out in the middle of that river.”

  “Up to you,” Lono said. “But I’ll tell ya he’s the only one of this lot that I’d trust out there to hold onto me if the current gets too strong. He’s the only one strong enough, and he’s brave.”

  Michael beamed. Andrew nodded in reluctant agreement. Lono stepped down into the water, which immediately swirled around his calves, and within a couple of steps the water surged around his waist. He wrapped the rope around his arm several turns, and moved out to the middle. He gestured for Kerri. She stepped into the water, along the rope, with Michael close behind. When they reached the middle, the water started coming up.

  “Man, it’s getting worse,” Andrew said. Kerri looked at him, and for the first time he saw real fear on her face. “It’s alright,” he said to calm her, but she could barely hear him over the torrent.

  “Lono, wait up!” Andrew shouted.

  Lono was over half-way across and into the deepest waters. He stopped and waited as the water swirled around his chest. Kerri inched foreword. “Come on Kerri,” Lono urged her. “You’ve got to move it!”

  She stepped forward and Michael came up directly behind her. “It’s okay Kerri,” he said calmly, “you’re all right. Take one step at a time.” She moved her far foot forward and slipped. Immediately, the stream’s force picked up both legs and she was suspended. Pain shot through her arm as the rope snapped tight around it.

  She screamed, and went under.

  Michael grabbed her around the waist and pulled with everything he had. He got her upright. Fumbling twice, she regained her footing, and stood, unable to move.

  Lono stepped across, freed his right hand, and placed it around her waist. With total determination, he literally carried her across the stream.

  Lono didn’t waste any more time. He yelled back, “George, start out now!” Reluctantly, George walked away from his pack, not wanting to leave it, but knowing there was no way he’d get across with it in tow. Lono had promised to go back for it.

  “Take good care of this,” he told Andrew. He stepped down into the raging water. His heavier frame planted him more firmly on the rocks than had Kerri’s light weight, and with the rope wrapped around his arm, he began working his way across. Lono waited on the far side in the deepest spot and Michael held firm in the middle.

  “Michael--can you come toward me just one step?”George said when the water reached his waist and he felt the power of its pull. Michael and Lono both moved closer to George.

  Then they heard it.

  A crashing sound above them. Standing on a rise, Kerri saw it first -- a four-foot wall of water, bearing down on them.

  “Get out!” Andrew shouted above the crashing. Like giants bowling, the massive underwater boulders made a deep splintering sound. George spun round and headed back, but his right foot slipped. The other fo
ot held though, and he managed to right himself as Andrew prepared to jump in and grab him.

  Too late.

  Within seconds, the wall smacked into Lono, Michael and George. All three men disappeared into the muddy brown power; the rope was completely submerged. Andrew held his breath waiting for the wall to pass, until finally Michael reappeared, still holding on. Next Lono came up on the far side. But George didn’t surface.

  “He’s going out to sea. Help him!” Andrew pointed down the river.

  The raging water tossed George’s wiry frame like a rag doll. He was frantically trying to grab onto a rock or limb, anything that could delay his exit into the ocean beyond. Andrew had told him that the current there was legendary.

  “George!” Lono screamed. In one huge leap, he was across the stream to the far side. He raced downstream on high ground, reaching the river mouth seconds ahead of George. George grabbed onto a log wedged between two boulders. Panic wracked his face as he fought against the force of the water. Lono ran back up the riverbank and entered the water just above George. He let the current carry him down, wedging himself tight against the upstream side of the boulders.

  George’s weight had loosened the log, and he felt it move. His eyes bulged. He screamed at Lono, flinging his arm out to grab the boulder, but his hand slid over the smooth surface. Just as the current picked up the log, Lono grabbed George’s shirt. It held for a second, then ripped off his frame. George started to fall back and Lono stuck his fingers through George’s belt. He managed to pull him upstream and plant him against the rocks.

  “We have to get out of here, this boulder’s starting to give! Get on my back. Wrap your arms around and don’t let go, no matter what, even if we go under. Okay?”

  The boulder started to roll. Clinging to Lono’s back, George’s feet were swept out from under him as soon as the boulder rolled away. He was fully extended on the surface of the water, as was Lono, but he was able to use his hands to cling to the rocks below. The muddy waters hit him in the face, and he prayed aloud that the rocks would not give way. He looked up and saw Michael like a vision, carrying the rope.