The Skeleton Coast

by Mardi McConnochie

‘But look how green it is,’ Annalie said. ‘It can’t just be rainfall keeping these trees alive. I wonder if there’s ground water? Or a spring?’ She paused. ‘I’m going to see if I can find it while we wait for the others.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ said Essie.

  Will was already looking for a shady spot to start building his land surfer. ‘Sure, whatever,’ he said.

  Graham flew over the ruins, looking for Pod. Earlier there had been birds around. Now there was no sign of them. He sensed they were there still, hiding in the trees, listening, silent. Listening for what? Hiding from what?

  Graham had a bad feeling about this place. He glided on.

  My jewel. That’s what I should have given her.

  Blossom was looking for something to leave as an offering. It would need to be something special to keep them safe, after what Will had said. Her jewel was her favourite—it would have been perfect—but it was back on the boat. She felt through her pockets, just in case. She always carried useful things, and sometimes one or two treasures, just to keep them close, but this time she found nothing worthy.

  She arrived at a place where the walls stood higher than most. Trees grew up inside them, but she could see that once this had been something fine and important. She lifted aside trailing vines and crept in under the branches, looking around her. Another temple? She went deeper in, and caught sight of something marvellous. A partial wall, covered in human figures—women dancing—made out of coloured stones and pieces of shell pressed into the wall. She ran up to them and ran her fingers over them; how beautiful they were! They would make the perfect gift for the Lady; but how to offer them without tearing them from the wall? She knew that damaging this lovely thing, even to give it to the Lady, would not win her favour. She took a step back and felt the ground crunching slightly under her feet. She looked down; pieces of the fresco had broken off and fallen to the floor. Most were crumbled, unrecognisable, but she found one good-sized piece with a recognisable human eye pressed into it. She picked it up. It gazed back at her.

  Yes. This was the thing.

  She turned back to the temple.

  ‘Will?’ Pod called. ‘Annalie?’

  He was still walking, hot, tired, sick of the ruins. There was no sign of the others, and no sign of Blossom.

  The trees that grew everywhere had fine needles instead of leaves, and when the wind blew through them, as it did frequently, it made a shushing, moaning, sibilant sound he was starting to find a bit creepy.

  A great screech echoed off the rocks and Graham came fluttering down to land on a branch above him. ‘Found you!’ Graham said. ‘Where Little Pod?’

  ‘She wandered off.’

  Graham made a disapproving noise.

  ‘I know,’ Pod sighed. ‘We’d better find the others. Then maybe you can help me track her down.’

  Graham rarked an affirmative and spread his wings to take off again, then something caught his eye. He froze in place, looking into the undergrowth.

  ‘What is it?’ Pod asked uneasily.

  ‘Something there,’ Graham said in his harsh voice.

  Pod was already spooked enough by the whale attack and Blossom’s talk of bad luck. He turned to look at the undergrowth, but saw nothing. ‘What sort of something?’

  ‘Don’t know. Let’s go.’

  Graham took off. Pod hurried after him. The bird flew ahead, now soaring up for a better vantage point, now circling round behind.

  ‘It following us,’ he reported.

  ‘What’s following us?’

  ‘Can’t tell. Too sneaky.’

  Pod stopped. ‘What kind of thing, Graham?’ he demanded.

  Graham screeched at him. He had no better answer to give.

  Pod suddenly had the horrible feeling that letting Blossom go off on her own had been a big mistake. ‘We have to find Blossom!’

  ‘I knew it!’ Annalie crowed. Sure enough, in the deepest, greenest part of the ruins, a little spring emerged from the ground and made a pool; a stream trickled away from it and lost itself among rocks and thick underbrush. Annalie scooped the water into her mouth. ‘It’s good,’ she said.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be boiling it first, or filtering it?’ Essie asked.

  ‘You can,’ Annalie said, scooping up more water thirstily.

  Essie shrugged and joined her. They both drank until their stomachs were full.

  ‘Lots of aquifers got salty when the ocean rose,’ Annalie said, wiping her mouth. ‘Lucky this one’s still okay.’

  ‘Did you hear that?’ Essie said suddenly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It all just went super-quiet.’

  It had all just gone super-quiet. The birds had stopped. The insects had stopped. The wind moaned briefly, and then that stopped too.

  In the silence, a twig snapped.

  Then the undergrowth stirred and something stepped out. It was a dog, medium-sized, lean and red-brown, the colour of the desert. It stared at them, hard-eyed.

  Instinctively, Annalie and Essie drew closer together. ‘I don’t think that dog looks very friendly,’ Essie whispered.

  The dog lifted its snout and let out a spiral-ling, howling call.

  Another howl came in answer. Then another.

  ‘If you can find a sharp stick, grab one,’ Annalie muttered.

  Cautiously, they reached for whatever was around them. Annalie found a rock; Essie’s hand closed around a stick. They got slowly to their feet.

  The dog curled its lip and snarled at them.

  They began to back away from the waterhole, one step at a time.

  The dog howled again; something prompted Essie to turn round. A second huge dog leapt at her. Letting out a cry, she fended it off with the stick just in time, and it twisted away from her with a squeal.

  ‘Run!’ Essie cried.

  Blossom walked down the wide colonnade of the temple.

  The cool stone columns rose up on either side of her, and her feet echoed faintly on the stone paving. It was very quiet; all she could hear was the gentle shush of the wind moving through the trees.

  She walked right up to the foot of the statue and gazed up at the fierce, kind, savage, beautiful face of the lady.

  Lucky Lady, she thought, forming the words very clearly and distinctly in her mind. Please help me. Me and my brother. Keep us safe from danger and find us somewhere good to live. She paused, then thought, Preferably not by the sea.

  She placed her offering carefully on a wave-shaped niche. Oh, and could you please help the others, too, she added, a little grudgingly.

  She stood there a moment longer, and the air about her seemed to thicken and become charged, almost magical. She felt something stirring inside her. Was it really happening? Was this the touch of the Lucky Lady?

  A shout rang out: ‘Blossom, behind you!’

  It was Pod’s voice. She spun round and saw a lean reddish-black dog, all fangs and hungry eyes, stalking towards her up the colonnade. She froze.

  Graham, screeching angrily, swooped down on the dog, claws outstretched, raking at its face. The dog was momentarily distracted and Pod yelled: ‘Blossom! This way! Run!’

  Pod was holding out his hand to her, scared but brave. Jolted from her trance, she ran to him. They leapt from the temple and began to run through the trees, the dog coming after them.

  ‘Where are the others?’ she asked, panting.

  ‘Hopefully waiting for us somewhere safe,’ Pod said.

  Essie and Annalie scrambled up a tree. It was not a very tall tree and it was swaying beneath their weight.

  ‘What is up with this place?’ Essie gasped. ‘Killer whales, wild dogs…’

  The two wild dogs arrived at the base of the tree and began to pace back and forth, looking up at them, hungry, cunning, patient. As they perched there, a third appeared out of the trees.

  ‘Do you think they’ll get sick of it and go away?’ Essie asked.

  ‘Nope,’ Annalie said.

  Gr
aham came circling out of the sky and looped around their heads.

  ‘Graham, thank goodness!’ Annalie said. ‘You’ve got to warn Will—’

  ‘Graham knows. Graham going.’

  ‘Tell him to bring rocks!’ Essie called after him.

  Down below, one of the dogs had stiffened and turned away from the clearing, looking back into the trees, his ears flat. He barked once and the other dogs came to join him.

  ‘They’ve seen something,’ Annalie said.

  ‘It could be Pod.’

  ‘Or Blossom,’ Annalie said, and shouted a warning. ‘Look out! There are wild dogs! Run!’

  A yell split the air, but it was not the sound of someone running away. Pod and Blossom burst from the undergrowth, yelling like banshees. To Annalie’s utter amazement, they were brandishing huge branches tipped with flaming leaves. They ran at the dogs, swinging their branches ferociously. The flames crackled and spat, the smoke swirled; the dogs snarled at them but together Pod and Blossom drove them back towards the trees.

  Seizing their chance, Essie and Annalie tumbled down from the tree. ‘This way! Come on!’ Essie called.

  Pod took one last swipe at the dogs and began to run. Blossom, who had found an appetite for the work, had to be dragged away. Then all four of them were off, running headlong for the edge of the trees.

  ‘Are they following us?’ Annalie said.

  Pod glanced back; the dogs were still coming after them, but as he looked, they all seemed to obey some signal and vanished from the path into the trees.

  ‘Uh-oh,’ he said. ‘I think they’re going to try and cut us off.’

  They kept running helter skelter down the path, Essie in front, Pod and Blossom a little behind. They ran through the last trees and tumbled stones, and just as they were about to emerge into the open, the largest and fiercest of the dogs, the huge reddish-black animal that had stalked Blossom in the temple, came racing up the side of a rock and launched itself directly at her.

  Time seemed to slow down.

  Pod saw the dog hurtling towards his sister’s throat, teeth bared.

  He heard Annalie cry out.

  He began to swing the stick that he held, knowing it would not connect in time.

  Then there was an enormous donk and the dog seemed to change direction in mid-air.

  A rock had flown out of nowhere and hit it.

  ‘Quick!’ Annalie shouted.

  And then they were running again, Pod and Blossom, and they were out of the trees, and the remaining dogs were coming after them, but Annalie and Will were already aboard a strange thing that looked part canoe, part sailing vessel, part wheelbarrow, and Essie was standing in the path, a great big rock in her hand. It was Essie who had thrown the first rock and was waiting with another in case the dogs wanted to have another try. The rest of the dogs had thought better of it and were circling beside their fallen companion, still hostile but wary, and Will was shouting, ‘Quick, get aboard!’ and Essie, Pod and Blossom all ran to jump on.

  Will kicked off, angling the sail to catch the wind. The wheels began to turn, and the land surfer began to lumber forward. Not fast enough, not at all fast enough, and one dog then another began pacing toward them, sensing a meal, but then Will caught a lucky wind gust, the surfer jerked forward more quickly, and they were off, sailing out into the red desert.

  The dogs could still have caught up with them, but perhaps they didn’t have the heart for a long chase through the desert. As they sailed into the sun, the dogs gave up; soon, they had vanished back into the trees once more.

  ‘I was kind of afraid this thing wasn’t going to work,’ Annalie said, when they could all breathe once more.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Will said indignantly. ‘It was always going to work!’

  ‘I can’t believe what you guys did,’ Essie said, turning to Pod and Blossom. ‘Taking on those dogs like that. I wouldn’t have dared.’

  ‘You saved us,’ Annalie said. ‘Thank you.’

  Blossom looked into Annalie’s eyes, and for the first time saw something like respect there. A confused but happy feeling rose up in her; of all the crew of the Sunfish, Annalie was the one she had most wanted to impress.

  ‘How did you set the branches on fire?’ Essie asked curiously.

  Blossom produced a box of matches from her pocket. ‘They’re from the cruise ship. And no, I didn’t steal them.’

  Will laughed. ‘It’s good to be prepared.’

  ‘You should have seen her,’ Annalie said approvingly. ‘She was terrifying.’

  Blossom basked in the sudden warm glow of their approval.

  Watching her, Pod felt something relax inside himself, the tight anxious feeling he’d been carrying around since the day he brought her aboard: the fear that this was all going to go wrong; that she’d never find a place among his friends; that one day he’d have to choose between them. Because of course it wouldn’t be a choice—he’d have to go with his sister—but he’d dreaded the thought of losing the best friends he’d ever had.

  Now he thought maybe it was all going to work out after all.

  Surfing the desert

  Surfing a desert was both like and unlike sailing the seas.

  The red desert was both sandy and stony, and as they went deeper into it, they found themselves rising and falling over dunes that were a little like an ocean swell. The sun beat down on them just as it frequently did at sea. And the wind turned out to be fickle and temperamental, gusting and fading according to its own whims, so that sometimes they sailed along quite smartly, but at other times they barely moved at all.

  It wasn’t long before the cool ocean breezes faded away entirely and they were in a hot country that was staggeringly dry. The temperature rose and rose and rose. There was no shade to be seen anywhere. The water they’d brought with them began to seem pitifully small.

  ‘I really wish we could have waited till nightfall,’ Will grumbled, as the wind dropped for the umpteenth time and the surfer slowed to a crawl. ‘The sun’s unbelievable.’

  ‘Maybe we should stop,’ Annalie suggested. ‘Use the sail as an awning. Try and get some rest and wait until it gets dark before we start again.’

  ‘It won’t give us much shade,’ Will said. ‘We’re better off trying to get there as quick as we can. Apart from anything else, we know Beckett’s still out there somewhere. We need to get to Spinner first.’

  Annalie turned to Essie. ‘You got any signal yet?’

  They’d both brought their shells with them in the hope that somewhere on this remote shore they might be able to send a message to Spinner. Fortunately Essie had suggested they seal them inside a waterproof bag so they’d survived their dunking in the waters of Kinle Bay. But when she checked her shell now there was no signal.

  They surfed on. As they travelled, Will began to realise there was one very significant difference between sailing on water and surfing on land. The desert was both gritty and stony, and the further they went, the more the sand and stones chipped away at the wheels, worked their way into the axles and ground into the mechanism that kept them moving forward. Gradually, slowly, the wheels began to seize. The ride grew bumpier, until at last the wheels wouldn’t turn at all.

  ‘Everybody off,’ Will sighed.

  They stood there in the blazing sun while Will tipped the surfer over for a look.

  ‘This might take some work,’ he said grimly.

  Pod and Annalie turned the sail into a makeshift shelter, but the sand was so hot that they couldn’t sit on it. They crouched in the meagre shade, sweating, while Will worked on the surfer’s undercarriage, swearing intermittently.

  ‘How far away do you think we are?’ Pod asked Annalie.

  ‘It’s difficult to tell,’ Annalie admitted. ‘We’re on the right heading. But I don’t know how much further we’ve got to go.’

  ‘Is it a day? Two days?’

  Annalie shrugged helplessly.

  An hour passed. Will was still wor
king on the surfer.

  ‘I’m thirsty,’ Blossom said.

  ‘We’re all thirsty,’ Pod said. ‘We have to preserve our water.’

  ‘Maybe we should all have a sip,’ Essie said.

  ‘I’m thirstier than that,’ Blossom said.

  ‘No kidding,’ Will snarled from underneath an axle.

  Trying to help, Essie turned to Annalie. ‘Could we try and make a solar still, like we did back on the island?’

  ‘We didn’t bring any plastic,’ Annalie said, ‘and the air and the ground are so dry I don’t think we’d get any water anyway. Let’s see exactly how much water we’ve got.’

  They had four full water bottles, each of them holding about a litre of water. There were five of them plus Graham; the water wouldn’t last for long in this fierce heat. Annalie carefully poured water out for each of them and they drank, savouring it as much as they could, wishing they could have more.

  Another hour passed. Eventually, Will said, ‘Okay, I might have fixed it.’

  He put the sail back on the surfer and they all climbed aboard. They sailed on bumpily. As the sun moved to the west, a wind came up and began to blow steadily. They started to make better time, although the wheels felt jerkier than before. They came to a rocky, eroded part of the country, and then, quite suddenly, Will swung the sail and brought them to an abrupt halt that threw Pod right out of the surfer.

  ‘Careful,’ he said grumpily, picking grit out of his palms. Then he looked up and realised why Will had stopped them so abruptly.

  They had arrived at a canyon. It was wide—perhaps several hundred metres across—and stretched out across their paths in both directions, a great rift across the middle of the desert.

  ‘This was not on the map,’ Essie said.

  They crept to the edge and looked down. The inside of the canyon was not a cliff: it was sloping and steep, but not vertical, made of huge rocks and patches of gritty sand and gravel. It was very deep—so deep they could not see the bottom clearly.

  ‘So now what?’ said Will.

  ‘Do we try and go round it?’ Essie suggested.

  ‘It looks like it goes for miles,’ Annalie said. ‘Are you sure it’s not on the map?’