Rain pelted the iron roof and the gusts of wind increased in intensity.
There were rumbles of distant thunder. But within the copra shed, the
air was hot and still. The gasoline lantern hanging from the center
beam threw a harsh yellow light that illuminated the center of the
room but left the corners in deep shadow. The treasure-hunters had
moved away from the walls. They were all in the center of the room
facing outward, and they made Drake think of a herd of buffalo drawn up
against a wolf they could smell but could not see.
Cable said, "Listen, maybe we should try this Quedak Cooperation. Maybe
it isn't so bad as--"
"Shut up," Drake said.
"Be reasonable," Cable argued. "It's better than dying, isn't it?"
"No one's dying yet," Drake said. "Just shut up and keep your eyes
open."
"I think I'm going to be sick," Cable said. "Dan, let me out."
"Be sick where you are," Drake said. "Just keep your eyes open."
"You can't give me orders," Cable said. He started toward the door.
Then he jumped back.
A yellowish scorpion had crept under the inch of clearance between the
door and the floor. Recetich stamped on it, smashing it to pulp under
his heavy boots. Then he whirled, swinging at three hornets which had
come at him through the boarded windows.
"Forget the hornets!" Drake shouted. "Keep watching the ground!"
There was movement on the floor. Several hairy spiders crawled out of
the shadows. Drake and Recetich beat at them with rifle butts. Byrnes
saw something crawling under the door. It looked like some kind of huge
flat centipede. He stamped at it, missed, and the centipede was on his
boot, past it, on the flesh of his leg. He screamed; it felt like a
ribbon of molten metal. He was able to smash it flat before he passed
out.
Drake checked the wound and decided it was not fatal. He stamped on
another spider, then felt Sorensen's hand clutching his shoulder. He
looked toward the corner Sorensen was pointing at.
Sliding toward them were two large, dark-coated snakes. Drake
recognized them as black adders. These normally shy creatures were
coming forward like tigers.
* * * * *
The men panicked, trying to get away from the snakes. Drake pulled out
his revolver and dropped to one knee, ignoring the hornets that buzzed
around him, trying to draw a bead on the slender serpentine targets in
the swaying yellow light.
Thunder roared directly overhead. A long flash of lightning suddenly
flooded the room, spoiling his aim. Drake fired and missed, and waited
for the snakes to strike.
They didn't strike. They were moving away from him, retreating to the
rat hole from which they had emerged. One of the adders slid quickly
through. The other began to follow, then stopped, half in the hole.
Sorensen took careful aim with a rifle. Drake pushed the muzzle aside.
"Wait just a moment."
The adder hesitated. It came out of the hole and began to move toward
them again....
And there was another crash of thunder and a vivid splash of lightning.
The snake turned away and squirmed through the hole.
"What's going on?" Sorensen asked. "Is the thunder frightening them?"
"No, it's the lightning!" Drake said. "That's why the Quedak was in
such a rush. He saw that a storm was coming, and he hadn't consolidated
his position yet."
"What are you talking about?"
"The lightning," Drake said.
"The electrical storm! It's jamming that radio control of his! And when
he's jammed, the beasts revert to normal behavior. It takes him time to
re-establish control."
"The storm won't last forever," Cable said.
"But maybe it'll last long enough," Drake said. He picked up the
direction finders and handed one to Sorensen. "Come on, Bill. We'll
hunt out that bug right now."
"Hey," Recetich said, "isn't there something I can do?"
"You can start swimming if we don't come back in an hour," Drake said.
* * * * *
In slanting lines the rain drove down, pushed by the wild southwest
wind. Thunder rolled continually and each flash of lightning seemed
aimed at them. Drake and Sorensen reached the edge of the jungle and
stopped.
"We'll separate here," Drake said. "Gives us a better chance of
converging on him."
"Right," Sorensen said. "Take care of yourself, Dan."
Sorensen plunged into the jungle. Drake trotted fifty yards down the
fringe and then entered the bush.
He pushed forward, the revolver in his belt, the radio direction
finder in one hand, a flashlight in the other. The jungle seemed to
be animated by a vicious life of its own, almost as if the Quedak
controlled it. Vines curled cunningly around his ankles and the bushes
reached out thorny hands toward him. Every branch took a special
delight in slapping his face.
Each time the lightning flashed, Drake's direction finder tried to
home on it. He was having a difficult time staying on course. But,
he reminded himself, the Quedak was undoubtedly having an even more
difficult time. Between flashes, he was able to set a course. The
further he penetrated into the jungle, the stronger the signal became.
After a while he noticed that the flashes of lightning were spaced
more widely apart. The storm was moving on toward the north, leaving
the island behind. How much longer would he have the protection of the
lightning? Another ten or fifteen minutes?
He heard something whimper. He swung his flashlight around and saw his
dog, Oro, coming toward him.
His dog--or the Quedak's dog?
"Hey there, boy," Drake said. He wondered if he should drop the
direction finder and get the revolver out of his belt. He wondered if
the revolver would still work after such a thorough soaking.
Oro came up and licked his hand. He was Drake's dog, at least for the
duration of the storm.
They moved on together, and the thunder rumbled distantly in the north.
The signal on his RDF was very strong now. Somewhere around here....
He saw light from another flashlight. Sorensen, badly out of breath,
had joined him. The jungle had ripped and clawed at him, but he still
had his rifle, flashlight and direction finder.
Oro was scratching furiously at a bush. There was a long flash of
lightning, and in it they saw the Quedak.
* * * * *
Drake realized, in those final moments, that the rain had stopped. The
lightning had stopped, too. He dropped the direction finder. With the
flashlight in one hand and his revolver in the other, he tried to take
aim at the Quedak, who was moving, who had jumped--
To Sorensen's neck, just above the right collarbone.
Sorensen raised his hands, then lowered them again. He turned toward
Drake, raising his rifle. His face was perfectly calm. He looked as
though his only purpose in life was to kill Drake.
Drake fired from less than two feet away. Sorensen spun with the
impact, dropped his rifle and fell.
Drake bent over him, his revolver ready. He saw that he had fired
accurately. The bullet had gone in just above the right collarbone. It
was a bad wound. But it had been much worse for the Quedak, who had
been in the direct path of the bullet. All that was left of the Quedak
was a splatter of black across Sorensen's chest.
Drake applied hasty first aid and hoisted Sorensen to his shoulders. He
wondered what he would have done if the Quedak had been standing above
Sorensen's heart, or on his throat, or on his head.
He decided it was better not to think about that.
He started back to camp, with his dog trotting along beside him.