Cloud Permutations (6 page)

‘We’re looking,’ Toa said in his calm voice—he had come up and stood next to Kal—’for any existing structures. This island has no human settlement. For the local people it is
tabu
. So we’re looking for any kind of housing, dwellings, anything artificial in origin.’

Kal looked ahead. As he had thought, the darkness before him was a jungle, thick and (he thought) impenetrable. He doubted they would find anything there, apart, possibly—and it was a possibility he really didn’t want to entertain—from some wild creatures of the bush.

‘Come on!’ Bani said. He moved the torch backwards and forwards above his head. ‘Signal to the ship,’ he said. ‘Captain will be coming back for us next nightfall.’

‘He’s not waiting?’ Tanuaiterai said.

Bani shrugged. ‘We’re not babies,’ he said, a little impatiently.

‘And the Captain?’ the fat man—Georgie—said sarcastically. He was an engineering student, or was it marine biology?

‘Come on,’ Bani said again, and he started marching up the beach, towards the dark wood.

Kal followed him. Behind him, trudging slowly, came the rest: Toa, and Tanuaiterai, and Georgie—he was the only one to have successfully slept on the ship.

The jungle crept up on them unexpectedly. One minute there was only the muddy sand, and the unseen movement of tiny ocean lifeforms underneath. Then the wall of trees seemed to spring up on them, fully-formed and menacing, and they stopped, hesitating (so Kal thought) like a group of children suddenly uncertain.

‘Come on,’ Bani said (his vocabulary seemed to have shrunk to these two words; they had become his refrain) and pushed through the vines.

Kal followed him. Where, he didn’t know. Why—that, also, he didn’t know, not quite, not beyond that Bani was his friend, and that he had wanted him there. Inside the jungle canopy the darkness was complete. Bani was confident, and Kal suddenly knew that they were not just walking in the dark. Bani had a destination in mind.

Bani lit a torch and shone it ahead, but Kal could see nothing beyond vines, and creepers, and things moving in the darkness. He thought of the stories of Epi, of the things that had lived deep in the bush before humanity came and planted taro and manioc and the banyan trees, bananas and breadfruit and yams, and drove the darkness away. What had his grandfather called them? The
Bigfala Olfala Ol Ting
—the Great Old Things?

Regardless, he followed Bani, and the others, too, followed. They walked through the jungle: Kal had his bush-knife out now, a long sharp sword-length blade, and he hacked at the vegetation (it seemed to thicken around him even as he cut it down) as they worked out a slow, torturous path through.

He could no longer see the stars. Time seemed to have gone awry, a small lost thing in this darkness. He might have been in the jungle an hour, or a day. The humidity was overwhelming, and he got a sense, suddenly, of the sky above the canopy and of clouds massing there, silent and waiting.

The mind does strange things in the dark. It conjures up dreams, and nightmares too, and fleeting images that seem to have no obvious meaning, snatches of memories now lost to time, the fragment of a song not known until now, the smell of rotting things reminding you of something deep in your childhood …

A shout woke him up. It was Bani. ‘Just ahead! I can see a clearing!’ Kal looked ahead, but could see nothing but the darkness. Where were they going? What did Bani have, that showed him the way? And, he thought, the way to what?

As suddenly as it began, the jungle ended. He came out, stumbled. Bani gripped him by the wrist and steadied him. ‘Look at that,’ he said.

Kal waited as the others followed them out of the trees. Then he looked. They all looked.

Ahead of them, the clouds parted, and the brilliant golden pattern of stars shone down, the distant suns flickering against a black sky. All was hushed. The smell of rotting vegetation had abated somewhat, and Kal could smell a plant whose name he didn’t know, but which was sweet and calming, like a cool balm against hot skin.

Ahead of them lay a silent lake; beyond that, the dark mouth of a cave.

‘Where are we?’ Kal said.

‘Wan aelan blong Doktor Moreau,’ Georgie said, and somebody behind laughed softly. Kal said, ‘What?’

‘What do you know about the
Narawan
?’ Bani said.

Kal tried to think back. School lessons only half-listened to … Mr. Henri droning on … He said, ‘They’re extinct?’

‘Full marks to that boy!’ Georgie said. ‘I can see why he makes such a valuable addition to this team.’

‘Don’t listen to him,’ Toa said. He came to stand beside Kal. He looked more relaxed now, Kal realised. They all were. It was as if coming through the jungle and the darkness and arriving at this place had bathed everyone in calm. Even Georgie, who before now had hardly spoken, and seemed focused entirely on his own inner thoughts. ‘The
Narawan
certainly
seem
to be extinct. That is, we have not found any live ones in all the years of settlement. Of course,’ he added, ‘no one has really been looking, either. So it remains something of an open question. But the working assumption is that they are, indeed, extinct. Which opens another question, of course, which is—’

‘What happened to them?’

‘Yes,’ Toa said.

‘So,’ Kal said, ‘What happened to them?’

Toa looked at him with a strange half-smile. ‘Maybe that,’ he said, and looked up. Kal followed him, and saw clouds.

‘Come
on
!’ Bani said. He seemed possessed, determined to reach a destination no one but him was aware of. He said, ‘That cave ahead. I have a map—there were people here before,
tabu
or not—there should be
Narawan
remains in there. Kal, how is that backpack?’

‘Fine,’ Kal said, a little surprised. Bani said, ‘Don’t get it bumped around. It has sensitive equipment inside.’

‘Whatever you say.’

Bani set off. Kal and the others followed.

‘And when we go inside?’ Kal said.

‘When we go inside what?’

‘What do we do when we get inside that cave?’ Kal said patiently. Bani turned back and smiled. ‘Then we dig, Kal,’ he said. And, ‘That’s archaeology … ‘

— Chapter 11 —

OLFALA BIGWAN

LATER, KAL RETAINED ONLY A VAGUE, awful recollection of what had happened, as if his mind, faced with those subterranean horrors, had been forced to shut down, overloaded with what it couldn’t comprehend. It began easily enough: they circumnavigated the small lake (the stars reflected in the still water. A tiny, fragile-looking creature sailed the surface with the buzzing of translucent wings) and entered the dark mouth of the cave.

They had torches. Bani led the way, and a pool of light gathered about him, its edges moving shadows like the ripples of a wave. The cave was ordinary enough. Rough stone shaped, in some distant past, by the forces of water, burrowing in. Nothing more. The air was dry and hot, the cave small.

‘Through here,’ Bani said. Kal looked at him. Bani had something in his hand now, a small device, like a watch or a child’s calculator. He led them towards the back of the cave, then stopped. ‘I think it’s through here,’ he said. For the first time he sounded a little uncertain.

Kal stepped closer.

‘You’re joking,’ he said.

Bani turned to him and gave a sheepish grin. ‘It’s not that bad,’ he said.

Kal merely stared at him. And wondered why he had agreed coming in the first place.

Once upon a time water had created this cave and then withdrawn. But not entirely: a shallow was left in the stone outside and a small lake had formed there, the same one they had just circled past. Kal had thought it a rainwater lake: now he was not so sure.

Under Bani’s feet, under both their feet, was a circular hole in the ground. It was large, the width of two men, and in formation was too regular—a made thing, not formed.

Underneath their feet, inside the hole, water rushed past.

‘You’re joking,’ Kal said again.

‘I think it only flows for a short distance,’ Bani said. ‘After that, if my information is right, there should be a dry cavern of some sort.’

‘And if your information is wrong?’

‘Look,’ Bani said, ‘someone dug this hole. Someone went in there and came back out. It should be fine.’ He looked down at the water rushing below. So did Kal. The water looked black, and cold, and it was moving fast. Kal said, ‘Right.’

‘It will be fine!’ Bani said. ‘I’ve brought ropes. We’ll tie you safely before we lower you in. If you don’t reach the cavern in time we’ll just pull you back.’

Kal said, ‘I—’ and stopped. It is possible his mouth may have dropped slightly down at that point, though there is no historical evidence to support it. It is also, therefore, mere speculation that his next words were, ‘What the
fuck
are you talking about?’

Bani had that effect on Kal. He made him swear a lot.

‘We’ll lower you into the hole,’ Bani said patiently. ‘Then we’ll—come
on
, Kal, what’s the problem?’

‘What do you mean I’m going in that hole?’ Kal said. He felt the others behind him, watching the conversation. He turned around on them. ‘Get Tanuaiterai to jump in there.’

The anthropology student took off his spectacles and polished them nervously. ‘I’d love to go in first,’ he said. ‘Believe me, it would be an honour. But my eyes … ‘

‘Kal,’ Bani said. ‘We need you. I need you. You’re the right man for the job. You know that. We’re city people. We don’t have your skills.’ He sighed. ‘I promise you, it will be
easy
.’

That, perhaps, was the point where Kal should have simply turned away and gone back to the ship. And perhaps, had he done so, things would have turned out differently. Perhaps. Yet always, far away, the dark tower waited. Always, like a lode-stone, it pulled at Kal, and at Bani too, bound together like banana leaves around grated taro. And it is the nature of such—the grated taro, wrapped in leaves and tied—to be, after all, put into the fire. And so—

‘Fine,’ Kal said. ‘Fine.’ It was, perhaps, curiosity which got him at last. He stared again at the rushing water and thought,
this is not so bad.

The truth was that, now that he was here, he wanted to find out about the
Narawan
. Curiosity, for humans, is a strong and effective lure, and Kal had succumbed to it with only a token fight. He was, after all, only yet a boy, and he did not seriously think anything could happen to him. Boys are immortal—until age creeps on them, at least, and they are boys no more, and mortal.

‘Give me the rope,’ Kal said, and Bani laughed, and clapped him on the shoulder, and the others all cheered, though quietly. There was no sound inside the cave, beyond the rushing of the subterranean water. It was as if the outside had momentarily ceased to exist.

Kal took off the backpack, and the rope was tied around him. The others held it. Bani handed him a small, water-proof backpack. Kal sat on the edge of the water, his feet dangling.

‘How do you know what’s there?’ he said.

‘Coleridge.’

The answer was so nonsensical that Kal merely shrugged.

And jumped.

The fall was short. He hit the water (it was cold!) and for a moment was shocked to immobility. Then the current snatched him up and he was carried along, all light gone, through a tunnel of what felt like (his hands brushed against it. His feet failed to find purchase) slimy stone.

The water carried him, then spat him out. He fell, hard. Kal rolled on a hard surface. He came to a stop and lay there, winded, gasping for air.

He slowly sat up. He almost felt good again. Then a savage pull on the rope still tied to his body nearly sent him flying again and he screamed an obscenity and pulled back, hard.

His shout echoed in the space around him. Where was he? He could see nothing. The darkness was absolute. The air felt old, disused, and yet … he had an uncomfortable feeling, as if somewhere in the darkness a thing that had been slumbering had been disturbed. He reached for the small backpack, opened it, rooted inside.

A lamp. He flicked a switch and a bright, white light momentarily blinded him. He blinked, then cautiously opened his eyes.

‘Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!’ Something came sailing through the air and landed close by. Bani, looking paler than ever, and faintly ridiculous in drenched underclothes. He, too, wore a rope.

‘Awe, brata!’ Bani said. ‘Yu yu bin lukem long ples ia?’
Have you been looking around?

‘Mi stap luk naoia,’ Kal said.
I’m looking now
.

It was good to see Bani again. He did not enjoy his short time alone in the darkness.

He looked up. Then he looked down. And found himself on the edge of a cliff.

Memories of Epi came back to him, of that day on the cliff-top, of the kite launching into the air. The sea had seemed so calm.

He stood on the edge of a cliff. Above his head, from where he had come, water pulsed out of the wall and cascaded down in a great waterfall. He followed the water with his eyes, captivated, but could not see the bottom; it was shrouded in darkness.

Beside him Bani whistled. Kal turned around in a circle, taking in their surroundings. They stood on a sliver of rock that rose out of that dark, bottomless pit (he knew it had a bottom. And besides, it was not a pit. But there is a difference between looking at something and feeling it). Before them was the waterfall. On the edge of the cliff there was a …

‘Where the hell are we?’ Kal said. Panic made his voice shrill.

‘What the hell are we doing here? What’s that?’

Something came sliding down on them from the air, and for a moment Kal couldn’t tell what it was. Then he realised: the ropes, their safety lines, had been released and were falling down at their feet.

‘What the—’ he began to say, again.

Above their heads there was another scream, as another member of the team came sailing out of the waterfall. It was Tanuaiterai.

But something, this time, had gone wrong.