The Swiss Family RobinZOM (Book 2) (3 page)

Their view the next day was nothing short of breathtaking. The Robinsons were on the bluff of a big hill, affording them scenes of almost the whole island. The orange beach on the opposite shore had wild white waves and foamy water. The sea to the south, where they had been shipwrecked, was smooth and calm, lolling gently against the yellow sand. The pale blue sky was streaked with dissipating white clouds to the horizon in every direction. It was hard to believe they were not intentionally stranded.

Bill, Liz and the boys surveyed the clear stream running down the mountainside. Beside Bill was a small fire, a small can with water inside it bubbling away. Bill took it off the boil and dropped in some crushed petals. He mixed it with a stick and watched for any reaction.

“Appears to be clean,” Bill said.

He put his cupped hands into the stream, raised them to his mouth and slurped the water down.

“Tastes good,” he said.

The boys jumped into the tiny stream, kicking up water and splashing Liz in the process.

“Easy!” Liz said, stepping away.

The boys took no notice, and lowered their faces into the stream, swallowing with deep thirsty gulps.

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen them so happy about drinking water before,” Liz said. “We should have brought them here years ago.”

Jack cupped some water into his hands and threw it over Francis, who froze, his expression registering shock. He backed away with a curdled look of fear on his face. He turned and began to run down the mountainside.

“Francis?” Liz said. “Francis?”

He didn’t stop. Liz ran after him, grabbing his arm halfway down the slope.

“Francis?” Liz said. “What is it? Francis?”

Francis dropped to his knees and hugged his mother around the thighs.

“Francis?” Liz said, voice breathy with concern. “What’s wrong?”

She crouched down beside him. He looked up at her with his big round eyes.

“What is it, Francis?” Liz said.

Francis’s voice was soft, and Bill couldn’t hear him. Fritz moved to Bill.

“What’s up with Francis?” he said.

“Never mind that,” Bill said. “Give me a hand with this water.”

Bill dipped a hollowed-out coconut shell into the stream. Once it was full he handed it to Ernest, who gave him another shell.

“Where do you think this water comes from?” Ernest said.

“It might be rainwater,” Bill said. “Or from an underground well. Wherever it comes from, it doesn’t look like it’ll be running out any time soon.”

Liz gave Francis a hug. He re-joined his brothers. Liz went to Bill

“What was it?” Bill said.

“He’s afraid of the water,” Liz said.

“The water?” Bill said. “Where did that come from? He’s never been afraid of water before.”

“He’s never nearly drowned before either,” Liz said.

“The events on The Long Journey caused this?” Bill said.

“Of course,” Liz said. “It’s affected us all. Haven’t you changed after that night? I think we all have. The world has changed, so have we.”

“You and the boys take the water and head home,” Bill said. “Fritz and I will check on the traps.”

“A bit early to be referring to it as home, don’t you think?” Liz said.

“You might be right,” Bill said. “But right now it’s the closest thing to home we’ve got.”

A clutch of rabbits, startled by Bill and Fritz’s sudden appearance, leapt in the air, spun, and ran through a thorny hedge, gone in an instant.

“At least we know there’s plenty of game,” Bill said.

“And acrobatic game at that,” Fritz said.

Bill knelt down and inspected a trap. He waved away the flies that encircled the half-eaten carcass of a small rabbit.

“Something else got to it,” Fritz said.

“Yep,” Bill said. “Another problem of having so many animals. Too much competition.”

Twigs snapped somewhere in the depths of the jungle. Fritz stood up and tried to watch the whole jungle at once.

“Listen,” Fritz said.

The background jungle noise became silent.

“Something’s probably hunting them,” Bill said.

“Something’s out there,” Fritz said.

Bill reset the trap with the vine and tossed the rabbit carcass aside. Fritz didn’t take his eyes off the foliage.

“Come on,” Bill said. “Let’s go check the others.”

The second trap laid as it had when Bill had set it. Empty. The third trap had caught a weasel, but it too had been consumed, its spine poking out through its flesh. Bill shook his head.

“It’s no good,” he said, tossing the remnants of the weasel aside. “There’s too much competition for food. We’re going to need to come up with better traps, a way to keep the food for ourselves.”

“Like with a cage?” Fritz said.

“Yes, a cage,” Bill said. “We’ll need to find some strong wood to build them.”

Fritz bent down and picked something up.

“Pop,” Fritz said, “look at this.”

In Fritz’s hand was a tiny round green plant wrapped in leaves.

“It’s a cabbage!” Fritz said. “A tiny one!”

“Where did you find it?” Bill said.

“Down here, at the base of this tree,” Fritz said. “There are mushrooms too.”

“Don’t touch them!” Bill said. “They can be poisonous and very dangerous.”

Bill cut the mushroom’s body in half. After a moment the white stem glowed bright with blue veins.

“See?” Bill said. “But pick the mini cabbages. I’ve never heard of a poisonous cabbage before.”

Liz sat with a pile of coconuts between her feet. She was sanding the outer shell free of coarse fibres with a thick wedge of rough tree bark, making them smooth. Bill and Fritz emerged from the jungle.

“What’s that you got there?” Liz said, getting to her feet and dusting off her hands.

“Baby cabbages,” Bill said. “Fritz found them.”

Liz took them from Bill and peered closely at them.

“They’re so small and cute!” Liz said. “You don’t think we’ll be able to farm them, do you?”

“I don’t see why not,” Bill said.

“Did you see any other fruits or vegetables on your travels?” Liz said.

“No,” Bill said. “But anytime we do we’ll bring you some. Maybe you can set up your own little allotment. You always wanted to grow your own organic veg.”

“You know, I think I just might,” Liz said with a smile.

“We’ll need to collect seeds and bulbs and everything else we intend to grow,” Bill said. “It might take some time.”

“No rush,” Liz said. “I can wait. No luck with the traps? Never mind. We’ll figure something out. Some good news: I found some blackberry bushes just around the corner.”

“Did you test them?” Bill said.

“I ate some this morning,” Liz said. “No problems so far.”

“You tested them on yourself?” Bill said.

“There’s nothing else for me to test them on,” Liz said.

“Never try new food on yourself,” Bill said. “I’ll catch some animals for us to test on.”

“With Mum’s cooking we needed some of those food testing animals when we were back in Switzerland,” Fritz said.

Liz glared at him. Ernest snorted, and Jack laughed out loud.

“Thanks to Mum we’re probably already immune to anything this island can throw at us,” Ernest said.

“You do your own cooking, then!” Liz said, folding her arms.

They all smiled. They knew she was only playing. Bill turned to address them all.

“We don’t know what kind of wildlife is on this island,” he said. “So, don’t go anywhere alone. And keep your eyes open.”

“There’s probably not enough of a food source to support a larger animal,” Ernest said. “How would it have gotten here even if there was?”

“The same way we got here,” Bill said. “Or it could have gotten trapped here when the land around us flooded. We don’t know how this island was formed. It could be millions of years old or brand new. New islands are born all the time. Go get washed. Dinner will be ready soon.”

The boys walked to the coconut buckets. Liz slipped a finger through a hole in Bill’s shirt.

“You have to be more careful too, Bill,” Liz said. “These clothes have to last you a while yet - at least until I can make replacements.”

“I’ll have to walk around without a shirt,” Bill said. “I’ll look just like Tarzan.”

“More like Porky-zan,” Liz said, poking his stomach.

“Not for long on this diet,” Bill said.

“We can’t have that,” Liz said. “We’ve all grown accustomed to your squidgy appearance. What are you going to do for the rest of the day?”

“We’ll need tools,” Bill said.

“You’re going to make your own?” Liz said.

“No,” Bill said.

“Then where are you going to get them from?” Liz said.

The moment the question was out of her mouth Liz knew the answer.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re not going in there.”

“What are you talking about?” Bill said. “You’re the one who came up with the idea in the first place.”

“I was joking!” Liz said.

“Then you need to work on your delivery because I thought it was a great idea,” Bill said.

“You’re not going on the sinking ship,” Liz said, folding her arms.

“Do you have a better idea?” Bill said. “I can’t think of any. We’re lucky to have it to search.”

“At least make sure to take the boys with you,” Liz said.

“I intend to,” Bill said. “Don’t worry. I’ll never put the kids in harm’s way, you know that.”

Appeased, Liz relaxed. She sighed.

“No rest for the wicked,” she said.

“In which case we must be the most evil people in the world.”

The ship lay twisted on the sandy beach. Intricate golden vines, blooming flowers and petals were engraved on the stern. It was an old galleon with the gorgeous sails, though the masts that had held them had long snapped off. The wood was damp and rotten, black scorches and punctured holes like pock marks. The ship’s name, half lost to the ravages of time, appeared to be The Red Flag.

“Looks like she’s been in quite a fight,” Bill said.

“Fought and lost,” Ernest said.

A surge of bubbles popped onto the surface, white and fierce, like the boat had broken wind. The ship groaned and sank a foot deeper.

“It looks old,” Jack said.

“Where do you think it came from?” Fritz said.

“It’s an old galleon,” Ernest said. “They aren’t sailed anymore. It must have come up from the bottom of the ocean.”

“From the ocean?” Fritz said. “How?”

“Tectonics,” Ernest said. “The plates move and push things up to the surface.”

“That doesn’t seem very likely,” Bill said.

“Unlikely, but not unheard of,” Ernest said. “Old ships have been brought up to the surface naturally before, only to sink again soon after. If we’re going to salvage something from this ship we need to act soon.”

“Doesn’t look like it’s going to stay much longer, does it?” Fritz said.

“No, it doesn’t,” Bill said.

“We’d best get in there as soon as we can,” Fritz said, taking off his jacket and setting it down on the beach.

“What do you mean ‘we’?” Bill said, removing his boots.

Fritz looked his father over, trying to ascertain if he was being serious.

“It’ll take both of us to get everything out of the boat in time,” Fritz said.

“We don’t even know anything’s on board yet,” Bill said.

“I’m the strongest swimmer,” Fritz said. “If anyone should go in there it should be me.”

“You stay on the beach and watch my back,” Bill said. “I don’t want anything sneaking up on me.”

“But-”

“Enough!” Bill said. “This is the way it has to be. The safest way. Stay here.”

Bill took off his jumper and waded into the water. He swam toward the wreckage. He didn’t look back. He put his hand to the stern of the ship and peered around at it. He edged hand over hand to the front, out of sight.

Fritz buried his anger deep down, so deep he choked on it.

Fritz paced up and down the beach, running his hands through his hair. He kept half an eye on the jungle’s tree line behind him, but most of his attention was focused on The Red Flag.

“If you keep running your hands through your hair like that you’re going to have none left,” Ernest said.

Fritz stepped toward the water’s edge. He stopped and backed away, shaking his head, reminding himself of his father’s words of warning. More bubbles gurgled up onto the surface. The ship sighed and sank another inch.

“He’s been gone a long time,” Ernest said.

“You think?” Fritz said. “We should never have let him go in by himself. That was stupid, stupid, stupid.”

“In our defence Father told us not to follow him in,” Ernest said.

“And we always do what Mum and Dad say, don’t we?” Fritz said. “Why did we decide to follow what they said now of all times?”

“Dad’ll be back,” Ernest said. “He’s a strong swimmer.”

“I don’t know,” Fritz said. “He’s not a spring chicken anymore.”

“Fortunate for us, as chickens aren’t renowned for their Olympic swimming abilities,” Ernest said.

Fritz looked Ernest over.

“You’re seriously not worried about Father at all?” he said.

“Not until you started kicking up a fuss, no,” Ernest said.

Another half a dozen bubbles popped to the surface.

“That’s it,” Fritz said, pulling his boots off. “I’m going in.”

“You can’t,” Ernest said. “Dad said-”

“Dad said to keep us all safe – that includes him,” Fritz said. He pointed to the boat. “That is not safe.”

He waded into the shallow water, preparing to jump in when another bubble burst above the waterline. Only it wasn’t a bubble. It was a thick mass of dark hair, greying at the temples. Bill was clutching something heavy to his chest that kept dragging him below the surface. He wouldn’t let it go.

“Father!” Fritz shouted.

He coiled his legs to spring forward. Bill’s hand appeared above the waterline and made a pushing back motion. Fritz hesitated. Bill’s head rose up above the surface again. He swam forward with one arm, carrying the object in the other. Fritz took it from him as he drew close. It was an old carved box that clattered with every movement.

“Are you all right?” Fritz said.

Bill coughed up a mouthful of water.

“I’m all right,” he said, gasping for air. “I can do it.”

“Let me help you,” Fritz said.

“No,” Bill said, pulling his arm away from Fritz and getting to his feet.

He wiped the water from his face and trudged back down the beach into the water. Fritz opened the box Bill had brought up. It was full of hand tools. Fritz shook his head.

“An awful lot to risk to get so little,” he said.