Read Online The Mothership by Stephen Renneberg - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stephen Renneberg
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well above the ground to search for reptilian outlines in the shadows
below. It had been hours since she’d seen movement on the ground, but that
meant nothing. Crocodiles were masters of camouflage with limitless patience.
She hoped the crocs had gone off towards the stream, but in the midday heat
they might be resting in the shade, awaiting nightfall.
Spying no movement, Laura continued on down
to the base of the tree, where she hid among the ferns carpeting the aviary
floor. She meticulously examined every shape and shadow beyond the net,
assuming nothing. Minutes passed without her detecting the blink of a predatory
eye or the rhythmic swelling of reptilian breathing. Overhead, the aviary birds
called calmly to their cousins beyond the net. The terror of the previous night
had ebbed, although the absence of seed in the feed trays had left them
confused and hungry. Trusting the birds’ instincts more than her own eyes, she
crept toward the net’s inner flap, where she paused long enough to look for any
sign of the deadly predators lurking in the research station’s smoking ruins.
Finding none, she unzipped the aviary’s inner and outer flaps, leaving both
open in the hope the birds would find their way out. She had a twinge of regret
at the years of work that would be lost, but she couldn’t leave the birds to starve.
Laura sprinted to the remains of the house,
then clambered onto the shattered beams pockmarked with empty nail holes.
Dozens of wood splinters stood like jagged spears, making the climb
treacherous. When she thought she was above the resting place of the kitchen,
she pushed shattered planks aside and climbed down between collapsed walls,
startling two kangaroo rats scavenging through the remains of the pantry. After
the tiny creatures had hopped away into the shadows, she took a moment to
examine what stores remained. The tinned food was gone, sucked from the house
the night before, while packets of sugar, salt and flour had burst open and
were now being carried off by an army of black ants. Fortunately, plastic
packets containing biscuits and dried fruit remained sealed. Several four liter
plastic water containers had been shattered by falling timbers, but one had
survived, shielded beneath a thick support beam.
Thank God! she thought, as she tore open the lid and drank,
careful not to spill a drop. When her thirst was quenched, she resealed the
precious water bottle and dragged it out of the wreckage, placing it just
beyond the ruined veranda. She knew the water purification tablets were gone.
They’d been stored in the four-wheel-drive for emergencies, and now that it had
vanished, she had no way to make the river water safe. If she couldn’t find
help in a few days, she’d be forced to drink the river water, and she knew what
that meant.
Laura returned to the collapsed pantry and
gathered up what packet foods she could find. She deposited them by the water,
then searched for medicine to offset the diarrhea and vomiting untreated river
water would cause. After scouring the shadows unsuccessfully for the medicine
cabinet, she clambered over to where her bedroom now was. Squeezing down
between fallen walls, she found her wardrobe had shattered while her chest of
drawers, which had been constructed with joinery and glue rather than nails,
remained intact. She quickly changed into khaki shorts and shirt, then
retrieved her broad-brimmed hat, sun cream and a nylon backpack from the broken
wardrobe. She was about to climb out when a piece of wood slid onto the ground
on the far side of the house. She froze with one hand on the support beam
above, afraid to turn her head, even though she was well hidden inside the
remains of the house.
Maybe it’s just the house settling?
Laura waited in silence, slowly relaxing
when no new sounds occurred. She tightened her grip on the support beam above
her head, about to pull herself up for a peek, when the clatter of another
timber being pushed aside broke the
below. It had been hours since she’d seen movement on the ground, but that
meant nothing. Crocodiles were masters of camouflage with limitless patience.
She hoped the crocs had gone off towards the stream, but in the midday heat
they might be resting in the shade, awaiting nightfall.
Spying no movement, Laura continued on down
to the base of the tree, where she hid among the ferns carpeting the aviary
floor. She meticulously examined every shape and shadow beyond the net,
assuming nothing. Minutes passed without her detecting the blink of a predatory
eye or the rhythmic swelling of reptilian breathing. Overhead, the aviary birds
called calmly to their cousins beyond the net. The terror of the previous night
had ebbed, although the absence of seed in the feed trays had left them
confused and hungry. Trusting the birds’ instincts more than her own eyes, she
crept toward the net’s inner flap, where she paused long enough to look for any
sign of the deadly predators lurking in the research station’s smoking ruins.
Finding none, she unzipped the aviary’s inner and outer flaps, leaving both
open in the hope the birds would find their way out. She had a twinge of regret
at the years of work that would be lost, but she couldn’t leave the birds to starve.
Laura sprinted to the remains of the house,
then clambered onto the shattered beams pockmarked with empty nail holes.
Dozens of wood splinters stood like jagged spears, making the climb
treacherous. When she thought she was above the resting place of the kitchen,
she pushed shattered planks aside and climbed down between collapsed walls,
startling two kangaroo rats scavenging through the remains of the pantry. After
the tiny creatures had hopped away into the shadows, she took a moment to
examine what stores remained. The tinned food was gone, sucked from the house
the night before, while packets of sugar, salt and flour had burst open and
were now being carried off by an army of black ants. Fortunately, plastic
packets containing biscuits and dried fruit remained sealed. Several four liter
plastic water containers had been shattered by falling timbers, but one had
survived, shielded beneath a thick support beam.
Thank God! she thought, as she tore open the lid and drank,
careful not to spill a drop. When her thirst was quenched, she resealed the
precious water bottle and dragged it out of the wreckage, placing it just
beyond the ruined veranda. She knew the water purification tablets were gone.
They’d been stored in the four-wheel-drive for emergencies, and now that it had
vanished, she had no way to make the river water safe. If she couldn’t find
help in a few days, she’d be forced to drink the river water, and she knew what
that meant.
Laura returned to the collapsed pantry and
gathered up what packet foods she could find. She deposited them by the water,
then searched for medicine to offset the diarrhea and vomiting untreated river
water would cause. After scouring the shadows unsuccessfully for the medicine
cabinet, she clambered over to where her bedroom now was. Squeezing down
between fallen walls, she found her wardrobe had shattered while her chest of
drawers, which had been constructed with joinery and glue rather than nails,
remained intact. She quickly changed into khaki shorts and shirt, then
retrieved her broad-brimmed hat, sun cream and a nylon backpack from the broken
wardrobe. She was about to climb out when a piece of wood slid onto the ground
on the far side of the house. She froze with one hand on the support beam
above, afraid to turn her head, even though she was well hidden inside the
remains of the house.
Maybe it’s just the house settling?
Laura waited in silence, slowly relaxing
when no new sounds occurred. She tightened her grip on the support beam above
her head, about to pull herself up for a peek, when the clatter of another
timber being pushed aside broke the
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