Sixteen
Boom!
The sound of an explosion woke Tintin with a jolt. Snowy was already awake, trotting backwards and forwards and growling steadily, his tail down and his ears back. Still muzzy from sleep, Tintin got to his feet and looked around, trying to figure out if the noise was part of his dream or something more tangible on the island. The Peary, he saw, was gone. They must have weighed anchor while he was still asleep, he reasoned. That wasn't totally unexpected: they had no reason to stick around now that they had lost the race to the meteor. It could have been worse, he knew: if they'd come back in the middle of the night he would have been almost helpless if they'd chosen to hurt him in order to gain access to the wealth of minerals the meteor offered.
For a full five minutes he waited, poised, for any sound or indication that the noise had come from the island. Just as he started to relax, thinking that the noise had been part of his dream (he had been in a large house having a conversation with a cat that was wearing a shoe on its head) the ground under his feet shuddered with the force of a second loud explosion. He steadied himself and headed cautiously towards the noise, and saw a small plume of white smoke rising from the rocky ground of the island.
"What on earth?" he mused quietly as he approached the area slowly. As best he could figure, it must be the meteor itself: some sort of volcanic vent of some sort. That would make things very difficult, if the meteor became unstable while he was still here on his own. He had no way off the island and he wouldn't survive for long in boiling water.
He reached the point where the white smoke hung like a misty pall as it slowly evaporated on the soft breeze, but there was no sign of a crack or vent in the rock. He scuffed at it with his foot but everything seemed to be solid. He was wondering what to do when Snowy started to bark. He recognised the noise: it was Snowy's excited bark, the one he gave when there was something strange that he didn't recognise, but he wasn't afraid of it either. Tintin followed the noise and saw Snowy standing up, tailing wagging and a happy look on his face. When he spotted Tintin he started to lunge at something, pawing furiously at the ground.
"An egg!" Tintin exclaimed as he got closer. "Where on earth did that come from?" Sitting in the rocks was a good-sized egg. It had a red shell and was covered in white spots, and probably belonged to some sort of bird that had started to nest on the island. He looked around but as far as he could see there were no birds anywhere nearby: neither in the air above the island or on the surface of it. There were no birds this far out to sea, full stop. Snowy was still pawing at the ground near it, careful not to break it but wanting to play with it. Anything on the ground counted as belonging to Snowy, according to his little doggy brain.
Tintin pushed the dog carefully away, in case Snowy cracked the egg in his eagerness. Snowy loved eggs, and would eat them raw. They were good for dogs in any case: they were full of natural goodness and helped their coats stay shiny and smooth. Snowy was used to having an uncooked egg mixed in with his bowl of food at least once a week. Just as Tintin was wondering what to do – to pick up the egg to examine it or leave it in case the mother wouldn't touch it again with the scent of humans on it – he realised that it was getting bigger.
It was growing!
Oh, it was growing…
It was growing big…
The oblong shape smoothed out to become more rounded, and underneath it something fibrous and white started to emerge from the ground. After a few seconds it dawned on him that it wasn't an egg at all: it was a mushroom of some kind. A very large mushroom. A mushroom that reached his knees. And then his chest. And then it was the same height as him. And then it was taller than the Captain. And then it exploded, knocking him off his feet.
All this had taken less than 30 seconds.
Dazed, he looked around. There was absolutely nothing around that showed the mushroom had existed: no remnants of it torn apart in the explosion; not even a mark on the rocks where it had once been. It had vaporised; vanished into thin air.
He got to his feet and ducked instinctively as, from behind him, there came the sound of another explosion. Then another. And another, and another and another. He looked around wildly and saw the little eggs, each one of them the same red and white as the first, suddenly sprouting up and starting to grow, and soon he was running as that whole side of the island was full of them, and full of explosions that shook the rock under foot.
He retreated to the shore again, and waited for the noise to die away. When it sounded like it was starting to calm down a bit, he sat down on a rock and puzzled over what was happening. As far as he could tell, it was something in the meteor that was causing that effect. It was probably the new metal, Phostlite. He had a feeling they were all in for a few surprises in the coming months.
Snowy cocked his head and stared hard at Tintin.
Tintin stared back. He hated when Snowy did this. It was time to play a game called; "I want something, but you don't know what it is and I'm not giving you a hint. Now guess!"
"What?" Tintin asked sharply.
Snowy barked once in reply, and sat down, his head still twisting from side to side as though he was listening to something. Tintin listened hard, and realised he could hear something too. It was faint, on the edge of hearing, but it almost sounded like an engine of some kind. He stood up and searched the sky in case it was Captain King in the seaplane but there was nothing to see. There weren't even any clouds, just the bare expanse of blue stretching out all around as far as the eye could see.
He stood, looking up with his hands on his hips. He really, really hoped Captain King would be back soon.
Something tickled the back of his neck.
He shouted and jumped away, and turned to see a sapling.
A sapling.
It stood there, looking suspiciously like a tree. It was growing quickly. He gaped at it. Unless he was very much mistaken, it was an apple tree.
"What on earth is going on?" he wondered. "That must have sprung up from the apple I threw away yesterday. That's mad! Incredible!" Underneath the sprouting branches and thickening trunk, Snowy sniffed cautiously before deciding it wasn't worth pissing against if it was going to explode unexpectedly. He'd once met a dog that had been 'fixed' (he'd called it 'being tutored' by the vet, and it was another reason Snowy mistrusted vets with a deep suspicion) and he had no intention of letting anything blow off any part of his bits, thank you very much. He retreated to a safe distance and growled at the tree instead.
"It's like magic," Tintin said in awe. The tree had reached a truly majestic size by now. He waited, watching carefully for the buds to sprout and the inevitable apples to appear when a panicked barking made him look around.
What the hell is that?!
A large… Butterfly? Helicopter? Whatever it was, it was yellow with black and red markings on its wings and a thick, hairy body. If it was a butterfly, it was larger than any Tintin had ever seen. It was like a dragonfly from a lost primordial swamp, and it was hovering over Snowy and trying to take pollen from the small dog's head.
"Scat!" Tintin shouted, running towards the creature and waving his arms madly over his head. "Get away from him! Shoo! Shoo!"
The butterfly was confused. They weren't built to be big creatures: they didn't have the brain capacity for it. He had been born from his cocoon this morning fully sure he was small and beautiful and going to be admired. Now he was being chased by a small thing with two waving things. It wasn't worth the hassle.
It turned and flew away, skimming over the white-topped ripples of the ocean as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Tintin quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket and took a photo of the creature. He could put it in his article, as long as the beast didn't return and try to make love to Snowy's face again. "Where the hell did that come from?" he wondered as he put his phone away again. The butterfly was far away and getting smaller. It didn't look like it was coming back any time soon. "How on earth did it… Hang on… I wonder if that's the maggot from the apple? If the apple itself has grown into a tree, then maybe the maggot grew into the butterfly? That's the only explanation, and even then… well, it's a bit insane.
"Ok, so working on that assumption; things grow big here, and they grow fast. God, I hope that doesn't happen to us. I don't think you'd look good as a dray horse, Snowy. You're too hard to handle as it is, and you're only tiny!" He shook his head in bemusement. The sooner Captain King returned the better. They could get a sample of the rock and get the hell out of here, and return with the rest of the scientists for the proper investigation.
And then a thought struck him like a thunderbolt. He stiffened and tried to force it away. It came back. He closed his eyes and tried to think about something else, anything else, but the thought hung around like a bad smell and made another good point:
If everything's growing, where's that spider? And why do you have your eyes closed? It could be sneaking up on you right now!
Tintin opened his eyes and looked around. It wasn't a pleasant thought, that there was a giant spider somewhere around, creeping and sidling closer. But logic started to wake up and make itself known.
Be reasonable, it said, and think about it clearly. The mushrooms must have grown because of spores. Lord knows how they got here, but they do get carried on the wind and air currents. It's pure luck where they'll land, and let's face it: there's never been anything here for them to land on. It's just unhappy coincidence that there's something here now. They grow from spore to full maturity in a matter of seconds before exploding.
The apple contained a core that contained seeds. The tree has grown from one of the seeds. It has grown to maturity in minutes; longer than the mushrooms, but still bloody quickly.
The maggot was the first stage of the butterfly's life. It must have gestated overnight and emerged fully grown in the morning.
There is a link. Everything was in its infancy: seed to maturity; spore to maturity; base form to maturity. I am a human: I have not aged or grown to monstrous proportions. Neither has Snowy. Therefore, logically speaking, the spider will not have grown either.
Logic was a wonderful thing. It could un-muddy thoughts and bring clarity, as long as you took it step by step and let the evidence speak for itself.
On the other hand, imagination was a powerful tool, and the thought of a giant spider simply wouldn't go away. It made his flesh crawl and the hair stand up on the back of his neck. His teeth were on edge.
He picked up a rock. It was a large rock, a rock he could only hold in his two arms, cradled like a misshapen infant. It was big enough to crush a very large spider. He crept forward, away from the tree. He had to get to a place that was completely clear, where his view wouldn't be hampered by trees or mushrooms; a place where he could see if anything was trying to creep up behind him.
A loud thump, like a hydraulic drill slicing into the ground once, made the island shudder. He turned around and saw Snowy lying flat out, a huge rosy apple lying beside him. He dropped the rock at once and went to Snowy. As he reached him, the dog got unsteadily to his feet and started to whimper, and a second falling apple narrowly missed Tintin's own head. Then the rest of the apples started to fall and it was time to run. All thoughts of the spider left his head and he ducked and weaved to avoid the fulsome fruits that were showering solidly around him. He reached a clear place away from the tree and the whole ground shook underfoot, knocking him off balance.
This time, there were no exploding mushrooms or falling apples: it was an earthquake pure and simple, and it was the last straw. At least, he thought it was the last straw. Then the rumbling started and he was almost swallowed by a sudden, huge wave that crashed over the whole of the shore of the island. He grabbed Snowy and started to climb up as the earth juddered again and slipped forward a few inches into the sea. It was now tilting more than it had been, and the whole of one side was covered in enormous apple trees. It was safe to say that Tintin's nerves were twanging like a tightly tuned banjo.
Just when he thought he couldn't take any more, there came the noise of a distant whirring in the sky. He looked around quickly, in case the giant butterfly was back, and spotted a dark shape against the flat blue expanse.
The seaplane!
He whooped in delight: the plane was coming back and he was saved! The hell with staying here: everything about this place was eerie and strange, he wanted to leave as soon as possible. Snapping his fingers and starting to swagger and bop to the beat, he did a dorky little dance. "I'm walking on sunshine," he sang loudly and off-key, "Oooh-oooh-oh! I'm walkin' on sunshiiiiine, oooo-oooo-oo!" He reached out and started to tap Snowy lightly on either side of his mouth, until the little dog started to turn his head from side to side to snap playfully at the fingers. It looked like he too was dancing. "I'm walkin' on sunshiiiiiine, oooo-oooo-oo-Oooooh! Oh God!" The song died on his lips and was replaced with a feeling of sheer dread.
On a rock above them, looking down on them with a curious look of speculation, was a spider.
A very, very large spider. And it looked hungry.