Chapter 14:
Harold’s Rise
Harold awoke in a pile of fish, amid sand and seashells, on the floor of a cave. When he opened his eyes, he saw a stream of water in front of him, which led around a corner and out of the cave, from where sunlight bounced in. His clothes were damp, but dry enough that he could tell he had been out of the water for some time. He then turned his gaze toward another source of light and saw something that startled him.
Toward the far wall of the cave, a small fire simmered. Hunched over the fire was a large furry figure. It was an odd and terrifying creature, about three times Harold’s size, chewing on seaweed. The creature had the build of a gorilla, with the face of a dog, along with large tusks, a short tail, and webbed feet. It looked as though it could easily tear a ship in half—and it probably had.
Harold’s heart accelerated and he tried to recall what had happened before he awoke. The last thing he remembered was him getting struck by Wayne’s dart, but it wasn’t hard to imagine that from there he tumbled over the cliff and into the lake. The real question was where he was now. Confident that this creature was not Jesus, Harold figured he couldn’t be in Heaven. And while Harold wasn’t feeling his best, he wasn’t feeling bad enough to indicate this was Hell. Realistically, the creature had probably taken him from the lake and carried him somewhere not far from Lorne’s island. Perhaps this cave was part of the smaller island Harold had seen in the distance.
It was then that Harold recalled an image from Wayne’s book which approximated the image in front of him. Suddenly, his mind was flooded with the description of the creature known as the Bunyip, along with the stories his dad had told him of seeing one in the lake. Any previous skepticism he had was now erased, as surely as he could trust his eyes. He must still be alive, then, and all because this bunyip had apparently captured him—whatever its intentions. Harold then noticed the stone he had been chained to lying a few feet away, with the anklet on the other end of the chain smashed to pieces. The anklet must have either been broken on a rock or the bunyip’s teeth.
All of a sudden, the creature stood up and made its way toward Harold, with its small legs guided by its heavy arms. Harold closed his eyes and played dead as the animal stopped in front of him. The bunyip proceeded to scoop up a large fish—nearly the length of Harold’s leg—in one hand and the motionless boy in the other. With Harold and the fish under each arm, the bunyip returned to the fire and set both items on the floor.
At this point, it sounded as if the creature walked away, but Harold kept his eyes closed and remained motionless. After a couple minutes of silence, he decided to give a look. He opened his eyes and saw no trace of his new captor.
Harold cautiously picked himself from the floor and pondered his circumstance. He thought it was a good bet that the bunyip intended to eat him; the creature must have only stepped out for a moment to grab some spices. As Harold watched the dwindling sunlight that shone from the lone visible exit, he was sure this would be his only chance of escape. Without delay, he ran for the tunnel.
His short sprint led him to the edge of the stream, where he bent forward to dive in—before the bunyip suddenly emerged with a splash, carrying a thin wooden stick. The creature snapped and snarled at Harold, quickly driving him back to the fire. As the bunyip stomped after Harold, the ground began to quake and pieces of rock fell from the walls. The snarling and quaking continued until Harold sat down, at which point the bunyip snapped the stick in half and set the pieces on the floor. The creature then proceeded to pick up the fish and skewer it with one of the sticks. Next, it tore a sizeable piece from the fish and tossed it at Harold’s side. After holding the skewered fish up to the fire, the bunyip pushed the other stick towards Harold and grunted.
Harold wondered if the beast intended to share some of its catch with him. He remained still until the bunyip grunted again. The creature’s abilities to use tools and cook—crude though they were— indicated a level of intelligence unusual to most animals, so Harold wondered if there was a chance it could understand human speech. “Do you...” Harold coughed as he pointed to the piece of fish at his side. “Want me to eat that?”
The Bunyip glanced back at Harold, but made no other sound or movement in reply.
At this point, Harold was famished, and he figured that he might be equally at risk of upsetting the bunyip if he didn’t eat, so he stuck the fish meat on the stick and held it to the fire. The bunyip seemed neither pleased nor displeased at this action.
As the two mammals sat holding their sticks to the fire, Harold felt very small; not just because the bunyip was much bigger than him, but because his present situation, along with the whole week leading up to it, made him realize how much of life was outside of his control and understanding. Whatever his efforts, whatever his desires, whatever his successes or failures, he was entirely dependant on God’s mercy, which seemed to be slightly in his favor at the moment. Whether the bunyip was kind by nature, or if God had simply held its mouth like the lions in the den with Daniel, the creature seemed to mean him no harm.
There was also a strange feeling in Harold’s gut—something like a terrifying reverence. Who knew—besides his father, perhaps—that this hidden realm sat at the heart of Lake Ignotus, holding a secret monster of unknown strength? Certainly not Lorne, who so arrogantly claimed the area. The idea of a creature like the bunyip seemed so exciting when Harold read about it in Wayne’s book, but the presence of the genuine article was a dangerous, serious matter.
Harold looked from the fire over to the creature. “Thanks.” He didn’t expect it to understand him, but that never stopped him from talking pets or babies. “So do you have a name?”
The bunyip grunted.
“What’s that? It kind of sounded like you said ‘Paul’. I’ll call you Paul.”
At this point, the creature pulled its fish away from the fire and quickly devoured it. After emitting a loud belch, it curled up on the floor went to sleep.
Harold pulled his own piece of fish from the fire and ate it. He still felt weak, but the small amount of food seemed to help a little. With the bunyip asleep, Harold was ready to consider another escape attempt.
This encounter with the bunyip brought Harold’s curiosity to a new height, but there would be time to reflect later. Harold felt that he was unfit to stay in the company of the bunyip, and he had important matters to attend to, so it was time to go. What the bunyip wanted from him would likely remain an eternal mystery. His only prayer now was that God would get him where he needed to go, by whatever means necessary.
Harold then rose from the ground and quickly, but softly, crept away to the stream. He gave one last look back to make sure the coast was clear and mumbled under his breath. “Goodbye... Paul the bunyip.” He then hopped into the stream and swam out of the cave, where he emerged, as he suspected he might, from the small island next to the island with the mansion. The sun sank beneath the horizon as Harold swam to the big island. The extra weight of his clothes—especially the sweatshirt—made the swim more difficult, but not impossible. After about ten minutes, Harold landed on the beach, not far from the yacht.
Some forty yards away, Harold saw Lorne—laptop in hand—and his four companions standing around the yacht, which was facing away from the island and ready to leave. Each boy held a different piece of treasure from the cottage. Harold was confident they couldn’t see him, as the light from the boat surrounded them all.
“So you really want to go through with this?” asked Magnus.
“I just don’t want to think too much right now,” said Lorne. “We need to keep moving. It will probably be bad for us if we don’t go through with it.”
“It’ll be bad for us either way,” said Magnus.
“I know, but I don’t think there’s any chance the police will kill us.” Lorne took a deep breath. “Let’s just load this stuff on here, then go back and get the last of it.”
Harold breathed a sigh of relief, as he still had some time. As
soon as Lorne and company boarded the boat, Harold took off up the hill, thinking nothing of his exhaustion. When he reached the top, he ran inside the cottage next to the mansion.
In the dungeon den, Wayne, Doug, Winston, and Samson sat with their heads hung low. Light from the moon shone through the wall and lit the room.
“Guys, I have a confession to make,” said Winston.
“What’s that, Mister Winston?” asked Samson.
“I’ve come to the realization that I’m kind of... No, not kind of... I’m a jerk.” Winston looked at Doug. “I’m especially a jerk to you.”
“I know,” said Doug. “But that’s all right... And I can be a bit of a jerk back sometimes.”
Wayne lifted his head, which had been buried in his arms across his knees. His eyes were dried out, having released all possible tears. “I kind of hope they don’t come back. I think I’d rather just die here.”
“There will be no need for that!” said Harold as he popped his head over the open space in the wall behind the others. He held up a ring of keys. “I found the keys!” The other boys’ jaws all dropped as Harold hopped over the wall.
“Harold, how did you get out of there?!” asked Doug. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything,” said Harold.
“Harold, I’m so sorry!” cried Wayne.
“Wayne, that’s okay. I know you didn’t mean to hit me.”
“Seriously,” said Samson, “How are you not dead?”
“Well, truth be told...” Harold paused to consider his reply, then decided the direct approach was the best. “A bunyip pulled me up from the bottom of the lake and swam me over to a cave on that other island.”
“What the heck is a bunyip?” asked Winston.
“It’s one of those monsters from Wayne’s book,” said Doug. He then realized what Harold was saying. “Wait, what?! You’re lying.”
“I know it sounds crazy, but here I am. I’d be dead if that thing didn’t get a hold of me. Thankfully, it let me go, too. At least, sort of... It fell asleep and I snuck out.”
Some color returned to Wayne’s face as he smiled. “I knew it!”
Samson took Harold’s story at face value, but Winston and Doug shared looks of concern, as they were still confused and not quite ready to jump on board with the tale.
“We’ll talk about this later,” said Winston, “but right now we need to get the dickens out of here.”
Harold unlocked the boy’s anklets and they all stood up and stretched.
“So what’s the plan, man?” asked Samson.
“When I got back on shore here, Lorne and his guys were loading some stuff, including the laptop, on the boat. They were gonna go back to the cottage for one more load and then leave.”
“So we’ll beat them back to the boat and leave ‘em in the dust!” said Doug.
“Yep!” Harold nodded. “I think this will work.”
“And then they can die here!” said Samson.
“Well, no, I think we should tell somebody that they’re here.” Harold looked around. “Do we still have that tranquilizer gun?”
Wayne picked the gun up off the floor. “Yeah, it’s right here.”
“Okay, good,” said Harold. “We may need it.”
Wayne held the gun out. “Who’s gonna use it?”
“You’re holding it,” said Harold. “You use it.”
“Harold, last time I fired this, I nearly killed you!”
Harold shrugged. “Everyone makes mistakes. You’re still probably the best shot out of the five of us.”
“Okay, Harold.” Wayne smiled. “If you say so.”
“Oh! I also found this in the cottage.” Harold reached in his pocket and pulled out Winston’s Gamebu.
Winston beamed as he took the Gamebu back. “You’re my hero!”
“Alright, no more lollydallying!” said Doug. “They should almost be back at the cottage by now.”
They all swiftly exited.
Once they had walked out the front door of the mansion, Wayne looked out at the small island and saw the shape of Paul, crouching on top of the rocky mount, illuminated by moonlight. He gasped and pointed. “Look guys, Harold was telling the truth.”
“Hey, there he is!” said Harold as the others looked and saw for themselves. He felt better viewing the bunyip from that distance than he had up close. “I wonder if he’s looking for me. I hope he’s not mad I’m gone.”
“Well I’ll be dangled,” said Doug. “These have been a strange few days.”
“I didn’t say he wasn’t telling the truth,” said Winston. “I just had some questions, that’s all.”
Paul then dove into the lake and the boys carried on.
As the bulls were nowhere to be seen, Harold turned his gaze to the cottage. “They must be in the cottage. Let’s move.”
The boys walked a short distance until they saw, on a dip in the path which was previously out of view, Lorne and the others dragging a large treasure chest toward the yacht.
“Dang it! They’re already ahead of us.” Harold whispered.
Wayne panicked. “What do we do now?”
Suddenly, a noise like muffled thunder emanated from the ground and the earth began to shake.
Samson slipped and fell on his butt. “What the devil?”
The shaking became more and more intense, causing Lorne and his guys to drop the treasure chest.
“What’s going on here?!” cried Todd the cohort.
Sprocket let out a heavy sigh. “It’s an earthquake.”
Harold looked behind him and saw that the mansion was beginning to crumble even more as the shaking increased in intensity. As some of the stones crashed down and nearly hit the boys, he turned forward and waved the others on. “Guys, run!!!”
Harold stayed at the back as he and his friends started to sprint down the hill. In a few moments, they came up beside Lorne and his crew.
Lorne gasped. “What are...” He noticed Harold. “Harold?! How...”
“He’s alive?!” shouted Magnus.
Lorne was clearly shocked and relieved to see Harold, but the relief seemingly erased some of his guilt and spurred him on. “Stop them!!!” He screamed at the top of his lungs.
Lorne and the bulls started to chase after Harold and friends. Just as they took off, the ground began splitting everywhere and the treasure chest fell into a newly formed crevasse. Meanwhile, the mansion and cottage both crumbled to pieces.
As they ran, a crack formed and grew wide in front of Harold and his friends. The five of them jumped across and all made it except for Harold and Samson, who landed with their waists above the edge. Harold managed to pull himself up, but little Samson kept struggling. Winston bent over and lifted Samson just as Lorne and the bulls began to leap the crevasse. Lorne, Magnus, and Sprocket barely made the jump, having to pull themselves up like Harold and Samson, but Todd and Carl stayed behind since the crevasse had grown too wide for them to jump.
Sprocket was the first to pull himself up and, as soon as he did, he dove on Samson and pinned him to the ground. Doug ran back and kicked Sprocket off of Samson, sending him tumbling down the side of the hill into the lake.
Doug then pulled Samson off the ground and pushed him forward. “Go! Go!” he yelled. Running as fast a he could, Doug trailed a little behind the others, with Magnus and Lorne right behind him.
Magnus, who was ahead of Lorne, pulled a lasso chain of colored cloths from his trench coat and flung it at Doug. The lasso caught around Doug’s waist and pulled him to the ground.
Harold looked back. “Doug, no!!!”
In an instant, Wayne turned and fired the tranquilizer gun at Magnus. The dart nailed Magnus in the chest and dropped him to the ground.
“Attaboy, Wayne!” Harold cheered.
Wayne smiled as another crack started to open at his feet. He stumbled and dropped the gun into the crack, then turned and kept running.
Harold ran back to Doug, pulled him off the
ground and pushed him ahead, with the lasso still around his waist. Harold trailed about five yards behind his friends, who soon made it to the beach, when he was suddenly tackled by Lorne.
“Not so fast, Harold,” yelled Lorne. “I’m glad you’re alive, but I can’t let you leave.”
Harold yelled to the other four as they stopped to look back. “Get on the boat! I’ll be there in a minute!”
Doug, Wayne, Winston, and Samson ran down the dock and climbed onto the boat as Harold and Lorne wrestled on the ground. The two of them rolled around, punching and kicking, as the ground started to split beneath them.
Harold shouted. “Get off me, jerk! The ground’s cracking under us!”
Lorne wouldn’t relent and soon the crack under Harold and him ripped apart to a width of about eight feet. Harold and Lorne tumbled into the crevasse and landed on a natural ledge, about six feet down, which gave enough room for them to stand. The crevasse expanded until it was nearly fifteen feet wide. Lorne held his grip on Harold as they both lay on the ledge.
“Harold!!!” Wayne screamed as he hopped from the boat and started to run toward the crevasse.
Harold looked over the ledge and saw that the crevasse extended some thirty feet below where he and Lorne lay. “Lorne, let go! We’re gonna fall!”
Lorne suddenly recognized the danger and released Harold. Both boys stood up and peered at the ever-expanding drop below. Lorne looked at Harold and then at the edge of the crevasse above them. “Here! I’ll lift you up!”
Harold looked up, then nodded at Lorne. “Yeah, alright!”
Lorne gave Harold a boost and Harold climbed out of the crevasse. When he saw Wayne about ten yards away, Harold waved him off. “Wayne, get back on the boat. We’re all right.”
“Okay.” Wayne nodded, then turned and ran back to the boat.
Harold bent over and held his hand down to Lorne. “Come on!”
Lorne grabbed on and Harold pulled him out of the crevasse. Lorne kneeled down on all fours at the edge as Harold began to briskly jog to the yacht.
Wayne looked back at Harold from the boat and his eyes went wide. “Harold, speed up!!!”
Harold turned his head and saw Lorne running after him. He lifted his pace to a sprint. “What the heck?!” he yelled. “I just pulled you out of the pit!”
“That doesn’t change anything!!!” shouted Lorne.
Harold yelled at his friends on the yacht, and waved his hand. “Start the boat! Start the boat!!!”
Doug left the lasso of cloths on the floor and ran to the helm to start the motor as the others stayed on the deck.
Harold started running down the long dock, which ran parallel to the boat, with Lorne following closely behind. When he was close enough, Harold jumped at the side of the boat and grabbed on. The boat started moving as Harold began to pull himself up. Suddenly, Lorne dove and grabbed onto Harold’s waist. It took no small effort, but Harold maintained his grip, dragging Lorne along the dock as the boat gained momentum.
“No!!!” Wayne screamed as he dove over Harold and tackled Lorne onto the dock. With Lorne firmly pinned, Wayne hurled his fist down like a comet and smashed it into Lorne’s face.
Harold climbed onto the boat and looked back in a panic as it broke away from the dock. Looking feverishly around the deck, he spotted the lasso on the floor. A fast as he could, Harold picked up the lasso and hurled it at Wayne. The lasso caught around Wayne’s waist and pulled him off of Lorne, into the water. Harold quickly reeled Wayne back to the boat and pulled him onboard.
Lorne staggered to his knees and watched through his good eye—for the other was now black and swollen shut—as his yacht sped into the horizon and left him in the dust.