Page 7 of The Space Traveller's Lover
“Earlier today, I told Erin to stop seeing Sam—that Pat and I … well.” He briefly gazes at Sam’s parents one by one. “I was going to fire Sam from the farm if they continued seeing each other.”
Everyone looks back at Lobart as if they have suddenly found their guilty suspect.
“Ah!” Martha exhales in astonishment and lurches back onto her sofa’s backrest. Her husband comforts her, patting her shoulder before bitterly gazing at Lobart.
“So, they’re hiding,” Stella suggests. “Or they’re eloping, or—”
“There’s no point in guessing now,” Lobart counters. “When we find them … we’ll see.”
Bill Sheppard folds his arms over his chest, frowning deeply at Lobart as if trying to channel all his irritation in a single glance. A burly man with a thick moustache and incisive gaze, Bill maintains a composure that unveils an uneasy self-restraint.
“Albert, it’s about time you stop your paranoia about me trying to take over your job with the help of Sam and Erin—”
“Ah! That’s what it is.” Martha stands up, incredulously staring at Lobart. “Please tell me, Albert, that it’s all been a misunderstanding—”
“Yeah, a misunderstanding,” Lobart snaps. “But I tend to be right most of the time—”
“Let’s call it a truce, Albert”—Bill briskly opens the front door—“for the sake of Sam and Erin.”
“All right, let’s go then,” Lobart grudgingly agrees.
But their desperate search that night yields no further news. The next day, they set up search parties all across the island, their helicopters scouring everywhere inland and all around the coast, but they fail to find any clues of the pair’s whereabouts. Even when the islanders extend their range inside the intricate cave systems, they find nothing after three days.
To make matters worse, the moment they start preparations to go deeper into Diablo’s cave, beyond the second lake and on to the waterfall, an approaching storm compels them to abandon everything.
For a while, they had some hope that the violent winds would change direction and miss the island altogether, but the zigzag path of the advancing typhoon is invariably pointing towards the rugged west coast.
The islanders rush to the secured underground shelters, but the Sheppards have joined the Lobarts in the tuna farm’s control room. They reckon they have a better chance of spotting Sam and Erin from the high tower if the pair decide to come out from hiding.
As the wind brings in the strong smell of acidic rain, Sheppard and Lobart lock the shatterproof windows and doors. On the horizon, they can see the black clouds rolling over the agitated ocean, forming ever-increasing bulges as if preparing to engulf the whole island.
The bright lightning bolts fork through the clouds in random patterns as the sound of thunder vibrates through the supercharged atmosphere. The storm has arrived at their shores.
The reinforced steel tower is withstanding the brunt of the mighty two hundred and fifty kilometres per hour gales. Still, the howling winds and the constant deluge make the two anxious families fear that the thick metal trusses could begin to collapse after all.
“The control room will hold,” Lobart reassures them.
But no sooner has he spoken than the ear-splitting thunder and its blinding lightning strike rip through the air as if the sky had cracked into smithereens.
They sit tight with their backs against the wall, looking at each other in sheer awe and then bury their heads between their knees as if trying to protect themselves from an impending collapse, even though they know the sturdy tower was built to endure this type of weather.
As they huddle together in their sleeping bags, the sturdy towering structure is keeping at bay the unyielding winds and battering waves. Despite their initial fears, they eventually share a comforting feeling of security as they fall asleep.
The following day, when they finally hear a pause in the bucketing rain, after a whole night of relentless pounding, they are relieved that, at last, the raging storm appears to be moving away.
Lobart climbs onto one of the desks to get a better view from the window. He reckons this must be the most powerful typhoon he has experienced in his whole life. Wiping off the misty stormproof glass panes,he tries to discern any details through the thinning fog, barely making out the ghostly outline of the imposing cliffs in the distance.
“At least we’re in one piece,” he says as he turns around to face the rest of the group, now gathered behind him.
“The storms are getting more frequent and more powerful.” Martha sobs, fearing the worst for her son and Erin. “To think … if they got caught up in the tidal surge …”
“There’s no point in getting so upset, Martha. They are young and fit. They know how to look after themselves.” Pat tries to console her.
Lobart jumps down as Stella climbs up the desk. She contemplates the desolate grey scene with her eyes fixed on the same place she last saw her brother take Erin.
“Stella, come on down.” Sheppard urges her to take his hand. “There’s nothing to see until the weather clears.”
Stella gloomily nods as she reaches out to take her father’s hand, but before jumping down, she glances towards the window once more, as a sudden orange glow from the corner of her eye catches her attention.
