Hothouse - Brian Aldiss [67]
Through the violence of the rain came an irregular and protracted groaning. The vast creature was out of breath. Laboriously it dragged itself up the shelving beach some few yards from where Gren lay. The rain folded it in grey curtains, so that with its anguished breathing and pained movements it took on the aspect, lumbering there in surroundings as unlikely as itself, of a grotesque symbol of pain conjured up in a dream.
Its head became hidden from Gren by the trees. Only its body could be seen, moved forward by jerks from its unwieldy flippers, before that too was concealed. The tail slithered up the beach; then it also was swallowed by the jungle.
‘Go and see where it has gone,’ ordered the morel.
‘No,’ said Gren. He knelt, and his body ran brown where rain and sand mingled.
‘Do as I tell you,’ twanged the morel. Always at the back of its mind lay its basic purpose, to propagate as widely as possible. Although this human had at first seemed by reason of its intelligence to hold promise as a useful host, it had hardly come up to expectations; a brute of mindless power such as they had just seen was worth investigation. The morel propelled Gren forward.
Walking by the fringe of the trees, they came to the sea creature’s tracks. It had churned up a trench as deep as a man’s height in its progress up the beach.
Grea dropped on to hands and knees, his blood racing. The creature could be only a short distance away; a distinct rotten briny smell hung in the air. He peered round a bole of a tree, following the tracks with his eye.
Here the strip of jungle stopped unexpectedly, to resume some paces farther along the shore. In the gap, the sand led right to the base of the cliff – and in the cliff was a large cave. Through the driving rain the monster’s tracks could be seen leading right into the cave. Yet although the limits of the cave were visible – it was large enough to contain the creature, but no more – it stood silent and empty, like a mouth caught in a perpetual yawn of rock.
Perplexed, forgetting his fright, Gren came out into the open to observe better, and at once saw some of the sixteen tummy-belly men.
They crouched together under the farther trees fringing the avenue of sand, pressing against the cliff very near the cave. Characteristically, they had sought shelter under an outcrop of rock that now sent a continuous spout of rainwater down upon them. With the long hairs of their bodies washed out flat, they looked very wet indeed, wet and frightened. When Gren appeared, they gave a wail of panic, clutching their genitals in apprehension.
‘Come out here!’ called Gren, still looking round to try to account for the disappearance of the sea monster.
With the rain spurting into their faces, the tummy-belly men were thoroughly demoralized; Gren recalled their idiot cry of fear when they had glimpsed the monster. Now they showed an inclination to run from him, milling round in tight circles like sheep and uttering meaningless sounds. Fury for their stupidity filled Gren’s veins. He picked up a heavy stone.
‘Come out here to me, you blubbering belly babies!’ he called. ‘Quickly before the monster finds you!’
‘O terror! O master! All things hate poor lovely tummy-belly men!’ they cried, blundering into each other and turning their fat backs on him.
Infuriated, Gren flung his stone. It hit one of the men on the buttock, a good shot that had a bad effect. The stricken one jumped squealing into the avenue of sand, whirled about, and began to run away from Gren towards the cave. Taking up the cry, the others bounded and tumbled after him, all clasping their behinds in imitation.
‘Come back!’ Gren cried, running after them down the centre of the sea monster’s tracks. ‘Stay out of that cave.’
They paid him no heed. Yelping like curs, they burst into the cave, their noise echoing sharply back from its walls. Gren followed them.
The briny reek of the sea monster was heavy in the air.
‘Get out of here as quickly as you can,’ the morel advised in Gren’s mind, sending a twinge through