It had taken twenty-two hours to fly to Australia, and after they’d been driven to the little hotel they’d be staying in down by Sydney’s famous Opera House and Nish had given his ridiculous demonstration of the way toilets flush “backwards” in Australia, the Screech Owls had set out to shake off the jet lag with a quick tour of the harbour and the famous Sydney Aquarium.
A little green-and-yellow-and-red ferry boat – Travis was convinced it was identical to one he’d played with in the tub when he was much younger – had taken them out on a cruise around the magnificent, fin-shaped Opera House and then under the massive Sydney Harbour Bridge. It was a beautiful day, the water almost as blue as the clear sky.
Their guide, Mr. Spears, had pointed way up above the water to the highest spans of the bridge, where it seemed ants were moving along slowly. But they weren’t ants – they were people. People climbing high over the top span of the enormous bridge.
“We call ’er ‘The Coathanger,’ mates,” Mr. Spears had announced in his strong Australian accent. “Greatest view in all of Oz from up there.”
Travis smiled. He liked the way Australians called their country “Oz.” They said it with such affection. Travis couldn’t think of a nickname that would work for Canada. “Can” sounded, well, stupid. People would think you were talking about a toilet, not a country.
“You have to tie ropes around your middle to go up,” Mr. Spears told them. “And they charge a good fee – but it’s well worth it, mates, well worth it. You should consider it while you’re here.”
“No way!” Nish had shouted.
“We could practise our synchronized dives from there,” suggested Sam.
“Practise yourself! I’m not climbing anywhere except outta this stupid boat.”
Travis had looked at his old friend. Nish was a bit green. The jet lag, the rolling of the ferry, the sight of people climbing high over the water – it was all a bit much for Nish’s sensitive stomach. It was the only part of his friend, Travis thought, that had ever shown any sensitivity at all.
Soon, the bridge was well behind them and the ferry had dropped them off at Darling Harbour. They walked up along the wharf to the massive glass building that housed what Data claimed was the best aquarium anywhere.
“The Sydney Aquarium has saltwater crocodiles,” Data said. “Grow more than twenty feet long and will attack and eat an entire cow – or a person, if they feel like it. Most dangerous animal on earth, I think.”
“I thought the Great White Shark was,” said Fahd.
“Earth, Fahd,” corrected Data. “I said earth – sharks don’t walk on land, do they?”
“Actually,” Sarah said, interrupting, “you’re both wrong. The truly scary creatures of Australia you wouldn’t even notice.”
“Sure,” Nish said sarcastically. “Like what? Killer hamsters? Vampire goldfish? Sabre-toothed bunny rabbits?”
Sarah was smiling slightly. Travis noticed it even if Nish hadn’t. He knew that Sarah had Nish right where she wanted him.
“Ever hear of the Box Jellyfish?” she asked.
“Jell-O fish?” Nish howled. “You gotta be kidding.”
“Jell-EEE fish, dummy, and I’m not kidding,” said Sarah. “You swim up against one of them and, if you live, you’ll wish you hadn’t. It’s kind of like being skinned alive and then spray-painted with acid, they say.”
“No way I’m even going swimming!” shouted Lars.
“There’s none in the waters around Sydney,” said Sarah.
“Good!” said Lars. “There better not be.”
“In Sydney you have to watch out for the funnel web spider,” Sarah said, her little smile returning. She was enjoying herself. “It’s the most poisonous spider in the world.”
“Will it kill you?” Fahd asked.
“Yes,” said Sarah, “but slowly. First you bounce off the walls for a few hours like you’re about to explode, then you start shaking, turn blue and shiver until you pass out. If they don’t get the antidote into you in time, you’re history.”
Travis winced. Australia had seemed like such a warm and welcoming country, a bit like Canada, and a bit like the United States, and a bit like England, and a whole lot like itself. The last thing it seemed was dangerous. But now he wasn’t so sure.
They had a wonderful tour of the aquarium. They all stood with their noses to the glass as harbour seals swam in dazzling circles only inches away. They saw the fearsome saltwater crocodiles in the “Rivers of the Far North” display. They spent more than an hour at the “Touch Pool,” picking up hermit crabs and elephant snails and nervously handing around a shark-egg case as if it might suddenly split open to reveal a miniature “Jaws.”
At the Great Barrier Reef display, Sarah found her beloved seahorses. There was a special exhibit of orange Big-belly Seahorses, hundreds of the oddly elegant creatures hovering about in a glass tank. Travis stared in wonder, baffled as to how a small bony fish could look so like a real horse, the arch of the neck and the head almost identical, the big yellow eyes filled with an intelligence and concentration that seemed impossible for such a tiny little thing. Travis felt as if he were on display and the seahorses examining him.
He could see how they’d managed to captivate Sarah, even if certain others could not.
“What’s so special about these things?” Nish asked, unimpressed.
“They’re an inspiration for women,” said Sarah, turning her head slightly away as that mysterious smile danced again across her lips.
Nish’s face twisted into a question: “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What do you know about seahorses, anyway?” Sarah asked.
“That you can’t ride them?” Nish answered sarcastically. “That it’s tough to find little saddles for them? How the heck should I know anything about them?”
“The males have the babies,” said Sarah, winking over the tank at Sam, who was giggling.
“I’m not stupid!” Nish shouted.
“Can we vote on that?” Sam called over.
“MEN CAN’T HAVE BABIES,” Nish insisted, all but stamping his feet.
“These men do,” said Sarah. “The female gives him the eggs to carry, he fertilizes them and carries them in a pouch on his belly and later gives birth to them.”
Nish’s face was beet-red. “I’m gonna hurl!”
“Some of us like the idea,” said Sarah.
“Maybe you could do it, Nish!” called out Sam. “You’ve already got the gut for it!”
Nish was trying to answer back. He stammered. He spat. He turned even redder. Then he stomped off, the laughter of the rest of the Owls ringing in his scarlet ears.
Travis felt sorry for his old friend. The girls had been a bit unfair. It wasn’t Nish’s fault he didn’t know about seahorses. It wasn’t his fault he was heavy. Travis would even have come to his rescue if Nish didn’t always make fun of everyone else’s shortcomings.
Saving the best for last, they wandered finally into the huge Oceanarium, a fascinating, twisting series of glassed-in tunnels through the water, where eels, stingrays, sea turtles, a dozen different varieties of fish, and even several sharks swam around them so close that the Owls felt the huge creatures might brush against them – or bite!
“We have a special treat for you, mates,” said Mr. Spears after a quick discussion with one of the aquarium staff.
“What’s that?” asked Fahd. All the Screech Owls were pressing in towards Mr. Spears and the attendant.
The attendant cleared her throat and spoke. “You’re about to go through a tank holding a Great White Shark!”
“NOOOO!” screamed Sarah.
“YESSSS!” screamed Sam, meaning exactly the same thing.
“Yesterday, fishermen off the south coast had a Great White get tangled up in their nets. He was cut loose and placed in a transportation pool, and we’ve just released him into a special compartment here. No one else has seen him yet. You’ll be first.”
“ALL RIGHT!” the Screech Owls yelled together.
“You’ll have to be quiet, though. He’s not used to the tanks and he’s never seen a group come through before. No tapping on the glass. No sudden movements. Promise?”
“WE PROMISE!” the Owls shouted.
Keeping very quiet, they moved into a tunnel that Travis had earlier noticed was blocked off from the public. The barriers were down now, and the lights were on, sending an eerie glow into the glass tunnels ahead of them. It was almost as if they were walking in outer space.
They came into a huge tank where, for the first time, there were no eels or turtles or fish of any kind sliding along the glass. This pool seemed empty, except for a large shadow at the far end.
The shadow moved!
Travis felt the entire group suck in its breath and hold it. It was as if they were suddenly in the water, not passing through in air tunnels. No one moved. No one spoke. No one even drew breath.
The Great White turned, its dark back as huge as a boat. It rolled slightly, white belly flashing.
Still no one dared breathe.
It drifted silently across the roof of the tunnel. Then it rolled again, one beady eye scanning the group as if it might be looking for an appetizer before settling down to a main course of peewee hockey team.
It made several passes over them, each time twisting slightly to stare.
Whenever it went by, it was as if a dark cloud were moving overhead. Travis could not believe its size. It was massive.
Its mouth opened slightly, revealing dozens of long, sword-sharp teeth.
“Toss him a Clorets!” snorted Nish.
The attendant immediately hushed him. No one laughed. Even Muck seemed awestruck, his own mouth wide as he stared up.
The shark’s huge mouth opened again, bubbles rolling out.
“He’s burping!” hissed Fahd.
This time someone did laugh: Nish, of course.
The Great White opened wider, and a flush of red-and-white shreds came out.
Travis could hear a quick intake of air as everyone gasped a second time.
What is it? wondered Travis. Fish guts? Or maybe seal?
The shark turned and passed again, dropping so low its fins touched the top of the tunnel. Travis could hear them rubbing, almost squeaking, against the glass.
The mouth opened again, and a great burst of bubbles rolled out and raced for the surface.
“Indigestion, pal?” whispered Nish.
The mouth opened even wider, and something else came out.
It was round and very white, trailing something dark, like string.
Travis tried to see as it thumped hard on the glass above their heads, then rolled off the tunnel roof through the churning, bubbling water.
He took a step closer, staring hard.
Not string – more like hair!
Black hair.
Down, down the object tumbled. It landed against a rock, bounced gently, then settled back, caught between the rock and an outcrop of coral.
The Screech Owls rushed over, then stopped abruptly.
It was a human head, partially digested – one milky eye staring up at them, the other socket empty.
Travis heard a loud thud behind him.
The attendant had fainted.