Living below sea level had always been a source of pride to us, Dutch people. With our own hands we had wrested our soil from the waters, enclosed it with strong dikes and made it fit for cultivation. We had become pretty smug about it, boasting that God might have made the world, but that we had certainly made our own land.
Then, during the first night of February 1953, wind and water joined forces against our battlements. The siege was pitifully short. Dikes were breached all along the coastline and the waters rushed in to reclaim their former haunt. Like a herd of ravenous beasts returning from the past the waves thundered through the night, swamping villages, wrecking buildings, trampling every living creature they came across. Merciless this conquering sea was. Even when the field had been won and the vanquished huddled desperately on the roofs of those few stalwart buildings still standing, the sea would not relent but settled down patiently to wear away the walls with steady pressure till they crumbled one by one and dropped their weary human load into its slavering maw.
That week ugly death took thousands on the islands and peninsulas of Zeeland, my native province.
I was only five and a 100 miles distant when the disaster occurred, but nevertheless the flood left an impression on my mind that thirty years have been unable to erase. With perfect clarity I recall my mother's distress as she sat in her nightgown beside the radio, that boisterous morning in February, wringing her hands and weeping, while my father paced the room in his pajamas. As an only child I was used to being the center of things, but that morning nobody bothered about me. I did not know what was going on but somehow sensed that it was so serious that I should keep my peace. In silent fright I sat in my corner of the room, clutching my yellow teddy bear and watched the nervous doings of my parents. Later I was told that the sea had covered the land and that many people had died. We had moved from the disaster area only six months earlier, leaving all our relatives in the middle of it.
A week or so later my mother took me there, by train. I need only close my eyes to see again the most dreary and dismal scene I ever witnessed. The whole landscape covered with water, rippling pale and cold under a thickly clouded sky. Farmhouses stood bleak and deserted, like ships run aground, some wrecked and fallen into crazy ruin. A realm of utter lifelessness, horrifying in the bloated carcasses of cattle bobbing beside the embankment.
The train crept along with interminable delays. Everybody seemed sad or angry or both. No laughter anywhere, nobody to smile at me or to pat me on the head. Meek and overawed I sat beside my grieving mother, who would sometimes cuddle me, but with such a show of despair that she only deepened my fright. My sole comfort was teddy, to whom I clung tightly, wondering what had happened to the bright and cheerful world I had always known. I still remembered our last train journey, away from here, mom jubilant because we were moving from provincial dullness to the thrills of the big city. Her merriment had made me forget the pain of parting with my friends. It had been high summer then. The scenery dappled gold and green with swinging crops and fields bustling with cows and sheep and horses and birds. It seemed incredible that I was looking out at the same place now. But the stations were the same. During my short span of life I had been up and down the Walcheren peninsula a couple of times and I could recite the names of the places along the line as faithfully as my bedtime prayer. Harsh and ill sounding names they were, like curses. Riland Bath, Krabbendyke, Kruyningen Ierseke, Kapelle Bizelinge, but now they marked only railway stations in the middle of nowhere.
Although I imagined that the water might suddenly rise and swallow the embankment and the train, this did not impress me half as much as the sudden indifference of grown ups towards me. For the first time I realized that the world was a sinister and hostile place where little boys did not count for much. Never before and never again did I suffer such loneliness as in that train, my mother absorbed in her anguish, her pale face half hidden by a rufous fur, inaccessible, while I was left to myself. Like the good little boy that I was I sat quietly in my corner, looking out at the terrible desolation.
During one of those lonely contemplations I saw the creatures. The train had ground to a halt again. On both sides the water stretched towards the horizon. The wind hissed and whined about the train and pelted raindrops against the glass. A broken house stood some twenty yards off. The little, choppy wavelets were slapping against its walls with brutal insistence. There was a car in the front yard, submerged to the lower edge of its windows. Beside the track lay a small plot of land spared from flooding by the enclosure of a brick wall. Just as I sat gazing blankly at that wall part of it gave way and water gushed in with great force. Thrilled by the distraction I watched attentively how it swamped the plot and slowly settled to a grey mirror. Minutes passed. Then the water seemed to come alive, bubbles, swirls and eddies appeared and before my startled eyes strange fishes surfaced with pale glossy heads and bulging eyes, milky white. A moment later one of them disproved being a fish by clambering up against the embankment. I sat very still, totally absorbed. The creature's big eyes glittered restlessly. It looked a bit like a monkey with a very long tail and short hindlegs. Spellbound I watched till I noticed its fore limbs. They were huge, ending in horrible, fleshy claws, almost the size of a man's hand. I uttered a yell that gave mom such a start that she leapt from her seat.
"For heaven's sake, Johnny. Don't DO that," she cried, "What's the matter?"
"Out there, mommie. Beside the train. A monkey. A creepy white monkey, coming out of the water."
She cast a bewildered look out of the window.
"What on earth are you talking about, you silly boy."
I pointed but even as I did I could see that the creatures had gone. I broke into tears, knowing full well I would not be believed, fearing punishment for telling a lie. But fortunately mom did not see it that way.
"You poor thing." she said. "This must be an ordeal for you. Come and sit with me. I'll tell you a story."
I obeyed quietly. The train set in motion again. Afterwards I tried to explain about the beasties on numerous occasions, much to the amusement of my listeners, but without ever being believed.
The years went by. The beasts in the water faded to the back of my mind where their memory blended with dreams and fairy tales till I could not say for sure whether I had really seen or only heard or dreamt about them.
I grew up, studied biology and met a young woman called Marjoleine. She stopped the world for me: not beautiful in any classical sense but fetchingly pretty, with a round and lively face, thick hair the color of honey with a tinge of orange, big, sparkling eyes. She possessed an indomitable spirit, cheerful, easy going, on the verge of shallowness. There was something of a tomboy about her, but she could also be tender and passionate and her ample little body offered inexhaustible joys. All in all she was a perfect counterweight to my own gravity and soberness. We got married. After a few meager but romantic years I secured a safe and steady job as a wildlife biologist with a government agency, and when Marjoleine gave birth to a healthy boy and girl, life seemed a walkover.
This, however, was only the surface. Ever since my schooldays, when I was quite a brilliant pupil, I had believed in some greater destiny for myself. I thought I would be one of those few names that resound throughout the ages. A great and noble man. Sadly, I possessed no specific talent to match my ambition. I was one of those unhappy men who are good at almost everything but excel at nothing. I could play almost any game or sport and play it well. I had mastered numerous skills in which I stood with the best whilst lacking that little something extra that could make me a champion. While a bachelor I had tried several things: guitar playing, horse riding, yachting, and I got far, very far, but never far enough. After meeting Marjoleine I gave up trying, she could not understand my yearning for fame, but I never lost the idea that there ought to be more to life, that my existence was meaningless as long as I did not rise above the masses.
Three years ago fortune seemed to wink at me. I received a state grant to do important research on field bird ecology in a remote polder of Walcheren. With it came an appointment as warden of a nature reserve and the lease of a delightful little farmhouse behind the dike. And so I found myself returning to my native region with a lovely wife and two children.
Six happy months passed. A typical Dutch winter came bleak and wet and windy. Having saved my paperwork and laboratory tests for this season I settled down to a cumbersome daily routine. One of my most arduous tasks was making a comprehensive inventory of organisms in the soil, to establish a correlation between bird density and available food. This meant poking through chunks of clay for hours on end, sifting, preserving and classifying. A monk's job. But it did lead me to Ignotus Wilsoni, as I was to name it.
The dream of every biologist is to find a new species. It brings prestige of a kind difficult to imagine by the layman. There is something immeasurably grand about uncovering something that has been hidden from human eye since the beginning of time. To me, with my dormant hunger for grandeur, it meant an almost delirious thrill when I came upon this little, foetuslike creature that resembled nothing I had ever seen. A dead one, as far as I could establish, desiccated, a bit like a dried shrimp, but definitely not a shrimp. It defied all my attempts at classification. I wrote my professor about my find, but he was out of the country at the time, so I could not get any immediate help there. In the meantime I spent most of days trying to find more specimens, going a bit mad, I'm afraid, grubbing through the soil like a gold-digging maniac, but not without success. I found dozens, none alive, or so I thought, and preserved them in alcohol.
One day I got careless. There was an excuse for it, because I had been working till way past midnight. As I staggered to my feet, thoroughly exhausted, I saw I had forgotten an Ignotus and hastily popped him into what I believed was the nearest jar of alcohol.
That night I was wakened by a strange, high pitched squealing. I had only just fallen asleep, so I was still bone weary, not in any mood to go and investigate. Some rodent, I thought, before dozing off again. The following day I did not go into my laboratory till 2 in the afternoon, it being a Sunday. As I entered the room, a sour and fetid smell made me gag. I looked about and all but jumped. A white head, the size of a grapefruit, was sticking out of the jar into which I had stored my last Ignotus. Going gingerly closer I saw that it was part of a creature whose body was tightly compressed inside the jar. A darkbrown liquid covered the bottom. Several seconds I stood dumbfounded. What was it? And how on earth had it gotten in there? The head was horrific. It resembled the naked skull of a small monkey, but made of a translucent substance, revealing the grey mass of its brain within. It had large white eyes, like pale marbles suspended in glass. Worst by far, however, was its mouth. Long, spiky teeth lined both upper and lower jaw like nails jutting from a plank. They stood out, but had an inward curve and were so long and numerous that the mouth closed only partly, leaving a vicious grin of crossing fangs.
Although I had handled enough loathsome creatures in my years, this one struck me as exceptionally repellent. I sank to my knees and peered into the jar. The body was flattened against all sides of the glass container. The only explanation could be that the creature had climbed into it and somehow swelled. This proved exactly the case upon closer examination. I had to break the bottle to get it out. The poor brute had actually crushed itself, by expanding in some mysterious way while caught inside the bottle. My pity was short lived, however, when I examined the remains more closely. Never before had I seen such a grisly being. Its upper half was indeed monkeylike: with a broad chest and long arms ending in grotesquely oversized claws that seemed equally fit for digging, swimming and ripping things apart: flesh colored, webbed and armed with steelblue scimitar nails. Its lower half resembled that of a lizard, with short hindlegs, the trunk tapering into a long slender tail with a viciously barbed, whiplash point. Its coloring was particularly unpleasant. From the almost transparent skull to the black tail harpoon it passed through pale opacity and bloodshot white into ever deepening hues of red. Its body fluids emitted such a pungently sour odor that it made me giddy and forced me to leave the laboratory for a breath of air.
It was a crisp winter's day. Under the clear light of the afternoon sun the landscape was etched in sharp lines. I scanned the scenery. Behind me ploughed fields stretched away in dull brown desolation, only broken by an occasional farm huddling amidst its sentries of skeletal trees. The bottle green wall of the dike rose in front of me. To my left, beyond a dark field and a stretch of grassland, the yellow bumps of sand dunes marked the horizon. The only signs of life were a flock of Greylag geese grazing in the pasture and two crows who were having a fierce argument with a hawk over some carrion on the dike. On the other side of the house I heard the shrill voices of Fay and Tim at play. Just a day like any other, but I felt a dull sense of dread. The creature on my examination table had shaken the foundation of my existence. It was a being that could not exist. Like Ignotus it fitted in no category. But this time I felt no joy at my discovery. It was just too strange for that. The sinister predator's teeth. The claws. I even toyed briefly with the notion of extraterrestrials but shrugged it off irritably.
At that moment my memory stirred. I recalled the train ride after the flood; that stop beside the farmhouse with the submerged car in the yard, where I had seen the little white monkeys. Lord almighty. Could it have been the same? Such coincidence seemed impossible. Thirty years had passed. We were many miles away from that spot. Immediately I returned to the laboratory and began to dissect the creature, but this only plunged the problem deeper into obscurity. The beast possessed organs I had never seen. Judging from the convolutions of the cerebrum and the development of the parietal regions its brain was vastly more complex than a human one. This was incredible. How I wished the professor was not out of the country. I really needed him now. After a while I stopped my dissecting. It was just too much for me to handle on my own. I decided to freeze the carcass and wait till the professor had returned.
After I had stored away the remains, I remembered the Ignotus that had been in the same jar. It had not been among the contents of the stomach of my new find, so it should still be among the fragments somewhere. It was not. Only then did I connect the two events. It seemed far fetched but the most obvious solution was that the monkey and Ignotus were one and the same. Somehow it had grown to its new dimensions. The thought gave me a shudder as I looked at the other jars, filled with dozens of the creatures. They showed no sign of growing, however. What had made this one do so? It was beyond me. Just then Tim appeared in the door of my laboratory. A fine looking lad of 12, my son, with the same honey colored hair as his mother's.
"Hi, dad," he said cheerfully, "I know I'm not to disturb you but mom said she put my sea water in here."
"What sea water?'
"You know, for my science project."
I nodded, although I did not have the faintest idea what the boy was talking about. I tended to be absent-minded at times. So it was quite possible he had told me about it while I was not listening.
"Yes, of course," I said, "But hurry, I want to close up for the day."
He looked around, went over to my jars of alcohol.
"I don't see it," he said. "It was in one of those."
A shock of understanding struck me. Sea water! I had put Ignotus in Tim's bottle and the sea water had somehow revitalized it. That had to be the answer.
"Oh dear," I said. "I'm afraid I broke it just now."
"Drat." said Tim. "Now I'll have to get a new supply."
"Hard luck. But let's not panic. I'll go along with you. I need some myself. Go get your wellingtons."
"All right!" he said, joyfully. I watched him skip off. A cheerful, easy going kid, my Tim, much like his mother. Realizing how much he liked to do things together with me, I felt a twinge of shame that I spent so little time with him.
We went out together. While we walked through the sticky mud of the field to the dike, I observed a sudden change in the weather. Dark clouds were building up beyond the dunes, which stood out like heaps of gold dust against them. Tim chatted happily about school, his soccer team, his prospects of joining of a rock band. It tickled my vanity that he, too, seemed tainted with ambition. While we paused on top of the dike to catch our breath, distant rumblings could be heard on the horizon.
"The weatherman was dead wrong again, as usual," said Tim scornfully as he tilted his head towards the budding thunderstorm. I nodded, recalling last night's weather report. A stable zone of high pressure all over Western Europe. I had little knowledge of meteorology but this sudden change seemed odd, to say the least. I shivered. Mysteries seemed to be bunching up on me.
We clambered down the outer, basalt-faced slope of the dike to the narrow stretch of sandy beach in front of it, both toting two buckets for our water. The western horizon looked distinctly ominous. An inky bulge of clouds, almost like a mountain range, was rising from the sea. Lightning flashed. Thunder clapped.
"Eerie, isn't it?" said Tim.
"Don't be silly. It's only electricity,"
"I know that," he replied, a bit ruffled.
We went down to the water line. The sea was calm and flat, sliding gently across the ochrous sand. Some gulls winged about. The crows were still screeching noisily, but as we started to fill our buckets, they suddenly stopped and a strange silence descended around us. Even the wavelets became inaudible. I thought I only imagined it, but Tim cast me a puzzled look. The next moment a deafening thunderclap seemed to shake the world. It made Tim drop his bucket.
"Yipes!" he exclaimed. "World War Three,"
My sense of dread deepened. Something was wrong. I looked around. Apart from the eerie silence and the approaching thunderstorm there was nothing out of the ordinary. I thought I was just being silly, overwrought by the discovery of my strange creature, when a blast of wind struck us and I saw a dark line forming across the breadth of the sea, drawing rapidly near. A wave. It wasn't particularly large, but struck the beach with such force that it set our feet awash. Instantly the whole seascape came alive. Wave upon wave splashed upon the sand, the wind began to wheeze an eerie dirge. Although the water was rising at an alarming rate, I acted unconcerned, not wanting to frighten Tim. I just said:
"Come, let's go home before it starts to rain. Quick, fill your bucket. If we don't hurry we'll be drenched."
We filled our buckets and hurried back.
When we got home, Marjoleine stood in the doorway smiling.
"You're just in time. There was a gale warning on the radio. A sudden turn of the weather. Here, sit down. I've got some soup on. Won't be a minute."
I sat down at the table, worried. This excitement was bad for me. I was used to a calm, daily routine. I needed it to think.
"What's the frown?" asked Marjoleine, returning with four mugs of fragrant tomato soup. "Surely the discoverer of Wilson's whatchamacallit should not be frowning?"
I smiled. Marjoleine's playful indifference to my work was always refreshing. I would have hated it to be otherwise.
After finishing our soup, Tim and I carried the buckets to the laboratory. He wanted to stay and watch but I told him to leave. I got out a small aquarium and filled it with seawater, opened my note book and took one of the shrivelled Ignoti from a jar. I was tense, my hand even trembled as I dropped the shrimp into the aquarium. I pulled up a chair and sat down, face close to the glass. A few minutes passed. Like a little opaque question mark Ignotus drifted about in the brackish water. Suddenly it twitched. Someone let out a gasp behind me. Tim, who had disobeyed my orders.
"It moved, dad," he said.
"Yes," I said, too fascinated to scold him. "It did."
Outside the thunder was approaching, sneaking closer on silent feet like an angry tiger that stopped occasionally to roar defiance. It was suddenly overtaken by a heavy murmur and the next moment a clatter of rain buffeted the windows. Gusts of wind shook the building.
"Wow, some gale." said Tim.
I did not answer. My mouth was tacky. Before my incredulous eyes the shrimp was twitching and turning. Slowly, like a flower bursting from its bud, it grew. A tiny shell dropped away to the bottom and Ignotus ballooned. Like an inflatable doll it expanded and expanded; limbs shot out of its rump with spasmodic jerks; its head assumed form, as if invisible fingers were molding it into shape.
Tim grabbed my arm, giving it a painful squeeze, but I ignored it. My astonishment at the changes inside the aquarium was too great. It could not be happening. Yet it did. The whole transformation took about five minutes. Then a fully fledged Ignotus, a glass headed monkey with a bloodred lizard's tail floated to the surface of the aquarium. It stopped moving. I took a deep breath. Its eyes were closed. Perhaps it was dead. I could not help hoping so. Perhaps this was only some kind of chemical change of the carcass. Then it opened its eyes.
Both Tim and I drew back from the basin.
"Jesus, dad! What a creep."
I nodded dumbly. Eyes white, fierce, dazzling white, with black diamond shaped slits, like an angry cat. Only then did I realize that I had omitted to put a cover over the aquarium. Cautiously I reached towards it. As my hand passed the glass wall of the container, Ignotus shot forward, snapping at me. Fortunately the glass intervened. The creature opened its mouth and uttered a spine chilling squeal. I drew back hastily. I recognized the squeal. It was like the one I had heard during the night.
"Let's get out of here, dad," said Tim. "I'm scared."
This reminded me of my parental duties.
"Yes, of course. You run along. I'll be out as soon as I've dealt with this fellow."
Tim hurried away, leaving open the door in his haste. A chilly blast of air gushed in. It had a strange effect on Ignotus. It suddenly rose upright in the water. Two skin flaps above his mouth opened into gaping nostrils, producing a sniffing sound. The next moment it grabbed the side of the aquarium and leapt out. I was torn between duty and fright. The beast obviously meant to escape. I would gladly be rid of it. But on the other hand I had a job to do. My sense of duty won. As it made another leap to the door, I flung myself past it, intending to bar its escape. What happened next has never become quite clear to me. As I lunged for the door Ignotus leapt up, sort of somersaulted before my face and the next moment I was sprawling on my back with a mouth full of blood and scorching pain. When I had scrambled up, the door stood wide open and Ignotus had vanished. With blood dripping down my chin I hurried to the house. Marjoleine almost passed out when she saw me.
"John!" she screamed. "What happened?"
"I fell," I mumbled and ran to the bathroom, fearing that half my face would be torn off. Fortunately the damage was less than expected. I had a deep gash in my cheek, my nose was bloodied and the insides of my lips were lacerated by my teeth. I also had a cut in my tongue, which accounted for the copious bleeding. That little fellow sure knew how to fight. I rinsed my mouth with disinfectant, which smarted so viciously that it had me hopping about in agony.
The remainder of that evening I suffered frightfully. Unlike her usual self Marjoleine was greatly upset.
"What's this monster Tim has been telling me about?" she asked. "You're not taking silly risks are you?"
I shook my head, unwilling to talk because my poor mouth made it torture.
"I know it's hard for you to talk, but this is important John. Have you anymore of those horrible things in there? They're dangerous, as you have found out. If they can do this to you, what could they not do to the children?"
"No," I mumbled. "Zis was ze only one."
"I darned well hope so," said Marjoleine, flushed with indignation. "All this talk about fortune and prestige is all very well, but our safety is just a teenie weenie bit more important. For crying out loud, that thing might have ripped your eyes out."
The pain in my mouth made it impossible for me to sleep. The shrill whine of the wind bustling about the house did not help much either. I tossed and turned and finally got up, installing myself in a blanket on the couch, trying to divert myself by reading and listening to the radio. The weather report of 5.45 fell on deaf ears, till the forecast for the coastal waters was given.
"Flushing: north west, 4 to 6 Beaufort, later 8 to 10, visibility poor. Hook of Holland and Ymuiden: north west, 1 to 2 Beaufort, later 2 to 4, local showers, visibility good. Texel, Rottum & Ysselmeer: north west, 1 to 2 Beaufort, later 1 to 3, visibility good. A warning to shipping: district of Flushing: north west, 10. The Department of Waterways recommends a limited dike guard for the district of Flushing."
Although the report had been read out in a flat, unemotional drone, it caused my nerves to tighten with a jerk. Ours was the district of Flushing that was singled out for such bad weather. This, in itself, was not exceptional, nor were great differences in weather conditions a few miles apart. Still, it sounded ominously wrong to me. Involuntarily I had to think of Ignotus. It seemed idiotic to associate that little creature, however ferocious, with the coming storm, but everything about it was idiotic, yet true all the same. I had seen the first of them during a flood. Now I had seen two others and the threat of a flood was here again. Could it be that they somehow heralded floods? Special flood creatures? Most unlikely. But what then?
Forgetting about my painful mouth for a moment, I gave the matter some thought. Two things were clear. The soil here was full of dormant creatures and they depended on salt water to grow. What if this seabed that we had so arrogantly reclaimed was one of their ancient breeding grounds? We had made it impossible for the buried specimens to get to the sea. They would never be able to grow unless...... the sea came to them! Could it be, could it possibly be, that somehow the dikes were broken with that very purpose? These Ignoti were juveniles, that seemed a pretty safe assumption to make. If they grew and their horrible claws grew with them they could easily dig through a dike, flood the land and release their brood.
As I pursued this line of reasoning, a chill settled in my bones. I grew convinced I had drawn the right conclusion and it opened vistas too horrible to contemplate. Here we were building ever higher dikes against the sea, believing ourselves perfectly safe, whereas the sea itself was not our enemy at all, but merely a tool in the claws of these creatures. Something had to be done, the people had to be warned. I remembered the weather report, the approach of the north westerly storm, just like in 53. God. It might already be too late. I broke into a clammy sweat. My composure was falling apart. I almost panicked but managed to get a grip on myself. I decided to go and see for myself whether conditions were really as bad as I feared. I hastily put on coat and wellingtons and went out. Darkness still ruled. The black gale slapped my face with cold wet hands. I clambered up the dike and stood horrified. The report had been right. The waves were already splashing against the embankment. Not yet near the danger level by another two meters at least, but the tide was only halfway in.
I returned home in an agony of doubt. I had to move very cautiously. If I alerted the media and I was wrong, my career as a serious biologist would be finished. On the other hand, if I was right I would not only reap fame as the discoverer of Ignotus Wilsoni but as a genuine life-saving hero too. Ah! Fulfillment at last, after 35 years of frustration. The thought made me glow with delight.
Just as I entered the house, a terrible scream rent the silence. Fay. Dreading the return of Ignotus, I leapt up the stairs with a howl of agony, almost tearing the door from its hinges, just ahead of Marjoleine who came running from our bedroom.
False alarm. Little Fay upright in her bed, whimpering about a nightmare and a big bad man with no hair on his head. We had just comforted her, when an ungodly clatter from Tim's room sent us scampering there. He met us halfway, hair tousled, eyes affright. He also stammered incoherently about a bogusman who had come in a dream.
"You must bury the little ones, dad," he kept repeating. "You must bury them."
Marjoleine and I looked at each other. She had turned white, beckoning that she wanted to talk with me. We consoled the children by allowing them to stay together and went downstairs.
Marjoleine walked straight to the sideboard to pour herself a glass of brandy and emptied it at a gulp. When she turned round, her eyes looked glazed with terror.
"Christ, Marge," I said, "What's wrong?"
She took a deep breath. She was trembling.
"That dream Fay and Tim were talking about..." she stopped, working her mouth convulsively.
"Yes?"
"I dreamt it too!"
For a moment I was dumbfounded. Then I chuckled.
"Oh, come on, Marge. That's impossible. No three people can have the same dream."
"Oh yes they can. They just did." She pressed the palms of her hands against her temples. "A big ugly man with a large naked head, telling me that you should bury the little ones." She took a deep breath, straightened herself and looked me hard in the face. "What is all this, John?" she asked, in a tone I had not heard from her before. "Something very weird is going on here and if you don't tell me right now I'm taking the kids to my parents this very hour. So tell me: what's going on?"
I told her everything I knew. When I had finished her eyes were twice their normal size.
"So you think there's a connection between the floods and those creeps? But how can that be? They're only dumb brutes, aren't they?"
"Judging by the complexity of their brain they might be more than that. If these are only juveniles the sea might harbor adults that could easily come ashore to wreck the dikes."
Marjoleine grasped her head again.
"Headache?" I asked.
She nodded.
"I can't handle this. It's so incredible."
I rose from my chair and went to the window to look out. The storm was definitely stiffening, keeping up a steady wheeze, interspersed with sudden blasts that shook the house. The sky had blanched to a bluish grey. The land was still black, cut off abruptly by the long stretch of dike. I shuddered as I thought of the water masses pressing against the other side. It was such a thin strip of soil, so easy to tear apart with monstrous claws. As I gazed out I thought I saw a slight movement near the laboratory. I pressed my face against the glass. Nothing. I clenched my fists. I was beginning to crack up, it seemed. Marjoleine came up to me, placed a hand on my shoulder.
"What are we going to do?" she asked softly.
"I don't know. Perhaps you should take the children to safety. Just in case."
"And what about you?"
"You know I can't leave the reserve."
"Shouldn't you at least warn the police?"
I bit my lower lip. If I did, I might become the laughing stock of the scientific community. It would mean the end of everything. No, I could not do it.
"I don't think they'd be very responsive to a mad scientist and his monsters."
Marjoleine managed a faint little smile.
"And what about the dream?" she asked.
I shrugged my shoulder.
"Coincidence."
"What if it's not? What if those brainy creatures of yours are able to affect our thoughts? What if that is their way of communicating with us?"
"They should have communicated with me then, shouldn't they?"
Marjoleine's face fell.
"Yes, that makes sense. And you're sure you did not dream anything?"
"I didn't even sleep. I've got this little problem in my mouth, remember?"
Blood rushed to her cheeks.
"That explains it!" she cried out. "You can't dream without sleep. They could not reach you, so they took us. Oh, for god's sake, John, bury those things. Bury them as deep as you can. Do what they ask."
She was all over me, clinging to my arms, almost pulling me over.
I got angry.
"For chrissakes, Marjoleine, will you pull yourself together? This is all madness. The only tangible things we have are those specimens. The rest is conjecture. Surely you don't want me to throw away the chance of a lifetime for mere guesswork?"
She drew back from me, open revulsion on her face.
"Do you know what you're saying?"
"Yes. I do. I'm not going to panic. What we need here is a calm, cool and scientific approach. We must..."
"Sacrifice your wife and children and god knows how many other innocent people, just so you might get your picture in some dusty old boring journal? Oh damn you, John Parker Wilson. You're despicable."
"Marjoleine please," I said softly, stepping forward.
"Stay away from me. Go to your bloody laboratory and play with your little buddies. I'm getting out of here."
I nodded, ready for anything to calm her down.
"All right, all right. You go and take the children. But don't get so upset. Everything'll work out, you'll see."
For another moment she stood glowering at me. Then she cracked. Sobbing violently she collapsed in my arms, kissing, begging me to bury the Ignoti and to come away with her. I made a nice little speech about a scientist's responsibility, the need for taking risks and, yes, even for self sacrifice. She calmed down. We quickly got the children dressed, packed some necessities into a weekend bag and got out the Landrover. There was little left of Marjoleine's anger.
"Oh John, I feel awful about this. If it weren't for the children I'd stay, no matter what. You do know that, don't you?"
She was prettier than ever, despite her pallor and unkemptness. I loved her dearly. As I kissed her I felt a sudden urge to go along, forget about the Ignoti, just throw them away. Start all over again somewhere else. But the lure of fame was too great. I'd never get such an opportunity again. I hugged Fay, wanted to do the same with Tim, but he was already to big a boy to suffer a father's kiss willingly, so I just embraced him.
"Take good care of your mother." I said.
He nodded gravely.
After one more lingering kiss Marjoleine clambered into the driver's seat.
"Hurry," I said. "And stop for nothing."
"I'm sorry, John."
"There's no need. It's better this way."
She drove off. The kids in the back waved till I could no longer make them out in the gray light of dawn.
The howls of the wind seemed to grow in strength as the engine sound died away. I returned to the house. A tight cord was strapped round my heart. I knew I had done my family wrong, but I could not do otherwise. This was my road to fulfillment. If I met disaster on the way, it would be just as well. I had been insignificant long enough. Leaning heavily into the aggressive wind I returned to the house, made myself a cup of tea and lay down on the couch. I was in two minds. One calm and confident, picturing a life of fame and fortune ahead as I travelled the large universities of the world lecturing about Ignotus. The other timid and fearful, imagining all kinds of terrors. I even developed a nervous tic in one eye. What if all the wild conjecture was true? I checked my watch. The tide would reach its peak in ninety minutes or so. Then I'd know. I took a deep breath. Perhaps I was mad to stay here. If those beasts really possessed the power to whip up a storm and break the dikes, I was doomed. But as I contemplated the idea it sounded too silly to be true. Whip up a storm indeed.
I turned up the radio.
"There seems no immediate danger just now," said an excited voice."But a dike guard has been called out. The authorities deny that there is any chance of a repeat of the 1953 disaster but people in the region are tense and apprehensive, all the same. The preliminary stages of an evacuation scheme are being carried out as a precaution. This is Bart van Ewyk, for TROS radio, from Walcheren."
I sat on the couch biting my nails, rose, paced the room, looked out of the window. Veils of rain were swept across the land like huge tattered newspapers shrouding the fields. The dike was merely a darker strip of grey, dissolving on both sides. My heart faltered a little as I stared at the dike. I could not help wondering how it would break. Would it suddenly give way and unleash a boiling surf across the land, or would the water seep through, traitorlike, slowly rising to my throat?
I paced some more, chainsmoked several cigarettes. The tide would reach its highest level in little over an hour. I looked at the dike. Immovable it still stood. I wondered whether I should go and take a look. Why not? I wasn't much safer here than I would be outside. I put on my wellingtons and raincoat and went out, taking along my shotgun, just in case.
The wind seemed to have dropped a little, though it still blew a powerful gale. Exactly right for massing the water against the land. Through the squelching, waterlogged mud I made my way to the dike. But even before I reached it, I realized things were not well. I could hear the sea roaring savagely, banging its mighty swells against the shore. I even imagined I could feel the land tremble underfoot. As I got closer the taste of briny spindrift mixed with the rain, sheets of spray shot up above the dike, like ghostly flames. I need not have gone any further, but a morbid fascination drew me on.
On hands and knees I scaled the slippery slope. Once on top, I was struck helpless. The terrible din deafened me, wind and water stung in my eyes and made it impossible to see. My fright was sickening. But gradually I managed to regain my sight. An awesome scene lay before me. Instead of yesterday's placid floor, the dike bordered a seething caldron. Foam was flying everywhere, the waves clambered upon one another's backs like writhing reptiles trying to get at me with their white nailed claws. When they drew back they still revealed ground, but the tide had another hour to go. I shuddered to think how far they would reach at high water.
I had seen enough. As I started to turn away, my glance lingered upon the slope. A big wave shattered against it, drew back with a terrible sucking sound and left, before my horrified gaze, a mansized specimen of Ignotus clinging to the basalt blocks. Another wave smothered it, but drawing back, left it in exactly the same place, as if it were glued against the embankment. With one claw it started to pluck stones from the facing as if they were pebbles. I drew back. It was true. All of it. They were going to wreck the dike. Oh, christ. I had to warn the others. With a sick feeling I looked back at the unsuspecting farms scattered across the land. Anger filled me. My fault. My stupid, egotistical fault. I shouldered my gun, waited for the next wave to draw away and fired. The report was a mere whisper in the clamor. I saw the creature convulse. A wave hid it from sight. When the monster reappeared it was looking up at me, teeth parted, snarling. I fired again just as another wave collapsed. After its withdrawal, the slope was empty. I grinned. One less, at any rate. I waited a few minutes more, hoping for another victim, but when none came I hurried back to the house, determined to raise the alarm. No need to hold back now. With my own eyes I had seen proof of my theory.
In my excitement I could not find the number of the police at once and when I finally did, it was engaged. I tried again. Infuriating beep beeps. Some other number then. The fire brigade. Anyone. When I picked up the phone again, my heart stalled. A dull silence told me that the line had gone dead.
"No!" I screamed. "Not now, not bloody right now." But no matter how I cursed and raged, the phone had become useless. I threw it against the wall. Frantically I paced about the room. I had to do something. I could not just let my neighbors be surprised by the impending flood. Nobody would expect a breach in this part of the dike. It was among the strongest. But then nobody knew about creatures that could pluck 20 pound blocks from the embankment like matchboxes.
There was no alternative. I would just have to foot it. Perhaps I'd be overtaken by the water on the way but that was a chance I would have to take.
Before I set out, however, I went over to the laboratory, carefully poured all my Ignoti into a metal container and slung it over my back. I'd either die or triumph.
As I closed the door behind me, I became aware of a strange noise. I stopped to look about, tense, scared. The scenery looked unchanged. The rain shrouded fields, the dark strip of dike. But what was that sound? I stood very still, straining to hear above the blustering of the wind. It suggested a soft grumbling, a bit like distant thunder but continuous. It came from the west. My heart turned to a chunk of lead sinking in my chest. I knew, although I did not want to know. Suddenly the geese in the western pasture uttered their sharp, broken alarm calls and rose all together. I saw the cause for it a minute later. Among the stubbles of the nearest field a silvery line was approaching with unbelievable speed. It took hardly a minute to cover the hundred meters, and then the little gurgling rim of an immeasurable sheet of water washed against my toes, enclosed my feet and moved on. I felt a silly urge to run away but I knew it would be suicide. My only chance now was the house and the skill of the men who had built it.
As I trotted back, all but defeated, I heard another sound, even stranger than the first. Liquid gurgles, yelps, the slurp of something drawn out of mud, and as I looked around I saw, everywhere in the water, little bubbles, swirls and eddies, and pale glossy heads, emerging above the surface. In lame horror I stopped to watch, thinking back to the first time I had seen this happen. Then my eye caught the wave. It looked like another dike, slung across the land, only this one was white and was moving, very fast, flattening the few trees in its way. I raced for the door, making it well in time before the water struck the side of the house like a truck. The walls shuddered, the windows rattled, but the building held. I could breathe again. But not for long. Water seeped and squirted in on all sides, rising rapidly, so that soon I was plodding up to my calves in chilling liquid. I had the presence of mind to get some provisions from the kitchen before I went upstairs.
Despair gnawed at me. All this was a mere reprieve. If the Ignoti wanted they could easily get me now. Still, I had a faint hope that it wasn't me they were after. Perhaps this was just the time for the young to swim. I looked out of the window. Another wave was approaching. This one broke all the windows on the first floor, going through the house like a mad bull, shattering every piece of furniture. It was a grievous sight to look down your own stairs into a well of swirling water. But that was not the worst. After a while I heard more commotion, splashes and grunts. It had to be the Ignoti. I grabbed my gun and sank to my knees behind the banister. This was it. The siege was on.
The first glassy head appeared at the bottom of the stairs. I waited, finger on the trigger. No wasting ammo now. Every shot would have to count. The creature, an adult one, rose slowly from the water, opened it fanged mouth and uttered a high pitched squeal. Despite my fear I detected a plaintive tone in it. I looked round the banister. My appearance produced an excited reaction. The beast started jabbering for all it was worth, stretching out its claws in a gesture that seemed almost humanly beseeching. I aimed my gun. Apparently the creature knew nothing about firearms for it kept up its chatter without pause. I fired. The distance was only 3 meters and I was using my heaviest caliber, so the blast pulverized the creature's head. With a darkbrown liquid spouting from its severed neck the rump sank under water. Another Ignotus appeared, did the same song and dance and received the same reward. I gathered courage. If they were all as stupid as this, I might still have a chance. Unfortunately no other Ignotus appeared after the third one. I could hear them squealing downstairs, conferring, apparently. I wondered about their behavior. It had almost seemed as if they were begging for something. Could it be that they only wanted the little ones? That was what the dream had suggested. Perhaps they'd let me off unharmed if I gave them their spawn. But I could not be sure. And even if they did let me go. I did not know what was happening in the other polders. They might all be flooded, releasing all the Ignoti. Then my claim to fame would be lost forever. I could not take the risk. I would fight this thing out till the end.
While I sat deliberating, the water crept up the stairs. Suddenly I realized that its surface was approaching the second floor. At that very instant the sound of breaking glass erupted behind me. The windows! I jumped to my feet, ran to the bedroom. None too late. An enormous Ignotus had just clambered onto the window sill. I fired both barrels. The beast disappeared head over heels, but other claws were appearing all along the window sill, sinking their long, curved nails into the wood. Frantically I reloaded, knelt down. There were six of them. They rose together. I fired twice. Two went out but four landed inside, growling, slithering towards me rapidly. I rushed out of the room, slammed the door and locked it. On the landing I just had time to load two new cartridges, when another Ignotus rose dripping from the stairwell. The shatter of glass from Fay's and Tim's room indicated that they were also coming in by that way.
Like a mindless beast, all but snarling, I backed away. There was only the attic left. While I fired one barrel at the Ignotus at the top of the stairs, I gave a tug at the hatch in the ceiling that lowered the ladder. To the sound of the bedroom doors being broken down, I scurried upstairs. I tried to pull the ladder up behind me, but one of my pursuers grabbed it first and even my deadly salvo could not make him loosen his hold.
I tried to reload again, but the beasts were up before I could get it done. Backing away I managed to get two cartridges in place, fired. To my horror a direct hit failed to stop them. Immune to pellets of lead? Then I saw I had taken a wrong box of cartridges. Blanks.
"You fool!" I screamed. "You infernal fool!"
They were all around me now, driving me back into a corner. This had to be the end. I clenched my teeth, hoping it would be over quick. Oddly, the creatures did not look so very savage anymore. Standing around me with their heads between their shoulders and their fang filled mouths slavering they looked more like weary old men than anything else. They stopped about a meter away from me. What were they up to? My heart tightened. I could hardly breathe with tension. Why didn't they get it over with? They had me now, hadn't they?
One of them moved. I shrank back, shaking like a frond. The creature's white eyes were expressionless. It held out its claw. I handed over the gun, which it broke in two like a dry stick before holding out its claw again. I removed the metal canister from my back, handed that over. The beast nodded slowly, for the whole world like an old man. Then they all backed away. I could not believe my eyes as I watched them shuffle off and descend the ladder one by one. I sank to the ground, exhausted, not knowing whether to laugh or weep. I had lost my single chance of fame, but I was still alive.
How long I remained on the attic I do not know, but when I finally went down, a miraculous change had come over the landscape. The wind had dropped to a breeze and had veered round. The flotsam that drifted by was moving to the west, seaward. Ebb tide, apparently. Overhead the blanket of clouds was falling apart. A pale sun was even breaking through, splashing restless silver across the drowned land. The water was dropping rapidly.
I just hung about without aim. So much had happened in so little time that I found it hard to organize my thoughts. At first despair was dominant. I had lost all evidence of Ignotus (I had no illusions about the contents of the freezer, even if it were still about somewhere. These creatures were too clever to overlook something like that). I seemed utterly vanquished. But I could not accept that. There had to be another way. I had gathered all my specimens in the neighborhood, but it was entirely possible, likely even, that there would be more. In other polders. Perhaps the maps of earlier inundations would lead me there. I chuckled to myself. This was not over yet.
After about an hour the throaty sound of a powerful engine became audible. I put on my waders and went out. The water still reached to my waist. From the east some kind of amphibious army craft was approaching. As it drew near I recognized a battered old DUKW, drab green mottled with patches of red lead, one of the very same vehicles that had been used in 1953. The Dutch army at its usual peak of readiness. Still, I was very glad to see the old tub. I waved and to my unbounded delight saw Marjoleine jump up in the craft and start flailing her arms above her head. Behind her, wrapped in blankets like little indians, stood Fay and Tim. When the craft drew alongside, Marjoleine jumped overboard without a moment's hesitation, splashing a fountain of icy water over me. She flung herself into my arms with such force that I almost lost my balance.
"Oh, John, thank god." she cried into my ear," I was so worried, felt so guilty."
Although not the most emotional of men, I could not help the lump in my throat as I saw my little family safe and happy.
"How on earth..." I began.
She laughed gaily.
"That darned car broke down. Fortunately we were just on a patch of higher land when the water came. But we were trapped though."
"Sorry to interrupt, Sir," said one of the soldiers in the craft, a spotty pink faced kid, "But we've got to push on. Please get in."
"What for?" I asked.
"You can't stay here. It will be weeks before we've got this water out."
I had not thought about that.
"Is it all right if we get some things first?" asked Marjoleine.
"I suppose so. We'll check down yonder in the meantime and pick you up in, let's say, half an hour."
An old farmer, huddling miserably in the back of the craft suddenly spoke.
"I'd be very careful if I were you. In 53 most people died long after the storm. Houses have a sneaky way of taking their time before collapsing."
Before anyone could answer him, a shrill little voice rang out from the boat.
"What about us, mom?" asked Tim.
"Yes mommy, what about us," added Fay. "Can we come with you?"
"No, you stay in the boat," I said.
They both started to cry but after some consoling words of Marjoleine they settled down and the craft roared off.
Marjoleine embraced me again.
"I almost went crazy with fear," she said. "Was there any sign of those monsters?"
"More than a sign. They took away my specimens. I've nothing left."
She gasped.
"They took your specimens? But how?"
"I'll tell you in a minute but let's first get you out of those wet clothes."
We went inside and upstairs. While she changed her clothes, I told her what had happened. When I had finished, there was a strangely vacant look on her face.
"I can't understand why they let you off so easy. After all, you killed a number of them."
"Yes, it is strange."
"Perhaps they are very forgiving creatures."
"Yes, perhaps."
"Well, I'm glad it's all over now."
I did not reply.
A flush of anxiety overspread her face.
"It is over, isn't it?"
"No," I said. "It's not. I'll find new specimens. There must be more in the other polders."
Her face almost came apart with the shock.
"Oh, no," she exclaimed in a hoarse whisper. "Not again, John. Haven't you learned your lesson? You mustn't fool about with creatures as mighty as these. You mustn't."
I shook my head, a bitter tension about my mouth. I'd be damned before I gave in.
Marjoleine began to weep softly. She infuriated me. Where was her cheery light heartedness now that I needed it most?
After we had filled a suitcase we sat down on the bed to await the return of the craft. Marjoleine was strangely silent and subdued. I put an arm around her.
"Don't you see, my love. I have no choice. A man must follow his destiny, wherever it leads him, however ominous it may seem. Some people are happy in the middle of the herd. I am not, I cannot be. I want to run ahead. I dearly love you and the kids, you know I do, but there has always been this empty little hollow inside that aches to be filled. It was chock full when I found Ignotus. Now it is emptier than ever. I must fill it again."
"It's wrong," she said.
"No, it's not. I'll triumph in the end." I said, rising, and going up to the window. The sun had come out. Under the blue sky the rippling water almost looked cheerful, but the pieces of wreckage drifting by soon dispelled that impression. Suddenly a tremor went through the house.
Marjoleine jumped up.
"Christ!" she cried, "What was that?"
"I think we'd better go outside," I said.
"But I'll get wet again."
"Better than being buried under the rubble."
We went out, hung about in the icy water, shivering.
After a few minutes the DUKW came into view.
"It's almost over now," I said.
Marjoleine nodded. She looked exhausted. Her teeth were chattering.
As we watched the craft approach, I noticed something peculiar. It wasn't going very fast nor very straight. It kind of weaved from side to side, very much like a wounded crocodile with the patches of red like pale blood upon its green body.
"What's wrong?" asked Marjoleine.
"I don't know. They don't seem to be in much of hurry. Damn them."
"Perhaps they've got engine trouble."
Suffocating apprehension seized me. Something was very wrong.
Interminable minutes went by. The craft's engine could be heard, but only a faint prattle, on the verge of stalling.
We waded out a bit.
"I don't see anybody," said Marjoleine, dismay fraying her voice.
The craft was very near now. No sign of anyone inside. I waved, shouted. No response. It almost ran over me and bumped into the side of the house.
I waded towards it, placed my hands on the side and pulled myself up. The thing was empty. I swallowed. What could it mean? Why in heaven's name would they have deserted the craft? A few blankets were lying about in heaps on the seats. Then my eye caught Fay's teddybear, lying head down in a puddle of water on the bottom. I winced. Fay would never have left that bear behind willingly. There could be only one explanation. A horrific one.
Marjoleine came wading near.
Her white, anxious face appeared over the side.
"Where are they?" she gasped. "Where are Tim and Fay?"
"Perhaps they got out somewhere." I said feebly, trying to control my trembling lips.
She shook her head.
"No, it's them." she whispered, "It's those creeps. They've taken Tim and Fay, they've taken my babies. Oh, god, John, what have you done? What have you done?"
I could not speak. Tears streamed down my face. My very heart was being torn from my chest. I reached out a hand to Marjoleine. She looked at it as if it were a poisonous snake.
"I hate you," she said. She wanted to add something, but suddenly her expression changed, she widened her mouth, screamed and was dragged under water by some unseen force.
I made a lightning dive and managed to grab her hand, but to my everlasting agony, she deliberately wrenched herself loose, as if she preferred death over my rescuing touch. That was too cruel a cut. It shattered me. I collapsed to the bottom of the craft moaning, when a sudden nearby splash brought me to my feet again in a paroxysm of hope. Marjoleine?
The creature stood not a meter off, its translucent head glistening in the sunlight. Its teeth were clenched. A strange melancholy seemed to pervade its features. Slowly it lifted one of its arms from the water. In its claw it held the shot blasted skull of one of its fellows. Then it raised its other arm. The glimpse of her honey-hued locks should have been enough but events had numbed me so badly that I continued to watch as her paperwhite, agonized face emerged from the water. Then my gaze recoiled from the sight to the monster's face. It betrayed neither triumph nor rage, only sadness, as it beckoned with its head from one victim to the other. Then, with startling suddenness, it plunged out of sight, leaving me to revulsion and despair.
I appear to have drifted along aimlessly for 12 hours till I was finally plucked from the craft a helpless, gibbering wreck.
For many months I balanced on the brink of madness. No longer able to bear the sight of open water, I sought refuge further inland, where I languished in a pit of misery so black that even death seemed brighter. I never mentioned the existence of Ignotus to anyone, knowing how futile it would be without proof, so I also had to suffer the crushing burden of my secret alone.
Time went by. Gradually I regained my composure. I began to realize that I still had a chance of redemption. I only needed to find a single Ignotus. Then my torment would not have been in vain. The deaths of Marjoleine and the kids would change from stupid waste into noble sacrifice. If I could just find one little Ignotus, I would earn the gratitude of all humanity, I could lead the battle against those horrors, exterminate them and become a towering hero.
I have been searching for 18 months now. Without success so far. But I'm not giving in. I'll find a new specimen if it is the last thing I do. Then the laughter will stop. Not that it bothers me so much, people laughing at me. Let them laugh. The last laugh will be on me. I'll be a world famous scientist in the end and even my simple spade and bucket will become objects of veneration. They will go into the Natural Science Museum, with neat little cards beside them. The Tools Used by John Parker Wilson in his Search for Ignotus. I love to think about that, I often do, when I take a breather, but never too long. There's still so much digging to do. So very, very, very much.