The chief showed his new “friends” around the village, attempting to communicate using random English words, facial gestures, and hand signs. He summoned one of the tribesmen to demonstrate how they made fire, and another to show them how to properly aim a bow and arrow. Eventually they ended up at a long table in a spacious communal hut, where an old woman served them areca nuts rolled in beta leaves, as well as coconut shells filled with a very potent moonshine. Marty didn’t plan on taking a second sip of the horrible-tasting brew (and neither did Rad or Jacky judging by the distasteful expressions on their faces), but the chief prodded them to finish every last drop. The old woman returned at some point—Marty’s head was spinning by then—with a platter of venison and honey. She topped up their coconuts with more moonshine. The food was good, and the hooch started going down easier. Marty knew Pip would be getting concerned that they hadn’t yet returned to the Oannes, and he must have suggested a half dozen times that they wrap things up and head back. Nevertheless, Rad and Jacky weren’t listening to him. They were clearly inebriated, and their attention had become fixated on the chief as they playfully teased him about his wristwatches and choice of clothing (knowing he couldn’t understand what they were saying). They were also trying to teach him everything from new English words to elaborate handshakes and nursery-school clapping games. It was a ridiculous scene, especially considering they had once considered the tribe to be a bunch of bloodthirsty cannibals.

At a little past two o’clock (Marty glimpsed the time on his relinquished Rolex), a group of dancers performed a frenetic number for them, which involved rhythmic drums and leafy branches and fast, flat-footed hopping that made it appear as though their bodies were vibrating. Marty guessed it was a ritualistic performance, perhaps some communication with the elements, or a pagan god. Whatever the purpose, it was mesmerizing to watch, and he couldn’t take his eyes off the spectacle.

Nearing the climax, a young female removed a skull from a plant-weaved basket, thrusting it high into the air as she quivered and juked in circles, headbanging, black hair screaming.

“Holy shit!” Rad exclaimed.

Marty was speechless.

The skull was merfolk.

Chapter 21

Chapter 21

MARTY

When the performance ended, Marty hurried to the dancer with the skull. She held it aloft proudly, allowing him to study the sagittal crest, the pronounced brow ridge, the bulbous frontal bone. The mutations were all nearly identical to those of the skull in the dry lab on the Oannes, and it all but confirmed the merfolk in the belly of the great white wasn’t an outlier. There were more of its kind nearby. They lived somewhere around this island.

You’re close, Marty-boy! You’re getting so damn close!