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Then a strange, soft whistling noise began. It seemed to come from several places at once. The whistling came closer. Something was approaching.

“What is that?”

“It sounds like breathing.”

“Maybe it’s a mouse.”

“That’s no mouse.”

“It has lungs, anyway.”

“Yeah-too many lungs.”

Peter said, “Get your headlamps ready. Turn them on at my signal.”

“What’s that smell?”

An acrid, musty reek filled the air. It grew stronger, and thicker, until the smell seemed to coat their skin like oil.

“That’s venom,” Peter Jansen said.

“What kind, Peter?” Karen asked sharply.

Peter tried to summon from his memory the odors of different venoms. He didn’t recognize it. “I don’t know what-”

A very large, heavy animal began rushing toward them, making crashing sounds.

“Lights!” Peter shouted.

Several headlamps came on, and the beams crisscrossed over a vast centipede, rippling toward them. It had a blood-red head studded with four eyes. Under its head, a pair of red fangs with black tips were held open around a complicated mouth. The centipede traveled on forty legs moving in waves, and its body was encased in segmented armor the color of mahogany. It was a Hawaiian giant centipede, a Scolopendra, one of the largest centipedes on earth.

Chapter 23

Fern Gully 30 October, 2:00 a.m.

The Scolopendra burst through the wooden palisade, scattering splinters, while the people leaped and tumbled aside, screaming and shouting. The centipede had a keen sense of smell, and the humans’ scent had provoked it to attempt an ambush. The centipede mistook the leaf-bed for its prey, and sank its fangs into it as the humans scattered. With astonishing speed, it coiled itself around the leaf-bed. Gallons of venom gushed from the fangs, splashing, and filling the air with a foul odor.

The individual legs of a giant centipede end in pointed fangs-foot-fangs. Each foot-fang is loaded with venom, and can deal a sting. The Scolo’s forty legs hammered around, dribbling venom.

Amar had been sitting on the leaf roof of the shelter. When the centipede crushed the roof, Amar fell down among the coils. He threw himself facedown to the ground, trying to protect himself.

Karen knew something about centipede anatomy. She shouted to Amar: “Watch out for the legs! Each leg has a poison barb!”

Amar rolled over, and began writhing this way and that while the foot-fangs danced and thrust around him, dribbling venom. He was going to be pierced by one of those feet.

“Amar!” Peter shouted. He advanced with his machete and began hacking at the centipede, trying to draw the centipede away from Amar, but the machete had no effect, only bounced off the armor. Amid shouts and crisscrossing headlamp beams, the others struck at the centipede with their machetes, trying to distract it and give Amar a chance to escape. Karen sprayed the benzo spray, but the animal didn’t even seem to notice.

The centipede suddenly let go of the leaf-bed and began lashing its head back and forth, opening and closing its mouth-fangs, looking to seize prey. It had poor eyesight but could detect smell with its antennae, which it now whacked around. An antenna slapped Karen, knocking her into the wall of the palisade.

The centipede swung around and faced her.

Amar, lying on his back on the ground, rolled away as the centipede turned on Karen. He struggled to his feet, still holding the harpoon, and shouted, “Hey!”

That had no effect, so Amar jumped up onto the centipede’s back. He stood on the armored shell, trying to keep his balance as it heaved around, holding the harpoon, uncertain where to thrust it.

“Aim for the heart!” Karen shouted.

He had no idea where the heart was; the creature’s body was divided into many segments. “Where?” he shouted.

“Segment four!”

Amar counted four segments down from the head and raised the harpoon, but then hesitated. There was something magnificent about the creature. In that moment of hesitation, the centipede heaved its back. Amar drove the harpoon down deep into the centipede’s back, but was thrown off. He tumbled to the ground, the harpoon still lodged in the centipede’s back. The centipede whirled around, twisting and writhing, and its fangs snapped shut, the point of one fang slashing across Amar’s chest, tearing apart his shirt and covering him with squirting venom. The venom drenched Amar.

Amar curled up, moaning in pain. He felt as if his chest had been dipped in flames. The centipede went into a flurry while the harpoon clanged around. Rick and Karen rushed in and dragged Amar away. The centipede uncoiled, coiled up again, hissing. The harpoon stood in its back.

“Go up!” Karen shouted. “Centipedes don’t climb trees!”