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While studying the effects of a volcanic eruption on Vancouver Island, Dr. Dorothea Clarke obtains a small rock from an aboriginal artist that she believes comes from the early evolution of the planet, and contains the answer to the origin of human life. When she and her ex-jailbird partner Belmondo investigate the geological and metaphysical possibilities of the Eruption in the chaos of the vast Slomolingo First Nation Reservation, they enter a post-pandemic world of tainted romance,
easy death, and international intrigue, where everyone seems to have a secret, including "Dot" herself. Revenge, murder and the ghost of human ancestry haunt the ancient forests of this blighted Eden of the near-future.
'First guy I recognized was Bugs, the big creep with the machete dangling from his hip like a rattler's tail. The second was Blinky, who was wearing a pair of Dollar Store sunglasses and a red T that said 'I Drink For Peace'. Valerie's sons were there, Happy Face and Sad Face, and Corinne too, with the kid, Lucy, perched on her hip. The others I didn't know. I'd seen some of them around -- the old guy who sometimes manned the blockade gate near the maple plantation, for one, and a
couple of older ladies from the Holy Sepulchre. Might've been twelve or thereabouts. Couple of the guys had guns.
They had Yershiva chained up inside the wreck, like he was part of an exhibit. I once had a poster of a lizard resident inside an icosahedron, and Shiva's situation reminded me of this. He wasn't a captive in a zoo, but rather a dangerous traveller of the universe, who had somehow ended up in the hands of a mysterious, wild people.'
The Secret Island: a story-line as elusive as a Rubik's Cube, and mystery remains intact, no poetry left as lies.
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