by Michael Cole
BEHEMOTH
Michael Cole.
Don’t go into the water…
You may never come out.
“THERE’S SOMETHING IN THE WATER!”
CHAPTER
1
Dressed in fine dark trousers, polished dress shoes, and an Army suit jacket decorated with precious medals earned during his military career, Colonel Salkil clenched his teeth as he felt himself being jolted in his seat while the Army Transport Helicopter entered the gigantic, circular body of storm clouds that formed what weather officials had named Tropical Storm Landon. While trying not to fall over in his seat, he couldn’t help but watch the sky through the window on the opposite side of the helicopter. When it had taken off from Airbase Whiteman in Florida, the sky was crystal clear of clouds, with the exception of a cirrus that rested in the high atmosphere. Now it was black as a night with no moon, with the only illumination coming from the lights generated by the helicopter, and the brief but massive flashes of lightning that would bring the whole horizon into view for a split second. The wind hissed like a frightened, wild creature as it pushed against the helicopter. That particular noise didn’t bother Colonel Salkil as much as the obnoxious mechanical rattle of the engine and the endless rotation of the blades, which sounded as if somebody was batting on a tarp like a drum for hours on end. It was as if the aircraft had traveled into a black, noisy abyss, cut off from the light of the sun, and with no sign of where it was heading.
Normally, the Colonel didn’t mind stormy weather. As a child, he had always been fascinated by the vast groupings of clouds and how electrical particles in the sky could form together to create large bolts of lightning. Through his adult life and military career, whenever he had soldiers ranked below him who would complain about working in the rain, he would tell them that rain was only water and wind was only moving air. However, flying over the Atlantic Ocean in the middle of a tropical storm brought a contradiction to his reasoning. He was in a position where the right amount of rain and wind could be as deadly as the weapons his soldiers carried.
In his mind, he vented his frustration about the terrible timing of the weather to himself. Of course the government agency wouldn’t suspend the trip until the storm had passed; it was of great importance on their agenda that Salkil arrived at the Atlantic Warren Laboratory to examine the results of the funding that had been given to the Chief Doctor, Isaac Wallack, for his military research. Salkil didn’t even know what was going on in this ocean lab facility. He had never met Dr. Wallack and until he was about to board the chopper for the trip, he had not been informed that this military laboratory was located in the Atlantic Ocean, a few miles away from a collection of islands known as Mako’s Ridge. His only knowledge of the expensive, isolated project was the fact that it was registered TOP SECRET by the agency who hired him. Questions lined up in his mind one by one, like dominoes waiting to fall. First of all, what was going on that was so important that even he couldn’t know about it when assigned with the mission? Also, why was this project located in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, so far away from any land? He took a deep breath and attempted to relax in the uncomfortable leather seat of the aircraft, which continued to bounce up and down due to the turbulence. He could hear the pilots talking to each other in the cockpit, and by the grumbling tones of their voices, they were just as unhappy as he was about the timing of this trip.
“Yeah, that’s the signal of the Warren’s beacon,” he heard one of the pilots say. “It’s about time, ‘cause I’m sick of flying through this shitstorm.”
“I hear ya,” Salkil heard the second pilot say. “Now, if this stupid radar will quit fizzing up, I might be able to point out the-- oh, wait! There it is. Yeah, it’s three miles south.”
“Damn! We almost passed the damn thing!”
“Yeah, almost. Just turn right and we should be good. Hey, go check on the Colonel will ya?”
With this, Salkil heard the mechanical thuds from the copilot’s boots against the metal floor of the chopper. He heard him walk through a small, four-foot hallway between the cockpit and the cabin. The copilot, a rather short man dressed in a dark uniform with a blue vest, stood at the hallway entrance and stuck his head into the cabin to make eye contact with Salkil while pressing his hands against the walls of the hallway to keep his balance.
“Colonel Salkil, sir?” His voice was suddenly sounding professional and disciplined, compared to the casual talk he was having with the fellow pilot in the cockpit. The Colonel looked up at the young pilot.
“Yes?” Salkil asked, even though he already knew what he was about to be told.
“Sir, we are approaching the location,” he said. “We should be there in approximately three or four minutes.” Colonel Salkil nodded his head with a neutral expression on his face. He wasn’t happy to be arriving at this place; he’d rather be home with his wife and two daughters right now instead of checking up on some doctor’s progress in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. On the other hand, he was somewhat relieved to now be arriving, mostly due to the fact that he couldn’t take much more of the jerky ride. His stomach felt like a shaken can of soda, giving him the knowledge that he definitely would not be able to hold down any meal. Thirdly, he had to take a leak.
“Okay,” he responded in a dull tone of voice. The copilot turned around and walked back to the cockpit, struggling to keep his balance as the helicopter jerked up and down. The Colonel felt the chopper turn to the right as it adjusted its direction to reach the desired destination. Again, despite the roaring of the storm, hissing of the wind, and the annoying rattle of the engine, he could hear the two pilots exchanging words with one another.
“There it is,” one of them said. “Reduce speed and lower our altitude by three hundred feet. Maintain a steady course.”
“That’s the landing platform over there. See those green lights?”
“Yes, I see them. I’ve flown before, sir.”
Colonel Salkil felt a sudden jerk in the helicopter, causing him to bounce in his seat more violently than when they first struck turbulence. His seatbelt was already buckled, and it pulled against his lap as the shaking of the chopper attempted to throw him off the seat. He felt his ears pop as the pilots lowered the altitude. He didn’t care for the idea of being closer to the raging body of water that was the Atlantic. He couldn’t see it yet, but he could imagine what it probably looked like; circular clouds overhead, torrential rain pouring down, and a dense fog attempting to form, but being destroyed by the intense winds, creating ghost-like figures of “flying clouds”. He could hear the pilots repeating procedural phrases from the cockpit as they lowered the aircraft closer to the landing platform. The turbulence decreased and the annoying rotation of the propellers began to slow down. He felt the chopper decrease more of its altitude and its speed slowed down immensely. In a few seconds, the Colonel felt no momentum carrying the helicopter forward. It now hovered over the platform like an enormous humming bird over a garden. Finally it slowly descended downward directly toward bright green lights on the square-shaped platform. After a few moments, the Colonel felt a brief thud as the chopper connected with the cement of the platform; the two pilots landed the bird harder than what they were supposed to.
“We’re here, sir!” called one of the pilots back through the small hallway. “There are some of Wallack’s men near the door, waiting to greet you, sir.” Colonel Salkil took a quick, deep breath and moved to the door, which was on the opposite side of the cabin. Normally, helicopter pilots were polite enough to open the door for him in recognition of his rank. These pilots were probably too sissy to step out into the rain. He quickly pulled on a blue raincoat to keep his formal uniform dry and turned the door handle towards the right. The chopper door slid open, and the Colonel
finally took a long awaited step out of the chopper. The intense winds immediately grabbed hold of his raincoat, tugging away at it. The rain came down on his face, causing him to pull the coat’s hood over his already soaked head. Ocean water slammed into all four sides of the platform, splashing up over the rims onto the flat cement surface. A few yards ahead of Salkil was a small building that resembled a black metallic garage, which in reality was an elevator unit that led to the interior of the underwater laboratory. In front of the unit were six or eight armed guards, each holding M-16 automatic rifles, and in front of these men stood a short, skinny man wearing a long, red raincoat. The hood had been pulled over his head, which made the top half of his face difficult for Salkil to see.
“Hello, Colonel Richard Salkil,” the man said, extending out his hand in a manner of greeting. “I am Doctor Isaac Wallack, the man in charge of the operations going on in this underwater facility.” Salkil briefly shook the doctor’s hand. “It’s an honor to have you here, sir.”
“Well, I must say that it’s not an honor for me to be here,” the Colonel said in a strict tone. “The agency told me that some pretty high tech stuff was going on here, but honestly I would much rather be home with my family than be shipped out here in the middle of nowhere. So, Dr. Wallack, I’m warning you that whatever I’m about to see right now better blow my mind or your ass will end up in a grinder.”
“Yes, sir,” Dr. Wallack responded. Salkil could see a small smile forming on his host’s face. “Well let’s get you out of this rain, shall we?” The two men jogged at a speed just short of a sprint towards the elevator unit. One of the armed guards hit a button on a small control panel on the side of the small building, causing a steel door to slide open horizontally. Salkil and Wallack stepped inside. The door slid shut, and the lights inside the elevator lit up, reflecting off the silvery walls in the unit.
“The first thing I want to know is why you guys are stationed out here in the middle of the ocean,” Salkil said. The elevator began to descend into the interior of the station. Wallack removed the raincoat and folded it up, exposing his expensive grey trousers, white dress shirt and grey tie, along with his shaven head and rectangular shaped glasses.
“Well, let’s just say it’s a proper environment for our projects,” Wallack answered with another grin on his face. “I guess you can say we prefer to be isolated.”
“If you want to be isolated so badly, why the hell don’t you set up a base of operations on one of the islands of Mako’s Ridge? One of those islands doesn’t have any people on it, though I can’t remember which one it is.” The elevator came to a stop and the metal door slide open again. Both men stepped out, walking into a massive room that appeared to be more of an aquarium than anything else. Just a few yards from the elevator entrance was a metal railing that lined the edge of a large rectangular-shaped pool. Salkil took a longer look at the room, realizing that there were at least five pools, each one surrounded by six or seven people in white coats. In almost every section of the room were numerous guards, armed with deadly automatic weapons, who kept watch over the facility. Dr. Wallack led him to the nearest pool.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Salkil continued. “Why not set--”
“--Up base on Mako’s Ridge,” Wallack finished the sentence for the Colonel. “I’m not avoiding your question, sir. You asked why we didn’t set up a base of operations on the unpopulated island, which for your information is known as Mako’s Edge.”
“Yes,” Salkil said, waiting for Wallack to explain. They walked to the railing and looked down into the pool, seeing nothing but a deep tank of sea water.
“Well, the truth is, Colonel, is that we actually attempted to put up a facility in that location. However, the geography caused a problem for our major specimen. It liked it too much.”
Salkil looked at him with confusion. “What the hell do you mean ‘specimen’?” he said, his voice getting a bit louder.
Dr. Wallack pointed his finger down towards the pool. “Here’s an example,” he said. “Don’t you see it?”
Salkil looked back at the water. “See what?” Suddenly his eyes grasped what Wallack was referring to. An object, shaped like a right triangle, cut through the water in circles as it followed the perimeter of the pool. It seemed to be a dorsal fin, only instead of it being the usual murky grey in color, it was a deep red. “I see it. It’s a shark.” He wasn’t impressed with what he was seeing. “Okay, so I understand you have sharks in this facility. Is this a way of telling me our military funding has gone to you housing fat-ass fish?!” His temper was starting to heat up.
“I’m sorry?” Dr. Wallack questioned. “Do you find something wrong with Isurus Palinuridae?”
The Colonel stood silent for a few seconds, attempting to understand what the doctor just told him. “What the hell is that?” he questioned. “I mean, Isurus-- that’s some sort of shark. A Mako shark I think.”
Dr. Wallack chuckled for a moment. “Well you know more than I would have ever expected you to,” he said. “Take a closer look at Isurus Palinuridae.” Salkil decided to be patient with the doctor. He looked at the shark, which had come up closer to the surface, exposing most of its back. Watching the animal, he noticed something he thought was quite strange: the exterior of the creature seemed hard and spiny, as if it was a crustacean in the form of a ten-foot shark. Continuing to watch the shark, he noticed a small metal plate on its head, with a green bulb in the center that blinked green.
“Okay,” Salkil said, “you’ve got my attention, somewhat. What the hell is that thing, exactly?”
“In simple terms, Colonel, that is a hybrid specimen. A genetic combination of Isurus, which as you pointed out, is the Mako Shark, and Palinuridae, which is the spiny lobster.” The Colonel stood speechless for several moments as he attempted to grasp the reality that such a bizarre creation was directly in front of him. Dr. Wallack chuckled again. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that metal object on the creature’s head. That is something most people thought they’d only see in movies; simply put, it is basically a mind control device. So, if you haven’t figured it out by yourself by now, this means we can control these creatures by remote control. Send them into enemy territory with a bomb strapped to them, and BOOM! No more enemy ship. The shell would provide protection against incoming firepower, allowing the shark to move into the desired location, unharmed.” Salkil took a deep breath as he allowed Wallack’s words to sink into his mind. He looked up from the pool, staring across the room at the other pools.
“Are all of the hybrids in this particular room the same?” he asked.
“Yes,” Dr. Wallack answered. “Every hybrid in this chamber is Isurus Palinuridae.” Salkil kept his eyes on the massive room. At the far end of the room, he noticed an entranceway to another large chamber, causing him to realize that there was more to be seen. His temper was now replaced with curiosity.
“Just… how?”
“Well the explanation is easy. The procedure is what’s difficult,” Wallack said. “To put it simply, we spliced the DNA of these creatures. But we needed only certain parts of the spiny lobster, I.E. the shell. So we had to splice the genetic code for the shell into the DNA of the Mako Shark. A process that took ages to complete.”
Suddenly a loud beeping noise echoed across the facility, signaling that an intercom message was about to be broadcast. “Surgical Procedure for implantation about to go underway for Project 241,” squawked a dull mechanical voice.
Colonel Salkil finally looked back at Dr. Wallack.
“Well, I’d be lying if I said you didn’t have my attention. However, I’m willing to bet that these aren’t the only hybrids you’ve got. You’ve been splicing other forms of DNA, haven’t you, Doctor?”
Wallack crossed his arms. “Nothing that we don’t have control over, sir,” he answered.
“What is Project 241? Is it just another hybrid like these things in here?” the colonel questioned. Wallack paused for a second as
he took off his glasses to wipe them clean with his dress shirt.
“It’s another hybrid, yes,” said the scientist, looking down at the glasses in his hand. “However, it’s different from the hybrids in here.”
“What’s so different? What’s this one called?” Salkil asked. Dr. Wallack put his glasses back on.
“Architeuthis Brachyura,” he said.
********
The water remained calm and undisturbed. Above the surface, the smaller captors kept watch on it, but this reality meant nothing. For hours on end, it waited. Time meant nothing. It rested patiently on a smooth, alien surface, allowing its several tons to keep it beneath the surface of the water. It did what it did best; wait. To the naked eye, it would seem as if it was asleep, or even dead. But time meant nothing to it. Patience was a gift it possessed greater than anything that may have ever lived. And during its long wait, it learned. It came to learn that it wasn’t free. It learned that this so-called home was not a home. Instinct flooded its ability to think. This instinct knew that this was not its habitat. Instinct told the creature that it was trapped. Instinct informed the creature that it could escape. It knew its strength, it knew its surroundings, and it knew it wasn’t free. It was the master of its own world. It was hungry. It was trapped. It was ready.
********
“Good God, man, what the hell are you thinking?!” Colonel Salkil said in a livid tone. “You’ve got something that big, and you’re saying you’re in control?” Dr. Wallack held up his hands in manner of surrender.
“Calm down, Colonel,” he said. “This thing is the next step in true biological warfare!” Salkil chuckled sarcastically, waving his hand in the air to halt the doctor from speaking further.
“Uhh, no! These things, here, are the next step in biological warfare,” the Colonel pointed at the sharks. “What you have just described to me, the creature in the next chamber, might as well be five more steps! Too far ahead! What the hell are you thinking, doctor?”
