by Michael Cole
The sound of footsteps made her jump. She looked to the stairway and saw Napier coming down, wearing a red t-shirt and blue jeans. Halfway down the stairs he stopped after making eye contact with Thompson.
“Well, I can’t say this isn’t awkward,” she said with a nervous chuckle. Napier tittered as well.
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” he said. Thompson struggled to maintain her false smile as she struggled to recall the complete events of yesterday. Napier noticed the serious look in her face. “Umm, you’re not planning to slap me again, are you?”
“No, no,” she quickly answered. “Wha-- what happened last night?” She looked at the couch, and then checked herself, noting how perfectly dressed she was. “It’s safe to assume you and I didn’t--” she made a squiggly gesture.
“Oh, no,” Napier said with another friendly laugh. “I knew once you were in your right mind, you’d murder me if I’d let that happen.”
“Yeah, you aren’t wrong--” she stopped and thought for a moment. “Wait, ‘not in my right mind’? Please don’t tell me I wasn’t a complete idiot.” Her voice sounded as if she was pleading to a jury.
“No, just upset. You know, because of the court martial coming up and everything.” He finished coming down the stairs.
“Oh, wonderful,” Thompson said in distaste. “Well, you probably learned my whole life’s story.”
“Oh yeah,” he said. He walked past her and headed into the kitchen. “Want some coffee?”
“Please,” she answered. “One spoonful of creamer if you can spare some.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Napier sounded like a waiter. He came back into the living room with a large white mug for her. The coffee took on a brownish color after the creamer dissolved into it.
“Thanks,” she said. “Listen…I’m sorry about yesterday….well, yesterday and last night to be more specific. With a particular emphasis on slapping you in East Port.”
“Oh don’t give it any thought,” Napier said after sipping some of his hot black coffee. “I kinda deserved it.”
“No you didn’t,” she said. They both took a seat at the dining room table. “Your daughter’s very pretty.”
“Well I see you remember her,” Napier joked. “Yes she is, thank you. She’s sleeping in right now.” After a couple of minutes they were both finished with their coffees. Napier took the mugs and placed them in the dishwasher.
“Hey, Rick, I hate to be a pest after all of this, but could I ask a favor of you?” Lisa asked.
“Absolutely,” he said. “There’s no fishing today because of the tournament, so I’m free all day.” Telling her that just reminded him once again that today was a no-paycheck day.
“Oh excellent,” she said. “If you wouldn’t mind, I could use a ride to the Harrison Motel. That’s where my things are, and I need to grab a shower and change.”
“No problem,” Rick said. “I’m ready to go whenever you are. Let me grab my keys.”
“Thanks so much,” she said as he went upstairs to collect his wallet and keys. Little was she consciously aware that she was checking him out as he walked up the stairs.
********
At six in the morning, the Annual Bailey Fishing Tournament had commenced with the sound of a screeching blow horn. As the horn blasted, countless fishing vessels launched from East Port, as if it were a race. In some sense, it was a race: everyone wanted to be the first to get to the good fishing spots around the island. With local fishing shut down for the day, the entire island was fair game to them, with the exception of the beach areas, that way tourists could enjoy a nice swim for the day. The methods of fishing that this tournament allowed were spear fishing and line-fishing, the latter of which was the most popular in this tournament.
Now that the competition had commenced, the air was already cumulating with foul dialogue from the contestants mocking and insulting each other from the safety of their boats. The police department had all officers, what few they had, on duty, including their reserve officers. It was a busy day for the police, as they had to keep an eye on the numerous boaters and make sure everyone stayed above water, was fishing legally, and was respecting the environment. It was common for some of the sportsmen to toss their beer cans into the ocean, amongst other garbage. The tournament would be a day-long affair. The rules required all participants check in by seven P.M.
Chief Bondy had set up a command-post at Palm’s Beach on the northeast corner of the island. He arrived there at five in the morning, and knew it was going to be a long day.
********
“Glad to see you made it,” Old Hooper said to the two scientists, who arrived at East Port by taxi precisely at noon. Nic wore a white t-shirt with khaki shorts and grey tennis shoes, and David was dressed in a blue tank top and khaki shorts and sandals. Each cave diver carried his own large case, which contained their expensive scuba equipment. Both men also wore large waterproof cameras strung over their shoulders. They looked up to the cranky fisherman, who wore his normal sloppy attire. He stood on the stern of his vessel like a king. Kneeling on the center of the deck was Ryan Rein, who was sorting out his equipment.
“I’m sorry, but number one: we’re not late,” Nic said, “and number two: I’m not the one who’s being paid four grand to be here.” They climbed onto the stern and began to sort their luggage. Ryan Rein looked up from his large brown cases.
“Howdy,” he greeted, sporting his usual Hollywood smile. He wore blue jeans and a brown leather vest, exposing his tan hairy chest. His shark tooth necklace hung from his neck. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m more than ready to go on this trip.”
“Exactly what do you expect to hunt out there?” Nic asked.
“That’s part of the thrill: I don’t know,” he said. “But whatever it is, it did a number on that Coast Guard diver.”
“Wha-?” Nic said. “Exactly how do you know that? There was no body recovered.”
“The other diver said she discovered tons of blood in the water, with bits and pieces of the dead guy floating about,” Ryan Rein explained. His voice was very enthusiastic. “And from what I heard, she got scared shitless! Can’t say I blame her.”
“So, you’re basing this on some nut job diver who claims she saw a sea monster?” David tapped Nic on the shoulder to divert his attention.
“Hey,” he spoke in a whisper in order to prevent being heard by the poacher. “Listen, this guy may be crazy, but he’s the reason we’re able to get Hooper to take us out to the cave. So let’s just do our job, and let this guy do whatever he wants.”
“Your friend is smart,” Rein said. Being a lifelong hunter, his hearing was truly excellent, and it would take more than quiet talk to keep him from eavesdropping. He looked at the cabin, which like the rest of the vessel, was in need of a remodel. Inside of it was Old Hooper, who didn’t bother to conceal a glass bottle of whiskey. “We’re ready to head on out whenever you are, Captain.” The engine of the Thunderhead bellowed, and within a few minutes, the old fishing vessel was traveling northeast.
********
“Here’s a question,” Napier asked while he waited in the motel room.
“What’s that?” Lisa’s voice called from the bathroom, slightly muffled by the closed door.
“So why are you staying here in Mako’s Center? Don’t you have a base or something where the military gives you housing?” The question he really wanted to ask was whether or not she was married or seeing anybody, but he wasn’t sure how to come across asking that.
“I do,” Lisa opened the door and came out, newly dressed in light blue jeans and a green tank top, with her wet red hair hung over her right shoulder. Like her previous outfit, it outlined her fit body perfectly, and caused Napier to struggle not to stare. There was no ring on the left hand, making it likely she was unmarried. But that didn‘t eliminate the possibility of her already having a boyfriend. “But right now, I thought it’d be good to be away from everybody.” She sighed and looked out th
e window. “Maybe I’m paranoid, but I have a feeling they think I’ve gone crazy. But I do know that they blame me for the death of Denning, and deservingly so. He had quite a few friends on the base.”
“What exactly do you think you saw down there?”
“I’m not sure. Every time I attempt to describe it, I feel like I’m describing something from a science fiction movie.”
Napier took a seat at the coffee table in the room. “Why don’t you give it a shot? I’m curious.”
“Why do you care?” She kept looking out the window.
“Well I did go through nearly eight years of college studying oceanography,” Napier smiled. “Plus, there are all these weird occurrences happening lately. I’m starting to suspect they’re all connected. Fishing vessels don’t just vanish in waters like those along Mako’s Edge. You stated you saw--” he searched for the best way to phrase his next sentence, “what was left of Denning.” He wasn’t sure if those were the proper words. He decided to continue. “Plus, there’s something going on with the fishing. It’s like they’re moving out of the area.”
“Don’t fish migrate?” Thompson asked.
“This is a breeding area. Fish from miles around come here almost all year long. And even if they were changing territory, there would be signs of it. They wouldn’t be moving away so many at once. It’s almost as if something is scaring them from the breeding grounds. In addition, it seems like several fishermen are finding their drift nets torn to shreds lately…”
“Like something is after their catch?”
“Exactly,” Napier said. “So, honestly, after all of this stuff going on, you’re debriefing statement doesn’t sound too crazy to me.” While what he said was true, he also said it that way to sound like a nice guy. Thompson turned and took a seat at the other side of the coffee table.
“I think I told you last night, if I remember correctly?” Thompson said.
“The Kraken thing? I wasn’t sure if that was what you actually saw, or if that was the booze talking.”
Thompson chuckled briefly, but her expression went serious after replaying that horrible memory. “No, that’s what it was. All I saw were these wiggly…tentacle things. It was dark and murky, I didn’t get a good look…but I barely saw an outline of the body.”
“Like a squid?” Napier asked.
“It was…but it wasn’t,” Thompson said, with a shrug of her shoulders. “Like I said, it was dark and I couldn’t see too well. But one thing is for sure… it was huge.” The room went silent for a moment. “It’s not like there’s anything we can do about it,” she said. “We’re not investigators. Just a couple of down-on-our-luck folks. You’ve wasted over a decade of your life pursuing a career that led you nearly bankrupt from college debt, with a job that barely puts food on the table. And me, well I was doing good up to now. Then this whole accident happens, and now I’m likely to get a dishonorable discharge. That’s not a good strong point on a résumé.”
“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Napier tried to sound comforting again. Thompson laughed in a mocking way.
“I appreciate it,” she said. “But that’s how it’s gonna play out.” Napier’s mind went back to debating whether or not she was single. Cut it out dumbass, she’s not interested in you. Or is she? Damn, but you‘ve got to figure out if she‘s single. Just be subtle.
“It’ll all work out in the end. I’m sure your boyfriend has a good job.” Real subtle. You’ve just suggested she go home and play stay-at-home housewife for the rest of her life! And the casual mentioning of a boyfriend?! Oldest, most obvious damn trick in the book. “Just kidding,” he immediately followed up his remark for damage control. Luckily, Thompson didn’t appear to think anything of it. She stood up out of the chair and begun to put on a pair of boots. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, what were you planning to do today?”
“I’ll be enjoying myself a little mini-vacation,” she said. “I just need a little bit of time alone. Luckily it’s not costing me any pocket money. I think all I need right now is a day at the beach, maybe with a margarita. Maybe go on a date or something. Just something to get my mind off things.”
“Oh.” Napier felt his spirits deflate. I guess there’s my answer. “You won’t need a ride or anything?”
“No, thank you,” she said. After tying her boots, she grabbed a small bag containing her swimsuit and opened the motel room door. Napier, lost in his thoughts, was still seated at the coffee table. “You planning on staying in my motel room?” She remarked sarcastically.
“Oh!” Napier stuttered. “Uh- yeah…NO!” He nervously faked a chuckle. “Haha, no, of course not.” He got up and walked out while Lisa held the door open. She closed and locked it.
“Well, listen,” she said. “Sorry again about last night. And thanks for the favors.”
“Ah, no problem,” he said. His fake smile was overly big, which almost betrayed the concealment of his disappointment. “Hey, feel free to stop by if you wish. You know where I live.”
“Appreciate it.” She turned around and started walking. “Bye.” Napier stood and watched for a moment. Damn, that conversation was going so well. Then she just ends it like in the blink of an eye.”
“So much for that,” he whispered to himself. “She never liked me much anyway.” Exhaling an exasperated sigh, he climbed into his truck and started the engine.
Carrying her beach bag, Lisa walked into town, releasing a sigh of her own. “Damn, I had the chance and I blew it!” She cursed herself. Her mind continued the scolding. Who cares if he cheated on you in high school? You had one good thing going for you and you blew it. She glanced back, but Napier was already pulling out of the driveway. She continued walking, now trying to think of a clever way to run into him again. I’ll just have to think of it while I tan myself up at the beach.
********
“This is as close as I can go,” Old Hooper said after he dropped the anchor. The Thunderhead bobbed with the jagged current caused from the tight grouping of rocks, nearly a hundred and fifty feet away from the south side of the island’s main body. On the deck, all three of Hooper’s ‘clients’ were preparing to make their dives. David and Nic each had dark grey wetsuits with bright green lining on the sides, along with red flippers. They had completed the safety checks on their air tanks and snorkels, and had made sure their cameras and waterproof flashlights were working properly.
Ryan Rein had his own wet suit, a bright red one with black flippers. The choice of color was intentional, as Rein’s most useful bait to lure dangerous underwater predators proved to be himself. Kneeling on the deck, he held up his weapon of choice, a Rival’s PR-12 harpoon rifle. This model was a custom design by Rein, made to fire a four-foot steel harpoon at 80-feet per second, with enough force to penetrate an inch of steel. But Rein didn’t stop there to make this the perfect weapon to hunt underwater creatures. He designed the tip of each harpoon to be laced with a thin canister of poison, which would quickly stop the heart once in the bloodstream of his wildlife opponent. While Rein loved the life-or-death thrill of the hunt, he had no problem keeping an advantage over his prey.
“You ready?” Nic asked David, who was triple-checking the lens of his video camera.
“Yeah, I’m all set,” he answered. The sight of Rein aiming his spear gun over the wooden railing caught his attention. “Good God, what do you think is down there?”
“I don’t know… and that’s what I find most exciting,” he sported his Hollywood smile.
“What’s in the other case?” Nic asked, pointing down at a large brown clamp case. The poacher un-clicked the latches and flipped the top open like a clam. In the case was a large brown rifle, a M309-30.06 caliber Rifle. “Holy shit! What were you looking to hunt with that? A whale?”
“Again…dunno,” Rein said as he closed the case.
“Hey,” Old Hooper interrupted. “I thought you guys were here to dive. Not fuss over Steve Irwin’s toys here.” Nic refrained from cussing th
e old sailor out, and instead positioned himself at the stern ladder, followed by his colleague.
“Okay, bud,” he said to David, “Let’s meet at the stone wall, and then we’ll make our way to the mouth of the cave.” David, who already had his mouthpiece in, simply nodded in agreement. Nic spit into his goggles before putting them on. He stepped on the ladder and a moment later, splashed into the water. David waited for him to clear the way before he entered the water.
Rein held his spear gun in his right arm and eyeballed the ocean. He embraced the chilling sensation he always felt along his spine seconds before embarking on a fresh hunt.
“Nice suit. Good choice of color,” Old Hooper commented. “Damn boy, haven’t you ever watched Star Trek?” Rein chuckled.
“Well, red seems to give me the opposite luck,” he said. He moved to the end of the deck and cleared his goggles with saliva. “Okay, Captain, God-willing, your vessel will be the next to tow the corpse of my latest kill.”
“As long as I’m paid when we get back,” Hooper snorted in his cabin like a sea lion. Rein gave him a thumbs up before stepping over the ladder and hopped into the water. Instead of swimming towards the island structure, he headed west and gradually went deep. Aiming the tip of his gun forward, he guided himself through the forest of rocks. With any luck, he’d find whatever killed the Coast Guard diver and drive a poison spear through its heart. What Ryan Rein perceived as luck, most people would view as a curse.
