by Michael Cole
He steered his vehicle to their destination, but had to pull off to the side of the road several dozen yards from the police building, due to the several hundred angry people grouped outside. To Thompson and Napier, it appeared to be a protest of some sort. They could see the front of the building, where a couple of reserve deputy sheriffs whom he did not personally know were trying to calm the crowd. He could tell, by the exhausted expressions on their faces, that they were not anticipating pulling such a long and agonizing shift.
“What the hell is this?” Thompson exclaimed.
“Whatever’s going on, it clearly has something to do with what happened earlier,” Napier said. He eyeballed the crowd, checking for any signs of hostility. He was confident they would be able to get through to the building. “Come on, let’s go on in. They’ll probably know who I am, and hopefully let me in.” They moved in, squeezing their way through the crowd. “Excuse me! Pardon me. Let me pass, please.”
“U.S. Coast Guard member! Let us through, please!” Napier had to hide his astonishment when he heard Thompson play the officer card, despite being on suspension. Not only did that not work, it completely backfired, as now every single individual had expressed interest in them now. Almost instantly they were bombarded with question after question, all asked hurriedly, with everyone talking over each other.
“U.S. Coast Guard? What’s going on?”
“Are you here to help us?”
“What are you waiting for?! Go out there and kill that thing!”
“What good are you doing ‘Coast Guarding’ here inland? Aren’t you supposed to be looking for that thing?!”
“When can we go back into the water?”
“How long will fishing be suspended?”
“I hear nobody is allowed to leave the island? What about my rights?!”
“HEY!” Bondy’s frustrated voice called out via microphone from the front porch. The crowd, most of them at least, turned their attention to the chief. “Let those individuals pass!” They crowd complied, only because they were more interested in directing their countless questions to the chief. Napier and Thompson squeezed passed person after person. Finally, they managed to get to the safety of the officers who created a protective barrier between the police quarters and the horde. Bondy stood there like a military general watching over his troops. “Hurry up and get inside,” he said to Napier and Thompson. He then looked to his reserve deputies. “Keep those people back!” He then followed his guests inside.
Once the door shut, the chattering of the crowd was somewhat muffled, although it could still be heard. Napier and Thompson followed Bondy through a little door which allowed passage around the service counter. Deputy Drake was in the corner of the large office pod, sitting alone in a cubical in an attempt to temporarily escape the stress of the current events. There were two other reserve deputies in the building, both sitting at desks as they frantically coordinated with other agencies via phones.
“Good Lord!” Napier exclaimed. “Chief! What the hell is going on?! At the hospital, there was a flood of people who rushed in as we were finishing dropping off the girls we picked up. And this crowd outside? What did we miss?!” Bondy slammed his microphone on the desk next to him, out of anger of the situation.
“You tell me!” he said. “You’re the oceanographer guru. What the hell was that thing?”
“I… I don’t know. There has never been anything documented of a sea creature of that size and description. I know nothing about it.”
“It had chased us for a distance, and it appeared to have given up,” Thompson said. “Did it attack other vessels?”
“That… ‘thing’… actually came to shore! To the beach! And it killed several people, including two more of my deputies. Volunteer deputies! And then Deputy Jones…” he looked over to Drake, whom Jones was best friends with. “We’re a little overwhelmed.” He looked Thompson in the eye and pointed a finger at her. “Lisa. When you alleged you saw a creature off of Mako’s Edge, I’m guessing our visitor was the one you saw.” Thompson simply nodded her head. “Well, I suppose myself and a lot of people owe you an apology. But I hope you don’t mind if I save it for later. My mind’s fucked up right now.” He took a seat, and breathed deeply. “It’s been several years since I’ve had to inform a deputy’s family member that their child or spouse had been killed in the line of duty. Today I had to do that four times. Needless to say, it sucks.”
“I’m sorry,” Napier said.
“I’m sorry too,” Thompson followed. There was a few moments of silence. “Were you able to get in touch with the Coast Guard?”
“That’s the other screwed-up thing about today,” Bondy said. “We can’t seem to get any transmissions out of the island. Not by phone, or radio. It’s almost as if there is something wrong with the radio towers. Land lines are only good for use inland. Cell phones aren’t getting any signals either. Check yours out.” Napier pulled his Verizon cell phone from his pocket. Searching for Service, it read on the front screen.
“As if this day hasn’t gotten weird enough,” Napier said.
“If only I could contact the Coast Guard,” Bondy ranted angrily. “The Coast Guard Cutter Ryback is only just a few miles out. Commander Tracy has been ordered to remain on standby. It would not take long for them to get here.” As if triggered by Bondy’s statements, a light bulb lit up in Napier’s mind. Although somewhat inconvenient, he thought of a way he could get in touch with the Cutter.
“I’ve got a proposal,” he said. Bondy and Thompson turned their attention to him. There was another brief silence, as Napier struggled to gather his thoughts, although the idea was rather simple. “Well… all we need to do is fuel up the Catcher, and if the Ryback is that damn close, then why the hell don’t we just head out to them?”
“Approaching a 360 foot long, armored Coast Guard Cutter this late at night with no radio transmission? A cutter armed with a navel gun capable of firing seventy-caliber shells that would sink a rival ship? That’s asking for trouble!” Bondy said.
“Wait!” Thompson cut in. “It can work. The Catcher has a spotlight, which we can use to make ourselves visible. When we get close enough, if the boat’s radio won’t work, we’ll be able to use the microphone to get the attention of any Guards on board.”
“We can leave tonight, but it has to be now,” Napier said.
“Hold on!” Bondy said, holding out his hand as if about to bark an order. He exhaled sharply, anticipating what he was about to say. “I’m gonna have to go with you.”
“But Chief, what about everything going on here?” Napier questioned.
“I understand, but right now, the Lieutenant here is still suspended, despite the fact that the three of us know the truth: that she saw what she saw and didn’t cause the death of her diver. But unfortunately, the rest of the military may not know that, and may not necessarily take you seriously when you continue telling them about a creature under the water. They might listen better to me. I’ll put Drake in charge until we get back, but this is only happening if I go with you.” There was another brief pause, and Napier didn’t have time to stop and think.
“I recommend you get into more comfortable ‘seaman’ type clothes. We’ve got ourselves a trip. And better pray to God we don’t run into that thing out there.”
CHAPTER
13
“How’s the Mayor handling the situation?” Napier asked the Chief, who was seated in the back seat of his pickup truck. Thompson sat in the passenger seat as her high school sweetheart drove them to his house, of which they were not far from, to conduct their mission to take the Catcher to the Coast Guard Cutter Ryback. The chief had changed into a pair of light blue jeans, and replaced his work shirt with an older, brown police shirt with a badge clipped to the left breast, resembling a shirt worn by a town sheriff.
“He’s going apeshit with everything that’s going on. And he’s pissed that I’m leaving the island,” he answered. “I don’t know what he
expects me to do.”
“This is the best option,” Thompson said. “Even if they won’t believe us about the sea creature, they’ll have to send units to the island. The important thing is to get medical transports here to get people to bigger hospitals on the mainland. If the Mayor can’t see that, then he’s a moron.”
“Not a tough one to figure out,” Bondy said. “He’s not too thrilled about when this hits the media. He’s more worried how this will affect the touring industry. Rather, there’s an election coming, and he’s more concerned about how that’ll affect his campaign.”
“Well, none of that matters right now,” Napier cut in. “I’m more concerned about that thing leaving. If it doesn’t, someone’s gonna have to kill it, which does not appear to be an easy task.”
********
The sun was very low in the horizon when Napier steered the truck into his driveway. He put the vehicle in park and turned off the engine, and the three of them piled out. Bondy, in addition to his Smith & Wesson .357 Model 66, held a Remington 12 gauge shotgun. He wasn’t going out into the open ocean unprepared. Rick Napier, a gun owner himself, planned on bringing his semi-automatic Ruger SC9 hidden in his closet.
“Alright,” he said. “I need to get some stuff from my house. And I need to talk to Jane to let her know what’s going on.” Thompson and Bondy followed him to the front entrance, when he suddenly stopped at the door. He looked at the window, and then looked at his watch. His companions noticed that he appeared confused.
“Everything alright, Rick,” Thompson asked.
“Yeah…” he said, still appearing confused. “It’s just that, it’s only eight-thirty, and the lights are off. Jane’s usually home by now, and she doesn’t go to sleep until… much later than I do.” Thompson and Bondy both observed through the window that the inside of the house was dark.
“Perhaps she’s not home,” Bondy said. Suddenly, he finally realized his friend’s concern. Napier was afraid his daughter was at the beach earlier. “Let's just go in and check,” he said, quickly but calmly. Napier twisted the handle and pushed the door open, quickly stepping into the dark of his home, followed by Thompson and Bondy.
“Jane!” He called out. There was no answer, prompting him to call again. “Jane!” Again, there was no answer. “Shit!” He mumbled to himself as he fumbled for the light switch. Even in his own home, it was tough to locate simple things in the dark. Bondy and Thompson were about to start calling for her when he finally located the switch near the doorframe, flicking it on.
“Oh hell…Rick!” Thompson called out, drawing Napier’s and Bondy’s attention to the kitchen table. On two chairs sat Jane, and her boyfriend Greg Piper next to her. Both looked at the three adults with wide terrified eyes. Each of them had duct tape over their mouths, and their hands were bound behind them around the back of the chairs. Jane’s face was clearly pained and red from hours of shedding fearful tears.
“Oh, jeez!” Napier called out. He quickly rushed to his daughter’s aide. Bondy, reaching for his revolver with his right hand, attempted to get his attention.
“Rick, wait!” he called out. He was ignored.
“Jane, baby,” Napier said as he pulled off the tape. He then identified her companion. “Greg? What the hell happened?” Jane was still crying and terrified, barely able to get any words out.
“D-Dad!” She sobbed. “They-- they…”
“Who?” He tried to calm her down, while moving behind her chair to work at her binds. “Who the hell did this?” By this time, Thompson was attempting to free Greg. Napier looked toward the living room area to speak with the Chief. “Chief! We need to…” He froze in place after seeing the Chief still, with both hands placed behind his head. Behind him was a sinister man, dressed in black tactical gear, holding a Noveske Rifleworks Diplomat assault rifle to the law officer’s head. This individual, while a bit shorter than Napier, clearly was not one to mess with. His face had several jagged scars, including one long one that ran straight down the left side of his face. He had brownish-red hair, and in addition to his rifle he was armed with a Smith & Wesson M&P .40 Caliber semi-automatic on his right leg, and a deadly combat knife on his left hip.
“I’ll complete your unfinished sentence with ‘don’t move’,” he said, revealing a sinister smile. Napier and Thompson slowly lifted their hands above their shoulders, remaining completely still after. They each even made sure they breathed slowly. Another armed man, equally equipped, approached the Chief from behind and removed his revolver. He opened the cylinder and let the bullets drop to the floor. “Take it away,” the first man instructed. Napier could already tell he was the leader. The other man was just as tall, more of an Asian descent. Possibly Thailand. He sported long dreadlocks, as if he was a wannabe football star. He moved out of sight to discard the seized weapon in an undisclosed location.
“What is this,” Napier spoke up. “Who are you people?” Both he and Thompson shuddered when they sensed another man’s presence revealing itself behind them.
“I do apologize that we had to barge in on your home like this,” the man said. He sounded older, and rather formal. “Oh, and yes, you can turn and look at me. My friends won’t shoot you. As long as that’s all you do.” Very slowly, Napier and Thompson turned around. The man was not like the others. He was a skinny individual; elderly, in his late fifties at least, and dressed in black cargo pants with a black long-sleeve shirt tucked in. Napier could hear the door open, followed by the sounds of two more men entering his home. They were definitely as geared as the other intruders, and they spoke with the scarred leader. Napier didn’t focus on their conversation, rather he was intent on getting answers from this unarmed, older man.
“I figured the other guy in my living room, the one who’s pointing his gun at the chief, was the leader. But I’m guessing you actually are,” he broke his silence.
“You wouldn’t have been entirely wrong,” the man said. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Dr. Isaac Wallack. I’m requiring your cooperation in order to achieve a very important goal. Under normal circumstances I would’ve simply asked you for your time and efforts, but unfortunately this is a time sensitive matter.”
“A time sensitive matter?” Thompson said, in a somewhat cold tone.
“Cool it, lady!” The scarred face intruder snapped. He had secured Bondy’s hands behind his back with zip ties, and after landing a swift blow to the gut with his right fist, he forced the law officer to take a seat on the living room chair with his wind knocked out.
“Please forgive my friend over there,” Dr. Wallack said. “That is the leader of this mercenary group here, Redford Gibson. We simply call him Red.”
“Blood Red,” the mercenary leader added. His voice was raspy and chilling. “What do you want done with the cop?” He said to the scientist. “Want me to kill him? Dump the body in the water? Perhaps use it for bait?” Both Napier and Thompson felt their bodies tense up as if jolted with electricity, which was nothing compared to what Bondy was feeling in that moment. Dr. Wallack maintained his professional, indifferent attitude.
“We’ll take him with us,” he answered. His response somewhat calmed the nerves of the three adult hostages. Only somewhat.
“What the hell do you guys want with me? Why do you have my daughter and…” Napier looked at Greg, “and this young man like this?”
“As I’ve said, Mr. Napier,” Dr. Wallack began to answer.
“Wait!” Napier cut him off. “You know my name?”
“Yes,” Wallack said. “I know who you are. I know about Jane and her boyfriend Greg here.” Napier’s mouth nearly dropped open. This day was not failing to get more and more interesting. He did his best to hide his surprised expressions, including his fresh feelings of disapproval, due to more important matters clearly being at hand. He wasn’t doing such a good job, and Wallack could see this. “I see there are even some things I know about your family that you didn’t.”
“I-- I, uh…
,” Napier stuttered. “I… What the hell is this about? And again, how do you know me?”
“I have very good resources,” Wallack said. “However, I’m on a very limited budget and schedule. I need you because I need a good-sized boat. You’ve got the largest one within a good distance of this island. The Catcher is a little bit smaller than what I need, but it’ll have to do.”
“What do you want his vessel for?” Thompson said, while taking a look behind her. From her limited view of the living room, there appeared to be four mercenaries altogether, led by the clearly bloodthirsty man called Red. There was the Thai individual with dreadlocks, who had returned after discarding Bondy’s firearm. The two other men were Caucasian individuals, armed with a different type of assault rifle; possibly M4A1 Carbines. One of these men was much taller, standing at a height of approximately six-foot-two, with an extremely muscular build, short black hair, and a rock hard jaw. His chin almost literally appeared to have a solid square shape. The fourth mercenary was just a couple inches taller than his deadly leader, sporting a bald head and a Fu Manchu. The look really didn’t work for this man, Thompson thought. She had been listening in on the chit chat between the men, and she was able to get the names, or rather the nicknames of these hired killers. The tall man was Goliath, the Asian man was called Roketto, and the fourth man with the Fu Manchu was referred as Morgan. Thompson redirected her focus to the scientist as he answered her question.
“Well, I understand the civilians and the tourists of this island have had some rather rough encounters with Architeuthis Brachyura,” he said. “We’re here to capture the beast, and return it to my laboratory.”
