by Guy N Smith
Just as he was about to retrace his steps, he noticed some strange markings on the sand amidst the beach pebbles, a mass of lengthy flails like somebody had wielded a multi thronged whip, washed by the receding tide but still just visible.
‘Strange!’ He pursed his lips and bent down to examine the markings closer. That was when realisation dawned on him. Giant jellyfish! Like the one that had killed that young girl recently. A pang of fear had him glancing around but there was nothing in sight except those two small crabs and a tiny jellyfish. No way could the latter have made those marks.
Then he saw the cave at the foot of the cliff, a wide opening at beach level that was filled with water which had not followed the tide out. A kind of miniature lagoon which stretched into the rockface, probably never drained. Mostly it would go unnoticed or be disregarded by holiday makers.
Then he stiffened as his searching gaze picked out some other marks amidst the stony surface; huge gouges which had scraped some of the pebbles aside. A few of the smaller ones had cracked beneath the pressure of a heavy weight pressing down on them. The marks led from that cave and there were others that returned to it.
In that brief moment Cliff Davenport’s phobias, his worst fears, returned. There was no doubt in his mind that those deep ruts had been made by the pincers of giant crabs. All the evidence pointed to the return to these shores of those monster crustaceans of yesteryear.
He straightened up, instinctively backed away and glanced all around. There was no sign of any form of life except seagulls wheeling overhead and those two small crabs moving out to the receding tideline.
‘I don’t believe it!’ Again, he voiced his fear aloud. A shiver ran up his spine.
Undoubtedly the monsters had been in that flooded cave, so its interior had to be fairly extensive, probably going far into the base of the cliff, and permanently flooded by the sea, maybe a kind of underground lagoon. There had been no reports of sightings, so it seemed that they were lying low here. Biding their time. Planning another attack on mankind?
There was nothing he could do right now. The purpose of his visit to the scene of carnage some four decades ago was already proving to be disastrous. No way would his phobias be dispelled in the light of that which he had discovered this morning.
He started on the return journey to Barmouth. Breakfast first and then he would make a call upon Danielson.
‘Well,’ Pat regarded him across the table, ‘how did your early morning walk go?’
‘An invigorating breath of sea air and some welcome exercise,’ he avoided her searching gaze.
‘You seem somewhat troubled, Cliff,’ she fixed her eyes on him, sensing that something was amiss. ‘Too many memories coming back? I said at the outset that it was a mistake to return here. You seemed somewhat shaken when you got back from your ramble.’
‘I shall be fine,’ he snapped. ‘I didn’t expect everything to be fine and dandy at the outset. Now, if you can amuse yourself this morning I want to make a call upon Professor Danielson.’
‘Which means you’ve seen something out there.’
‘Just signs that those giant jellyfish have come ashore on the incoming tide. Notices warning bathers of their presence in these waters have already been erected.’
‘Then there’s nothing much to discuss with Danielson. Cliff, please don’t get involved in another invasion by marine monsters. There’s nothing you can do.’
‘Except give him the benefit of my knowledge of marine life after a career in studying it.’
‘Oh, well, I suppose there’s no harm in that, but I wish that we hadn’t returned here. The idea was to cure your phobias.’
‘That’s what I’m working on,’ he snapped, pushed back his chair and rose from the table.
‘Well, I didn’t expect to see you again so soon,’ Professor Danielson rose from behind his desk. ‘I take it you’ve been on an early morning exploration of the beach.’
‘Yes,’ Cliff lowered himself into the chair opposite, ‘and I’m rather concerned by what I discovered.’
‘Oh?’ The other raised his eyebrows. ‘Jellyfish, I presume.’
‘They’re around, but I have reason to believe that those giant crabs are back on the Welsh coastline.’
‘Never! Impossible!’
‘There’s a flooded cave at the base of the cliffs up towards Harlech. There are undoubted signs that the crabs are using it, an ideal hideout for them… until they are ready to attack again!’
‘Nonsense. I know the cave you mean, it’s permanently flooded and how far it goes beneath the cliffs I’ve no idea. Only fully equipped divers would be able to penetrate it.’
‘Well, there are signs that the crabs are using it, doubtless lying low by day and emerging to hunt for food after dark.’
‘If I wasn’t aware of your reputation as a marine biologist I would laugh,’ Danielson sank back in his chair, ‘but I’ll take your word for it. The problem is what are we going to do about it. I will discuss it with the coastguards, and we shall need to examine the exterior of the cave, look at the tracks you mention. Then, if we are convinced, we’ll arrange for a diver to investigate.’
‘That’s a very dangerous proposition.’ Cliff’s lips tightened.
‘There’s an excellent marine diver in the vicinity, a young man named Adrian Thomas. He takes underwater photographs, some of which he sells to magazines. A few weeks ago, there was one of his of a monster jellyfish in a national newspaper, He’s our man if we need him.’
‘I’ll leave it to you.’
‘As you know, changes are taking place on Shell Island. It is now owned by Llanbedr Airfield who purchased it in 2012. Snowdonia Aerospace proposes that it will become the site of the UK Spaceport, a centre for the testing and development of drone technology. However, the safety of their staff and holidaymakers must be a priority so the Welsh Government is being petitioned to reinstate guaranteed high tide emergency service access. If the crabs really have returned, then there is likely to be unimaginable danger both to holiday makers and the technology installed there. We need to find out what, if anything, is going on in those caves as soon as possible.’
‘All right, I’ll work with you in an advisory capacity,’ Cliff nodded. ‘But if the crabs really have returned then I’ll be away from here like a shot.’
4
Adrian Thomas had been deep-sea diving since his mid-teens. Now, in his 28th year, he was fresh faced and virtually always wore a permanent smile. He was well liked in the Barmouth area where he worked as a motor mechanic.
The influx of giant jellyfish was somewhat concerning but already they had done him several favours with his photographic hobby. The picture of that monster which he had sold to a daily paper was a huge bonus. They had paid him more than he earned in a week at the garage. He was determined to photograph another, they were really in the news after that girl’s death.
‘I wish you’d find another hobby,’ Amy his attractive partner sighed as she watched him sorting out his diving apparatus one morning. ‘I can never relax when I know you’re down there in the deep.’
‘There’s good money in it,’ he kissed her.
‘One or two more pics like that last one and we’ll be able to put a deposit down on a house, get married and have kids.’
She smiled. His promise did not lessen the risks but it was a nice thought.
‘Where are you going today then, love?’
‘Martin’s going deep sea fishing so I’ll go with him.’
‘Well, at least you’ll have company, somebody to summon help if you need it.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ he kissed her again and went outside.
Martin Rees was in his mid-forties, had fished all his life, relied mostly on those who travelled to Llanbedr for his services. He had an annual list of regular clients, enough to earn him a modest living.
Squat of build with a weather-beaten face, he had never married, lived alone in a small cottage. One of his regulars, Fran
k Walters from the Midlands, was booked in for next week. Frank paid well so today he could afford to take Adrian out with him. It was a big responsibility having somebody down there in the deep, but the guy was experienced.
Anyway, Martin was glad of the company.
‘I want to find another of those huge jellies,’ Adrian announced as he clambered aboard Frank’s 20ft boat. ‘Maybe bigger than the last one, and close up.’
‘You be bloody careful,’ Martin grunted as he cast off. ‘You know what happened to that poor lass. What will I do if one of the buggers gets you?’
‘Call the coastguard,’ Adrian laughed.
‘A lot of bloody good that’ll do. So just watch out, I don’t want the bastards up here. They’d sink my boat.’
‘Just keep that big knife of yours handy,’ Adrian laughed. ‘Chop their bloody tentacles off!’
They lapsed into silence. Adrian began donning his diving gear and checked the underwater camera. Always an optimist he had the feeling that this was going to be his Big Day.
‘Wish me luck.’ He gave a parting wave to his companion as he lowered himself over the side of the boat and into the water. Diving down he was once again in a magical world, one which never ceased to excite him; so many species of ocean life all around. He took a few photos, most of which he had on his records anyway.
Then he saw the huge jellyfish resembling an upturned bell with a mass of tentacles spilling down from it about fifty metres away. This one was even larger than that previous sighting which he had photographed and sent to the press. It was drifting to and fro obviously searching for small prey.
Adrian was cautious but not afraid as he moved in closer, camera at the ready. Now he had an unrestricted view of those tentacles which appeared to be in three or four rows. Like broad arms. A mass of them clustered around what was obviously its mouth. He estimated that the trailing ones were around 30 metres or more in length.
The creature had singled out a cluster of shrimps. Its tentacles moved with amazing speed, closing over its prey. Another photograph, then Adrian was aware that the mighty predator had noted his presence and was turning towards him. It was time to leave.
As he struck upwards, he noted something else some distance from himself, a huge shape crouched on the sea bed amidst a cluster of rocks. However, its shape did not conform with those jagged stones, too smooth and rounded. It moved, part of it lifted in what he interpreted as a kind of threatening gesture.
Just a brief view as he glanced behind him and saw his mighty pursuer coming closer. His priority was to reach the fishing boat above and clamber to safety.
One final look down. The water was murky but there was no mistaking that second occupant on the sea bed. It was a crab of immense size, now crawling out of its resting place. Oh, Jesus! There was now sheer panic in his upward flight to safety.
After what seemed an eternity, he reached the fishing boat above, scrambled over the side at any second expecting one of those long tentacles to encircle him and drag him back into the water.
‘Whatever’s the matter?’ Martin reached out to assist him.
‘Jellyfish,’ Adrian grunted as he tore his head free of his headpiece. ‘Right behind…’
At that moment a mass of tentacles slithered over the side of the boat, the creature’s sheer weight below threatening to capsize the craft.
Martin grabbed a heavy, sharp bladed knife from the tray of equipment which he used for gutting any large specimen of fish his client might catch. He swung it above his head, bought it down on the gripping mass of dark purple wriggling, clinging horrors from the deep.
‘Grab a knife,’ he shouted. ‘I can’t keep up with these!’
Adrian scrambled in the box, found another heavy bladed gutting tool, then joined his companion in slashing and dismembering. As they cut through the gripping tentacles more and more slithered up out of the threshing sea.
The boat rocked from side to side, threatening to capsize, a variety of equipment slithering across the deck.
‘Keep slashing!’ Martin yelled.
Severed tentacles floated on the water prior to sinking. Then much to both men’s relief the fishing boat stopped rocking.
‘Phew!’ Adrian leaned against the side, exhausted. ‘I won’t go as far as to say we’ve killed the bastard but at least it’s released its grip. Let’s hope it’s gone back down to suck its wounds.’
‘I reckon we’d better head back to shore as quickly as possible,’ Martin wiped his sweating brow.
‘There’s… there’s something else down there,’ Adrian’s voice trembled.
‘What?’
‘A… a crab… as big as a bloody cow!’
‘Jesus Christ! I don’t believe it!’
‘Well, I saw it! No mistaking it!’
‘So, they’re back, after forty years. We’d better let the coastguards know.’
‘I’ll speak to Professor Danielson at the Marine Conservation Society. I made his acquaintance after I photographed that giant jellyfish which appeared in the paper. Then it’s up to him. Right now, I’m not doing any more diving after what I found down there!’
Right now, all both men wanted was to be back safe on dry land.
5
The Russian submarine had crept low into the English Channel, slowly edging its way up into Welsh waters; the most up-to-date model manufactured by the Soviets so far. With a hull length of 70 meters it weighed 3076 tonnes, was fitted with six torpedo launch tubes and was capable of carrying a 205-kilogram explosive charge. It could also release 24 mines and eight anti-aircraft missiles could be fitted. Its crew were afforded an endurance of 45 days when submerged.
Its fittings also included the very latest technology designed to render it undetectable from both the surface and the air, invisible to both patrolling helicopters and warships which might be patrolling above in search of any violation of their waters. The electric engine emitted less heat, a vital factor in it not being detected.
In effect this was a test run to establish invisibility to all kinds of technology used by defence patrols. Both warships and submarines had been escorted out of British waters in recent times. Hopefully this one would prove its invulnerability to any patrols above the ocean surface. It carried neither missiles nor weaponry of any kind, its sole object was marine invisibility to those who might seek to detect its presence.
There was a crew of just three, all high ranking GRU officers, Alexander Boshirov was in command, dark haired and bearded, a permanent stoic expression which rarely betrayed his innermost thoughts. His two subordinates were secretly in dread of him, such was his power both on land and below the ocean.
Vladimir Vladimirovich was lean and clean shaven, his attention constantly fixed upon the array of technical apparatus before him. Anatolly Petrov was a heavyweight by comparison with the other two, florid features and deep sunken eyes. All three had been awarded medals for past services by Vladimir Putin himself and were regarded as highly suitable for any important missions to be undertaken. As was this explorative underwater venture into British waters.
‘So far so good,’ Boshirov broke the long silence and there was a hint of both relief and satisfaction in his tone. ‘The latest system which is designed to reject any highly technical means of detecting our presence by our enemies is proving successful. Neither aerial nor surface patrols have picked us up across the British channel. Not that,’ he gave a rare smirk, ‘they have a sizeable number of craft for the purpose. Just two seaborne Border Force vessels which are failing to cope within a seven-thousand-mile coastline. Its other two vessels are deployed in the Mediterranean and Aegean because of the European migrant crisis. Further to that,’ he gave a faint snigger, ‘their latest warship, a 65,000-ton aircraft carrier, has gone to the USA. Britain is highly vulnerable to any activity by our country as we have already proved.’
‘How far into Welsh waters are we going?’ Petrov enquired somewhat hesitantly for their chief did not welcome input from his
subordinates. They were his servants, here to obey and not query his instructions.
‘Very soon we will begin our return journey,’ he replied. ‘I will instruct you accordingly.’
That was when they heard a faint scraping on the exterior of the craft. It increased to a loud screeching as though something was tearing at the heavy armour-plated hull.
‘You have made contact with a heavy sharp rock!’ There was anger in the chief’s tone. He turned back towards a rear port hole. The submarine was impregnable but any exterior damage however slight, would bring the wrath of their GRU superior down upon them.
Water and marine growth were foaming over the porthole; it was difficult to determine what was causing the ear-splitting screech of tortured armour plated steel.
The other two followed in his wake, staring, attempting to identify whatever it was amidst the swirling water. A brief moment of clarity revealed a huge claw frantically ripping at the exterior.
‘Whatever is it?’ Vladimirovich gasped, relieved that he had not scraped their vessel against a protruding sharp rock.
‘A… claw of some kind!’ Petrov grunted, ‘Whatever it is, is trying to gain entry!’
Boshirov’s face was pushed up against the porthole. Now he had a partial vision of a huge creature with a massive shell covering its body and a pair of tiny eyes which glinted malevolently.
‘What on the manner our mother country!’ Boshirov’s tone embodied both disbelief and fear. ‘It’s…it’s a huge crab, the size of a horse!’
All three recoiled instinctively, disbelief and terror at that which they saw crouched on the seabed, a claw raised for another strike.
‘Move on!’ Boshirov shouted. ‘Move away, quick!’
The other two rushed to obey, trembling hands fingering the engine controls.
There was no response. It was as though the entire mechanism was dead.
