The Breach

by Edward J. McFadden III

  “Do you realize I could lock you both up for insubordination without saying a word?” Silva said. “All it would take is a nod of my head. No questions would be asked. You care about your home? Fine. I want to leave it. But first, I need to clean up your mess. So save the tough guy stuff for the Nassau County PD.”

  Tanner chuckled. He couldn’t help it.

  “You said you knew where the creature is? You bullshitting?” Silva said.

  “I don’t know exactly where it is, but I’m confident I can take you to it.”

  “OK, let’s roll then,” Silva said. “We can fit you and one other.”

  “Whoooh. The thing can sense the slightest movement and sounds,” Tanner said. “It’ll hear us coming.”

  “We have a state-of-the-art electric motor. Did you hear us come in?”

  “A buzzing sound,” Tanner said. “It was pretty quiet, though.”

  “So what?” said Randy. “How are you going to kill the thing? Its shell sheds bullets like tempered steel and it’s lost a claw and a lot of blood and hasn’t slowed down. In fact, it’s running around on land and if it’s anything like its ancient ancestors, it doesn’t like that too much.”

  Agent Silva shifted his weight and looked up as if asking for divine patience. “You see those five guys? They’ve got missiles,” he said. He held out his hand and one of the soldiers stood and displayed a sleek shoulder-fired rocket launcher. “They’ve got grenade launchers, and armor-piercing bullets. See those two guns on the bow of the Interceptor? One fires twenty shells per second, and the other is a laser. Anymore concerns about weaponry?”

  “Laser? Like Star Trek?” Randy said.

  “Just like that. A light ray passes through a lens made of some magical mixture that focuses the beam.”

  “All due respect, this thing has taken some hard hits and keeps on ticking,” Tanner said.

  “That why there’s a blood blue slick on the river?”

  “A scrape can look like a deep gash.”

  “Look, you got a better option? I’m done playing games. You want to help? Get in the boat. Otherwise, you can wade your ass ashore and wait to be arrested. Your choice, Tanner.” Tanner opened his mouth to speak, and the agent shot him down. “Don’t give me your tale of sorrow. Right now, I don’t care. All I care about is removing the danger from the path of American citizens. Help me and you can tell me your life story over dinner and we’ll figure out at the rest of the shit later. Agreed? You know this area like it’s your backyard. I’ve never been here. Help me get this thing. Do right by me, and I’ll help you out with the bigwigs.”

  Tanner believed the guy. He didn’t know why, because usually he had to know someone a long time before he trusted them. Shadows danced beneath the trees and in the water reeds and the faint rumble of chaos from Fireplace Neck could be heard above the wind. The air smelled rank with rot and decay. Dawn was still several hours off. Every muscle in Tanner’s body pulled and jerked in pain, and he didn’t know how much longer he could go on.

  27

  “Now that doesn’t work for me at all,” Ravac said.

  “Me, either,” Randy said.

  “You two can back us up in the PD boat,” Silva said. “I’ll even give you one of my stormtroopers to make room in my boat.” He gave a sidelong glance at Tanner.

  “I won’t—” Ravac started.

  “You will. That’s an order,” Jefferson said.

  “You too, Randy,” Tanner said.

  His partner’s face twisted. “Can I have a fast word?” Randy said.

  Tanner sighed and he and Randy stepped out of earshot.

  “What? Not a great time,” Tanner said.

  “You up for this? You don’t look good, boss.”

  Tanner didn’t feel good. His flask was empty, he hadn’t eaten or slept, and now Randy was pissing him off. “What are you trying to say?”

  “Maybe you should stay back with me.”

  Tanner rolled his soldiers and cracked his neck. “I appreciate the concern, but mind your own business. Follow me on the twenty-two and sit tight with Ravac and await orders. Got it?”

  Randy said nothing and wouldn’t look at him.

  Tanner left Randy alone and he and Jefferson and boarded Silva’s boat. “So what’s the plan?” Tanner asked.

  “Locate and destroy,” Silva said.

  “It’s not that simple. We don’t want to excite this thing and send it on another rampage. Did you see Fireplace Neck?”

  Agent Silva nodded.

  “We go in full stealth. I’ll be able to find it. Then we surround it and hit it with everything we’ve got before it can move on us.”

  “You put a couple of those SPIKE-MR missiles down its gullet and that will be all she wrote,” Jefferson said.

  “You were paying attention before and know your weapons,” Silva said. “The SPIKE-MR is a shoulder-launch, man-portable, fire-and-forget missile with a 200m to 2500m range and it will turn the scorpion into chum.”

  Nobody laughed and Tanner grunted.

  Tanner and Jefferson squeezed into seats along the gunnel between the soldiers, who sat stoic and silent, their expressions hidden behind their face shields. The motor whirred to life and Silva took up position in the bow as the Zodiac slid through the still water, heading up river.

  The rumble of Randy’s outboard broke the stillness. Silva’s head whipped around and he ran aft. “Kill that. Kill it,” he shouted to Randy, who cut the motor. “We’re going in slow and silent. Throw me a line and we’ll tow you in.”

  “Gets shallow as you go north, so we’d end up doing this eventually anyway,” Randy said to Ravac. He tossed Silva a bow line, and he tied it off on an aft cleat and returned to his spot in the bow. They were underway again in seconds, the electric motor dragging the extra weight without a problem. A soldier handed Tanner and Jefferson MK18s. Tanner wrapped the shoulder strap around his arm for stabilization and pointed the weapon into the oncoming gloom.

  Darkness pressed in around them and pale daggers of moonlight cut across the shadow-filled landscape. Still no insects buzzed as the animal kingdom hid from the living storm that just wouldn’t pass them by. Tanner missed the ear-splitting night sounds. The forest was somber, with only rustling leaves filling the silence. Carmans River narrowed and lost depth as one went north, and forest and protected bird sanctuaries flanked the river on both sides, though it passed under several roads, including the Long Island Expressway, and Sunrise and Montauk highways.

  A slick of blue blood snaked down the center of the river.

  “There are two bridges coming up that we might have to portage around,” Tanner said.

  “Might? I thought you knew this place?” Silva said, but he was smiling.

  “So you’re a nutcracker, huh? Ever hear of the tides? Do you get pissed when people bust your stones back?” Tanner didn’t mind a little banter; in fact, he enjoyed it, but if it became bullshit it became a problem, and he wasn’t looking for any more of those.

  “I can take a joke, but that’s easy to say when you’re in charge,” Silva said. This time, he wasn’t smiling.

  “What is it exactly that you do for Uncle Sam again?” Jefferson asked.

  “Track, catalogue, investigate, and deal with anomalies of all types.”

  “What branch does that fall under?” Tanner asked.

  “Federal Bureau of Investigation,” Silva said. “You might have heard of us.”

  “Maybe,” Tanner said. “So you’re like James Bond?”

  Silva laughed. “Not really. Most of the time I’m tracking random mutations that amount to nothing. Biological oddities are on the rise, and I often see living things that shouldn’t be possible based on science as we know it, yet there they are. Right in front of my face, clear as day, undeniable.”

  “Is that what you think this thing is?” Tanner asked. “Some kind of biological freak?”

  “We’ll know more once the scientists get hold of the corpse and run some tes
ts, but based on what we have so far, we believe this thing is old. Really old. Possibly on the order of two hundred years old, and the big heads think mutations and species combinations over millennia led to this creature. But they’re just making educated guesses. They think it’s one of a kind, but there could be similar creatures in the depths. Most of the really deep spots of our oceans haven’t been fully explored.”

  Jefferson spoke softly and everyone on board turned toward her. “The sea is everything. It covers seven-tenths of the terrestrial globe. Its breath is pure and life-giving. It is an immense desert place where man is never lonely, for he senses the weaving of creation on every hand. It is the physical embodiment of a supernatural existence. For the sea is itself nothing but love and emotion. It is the Living Infinite…” Jefferson noticed everyone staring and said, “Captain Nemo.”

  Tanner said, “How is it nobody has even seen this thing before?”

  “We’re not sure no one has,” Silva said. “The hurricane that ripped through the Atlantic and laid waste to your island tore through the canyons and stirred things up. As I’m sure you’re aware, there’s a steep drop-off about a hundred miles offshore and the big heads think the storm dredged up things that haven’t been this shallow since the dinosaurs roamed the earth. The strange storm currents have had all kinds of odd effects on the Atlantic.”

  “I’ve heard all that, but it’s hard to buy,” Tanner said.

  “It comes down to what your primitive mind can accept as real. Like your sea scorpion. If I told you of its existence and you hadn’t seen it with your own eyes, would you have believed me?”

  “I’d probably think you embellished.”

  “Fair enough, but that’s the same thing. You would have doubted the account. Who wouldn’t, but all that changes when you see it for yourself.”

  “So you have a lot of power? Can move armies and such?”

  “I have major threat authority,” Silva explained, “which means if I determine the security of the United States is in jeopardy, I can call on any resources available to the U.S. government without approval or discourse.”

  “Damn,” Tanner said. “The weight of the crown and all that.”

  “I’ve never needed to bring down the house, but others have.”

  “I suggest you put troops in the woods on both sides of the river from the shoreline to Middle Country Road,” Tanner told him. “Put vehicles on Sunrise and Montauk and light up the tunnels that pass below.”

  “Already done,” Silva said. “I could handle that much by looking at Google Maps. I’ve also got two Apache copters waiting to pounce if the creature heads into the woods. They can be here within two minutes of a call from a foot patrol.”

  Tanner looked back and saw the outlines of Randy, Ravac, and the soldier in the moonlight. They sat on the blue inflated gunnel of the twenty-two, staring forward, the soldier in the black armor and helmet sitting off on one side alone. Carmans was wide this far south, and both boats floated in deep water down the center of the river. Water reeds hemmed them in on both sides, and gnarled stands of pine stood beyond them. They wove back and forth around the river’s sharp bends, making their way north.

  “Any word on Dan?” Tanner asked.

  “Upgraded to a hurricane, and it looks like its outer edge is going to hit Long Island,” Silva said. “We should be wrapped before it gets here.”

  “Yeah, but we’re still struggling from the last one,” Tanner said.

  Jefferson changed the subject and said, “Strange coincidence this creature is a close relative of the horseshoe crab, when Long Island is a primary habitat of the species.”

  Silva looked at her. “Horseshoe crabs live all over the globe, they’re far from unique to this region, but yeah, it’s strange.”

  “Sure is big for the brother of a crab,” Tanner said.

  Silva and Jefferson laughed.

  “It’s called abyssal gigantism,” Silva said. “Like I said, this thing most likely came from way down deep in the canyons out by the drop-off.”

  “Yeah, my people said something about that,” Jefferson said. “Abyssal gigantism is supposedly caused by the creatures adapting to scarcer food sources, and greater pressure or colder temperatures in the deep water.”

  “There are many examples of this,” Silva said. “Giant isopods, the giant amphipod, the Japanese spider crab, the giant oarfish, the deep-water stingray, the seven-arm octopus, and several squid species have all shown signs of growing much larger than normal when living at great depths.”

  “There are specimens of the colossal squid over fifty feet, and giant squid over forty,” Jefferson said.

  “And let’s not forget the most iconic of these oversized beasts, the Greenland shark and the Pacific sleeper shark, though they are of a much different variety because they visit the surface and are not larger than comparable species that spend more time in shallower water, such as the great white,” Silva said.

  “But they’re big,” Jefferson said. “I’ve seen a sleeper shark up close. Not as scary as a great white, but not something I’d want to meet while out taking a swim.”

  “So I’m fairly certain the creature is a product of the deep sea,” Silva said.

  “Makes me wonder what the hell else is out there waiting to be woken,” Tanner said.

  One of the soldiers coughed, and Tanner looked his way, but the man’s expression hid behind his face shield.

  The group fell silent.

  Dark water lapped against the boat as it churned through the darkness. Clouds moved in, but there was still plenty of moonlight and starlight. Tanner felt the butt of his Glock, and fingered the trigger guard on his MK18. He wanted to end this. He felt like he’d been chasing this animal longer than Ahab had chased the famous whale, and it was difficult to believe it had been less than two weeks since Tristin laid waste to his world.

  The river looked like oil in the darkness, the black surface rolling and undulating as the Zodiac and SAFE boat drove deeper inland. They’d seen no sign of the sea scorpion other than its blood, but it was here, Tanner was certain of that. Where could it have gone without them knowing? They had it penned in, and it was only a matter of time before they found it.

  As if on cue, the water reeds to their right were flattened and broke, and the blue blood slick got thicker. In the distance, bubbles popped like grease in a frying pan.

  “Slow up,” Tanner said.

  Silva cut the electric motor, and the Zodiac glided forward, disappearing under an outcrop of trees.

  28

  The boat came to a stop beneath a black gum tree that hung over the river and blocked the moonlight. Tanner couldn’t see his hand in front of his face, and when he turned to Jefferson, she was nothing but a silhouette in the darkness. The bubbles moved upriver, away from their position, leaving a nasty blue blood trail in their wake.

  “Dang, can’t be any quieter than that,” Jefferson said.

  “It senses the slightest vibrations in the water,” Tanner said.

  “Vibrations,” Silva said. Tanner couldn’t see his face, but the tone of Silva’s voice hinted at something sinister, as though the FBI man had just gotten an idea that might prove fatal to them all.

  “What is it?” Tanner asked.

  “You just gave me a horrible idea,” Silva said. “You ever hear of a sonic weapon?”

  “A what?”

  “I have,” Jefferson replied. “I’ve even dealt with them. The effects of them, anyway.”

  “Really?” Silva sounded incredulous. “That’s top secret stuff. How do you know about it?” Suddenly realizing the monster had moved off and they’d fallen behind, he added, “Ahead slow. Oars only.” The soldiers dipped short paddles into the dark oily water and the black Zodiac slid silently across the placid surface. Randy and crew paddled hard behind them but were already falling behind as they eased out from beneath the tree cover.

  “I was on active duty in the Caribbean a few years ago,” Jefferson said t
o Silva. “Standard tour, no real mission other than training and patrol. I was in a little seaside bar on St. Croix, when my second-in-command calls me in a panic. Says we need to make for Cuba, double time. President Obama had just lifted the sanctions. I assumed it was citizens in distress and we were being called in as a rescue force.”

  “I take it you were wrong?”

  “Big time. Our orders were to evacuate more than half of the diplomatic staff, all of whom complained of headaches, nose bleeds, and dizziness. Several staffers had fallen, just lost their balance for no apparent reason. The CIA thought Cuban dissidents were using a sonic weapon of some kind. A device that focused powerful sonic waves at the US embassy.”

  “I remember that,” Silva said. “Some of our people worked on the initial investigation.”

  “Does the U.S. have such a weapon?” Tanner asked.

  Silva said nothing, but the white of his toothy smile shone in the blackness.

  “You bet your ass we do,” Jefferson said. “I’ve talked to Marines who claim to have used sonic guns that emit a strong focused pulse that can incapacitate an average-sized man.”

  “You ever see one?” Tanner asked.

  “No,” Jefferson said. “But I believe the guy.”

  “What’s that there?” Silva said, pointing at a pile of seaweed and debris piled atop bent and crushed water reeds. A concrete train trestle rose in the darkness before them. The debris floated before the entrance to the tunnel that ran beneath train tracks. Graffiti decorated the stone bridge, but most of it looked old. Tanner recognized some of the band names painted in bright colors: RATT, Motley Crue, and Def Leppard.

  Upstream, a sharp bray split the night, something in great pain calling for help, but Tanner’s first thought was one of confusion. He’d seen no animals during the endless day. He listened hard, but whatever had made the sound had been silenced.

  “Full stop,” Silva said. He slammed his fist on the gunnel. The tide was coming in and the tunnel beneath the old trestle was unpassable.

  Tanner leaned over the side and examined the debris tangled in the seaweed patch. Mixed with the seaweed and shrimp shit was a brass belt buckle, part of a black boot, and some splintered wood, paper, and a scrap of dark blue fabric that looked to be of the same material as Jefferson’s pants. Tanner fished the blue material from the tangle and held it up.