by M. D. Payne
“I’ve been trying to ask Herr Direktor Detlef about it,” said Director Z, “but I can’t reach him at his number, and nobody seems to be picking up the phone at Raven Hill.”
“Should we be worried?” Ben asked.
“Possibly,” said Director Z, “but let’s focus on the problem at hand. First, how can we be sure that this skin creature is responsible for all of the lebensplasm loss on the island?”
“I think it has to be,” I said. “Each of the sick residents was drained extremely fast—just like Pietro.”
“And,” said Shane, “each of the sick residents was sealed in. We saw fluids from the monsters ooze out, but stay pressed against their bodies.”
“And we couldn’t even get lebensplasm levels,” said Director Z. “But why do the victims act so strangely, so wild?”
“The skin must control them somehow,” said Ben.
“What else do we know?” Director Z asked.
“Well,” said Gordon, “it came from the ocean. We heard a splash as it came out of the water, and another splash when it went back in.”
“We know it drained Pietro,” said Shane, “but it was never able to control him. He was able to howl the skin off. Maybe it takes time to seal?”
“So, in essence, we’re dealing with a deadly skin from the ocean that can seal itself perfectly onto its victim’s body, drain the victim’s lebensplasm, and control the victim. We’re dealing with multiple skins, and the skins can’t be removed by any means but howling.”
“Yes,” said Shane, “although I’m not sure how much time you would have to howl it off once it attacks. Maybe only ten or fifteen seconds.”
“What else, gentlemen, what else?” asked a frustrated Director Z. “We must learn more about these beasts. But how?”
“We could ask the possessed monsters a series of questions,” said Ben, “and see if we could get the right answers, or at least clues.”
“I have a better idea,” I said. “Let’s follow the skin into the ocean and see where it goes—maybe learn something about it. Or catch it and bring it back to study it. Is this island equipped with a lab?”
“Yes, this island houses a premier lebensplasm research facility. But how are we going to get a skin to go back into the ocean?” Director Z asked.
“We just need to re-create the events of tonight,” I replied.
“Clarice and Pietro need to kiss again?” Gordon asked. “Ewww.”
“Clarice and Pietro were kissing?” Director Z asked.
“Well,” said Ben, “they ended with a kiss. But there was a lot that lead up to it—a romantic candlelight dinner. An accordion song. And then there’s the bite.”
“The bite?” Director Z asked. “Oh…the mark on Clarice’s lips…”
“If we re-create the date in every detail,” I continued, “at the very same time it happened tonight, there may be a chance that the same skin will come for Pietro.”
“Only this time when he howls it off,” Shane said, “we go after it! Genius!”
“But how?” Gordon said. “Are we just going to throw on wet suits and swim really fast?”
“We’ve actually got some really gnarly scuba gear,” said Clive. “And it’s brand-new! None of the monsters use it, since most of them don’t need to breathe underwater—or at all—but I think that should work.”
“And do you have anything that could be used as transportation?” Director Z asked Clive.
“Yeah,” Clive said. “Zombie sharks.”
“Come again?” asked Director Z, eyebrow raised.
“Zombie sharks,” Clive said, laughing. “They’re a lot less deadly than they sound. In fact, zombie sharks are pretty chill around humans, because it was a human zombie that turned them into zombie sharks. This human zombie, to be precise.”
“How do we get them to move?” asked Ben. “How do we steer them?”
“It’s simple,” said Clive. “You just dangle a little brain in front of them, and zoom, they’re off. Need to turn right? Just dangle the brain a bit to the right. Need to turn left? Just—”
“We get the idea,” Ben said. “But where are you planning on getting the…um…brains for the mission?”
“Your friend Chris tells me that you’re pretty smart,” said Clive. “We could use your brains.”
“See, this is what happens when you study,” said Gordon.
“Naw, man,” chuckled Clive. “I’m just kidding. We can just use some vegetable brain.”
“Vegetable brain?” Shane asked.
“Yeah, man!” said Clive. “But it’s really a fruit.”
“Wait…,” I said, trying to clear my head. “Let me get this straight. The zombie sharks are going to chase down a fruit just because it’s called vegetable brain?”
“They don’t call it vegetable brain for nothin’!” said Clive.
“Vegetable brain…,” Ben mumbled as he pulled out his phone. “I really wish I could Google that, but there’s no service on this island.”
“Well, then, it’s settled,” said Director Z. “I’ll send some nurses into the jungle to collect enough vegetable brain for the purpose. Chris, please work with Pietro and Clarice to make sure that tonight’s date can be re-created. Clive, if you could please show the gentlemen how to work with the zombie sharks?”
Free Shark Rides for th e Kids!
That next morning we waited nervously on top of the zombie sharks’ tank for our riding lessons.
“I hope Clive’s a no-show,” said Ben. “I threw up on a plane; I don’t think my stomach can handle riding a zombie shark. And what if they try to eat our brains?”
“I don’t know,” Gordon replied. “I’m kind of looking forward to it. This is like the ultimate extreme sport.”
Gordon and Shane high-fived.
“Here he comes now,” I said, and pointed to Clive dragging a bunch of scuba gear up the stairs to the top of the tank.
“Sorry I’m late, dudes,” said Clive.
We all squeezed into our gear.
“Ummm…” Ben said. “Guys? I can’t really see.”
We looked over to see Ben’s helmet fogged up.
“It’s really hot in here,” he said. “I’m not so worried about the zombie shark anymore. I’m worried I’m going to barf in here first. GUYS!?! ARE YOU THERE?!?”
“Deep breaths, dude,” said Clive. “Just chill.”
Gordon was stretching his suit out by running to the water’s edge and back.
Suddenly the water at the top of the tank exploded and four rotten sharks flopped onto the platform right in front of Gordon.
“Ah!” yelled Ben as he fell over. “What the heck is going on?”
The sharks flopped and shook in the open air, but were able to turn teeth-side toward Gordon.
“Clive?” screamed Gordon, who was too stunned to move. “CLIVE?!”
The shark closest to Gordon used his fins to push himself forward. He opened his massive mouth wide, but before it could bite down on Gordon, Clive jumped into its mouth and…
CHOMP!
His surfboard pinned the shark’s mouth open.
“Right on time, you stank fishies,” yelled Clive. “Now, you better behave, or Daddy’s gonna bite your nosies!”
The shark let Clive go and backed down. The other three started to whimper and shake.
“That’s what I THOUGHT,” yelled Clive. He grabbed the shark that had just bit him by the gill. “You! Stay here.”
Clive turned to us. “Who’s ready to rock?”
“CHRIS IS,” my three friends said and pointed at me. They had clearly planned for this moment.
“Dude,” said Clive, “come on over.”
I slowly approached the shark. Its bloodshot eye turned toward me and it opened its mouth with a growl.
“Stop that!” yelled Clive, and gave the shark’s nose a good slap.
Clive started the lesson. “All right, Chris. First thing you need to do is growl at the shark as you walk up t
o it. He needs to know you mean business.”
“Grrr,” I said.
“More,” said Clive.
“GRRR,” I said.
“Mean it,” said Clive. “All you need to do is scare him, and he’ll do whatever you want.”
“GRRRRRRRRRRRRR!”
The shark started to shake.
“Awesome, dude!” said Clive. “Now get on top of him and grab his fin!”
I looked at my friends.
“Go for it!” said Shane.
I mounted the shark, who growled and bucked below me.
“GRAB THE FIN, DUDE!” yelled Clive.
“Whoa,” I said, clutching the fin. “Whoa, sharkie!”
“Kick his side!” yelled Clive. “Show him who’s boss!”
I couldn’t believe what I was doing. I thought of the rodeo I had seen a few years ago, and kicked the shark in the side while pulling back on his fin.
The shark stopped.
“Great!” Clive said. He dug around in a bag and pulled out a fishing pole. Hanging off the line was a piece of something yellowish-white and wrinkly. “Here’s your vegetable brain. Just hold it in the direction you want to go, and go!”
I grabbed the fishing pole and dangled it in front of the shark. He started to creep forward, his fins flopping on the wet platform.
“Okay,” I said, as the shark started to tip into the tank. I was frightened and excited. “Here I go! Yee-haw!”
The shark tipped over—SPLASH—and took off!
He was extremely fast, and extremely strong. I desperately clutched his fin with my left hand. I tried my best to wriggle the vegetable brain in a way that would get him to swim straight, but he was spiraling down to the bottom of the tank, shooting back up, swimming all over the place.
“Aaaahhhhhhh!” I screamed.
Only twenty seconds in the tank, and I didn’t know which way was up. The shark jerked to the right and I felt the pole slip out of my hand. He bucked up, and I felt myself fly—first through the water, and then through air.
I landed with an OOF. Through my water-streaked helmet, I could see the other three sharks in front of me.
“Grr,” I said weakly. The world spun before me. I felt like every part of my body was vibrating.
“You should be stoked,” said Clive, who helped me up. “That was a great first run! We gotta work on some stuff here and there, but that was awesome! Who’s next?”
I slowly made my way down the spiral staircase to the benches in front of the huge window looking into the tank. I sat down and closed my eyes to collect myself for a few minutes. I opened them up to see a zombie shark fling Shane against the window. He gave me a thumbs-up as he slowly slid down the glass.
This was going to take all day.
Date Night Re-do
Later that night, we were exhausted and sore, but ready to ride. Gordon, Shane, Ben, and I all stood behind the same piece of driftwood that we had the night before—this time in scuba gear. Just two hundred feet behind us, Clive held on tightly to the zombie sharks in preparation for our voyage.
“This is absolutely crazy,” said Ben.
“I think that’s why I like it,” Shane said.
“You know who really thinks this is crazy?” I asked.
“Who?” asked Gordon.
“Clarice!” I replied. “The poor woman is sick of Pietro, but she’s agreed to go through everything that happened last night, from appetizers to being bitten.”
“She’s getting nipped by an old werewolf,” Gordon said. “We’re riding zombie sharks into the deep. Now you tell me who’s in for a crazier night.”
A figure came shuffling up the beach to us. It was hard to tell who it was, even in the moonlight.
“Wait,” the figure huffed, “I’m ready! Director Z said I should help you kids out!”
“Gil?” Ben asked, “Is that you?”
Sure enough, the old swamp creature shuffled up to us, huffing and puffing.
“I’m better at swimming than running,” he said.
“Why are you wearing scuba gear?” asked Gordon. “Aren’t you a fish?”
“I’m a freshwater fish,” said the swamp creature. “This water is far too salty for me. But I know I’ll be able to help you down there.”
“Wow,” said Shane, “a fish in scuba gear. Cool.”
“All right,” I said, “just crouch down with us behind this log, and stay quiet. No swamp gas.”
“No swamp gas, got it,” the swamp creature agreed.
Up ahead, Pietro and Clarice approached the whale carcass.
“Just get this straight,” Clarice said to Pietro. “This is NOT going anywhere. I’m only doing this to help everyone out.”
“Clarice, honey—” Pietro started.
“Don’t ‘honey’ me!” Clarice yelled back.
I popped up from behind the driftwood, and yelled, “Guys! This is serious! You have to do everything exactly as you did before. You weren’t yelling at each other!”
“Now you’re yelling,” pointed out Shane.
“Just this once,” I hissed at him.
I crouched back down behind the driftwood with my friends and the swamp creature. Our five heads peeked up over the wood and stared at the beached whale. We waited five or ten minutes, while Clarice and Pietro ate their appetizers quietly.
“Okay, this is about the time we started talking,” I said.
“I said something like, ‘Wow, they snuck out. Pietro did a great job with the checkered tablecloth and plates and everything,’” said Shane.
Pietro picked up his fork, speared something on his plate, and then reached over to feed it to Clarice.
She grabbed the wad of whale flesh and stuffed it in her mouth.
“But you ate it off the fork before,” Pietro whined.
“I’m telling you, thish ish going nowhere,” said Clarice with a mouth full of whale flesh. “Thish ish absolutely dishgusting, by the way.”
“I said something like, ‘What are they eating,’” I said.
“And I said, ‘They’re eating the stinky whale, blah, blah, blah,” said Ben.
“Blah, blah, blah,” said Gordon.
“Blah, blah, blah,” said Shane.
“Blah, blah, blah,” said the swamp creature.
“Shush,” I said to the swamp creature. “You weren’t here.”
The swamp creature shushed, and we all peeked over the log to Pietro and Clarice.
“When I first heard you screech at Raven Hill,” said Pietro, “my ears perked right up. I knew that yours was the voice I always wanted howling at the moon with me.”
“Oh, Pietro,” said the banshee through clenched teeth. “You’re. Just. Too. Kind. Ugh, I can’t take this. Your hair is greasy and smells like cat turds. How you found a litter box to roll around in at Paradise Island is beyond me.”
She reached up to his bushy head with a BLECH and started to twirl his hair.
His leg started twitching like a dog’s.
“Then came Shane’s joke and we started to laugh,” I said.
“Har har har huh huh huh,” we all fake-laughed.
Pietro stood up…
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
The vegetation next to us started to rustle, and out stepped Howie. He held his accordion.
“Yeah, what am I doing here?” he asked. “I thought you said Clarice and you were through.”
“And I think we still are,” Pietro said. “But we still need to do this. I told you.”
Howie played his crazy tune and the three of them howled. The whale’s exposed ribs rattled again, though not quite as hard as the night before.
“I hope this works,” I said.
When the music was over, Clarice and Pietro applauded.
“Bravo,” she said, with no emotion at all.
“I’m outta here,” said Howie.
“Thanks, Howie,” said Pietro.
Howie slunk back into the brush, leaving Pietro and Clari
ce alone in the moonlight.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” said Clarice, and she put her head on Pietro’s shoulder.
“Well,” said Pietro putting his hand around her back, “now that we’ve had dinner—”
“Yeah, yeah,” she said. “What do you have for dessert?”
“Just your sweet, sweet lips,” said Pietro.
“Oooh, not smooth, Pietro,” said Clarice.
Clarice lifted her head. They both moved in closer for the kiss.
“Ewww,” mumbled Clarice. “This is going to be gross.”
They moved even closer…
SPLASH!
“Yessss!” I hissed.
Gordon was still staring at the kiss.
“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again,” he said. “Old people kissing is gross.”
“I think it’s so sad it didn’t work out,” said Shane. “This could have been an amazing cross-monster relationship. Gil, are you currently looking for love? I hear Griselda’s single.”
“I’ve always been partial to Queen Hatshepsut,” said the swamp creature.
“Ahhh, so you’re a mummy man, eh?” said Shane.
“Shhhh,” I said. “Get ready.”
“AAAAAHHHHHHHH!”
The screech pierced our ears!
“I can’t believe I let you bite me again,” said Clarice, jumping up from her seat.
She got up to leave, and Pietro got up to follow.
“Wait! Wait! I really think we can work this out.”
“This was a huge mistake,” she said.
Pietro dropped to the ground, shaking and drooling.
“Goooooooo!” I yelled.
We ran down to the water and the zombie sharks.
“Take it easy down there,” said Clive. “I wish I could come with you, but I do nothing but float with this surfboard crammed into me. Reserve your energy. Don’t get gassed out too quick!”
We mounted our sharks and put on our helmets. Shane’s shark had a small pouch strapped to it. Inside the pouch was a net.
“Let’s hope we’re lucky enough to catch this thing,” I said.
Clive ran up to each shark and turned on the headlamps he had strapped on them. As he turned each light on, he yelled in the shark’s ears.
“Don’t try anything funny down there,” he yelled, “or the humans riding on you will bite you into bits.”
