Was his leg damaged? He wouldn’t know that until he got out of the water.
Another look back, and now Tommy was jabbing the blade in, burying it completely inside the muscle, then sawing back and forth. And with each jab, with each series of saw motions, the hold on Sam’s leg lessened…
Sam turned back to face the crab.
And something moved in front of him.
At first, he felt as if he hadn’t really seen anything.
Just a blur, some iridescent grayish green blur, moving so fast. Like a burst of color flying by. Could have been a swirling current of some brilliant water, streaming by, rocketing by him.
Then Sam felt the force of that water, the wake from whatever had just gone by him.
And Sam knew that it was no current, no colorful underwater stream.
Something big had just passed.
He turned back to see if Tommy had noticed it. But the kid was lost to his cutting and sawing.
Instinctively, Sam decided to test whether he could pull his leg out of the oyster. As if something told him that it would be a good idea to test whether he could move, that moving right now might be a good thing.
Digging into the sand with his other leg, he began to slide out of the shell trap, the numbness making it seem like it was someone else’s leg.
Out of the meat of the oyster, out of the lip, up over the lip of the two shells, then down to the sea floor, still numb, still a leg that belonged to someone else.
Reaching back, tapping Tommy.
No time to tell him thanks, to give him a smile, but to say—they had to get out of here now. They had to move.
He tapped Tommy’s shoulder again, and pointed up.
But the kid was unaware that something else was going on here, that there was more than just the wonder of his great rescue of Sam. That something new was going on.
Sam thrust his arm straight up with as much force and urgency as he could.
Indicating…Get the hell up now!
But by then it was, of course, too late.
It came back. Only this time Sam could see the creature coming right at them from a distance.
There was no word, no image, no thing in Sam’s mind or experience that would allow him to put a label on what he saw heading their way so quickly.
The head looked like a crocodile’s; even from a distance, in this clear water, Sam easily saw the rows of teeth that lined both sides of the narrow V-shaped snout.
And that head, that jaw…it was easily as long as Sam. Which meant the thing itself had to be forty…fifty feet…or even more. As large as a bus.
And the rest of it looked fishlike, a tapered body, a massive cylinder with fins and flippers, all to help it move with amazing speed.
San started to turn and tell Tommy, warn him.
Thinking…how stupid of them not to know that all that crab blood would bring something.
Only in this case it brought something from hell.
Sometimes back at Sheepshead Bay the boats would get an occasional blue shark…five…six feet, but nasty-looking. And once, a great white, nearly ten feet, a monster, an eating machine that dwarfed its captors.
Toys compared with this thing. Minnows.
Tommy stood beside Sam, and finally the kid saw it. In just those few seconds remaining, Sam could imagine the horror ride Tommy’s mind went on.
They were immobile, frozen. What could they do in just three, four seconds? Nothing.
Sam did start to reach down to his lifeline, to give it tugs to indicate We have to come up!
His gloved hand closed on his line. He looked at Tommy. And amazingly Tommy stared right at Sam as if neither of them could face looking forward, looking at the thing coming right at them.
It slid through the curling snakelike air hoses. Pushing them aside but not cutting them. There was enough slack so that the lines moved to either side.
Closer now, the jaws opened, and in that last moment, Sam could see bits of whitish meat hanging from the teeth, could see the dull purple inside its maw, could see its eyes, duller and darker than even the black eyes of those dead sharks.
Then—the maw wide open.
Sam tugged pathetically on his lifeline.
The crazed monster reptile finally there.
The maw selecting one of them.
Selecting Tommy.
Sam heard the jaws shut even as the trainlike bullet of a creature went flying into them.
The sound of all those teeth closing, locking shut.
And in that split second, Sam saw the upper torso of Tommy go rocketing away, the now-cut air hoses turning the two feet of helmeted head and torso into some kind of grotesque human balloon.
But Sam couldn’t see anything else since the body of the sea creature now sent Sam flying to the side, cart-wheeling, head over heels, his airflow suddenly stopped before landing on the sandy bottom.
He quickly tried to get his head up so he’d have breathable air in his helmet. He looked down at his suit. The skin of the thing had ripped it open in a dozen places, like small razors slicing through the tough material that resisted even the sharpest coral.
The hoses still worked.
And somehow he still had his lifeline in his hand.
Two sharp tugs.
Meaning up, now! Topside, they would know by now that one of the divers was in big trouble, the compressor struggling to send air into the open helmet.
Two tugs, but nothing happened.
How long would it take that creature to turn, to cut around and start back for another bite, most likely opting for some fresh food?
Until…Sam felt himself rise.
So slowly, it was torture. But he couldn’t come up fast, he’d get bent, be as good as dead.
A few feet above the bottom, and he saw Tommy’s heavy boot, and two leg stumps, both looking like flares shooting out blood.
Maybe the blood will distract the thing, maybe it will go there, instead of shooting right to me.
And as Sam got hauled up, he realized that he was like a worm on a hook, dangling in the ocean, tempting the creature to have another giant bite.
He had to twist to see where it was. At first he couldn’t see anything despite the water clarity. It was so hard to look back in the direction the sea creature went.
And he knew what it was by now. No legendary creature, no creature of myth. He had been to the museum as a kid, seen the array of bones showing ocean creatures that were air breathing, like crocodiles but monstrous…huge. It was something that had left the planet forever tens of millions of years ago.
And yet…here it was.
Twisting, turning until he saw a graying blur. Looking like a cloud, a mist in the water, until the blur began to pick up some definition.
It was coming back.
A look up at the surface.
A look…the surface still twenty feet away, the pace slow, safe. So aware of the danger of rising quickly and having the nitrogen bubble into his veins.
It was a risk he had to take. Sam tugged the line again, two more times.
The message of urgency obvious.
They would react. But would they be in time?
33
Atlantic City, New Jersey
ANN STOOD BY THE PADDOCK, the horses still, the smell of hay and wood and leather comforting.
She looked at one mottled horse, with cowlike splotches over its back and hindquarters. Looked almost funny. She reached her hand up to the side of its head.
“Careful, miss—that one’s been known to bite, he has.”
But Ann’s hand was already there, already stroking. Though the horse snorted, he gave no indication that he was about to nip at her.
“Seems calm to me.”
The trainer, a short man named Eddy, with bandy legs, and mop of reddish curly hair, grinned. “He sure liked to take a bite at the last girl—but then she was someone who you might want to bite, if you know what I mean.”
Ann grinned, still st
roking the horse.
“Ann?”
Nadler came into the small paddock. “Good, you’re here nice and early. Making friends with the ponies— good for you. Look, this is Eddy’s department, let him show you the ropes. You have any questions, let me know.”
Hours before the show, Ann now would get a personal training session in the art of the diving horse. Though she could ride thanks to summers on her grandfather’s farm while her mom toured, she wondered if this might be beyond her.
A horse…diving into the ocean.
Sounded ridiculous.
“I’ll be fine,” she said.
“Know you will. Take good care of her, Eddy. Got a feeling we’ll be saying we knew her when, hm?”
Then Nadler left. The morning sun sliced through the open spaces of the back wall of the paddock. Strange that these horses lived their lives here, no fields to run through or graze in. Only the short trip to the Aquacade arena, a quick jump into the ocean. A dog paddle to a platform, and then back to wait for the next show.
Wouldn’t blame a horse if it wanted to bite…or worse.
“This one, her name is Belle. Think someone thought it funny to call such a homely horse ‘Belle.’ ”
“I don’t think she’s homely. She’s cute, funny…”
“The kids do like her. More than the others.”
Ann remembered the act she had been working on with Manny. Said he’d get them into a show soon. Baggy pants comedy, only she wore the pants. Goofy and funny, just like Belle.
“So, this the one you want to ride? You can have your pick.”
Ann turned to him.
“Yes. I think we picked each other.”
Belle neighed.
“Sure seems to like you. Okay…let’s get her saddled up and ready to get wet. And you better get into your suit. Dressing room’s—” Eddy pointed, a bit shy. “—that way.”
Ann looked through a rack filled with pale green suits. She reached for one that looked small enough.
She checked that the door to the tiny dressing room was locked, and then slipped out of her skirt and blouse and pulled on the suit. Bathing caps sat on a rack above the line of suits.
One size fits all? she wondered. She picked one, and pulled it tight on top of her head. A fit, more or less.
She unlocked the door, and walked down the hallway that led to the paddock, then beyond to the arena.
Ann walked past the other horses, then down a corridor to an open area where Eddy stood with Belle, now saddled.
“Okay. Mr. Nadler says you’ve done a lot of riding, so I’ll skip the basics. Because, there’s a lot about this that isn’t basic.”
He gave the saddle a tug.
“This is extra tight so when you go flying through the air you shouldn’t feel any movement. Guess the horses don’t like it, but it will make you feel a whole lot better.”
Ann could see that the cinch around the horse’s flanks was tight. The horse’s flesh bulged on either side.
That’s probably why Belle bit people.
“The other thing…the first time you jump you will feel an urge to jump off the horse, to get free of it. Don’t. Spooks the horse, and worse, you could find yourself landing under it. You hold on for dear life and smile as you do.”
Show business. Well, Ann guessed it was better than some jobs she could have taken.
It wasn’t the bottom, she told herself. Or was it?
“Okay, ready to give it try?”
Ann nodded.
“Okay, I’ll walk Belle to the opening, you walk beside her.”
Eddy grabbed the bridle and slowly led Belle to the opening.
“Now, just get on. Tight quarters, but you should have enough room.”
Ann put a foot into the stirrups and pulled herself into a seated position on the saddle, and smoothly too, she thought.
Good—I didn’t embarrass myself with that one.
“Great. Guess you do know your way around the ponies. Okay, when you hear the announcer introduce the act, then—”
“What will he say?”
“Hm?”
“The announcer—what will he say?”
“Oh, something like—” and Eddie raised his voice so that it filled the narrow confines of the paddock—“Ladies and gentlemen, get ready to see one of the world’s most amazing feats, a beauty on a horse diving into the raging Atlantic Ocean…or something like that.”
“Then I ride forward?”
“Hold on. Not so fast. Once through here, you come to a narrow walkway. It’s tough for the horses, especially late in the day when it’s gotten wet, and maybe slippery. You got to make sure that you go slowly, got it? The audience will wait. Builds suspense. At the top, you will turn and stop. That’s when the announcer will say something else.”
“Which will be?”
“Oh, you really do want to know the whole deal, hm. Something like…‘Ann Darrow riding the incredible Belle.’ ”
“Why not the incredible Ann Darrow riding Belle?”
“Cheeky? You can work out your introduction. After he says that, it’s your show.”
Even just hearing about this was exciting…especially the part that it was her show.
All eyes on her, waiting.
Pretty amazing, she thought.
“So, then, whenever you are ready, you bring Belle to the edge. Lean down close, and—well you’ll have to trust this next one—give the horse a good strong kick with both heels.”
“And that will do it?”
“Horse knows what to do. It will pull back a few feet, begin a gallop and run, jump, flying through the air.”
“What’s it like to hit the water?”
“Why have me spoil the fun for you now? You’re going to experience it in a few minutes. Once you’re in the ocean, the horse will swim as fast as it can to the platform that’s lowered in the water. You’re just along for the ride at that point. It will climb up, maybe shake off the water—so hold on tight—and then begin walking into that entrance over there. I can be there to take him if you want to take a bow.”
Eddy flashed a grin.
“Most of the girls do.”
Ann took a breath.
Not much scared her. But this? It sounded almost impossible. But they did it every day, five times a day, so it had to be possible, right?
“All set, Annie?”
She smiled at that. Sometimes Manny called her that, more of a long lost father than acting partner.
She nodded.
But she was anything but set.
34
New York City
CARL DENHAM WALKED INTO THE lobby of what was now the tallest building in the world—the Empire State Building.
He turned back to Preston. “Preston, will you get a load of this? Makes the Chrysler Building look like a dump.”
From the gleaming stone floor, to the curves of the metal that lined the mammoth lobby, the building was impressive from the first glance.
“We have to go to the observation deck.”
“Probably not open yet,” Preston said. “I wonder why the backers wanted to meet so early.”
Denham started walking again, to the bank of elevators to the side.
“I don’t know—but let me do all the talking. I’m not exactly in the best bargaining position.”
Denham pressed a button and an elevator opened as if it had been waiting for them. They got in, and he hit the button for the eighteenth floor.
“If it was me, I would have taken an office on the highest floor. Kind of a waste to be here and not to be at the top.”
The elevator stopped, and the doors slid open.
“Okay, let me work my magic…”
And he and Preston walked to the office.
While still listening, Denham tried to size up who was in the room. Maury Zelman he knew, and probably the one guy Denham had to please. The new people…Sid Nathanson, introduced as Zelman’s assistant, and Tom Farragher, an “associate.”
Associate? Farragher looked more like a button man for the mob. He didn’t smile as he shook hands with Denham and Preston, and his eyes looked perpetually hooded and mean.
Not a customer to get mad at you.
Zelman looked at the other two men, and Denham guesses the time to talk “nice” was over.
“Denham, we lost a lot of money with your mess up north.”
A body movement from Farragher, a shake of the head.
“But we know you’re good.”
“Sure,” Denham said, “I can recover. I got a new script working, going to get some good location stuff as soon—”
Zelman held up his hand.
“That’s just it, Denham. See, it’s the damn location stuff that’s so risky. Risky, costly, dangerous. You love it, but do audiences care? I mean, do they really care?”
“So what are you saying?”
Denham noticed Preston shift in his seat. Preston was Carl’s most staunch defender, loved him, and loved his work. He hoped he remembered the warning to keep his trap shut.
“What we’re saying is…lose the location stuff.”
“For a jungle picture?”
“Sid, show him the layout.”
The assistant ran to a table against the wall and scooped up a roll of architect’s drawings.
Zelman stood up and unrolled the drawings on his desk.
“You see this place? Look, you got tons of room. You make your jungle or whatever the hell you want to right here. It’s all yours.”
Now Denham stood up.
“Make a jungle, with sets, in a studio? Where is this? And what is this?”
Preston stood up slowly, and came beside Carl.
“This, well, used to be a bakery, right Tom?”
The gangster look-alike nodded.
“We got it to settle some old debts. Gutted it. Made it a studio.”
“You want me to make a jungle picture inside a bakery? Me, Carl Denham?”
“You can make a great jungle there, Carl. And just think how close this is.”
“Oh really?”
“Just across the river, in Astoria.”
“Queens. I’m going to shoot a jungle movie in Queens.”
The Island of the Skull Page 14
