Sea Raptor: A Deep Sea Thriller

by John J. Rust

  An image formed in Rastun’s mind of him swimming around the Great Barrier Reef with Karen by his side.

  “Hey.” She raised her camera. “Give me some kind of macho soldier pose.”

  “What?”

  “For the FUBI website. Since there’s no sea monster to shoot, I gotta fill up the photo gallery with something.”

  “Well, since you asked so nicely.” Rastun slipped the Steyr AUG from his shoulder, made sure the safety was on and held it diagonally across his torso.

  “Perfect.” Karen snapped a few pictures of him.

  “Sorry if I’m not as interesting as a sea monster.”

  “You’ll do, until we find it. Then things should get exciting.”

  “In my experience, exciting doesn’t always equal fun. Hopefully when we do find the Point Pleasant Monster, I tranq it, we reel it in, oh, and you get your money shot.”

  Karen smiled, a very beautiful smile at that.

  “Then,” Rastun continued, “we drop it off at the Camden Aquarium. Mission accomplished.”

  “Simple as that?”

  “Yeah, right. I have a feeling capturing something like this thing will be anything but simple.”

  ***

  “Shit, this stuff stinks.”

  Jerry Edler grimaced as he tossed more chum over the side of the boat.

  “Not only that,” said Darrell Wasser, who sat on the deck by the engine, arms resting on his knees. “You know how expensive that stuff is? Between that and renting this boat, we’re pretty much tapped out.”

  “It’ll all be worth it once we get a video of the Point Pleasant Monster.”

  “You mean if. Shit, Jer, we’ve been this for, like, two days, and we haven’t seen anything.”

  “We will, man.” Edler’s face twisted in disgust as he flung more chum into the water.

  “How do you know?”

  “We will, okay?” Edler groaned and shook his head. Sometimes Wasser could be the biggest fucking whiner on the planet. Well, if he wanted to go home, whatever. Edler was determined to stay here until he had one good picture of the monster. It beat the hell out of sitting at home with his mom bitching at him to get a job. Like he hadn’t tried. Who the hell could find work in this suck-ass economy? It took him five years to earn his art degree from Montclair State, and what did he get for it? A job as a bus boy for a restaurant that closed six months ago.

  Getting this monster on video would be his big break. The FUBI would definitely hire him. He’d watched shows like Destination Truth, Finding Bigfoot and Ghost Hunters for years. He knew what it took to be a field researcher. Maybe he’d even work with that Rastun guy he met a couple of days ago. The dude was an Army Ranger. He could teach him all sorts of special ops/ninja shit. No one would ever fuck with him again.

  “Dude, look!” Wasser shot to his feet and pointed.

  Edler scanned the water. His mouth opened wide in surprise when he saw a gray shape snap at the chum.

  “Oh man. Ohmanohmanohmanohman!” He whipped his head left to right. Where did he put the damn camera?

  Edler spotted it laying on the deck a couple of feet away. He grabbed it and turned back to the gray shape.

  It was gone.

  “Fuck!” He kicked the side of the boat, then clenched his teeth in pain.

  “It’s back, man!”Wasser hollered. “It’s back!”

  Edler held the camera up to his face and hit record. He zoomed in, a thrill running through his body. This was it, he could feel it. This was the Point Pleasant Monster. He’d record it for a while, race back to shore and contact the FUBI. Then he wouldn’t be Jerry Edler, loser, any more. He’d be Jerry Edler, monster hunter.

  That would definitely land him a girlfriend.

  Wait a minute.

  The thrill evaporated when he recognized the blunt nose, the razor-sharp teeth and the dorsal fin.

  It was just a fucking shark.

  “Dammit!” Edler kicked the bucket. It toppled over, spilling chum all over the deck.

  “Dammit!” he cursed louder.

  “Aw, dude.” Wasser frowned as he stared at the chum. “We’re gonna have to clean that up before we bring the boat back.”

  Edler scowled. He shut off the camera, put it down and picked up a handful of chum.

  “Here! Here’s some more for you.” He threw it into the water. “Fucking shark fucking up everything.”

  He tried to spot the shark, wanting to curse at it some more.

  It had vanished.

  “Fuck.” He turned away from the water, grinding his teeth in anger. Who was he kidding? He’d never find the Point Pleasant Monster. He’d never get his dream job with the FUBI. He’d just be a fucking loser with a worthless degree who’d spend the rest of his life working in convenience stores or fast food joints.

  Edler threw his hands up to the sky. “I hate my fucking life!”

  “Dude.” Wasser started over to him. “C’mon, man. Don’t be like—”

  Something bumped the bottom of the boat. Wasser stumbled into the gunwales, nearly falling overboard. Edler grabbed the driver’s seat to keep his balance.

  “You okay?” he called to Wasser.

  “Yeah, man. Shit, what was that?” Wasser leaned over the side, trying for a better look.

  A fountain of water exploded in front of him.

  “Darrell!” Edler screamed.

  Wasser went into spasms. Water cascaded onto the deck.

  Some of that water was red.

  Edler’s skin turned ice cold as Wasser slumped and fell to the deck. Small, frightened gasps came from Edler’s gaping mouth as he stared at his friend.

  His friend who no longer had a head.

  “D-Darrell?” he stammered, his legs shaking.

  This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening.

  Edler looked around, heart slamming against his chest. What do I do?

  His eyes settled on Wasser’s body. Blood streamed from his severed neck. So much blood. More than he’d ever seen in any movie or video game. And it was coming from his best friend.

  Another huge fountain of water exploded toward aft.

  Edler screamed. He fell to the deck, scrambling on all fours toward the driver’s seat. Beside it lay his backpack. He unzipped it, reached inside and pulled out his mom’s Smith and Wesson .38.

  Something heavy dropped onto the boat. The bow rose. Edler slid down the deck.

  “No! No!” He rolled on his back. His eyes bulged when he saw the beast in front of him.

  Edler screamed and brought up the revolver. He pulled the trigger once, twice.

  He never got off a third shot.

  SEVEN

  Rastun stood near the Bold Fortune’s bow as USCG Station Manasquan Inlet came into view. The unpleasant feeling of failure crept through him. He tried to convince himself it was foolish to feel this way. The FUBI hadn’t been sitting around yanking their cranks. They’d spent three days going up and down the Jersey Shore doing their best to find the Point Pleasant Monster.

  Their best, however, hadn’t been good enough.

  The Coast Guard had notified them around 0800 this morning that they located a speedboat drifting four miles from shore, abandoned and covered in blood. While a USCG vessel towed the speedboat to Manasquan, Bold Fortune patrolled the area where it had been found. Four hours of plowing through the water turned up squat.

  All their searches had turned up squat.

  Rastun closed his eyes, inhaling the tangy salt air. Getting upset wouldn’t change anything. They just had to keep at it until they found the damned monster.

  Not that it would help whoever had been in that speedboat.

  Bold Fortune slowed as it entered the inlet. He saw the speedboat sitting on a trailer on the boat ramp, with two people in dark blue uniforms examining it. Beyond them was the colonial-style administration building.

  After Bold Fortune docked, Rastun followed Ehrenberg, Pilka, Malakov and Karen down the gangplank and toward the boat ramp
. As they neared the speedboat, one of the Coasties, a squat woman with brown skin and her hair in a bun, came over to them.

  “You must be the FUBI people.”

  “That’s right.” Dr. Ehrenberg shook the woman’s hand, introducing himself and the rest of the team.

  “Chief Warrant Officer Prashad. That’s my partner, Petty Officer Tolleson.” She pointed to the gangly man with thick glasses by the boat. “Coast Guard Investigative Service. They brought us in to do the forensics on the boat.”

  “Did you find anything?” asked Ehrenberg.

  “We did. Come on, I’ll show you.”

  They followed Prashad over to the speedboat. Rastun looked over the gunwales. Patches of blood stained the deck. The stench of copper and what smelled like raw meat surrounded the speedboat

  “My God,” Ehrenberg muttered. The cryptozoologist clenched his jaw, as though trying not to throw up. Karen and Malakov both grimaced, while Pilka began to look a little green.

  Ehrenberg squared his shoulders, trying to regain his composure. “So was this the Point Pleasant Monster?”

  “It appears so.” Prashad went over to a table containing several items, many in plastic evidence bags. She picked up a white bucket and motioned for them to come over.

  “Whoever was in this boat, they had this bucket filled with chum. We found small chunks of it scattered about the deck.” Prashad turned the bucket around. Ehrenberg’s eyes widened. Karen took pictures of it.

  Lines of jagged puncture marks ran along the length of the bucket, as though something had bitten it.

  Something big.

  “This could be a shark,” suggested Pilka.

  “Not unless it jumped into the boat, said Prashad. “We also found a video camera onboard.”

  “What was on it?” Pilka stepped forward, his curiosity evident.

  “No monster, if that’s what you’re hoping for. The last thing on there was one of the boaters filming a shark eating the chum. It sounded like he was upset it wasn’t the Point Pleasant Monster, because he threw a fit and kicked over the chum bucket. After that, he shut off the camera. But we know one of the boaters didn’t go down without a fight.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Ehrenberg.

  Prashad placed the bucket back on the table and picked up a plastic bag.

  “Is that a gun?” asked Karen.

  “Yes it is. Smith & Wesson Model 638. Thirty-eight caliber, five-round chamber.”

  “Did he get off any shots?” asked Rastun.

  “Two. I have no idea if he hit the monster or not. We won’t know until we’ve examined all the blood on the boat.”

  Ehrenberg nodded. “Do we know who the boat belonged to?”

  “Yes.” Prashad set down the gun and picked up an iPad. “The boat was rented from the Point Pleasant Marina by Jerry Edler, age twenty-four, from Lakewood. He also had a friend with him, Darrell Wasser, same age, also from Lakewood.”

  Rastun’s brow furrowed. The two names echoed in his head. Jerry Edler. Darrell Wasser.

  Aw shit, are you kidding me?

  “So what were they doing out there?” Malakov spoke in a sharp tone. “Trying to attract the Point Pleasant Monster so they could kill it?”

  “No,” said Rastun.

  Malakov turned to him. “And how the hell would you know?”

  “Because I actually ran into those two.”

  The group stared at him in surprise. So did Prashad, at least for a few moments before her professionalism returned. “When was this?”

  “Three days ago at the Point Pleasant Marina. I nearly bumped into them when they were coming out of a shop. They told me they were going to go out and find the monster. I warned them against it, said it’s too dangerous.” He looked at the speedboat. “Needless to say, they didn’t listen.”

  “Find it?” Malakov scoffed. “Yeah, so they could kill it.”

  “They didn’t want to kill it. They just wanted a picture of it.”

  “Then why did they bring a gun?”

  “Probably for self-defense, though I doubt a dinky thirty-eight would do much against something the size of the Point Pleasant Monster.”

  “Bullshit. If all they wanted to do was take a picture of this cryptid, they wouldn’t have needed a damn gun. They wanted to kill it. To hell with the fact this is an extremely rare creature.” Malakov barked out a humorless laugh. “Well look what happened to those idiots. The Point Pleasant Monster got them before they got it. How karmic.”

  Rastun stared at her, statue still. He barely noticed the disapproving and shocked expressions from the others.

  Eyes narrowed, he stomped toward Malakov.

  “Doctor Malakov.”

  “What?”

  “Do you have children?”

  “What business is it of—?”

  “Do you have children?” Rastun cut her off.

  Malakov glared at him. “Yes. I have two daughters.”

  “And Jerry Edler and Darrell Wasser also had mothers, mothers who are mourning their deaths as we speak. So maybe, as a mother yourself, you should think about how you’d feel if, God forbid, anything ever happened to your daughters and have some damn compassion!”

  Malakov’s face went red. She started to bare her teeth. Rastun prepared himself for the coming eruption.

  Malakov glanced over at Ehrenberg. The cryptozoologist stood with his arms folded, a stern look on his face. He shook his head.

  With a parting glare at Rastun, Malakov stalked off. He hoped the animal behaviorist would take a few minutes to cool off, realize how insensitive her comments had been and apologize.

  She didn’t. Their entire time at Coast Guard Station Manasquan Inlet, Malakov never said one thing about her remarks regarding the deaths of Edler and Wasser. That pissed off Rastun even more.

  Once they finished examining the evidence collected from the speedboat, they headed to a nearby Wendy’s. After Rastun got his food, he sat at a small booth on the other side of the restaurant away from the rest of the FUBI group. Particularly, away from Malakov. He still fumed every time he looked at her.

  Get a grip, Jack. He stared at the tabletop, chewing his chicken sandwich. Most times he was successful at clamping down on his emotions. In his line of work – former line of work – it was essential. Soldiers who got too scared, too grief-stricken or too angry in combat usually got themselves and others killed.

  He’d just sit here, eat his meal in peace and try to rid himself of his anger. Forget try. He had to stop being angry at Malakov.

  Rastun found it tough to do every time he recalled her words.

  “You mind some company?”

  He looked up to find Karen standing beside the table. He waved her to the seat across from him.

  “You okay?” she asked as she sat.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You sure as heck don’t look it.”

  Rastun grunted and popped some french fries in his mouth.

  Karen lifted the lid on her salad and picked up a pack of dressing. Instead of opening it, she stared at Rastun. “Um, you mind if I ask you something?”

  “Shoot.”

  “I know what Doctor Malakov said about those two guys was uncalled for, but you seem to be taking it a bit personally. I mean, you only talked to them for a couple of minutes.”

  Rastun leaned back in his seat. “I see what happened to Edler and Wasser, I start thinking about all the men their age, even younger, that we, that I, lost in Iraq and Afghanistan. Just walking around one minute, like everything’s normal. Next minute, they’re dead, and in the most violent ways you can imagine. I’ve been to my share of memorials for the men we lost, saw their families, looked into their eyes. You can just see this pain, pain you know is never going to go away. Sometimes I wonder if I’m responsible for that pain.”

  “But how? You didn’t kill those men.”

  “It can be tough to convince yourself of that. When you’re back at base, when it’s just you and your thoughts,
you start wondering would that soldier be alive if I’d given a different order or found a better place for cover or given them better advice on staying alive in a war zone? Then I think of their families, the hell they must be going through. Just a few years before, their kid was playing football, bugging them for a car and taking some girl to prom. Now they’re burying him, if there’s even anything left to bury.”

  Karen said nothing. She just stared at him with a sympathetic look.

  Rastun continued. “Were Edler and Wasser dumbasses? Yeah. They had no business going out there playing monster hunter. But even dumbasses have people who love them.” He shook his head. “Why didn’t they just listen to me?”

  “Jack.” Karen reached across the table and lightly touched his hand. He held his breath as she spoke. “They’d just met you. They had no reason to listen to you.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” He looked down at Karen’s hand on his, relishing the warmth and softness. “That’s four now.”

  “Four?” Karen gave him a quizzical look. Realization dawned on her when she understood four was the death toll in the Point Pleasant Monster attacks. “Well, let’s hope we find this thing before we go up to five.”

  “Yeah, let’s hope.”

  EIGHT

  “Happy anniversary, Gabrielle.”

  The champagne spilled over the flute, splashing on Scott Horn's trousers. He stared at the stain, shrugged and put the bottle back in the ice bucket. The speedboat bobbed in the open water as Horn gazed into the hazy horizon.

  He lifted the flute and drained it.

  Horn reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He called up a photo of him in a tuxedo next to a medium-built brunette in a wedding dress. Five years ago today that picture had been taken. How many of their friends got divorced during that time? Yet his and Gabrielle’s marriage grew stronger each day.

  Then the leukemia hit. Horn had to watch the woman he loved weaken and waste away, until her body gave out four months ago.

  He choked off a sob. Horn never believed in soulmates until he met Gabrielle. Now she was gone and he had no idea how to continue.

  He refilled his flute, looking around the boat before he drank. Horn had proposed to Gabrielle in this very boat, around this very spot, six-and-a-half years ago. They always returned here every year to celebrate their anniversary.