Behemoth 2

by Michael Cole

  They saw two sets of headlights in the distance. Both vehicles parked, and their drivers stepped out. Rick stepped out of the wheelhouse, while Forster and Nelson came up to the dock.

  “What’d you think?” Forster asked.

  “It’s a hell of a nice boat,” Rick said. He put his hand on the gunwale and walked along the starboard side, continuing to inspect it. “If it was damaged before, they did a nice job patching it up. This is a similar design as for the landing craft used for warfare, especially during World War Two.”

  “It’s not invincible, though,” Lisa said, serving as the skeptic of the group. “Those things can still sink this thing, especially if there are many of them.”

  “Unfortunately, we don’t have a helicopter,” Nelson said.

  “It’ll be durable enough for us to lure them into the trap,” Rick said.

  “What’s the plan?” Forster asked. “Load up some bait with poison and feed it to them?”

  “I’ve thought of that, but the problem is that it won’t work fast enough for us to hightail it out of dodge,” Rick said. “Even if there’s only one other hybrid, it’ll still be able to attack for a while until the poison shuts down its organs. By then, even with this boat, it could be too late.” He climbed up onto the deck, and looked at the sunset, then checked his watch. “Is there a hardware store in town open this late?”

  “Yes,” Nelson said, curious what Rick was getting at.

  “Good,” he said. He looked to his wife. “You think steel mesh should work, right?”

  “Absolutely,” Lisa said.

  “Wait a sec,” Forster said. “Metal, bendable mesh…” she suddenly realized the plan. “Are you gonna bait the net, and hook it up to an electric current?”

  “Awe, man,” Rick said. “I had a whole one-liner planned.” He chuckled to himself. He pointed to the crane. “We have a perfect system in place. We have a cable, which we can lower the bait, which will be wrapped with the mesh like tin-foil on a meatball sub. Only the sharks won’t peel it off.”

  “And we’ll hook an electric wire to the mesh,” Forster clarified.

  “Touch that wire to a battery, and zap!” Rick said, clapping his hands together for effect.

  “That might work,” Nelson said. “What kind of battery will we need?”

  “Something big and fully charged,” Lisa said. “A car battery won’t be nearly enough.”

  “What about a high-powered generator?” Nelson said. “We have a high voltage one at the station. Being in an area frequently visited by hurricanes, it comes into use. It can deliver up to a hundred amps.”

  Napier nodded. “That’ll be more than enough to stop its heart.” He exhaled sharply. “Okay, then…I guess we have a plan.” He looked at Lisa. “I suppose we’d better get the supplies.” Nelson raised his hand, as if to make a protest.

  “Oh, no,” he said. “You already supplied the boat. The rest is on me,” he said. “Do you guys have arrangements to stay anywhere?”

  “We have a hotel set up,” Lisa said.

  “Obviously, you don’t have a ride. I’ll drive you there,” Nelson said. “Then I’ll pick up the things we still need. After that, we’ll meet back up here tomorrow…say nine?” Everyone nodded in agreement.

  “Sounds good,” Rick said.

  “Alright,” Nelson said. “Everyone get some sleep. We’re gonna need it.”

  CHAPTER

  31

  The light from Forster’s phone illuminated her bedroom. For what seemed like the hundredth time, she checked the time, and laid back down. Unable to fall asleep, she stared at the ceiling. Each effort to zone out was fouled by unrelenting thoughts that her mind became fixated on.

  There was the apprehension of what lay ahead. Ten years of college and specialty training; a lifetime of ambition; all for what? She constantly tried to be grateful her father wasn’t around to witness her failure. It didn’t do any good. A believer in Heaven, she often felt as if her father was always watching. If he was truly in that ‘better place’ people talked about, what did he think of her?

  Then there was the financial worry. Though she had money saved from her employment at Felt’s Paradise, it would only last her a year at most. She tried to think of other careers to pursue, but there was nothing else she knew. Besides, she knew Felt was on the ball to cause detriment to her record. As far as she knew, she was completely un-hirable.

  Mostly, it was a fear that gradually set in during the evening. Seeing the hybrid climbing out of the pen, determined to slaughter its spectators, made her much more consciously aware of how aggressive it was. Knowing they were up against another one of these creatures made sleep impossible. She thought of the plan. Though she was confident it would work, there was still a high risk. She wanted to be a scientist and explorer, not a hunter. Very rarely did she experience a true fear of death. And this fear was all too real.

  Relaxation became unachievable.

  Couldn’t be wider awake, she thought. Feeling as if hours had gone by, she checked her phone again. As she figured, it had only been minutes since she last checked. It was no use. She sat up and walked to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator. There wasn’t much to drink, due to her never having time to go on a shopping trip. Now was she not only awake, she was frustrated.

  “The hell with it,” she said to herself. A nightcap sounded more appealing than ever. A quick remembrance of what happened the last time she visited a bar caused a slight delay. She briefly worried of a repeat, but decided it was worth the risk. Besides, she was no longer associated with Felt, and had broken his finger. The island residents would probably throw her a parade.

  ********

  “~You heard about the Pirate boat!~”

  “~That daring one, the sea did float!~”

  “~She was the Alabama!~”

  Sitting at the bar, Forster raised her glass, surrounded by the dozens of fishermen that filled the bar. Beer bottles reached for the ceiling as the crowd gathered in song. In the blink of an eye, Forster had gone from being one of the most hated people on the island to being a celebrity. To her amazement, her humorous premonition had become a reality. She was recognized by several patrons. But instead of acting hostile, they each offered to buy her a drink. Apparently, other staff at the resort had quit earlier in the day because of the same incident, and while bar hopping, they talked about how the marine biologist “broke that bastard’s finger.”

  The tension had successfully subsided for now. In fact, Forster found herself having a good time. Between prison and job hunting, she couldn’t remember the last celebration she had. Suds splattered onto the tile floor as the drunken crowd continued to sing. Forster downed her drink and sang along, swaying from side-to-side with each lyric. Buzzing with joy and booze, she lifted her beer mug and sang like a sailor in colonial times.

  “She was the Alabama!” She concluded the song and downed the rest of her beer. As the bottom went up, she could hear the stool scoot next to her as somebody took a seat. She immediately assumed someone was offering to buy her another drink. She belched as she slammed the mug down on the counter. “Good, you’re here,” she said to the person. “I’m ready for more mead!”

  “I think you’ve had enough.” Recognizing the voice, Forster whipped her head around, seeing Chief Joe Nelson sitting beside her.

  “Whoa! Chief, uh…Joe!” she said. “What are you doing here?”

  “Same reason as you: couldn’t sleep,” he said.

  “How did you know I couldn’t…”

  “Julie, I can read you like a speech,” he interrupted her. She smiled.

  “Well, okay maybe I had a case of nerves,” she said. “But I will say, coming here really has helped to relieve the tension.”

  “Really?” Nelson said. “You’re not drinking like someone who’s tense. You look like someone who’s celebrating.” Forster thought about his words for a sec.

  “Hmm, yeah,” she said. “It feels appropriate enough. After all, w
e’re going after something that could very well kill us tomorrow. So, to treating a night like it’s your last ought to merit celebration.”

  “It’s a fair point,” Nelson said. He snapped his fingers at the bartender. “Budweiser, please,” he said. Forster started chuckling. “What?”

  “Is that how you celebrate? Plain Budweiser?” she said.

  “Fine,” he said, then looked back at the bartender. “Double-Scotch. Neat.” The bartender poured the drink and served it in a fine glass. He took it and downed half of it. He shut his eyes for a minute, allowing the desired effect to take place. He looked to Forster and smirked. “Now that’s the stuff.”

  Throughout the next hour, they celebrated the night in song with the crowd of fishermen. With the final lyric of each song, everyone raised their glass above their heads. Laughter filled the bar, and smiles could be seen in every direction.

  Forster heard the legs of the nearest stool scoot against the floor as someone took the seat. She looked over, her smile disappearing when she saw the forty-year-old man staring at her. She recognized his face, as did Nelson. It was Jeffrey, the man whom she had an encounter at the Lionfish bar. The Chief placed his hands on the bar table, ready to spring into action.

  The bar went quiet, just as it had when Jeffrey confronted Forster days prior. Jeffrey said nothing. His eyes looked down at Forster’s hands, which had begun to tighten into fists. Her demeanor wasn’t aggressive, though she was growing increasingly nervous. Jeffrey suddenly laughed, exposing his missing tooth from their previous skirmish. Forster squinted, confused. Suddenly, everyone in the bar joined in with Jeffrey’s laughter.

  “What the…” Forster began to nervously smile. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m just screwing with you,” Jeffrey said, and tapped her shoulder. “I wanted to apologize for the other night. I was an ass, to say the least.” Forster was overwhelmed.

  “Oh, gosh, it’s really me who should be sorry! I knocked out your tooth, for heaven’s sake!”

  “Ah, don’t worry about it,” he said. “Dentist will be giving me a new one soon. The wife even picked out the one she liked the most.” Forster smiled, then instantly wondered how he would pay for it, remembering he was doing poorly on money. “I got a new gig on a sword fishing trawler,” Jeffrey said, as if reading her mind. He looked to the bartender. “Another round for these folks! On me this time!” The bartender refilled their drinks. They touched glasses and drank in unison. Songs rang through the building once again.

  Nelson and Forster once again joined in with the melodies. When the fishermen raised their glasses to a toast, so did they. Forster noticed Jeffrey stand up and step aside. A fisherman with a long grey beard took his seat next to Forster.

  “I overheard you talk about celebration,” he said. “Are you celebrating getting away from that resort owner?” Forster gave a drunken laugh. She wiped her face with a napkin.

  “That’s a bonus,” she said, struggling to sit up straight. “But uh, actually the Chief and I are doing something very important tomorrow.” The crowd again grew quiet, and she realized they were listening in. It was no surprise, as Forster had become the star of the night.

  “The way you talk, it sounds like it’s something dangerous,” the fisherman said. Forster’s smile faded, as did Nelson’s.

  “Obviously, you guys know of the ships that have been going down lately,” she said.

  “Yes,” the fisherman answered. “We’ve been drinking to them all week.” The crowd answered with a unanimous “Aye.” Forster turned around, seeing the cheerful faces turn solemn, as they thought to their lost friends. The reality of what she was chasing after came swarming back in her mind.

  “That creature at the aquarium, we believe there’s at least one other. Maybe more,” she said. “The Chief and I are going out tomorrow to kill it. Otherwise, it’ll continue killing. Us and some others. So, it seems appropriate to have a farewell drink.”

  “Sounds like you’re going after your own Moby Dick,” the fisherman said.

  “I guess so,” Forster said.

  “Perhaps we can help,” he said. “Many of us know how to catch a shark.” Forster shook her head, though reluctantly. The offer of help was tempting.

  “Unfortunately, no,” she said. “We have the only boat that can stand a chance. Everything else, this thing, or things, can ravage with ease. We’re grateful, but unfortunately you guys would just provide more targets.”

  The fisherman stood up. At first, it seemed like he had enough conversation. Then, she heard his voice assert a hum. She looked over at him. He stood tall, with his eyes closed. His head was tilted up slightly, as if about to speak in prayer. Then, in a remarkable, slow hymn, the words of song escaped his mouth.

  “Of all the money that e’er I had…I spent it in good company…And all the harm I’ve ever done…Alas it was to none but me.” He continued singing the Scottish melody, quickly joined by Jeffrey. Soon, another fisherman joined in, followed by another. Soon, the entire group of fishermen joined the singing.

  “So fill to me the parting glass, and drink a health whate’er befall, and gently rise and softly call, good night and joy be to you all.”

  Like a church service, the hymn grew louder, and the emotion grew. Forster and Nelson locked eyes. Each was as moved as the other by the comforting effort by the crowd. Forster fought back a tear, and softly joined in. A group which she was formerly at odds with had now become her companions.

  And as she sang, the fear slipped away.

  CHAPTER

  32

  It was nine o’clock sharp when Rick and Lisa Napier, Chief Joe Nelson, and Julie Forster boarded the Neptune. For several minutes, they loaded all of their supplies on deck. Rick and Nelson tensed as they lowered the three heavy fuel barrels from the dock to the boat. Lisa and Forster teamed up with each other to load the tubs of chum and bait. Rick and Nelson then loaded the hundred-and-fifty-pound generator, placing it at the starboard side across from the crane control. Then it came time to wrap the bait in the metal mesh, as it would be easier to do on shore than on the boat. They carefully folded the metal netting tightly over the meaty carcasses so the predator would still be able to taste the flesh. Then they strung up a leather harness to each one with an individual clip to attach to the crane when necessary. After a half hour, everyone was already starting to sweat, and the day was only starting. They released the tie-off line, and Rick took the helm. Backing out of the small port, they were off.

  As most of the incidents had taken place to the west, the team decided to launch their search there. With Forster’s guidance, Rick steered the large vessel around to the north. After twenty minutes, they began to clear the east peninsula. Bringing the bow west, they moved across the northern coast. The sight of the resort came into view. Rick looked through the open window at the relaxing pool and spas that opened up to the visitors. He was quite impressed how far the artificial pools extended out into the bay. Though none of them were deeper than eight feet, they had reinforced glass flooring that helped the illusion that one was out in the open ocean. No wonder Felt was always on edge about finances. No way this special design was cheap to produce. As they moved between the peaks, he saw the private harbor, and the familiar shark exhibit, though it was barely visible from their perspective. A couple of maintenance vehicles were parked along the ledge, finishing up repair work.

  Then a mechanical rumbling noise rattled throughout the air. The amusement park had started its many runs on the roller coaster. The car followed its path, reaching far out into the bay from the west peninsula. To provide the rush of speeding over water, only the beginning and concluding portions of the roller coaster were secured to the shore. The rest of the mechanism extended far out into the bay, locked down by steel supports that lodged into the seafloor. Further up the peninsula, prize games opened up on large docks, built in square formations. From high above, it looked like a watery checkerboard with people walking between the squares. Fur
ther inland, many of the standard rides began their typical operations.

  Standing on deck, Forster looked at the design of Felt’s Paradise, particularly the amusement games on the docks. She prayed that Felt’s biologist contractors were keeping the captured hybrid under control. If it were to escape, it could easily tear those docks apart.

  After several long minutes, they passed along the pointed tip of the west peninsula.

  Forster downed two Excedrin to combat her headache. She knew she had stayed way later at the bar than she should have, but she didn’t regret it. She looked out at the endless reaches of the ocean. The weather was perfect once again, with a sunny forecast for the rest of the day. Behind them, the island seemed to shrink as they moved further away. Standing at the bow, Nelson spoke on a radio. Today, he had opted out of his blues in favor of simple jeans and a grey long sleeve shirt. Just warm enough to deflect the ocean breeze, but thin enough to keep from roasting in the summer heat.

  “That’s a roger. We’ll be monitoring all radio transmissions from here. That said, keep me informed of any reports that come in by phone.”

  “Ten-four, Chief. Will do,” Dispatch responded.

  “Thanks. Over-and-out,” Nelson said, and placed the radio down by his large duffle bag. They could hear the boat throttling down to a near stop. The engine still hummed as Rick stepped out of the wheelhouse.

  “Is this the spot?” he asked.

  “This is the approximate area,” Forster said. “We found the whale drifting about half a click back. It had probably drifted for a while before the skiers came across it. We don’t know where exactly the shark attacked it.”

  “Well, it’s as good a place to start as anywhere,” Rick said.

  “Whatever you do, don’t kill the engine,” Forster said. “If things don’t go as planned, we’ll need to get out of here in a hurry.”