Behemoth 2

by Michael Cole

  “Sounds like good advice,” Rick said. He went over to the chum bucket located near the crane on the portside. He pulled the lid off, took a moment to adjust to the smell of the ‘delicious stew’ and grabbed a metal scoop. Lisa stepped onto the deck. She had removed her denim jacket due to the heat, sporting a white tank top.

  “I’ll keep my eye on the monitors,” she said. As before, the Neptune was still equipped with several underwater cameras which were still functional. Nelson stood up from his seat and snapped his fingers.

  “Hang on, just a sec,” he said. Rick froze, having yet to dip the scoop into the mixture, and Lisa stepped further out on deck. Nelson knelt down beside the large black duffle bag and started unzipping it. Rick stood up, curious to see the contents. Nelson pulled the sides apart and reached in with both hands. With one, he pulled out a high-powered rifle, and with the other he grabbed a large Remington Auto-loader. Rick’s eyes went wide, and he cracked a true American smile. He peeked downward, seeing that there were several more weapons in the bag.

  “Hot damn, Rambo,” he said. Nelson shared a similar smile.

  “Perks of the job,” he said. “Get to play with the good toys whenever I feel like.” He looked over to Lisa. “Mrs. Napier, you spent a career in the Coast Guard. I’m assuming you’re competent in the use of these fabulous tools.” He held the butt end of the weapon toward her. She accepted it and checked the specs like a true professional. The weapon was already breached, yet to be loaded. Her handling of it answered his question. He looked to Rick. “How about you?” he asked, while handing him the rifle. Rick accepted it.

  “I’m no expert marksman,” he said, “but these guys will be hard to miss. Not sure how much good it’ll do, though. You guys said yourselves that you couldn’t penetrate the exoskeleton on the other one.”

  “Yeah, but I’d rather have these handy just in case,” Nelson said. “Who knows, perhaps we could deal a lucky hit. Maybe hit it in the eye, or in the mouth.”

  “Aim for the joints,” Forster said. They all looked toward her. “The connecting tissue there is softer than the rest of the shell. It’s possible you could do some damage.”

  “Sounds logical,” Rick said. He handed the rifle back to Nelson. “Keep that handy for me. I don’t want to get tuna grease all over it.” He returned to the bucket and filled the scoop with the red-and-brown mixture of tuna, blood, and oil. He tossed it over the side, and repeated. The minced meaty substance drifted off in a diagonal direction from the starboard quarter. Soon, bits of meat traveled away from the chum line, carried by the extra oil to send out extra scent.

  ********

  In the marine hospital room of the aquarium, two aides stood outside the two pools as the dolphins chattered to them. All three dolphins, which had been terribly ill a week prior, were now bursting with energy. The aides had opened the window to allow more sunlight into the room, and the fresh air brought in the natural smell of the ocean. The two aides laughed with the happy mammals as they played tricks in the two pools.

  The plan was to move the dolphins from their pools into the much larger pen, near the shark exhibit. To avoid rousing the shark with placing the dolphins near it, maintenance was scheduled to move the second pen further down the peninsula near to the gaming docks. Though the dolphins were doing much better, it was still advised by Forster before her departure that they be monitored for a few days in a larger space before being returned to the wild. It was as if the dolphins could sense they were finally going to be moved from the cramped space.

  Both eyes turned toward the entrance as the door opened. The maintenance foreman walked in. Initially, they were happy to see him, as they thought he was here to deliver the good news that the pen was ready. Then they noticed the frustrated, disapproving expression on his face. Whatever it was, it wasn’t directed toward them, but his feelings weighed heavily enough to drag him down.

  “What’s going on?” one of the aides asked. The foreman looked back through the entrance, waiting for someone to approach. He looked back to the aides.

  “Felt’s made a change in plans,” he said.

  “A change?” the other aide said. “Are we not moving the dolphins today?”

  “We’re moving them,” the foreman said, “but not to the pen.” The aides replied in a simultaneous “huh?” The foreman shook his head in frustration. “Moving the pen and hooking it up to a whole new filtration system will take up more time and cost than what Mr. Felt is willing to put up. It seems the dolphins have improved enough in health that they can live back out in the wild. So…” he sighed and held up his hands, palms up, “…the boss has rented a boat to take the dolphins out.”

  “That’s absurd,” one of the aides said. “We don’t know if they’re ready yet.”

  “They look ready to me,” Dr. Tucker said as he entered the room. Though he was acting, and speaking, on behalf of Mr. Felt’s wishes, his body language indicated that he too was reluctant. But unfortunately, the new deal between Felt and the university was that Dr. Tucker was to assist in the care of the aquarium’s assets until a new full-time caretaker was hired. “I know you two care very much for these dolphins, and you’ve put a lot of time and effort into getting them well. If you want, you can come with us as we take them out. We’ll probably be ready to load them up within the next half hour.” The aides realized that he, like the foreman, was simply a person put in an uncomfortable position. What he really wanted to say was, “Felt is a cheap bastard, and just wants to reduce expenses he deems unnecessary.” Now that he had renewed revenue with the capture of the hybrid, he was no longer concerned with redeeming his image in the public’s eye. The aides understood.

  “We’ll go,” they both said.

  ********

  The chum trail extended to a brownish-red line that traveled far out into the crystal-blue water. Rick scraped the bottom of the tub with the scoop, gathering the last of the chum. He dumped it over and watched it splash over the side. He stood up and poured water over his hands, then wiped them dry with a towel to scrub off the grease. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and patted his sweaty brow.

  “You okay there, sport?” his wife said from the wheelhouse. “I can take over the next one.”

  “No, I’m good,” he said. He stuffed the handkerchief back into his pocket and looked out to the water. The Neptune had been drifting south over the past hour. Rick noticed something in the distance, straight ahead of the bow. It appeared to be some sort of formation in the water. He glanced to his left to look at the island, confirming that the boat didn’t get turned around. “Hey, Dr. Forster?”

  “Yeah,” Forster said. Rick pointed out to the strange formation.

  “What is that?” he asked. Forster looked at the large structure, realizing what it was.

  “Oh!” she said. “That’s the atoll,” she said. “We think it was once part of the island, but possibly broke away due to an earthquake. It’s just a theory, but one thing’s for sure: we don’t want to go near it.”

  “Is the water around it too shallow?” Rick asked.

  “Not only is it shallow,” Forster said, “but the atoll is surrounded by rocks. Big, jagged rocks that come up from the shallow seabed. Most of them break the surface. Driving a boat through there would be like driving through an asteroid field.” Rick started to chuckle. He couldn’t help but find the odd coincidence amusing. Lisa stepped outside, after overhearing the conversation. She clearly found the information amusing as well.

  “Well, that sounds a bit too familiar,” she said.

  “Yeah, I’ll say,” Rick said. Forster cracked an awkward smile, not fully understanding what was so funny. Her confusion was obvious to Rick. Realizing he needed to explain, he cleared his throat. “As you know, Mako’s Ridge is an island chain. One of our islands is a place called Mako’s Edge. It’s a barren rock, not very suitable for many habitats, and completely surrounded by jagged rocks that stick up from the ocean floor. It’s basically a much bigger ve
rsion of your atoll. Needless to say, taking a boat through there is a nightmare.”

  “Yeah. That’s where the hybrid was hiding out,” Lisa said. Her smile faded away as the memory took over. “According to the mad doctor, the landscape resembled its original habitat. Because of that, the hybrid was attracted to the landscape. So, it set up camp, only coming out whenever it wanted to hunt.”

  A thought instantly lit up inside Rick’s mind. His grin disappeared, and a serious expression took over.

  “Hey Lisa, could you take us closer to that atoll?” he asked.

  “I beg your pardon?” Lisa asked.

  “Yeah, did you not hear me when I said it’s not safe to go near there?” Forster added. The Chief stepped out of the wheelhouse, also feeling alerted to the new change in plan. All of a sudden, all of his crewmates, including his wife, were crowding up on him. He felt as if he had spoken blasphemy in the presence of a king.

  “Whoa, relax,” Rick said. “We’ll stay clear of the rocks. I just want to get close enough to chum.”

  “Care to venture a reason?” Nelson said.

  “I want to test a theory,” Rick said. “The other one was attracted to that kind of landscape. I’m wondering if these hybrids are attracted to the same habitat.” Forster thought about it.

  “Alright, let’s try it,” she said. Lisa stepped back into the wheelhouse and throttled the boat forward. The engine hummed and water kicked up around the hull as they approached the atoll.

  ********

  Thirty minutes went by, and the Neptune slowly cruised around the large atoll. Nelson took a turn driving the boat, allowing Lisa to enjoy the fresh air. By the crane, Forster took a turn at chumming while Rick looked at the bizarre formation. The center landmass was still far away, with a whole forest of rocks between it and the boat. He held binoculars to his eyes, while looking at the atoll. Though it was difficult to see because of the distance and obstructions in his view, he was able to notice the smooth shore.

  “Funny,” he said. “For a big rock, it almost appears that it has a beach.”

  “Not one I’d want to sunbathe on,” Forster said, tossing another scoop of mixture into the water. Rick examined the generator. A large copper wire was coiled next to the five-foot unit, ready to be placed at the circuit. At the other end of the wire was a metal hook to route the electricity to the bait. He looked at the specs on the generator, confirming that it was capable of giving out up to sixty-thousand volts.

  Damn, he thought. As long as the hybrid held on to the bait for long enough, the current would be plenty sufficient to stop its heart. He looked out to the chum trail, which extended far from the portside. To his surprise, nothing seemed to be touching it.

  “Usually, we would at least be seeing some fish or small sharks coming to nip at the chum,” he said.

  “Things have been pretty bad since Wan started dumping her shit in our waters,” Forster said. Her voice expressed the bitterness felt by the island residents, as well as her own personal disgust.

  “Where exactly did it take place?” Rick said. Forster placed the greasy scoop down and pointed past the wheelhouse, to the north.

  “A few miles that way,” she said. “The EPA has been at work to clear it up, but it seems the damage is done. God only knows how long Felt has been turning a blind eye to it.”

  “Speaking of him,” Rick said. He crossed his arms and leaned against one of the heavy fuel barrels. “I’ve got to ask; what does a resort owner need with a thirty-eight-foot Munson boat?” Forster smiled and wiped her hands clean.

  “It was a ploy to make him look better in the public eye,” she said. She stood up and stretched her legs. “Hoping to remedy the damage to his image, he decided to turn part of our aquarium into a makeshift animal hospital. So, he scraped up the funds to buy this boat, and sent me out to retrieve dolphins and other animals that were sick from toxic exposure.” Her voice grew more frustrated with each sentence. “So, not only was I the general caretaker for the aquarium, but now I had to act as a veterinarian. My lovely contribution to my field of study.”

  She sighed and knelt back down to continue chumming. Rick remained quiet as he reached into the cooler for a water. He emptied half the bottle onto his face, which felt like it was blistering in the hot sun. He was now regretting his choice of wearing a long sleeve shirt. He wiped his eyes clear of the water and looked back at Forster.

  “You sound disappointed,” he said. She stopped and looked at him again.

  “Listen, I love sea life, but I didn’t become a marine biologist to become a caretaker,” she said.

  “Ah!” Rick exclaimed. “So, you’re a scientist with big dreams.” Forster wasn’t sure whether it was a question or observation.

  “Well, yes. I wanted to explore and discover things. You know? To really make a difference.” Though she shrouded it, Rick could feel the emotion within her. It was something he had come to know well during his years of learning about marine science, especially on a teaching level.

  “You’re already doing it,” he said. She scoffed.

  “Yeah, sure,” she said.

  “Well, then you’re completely missing the point of it all,” he said. Her eyes shot at him, as if insulted. How dare he question her ambitions, or worse, the hopes her father had for her. “There’s more to Marine Biology than discovery. Becoming a scientist in this field, it’s about improving the world we live in. Yeah, discovering new stuff is important. But there’s so much more. Having a new species of pufferfish named after you isn’t as important as saving an endangered species or putting a stop to an invasive species. It’s not about becoming famous, it’s about bettering the ecosystem. It’s about bettering humanity.”

  “I’m bettering humanity?” she said in an unconvinced tone.

  “You caught the hybrid,” Rick said. “It’s not out there murdering people. So, you tell me.”

  Forster rested quietly in her kneeling position. She looked into the horizon, trying to take in what Rick Napier was explaining. She couldn’t argue against his point. Still, it was difficult to let go of her life’s dreams. With no interest of discussing it further, she went back to chumming. She submerged the scoop into the bucket, and lifted it out. A whole intact fish head, severed behind the gills, came up inside the scoop. Forster winced at the gruesome sight. The dead fish almost seemed to stare at her with its lifeless eyes.

  “Go out there, and better humanity,” she whispered sarcastically to it, before chucking the scoopful of chum over the side. The mixture landed in a murky splash, with the fish head floating in the middle. Forster looked at it, watching it bob a couple of times in the ripples.

  A splash erupted around the fish head. Water thrashed about as Forster witnessed the piece of bait disappear around a set of jaws.

  “Oh, shit!” She jumped back from the side. Rick and Lisa swiftly turned to look, alarmed by her reaction. Nelson burst from the wheelhouse entrance, with shotgun in hand. He rushed to the side, aiming the sights downward. Forster caught her breath and raised her hands up to put everyone at ease. “Relax! It’s alright,” she said. Nelson relaxed his grip, not seeing anything in the water, and turned his eyes toward her.

  “What was that about?”

  “It was a shark, alright,” she said, while holding back a laugh. “But it was the wrong shark. Just a lemon.” Nelson looked dumbfounded.

  “Huh?”

  “A lemon shark,” she clarified. Rick’s face turned red as he struggled not to burst with laughter. He moved to the side and looked down. Just a couple seconds later, he saw the lemon shark swimming about in the chum trail. Over seven feet in length, the yellow fish nipped at the chum trail. Considering this species was attracted to rocky sea bottoms, it came as no surprise it was in the area.

  “These guys are usually night feeders. He must be really hungry to be going at this chum trail like this,” he said. Getting an idea, he knelt down and grabbed the scoop, which Forster had dropped. He stirred it around in the bu
cket, managing to locate another decent size chunk of fish. “Come and get it.” He tossed it out into the water.

  The lemon shark had started traveling away down the chum path before it sensed the splash. Its dorsal fin cruised the surface as it turned back. Its head turned slightly from left to right while its senses worked to locate the meal. Its eyes picked up the sight of the small piece of fish floating just underneath the surface. It lurched forward, and in the blink of an eye, the meat had disappeared into its mouth. The shark hooked back violently, nearly splashing its audience with a stream of water from its tail. Everyone put a hand over their face while admiring the sight. Rick clapped his hands as if praising a job well done. They watched the shark turn back, continuing to move down the chum line in search of further sustenance.

  Then, as fast as lightning, a shadow appeared beneath the waves. Then just as quickly, the sea around the shark erupted in a watery explosion. In a simultaneous reaction, all four of the crew jumped back to the port side. All eyes were wide, and all hearts raced with adrenaline at the sight of the red hybrid shark, flipping head over tail above the surface, with the lemon shark in its jaws.

  The creature landed headfirst into the already thrashing sea. It swam in a tight circle, still holding its struggling prey. In a single, effortless motion, the jaws crunched down like a vice. The lemon shark’s head and caudal fin fell clear of the jaws, spinning in a trail of blood towards the sea floor. The hybrid swallowed the body, then continued swimming in a slow, circular manner, interested in the large floating object.

  Rick Napier moved to the bow, watching the twenty-four-foot red shark circle their boat. Its dorsal fin and the upper part of its tail barely grazed the surface. He inhaled deeply, slowly calming his nerves. His mind became fixated on two realizations. One: the opportunity to destroy the creature had arrived. Two: it had already clearly established an intent to ravage their vessel. This meant there was no room for error. Either they kill the beast, or the beast would kill them.