by Hunter Shea
The doctor was beginning to wonder if any of them would ever be allowed home.
Not after what they had seen.
What they had done.
He looked at the list of names on the clipboard by the door. Twenty in all.
Twenty Nazi war criminals that had been sequestered in secret prisons around the world since 1945. The Allies had captured many more than they let the public know, keeping them hidden from view these past six years.
Allowing those monsters the dignity of a trial was out of the question. Their guilt was unquestionable.
The last thing they wanted to do was give these men a public forum to spew more hate or try to beguile the world that they were, in fact, innocent.
The initial plan was to let them rot, closed off from civilization until they died from neglect, disease, or their own hands.
Oddly enough, it was Dr. Mueller who had proposed emptying some of those prisons for the experiment.
The Nazis were transported to small islands, chained so they couldn’t escape. These islands would be close to nuclear tests, the prisoners becoming heavily dosed with radiation. They were then retrieved by specially protected teams and brought back here.
Dr. Mueller had not only brought a Megalodon back from extinction, he had also devised the special formula that gave life to the beast. The ancient shark was a meat eater, but it was so large, it would quickly destroy the nearby ecosystem in its quest for food.
So, it had been altered to respond to a particular type of nourishment—the irradiated bodies of the Nazi war criminals that had been injected with Dr. Mueller’s special serum. Again, the ingredients of the serum were known only to Mueller. Laughton had tried several times to gain access to the Nazi’s notes, but so far he’d been unsuccessful.
Whatever it was, it did horrible things to the men who were infused and prepared for the Megalodon. Their flesh blackened, became spongy and foul smelling. They looked as if they’d been dipped in hot tar, their cries short lived as it burned out their vocal cords.
The radiation, in combination with the chemical cocktail, was like a shot of adrenaline to the creature.
And like adrenaline, it would wear off, the Megalodon returning to a deep slumber akin to hibernation. Once subdued, it would be transported via submarine back into its specially designed cage under the lab.
It was as ingenious as it was foul. What would they do when they ran out of Nazis? Dr. Laughton knew that Mueller wanted to use the Marshallese that had been accidentally irradiated, but so far, he’d been denied.
But if the creature kept growing and there were more and more successful tests, he knew it was only a matter of time until they gave Dr. Mueller permission to do whatever he had to do to feed the beast. That Megalodon was going to make America an unparalleled super power.
At what cost, Dr. Laughton thought, shuffling into the hallway.
At what cost?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ollie was hit by the geyser of water, square in the face. Again, his filter mask was spun sideways. The water stung his eyes, wormed into his mouth and nose. He gagged, the salty tang of the ocean and his own bile burning his throat.
He lost his footing, arms pinwheeling, searching for anything to grab onto.
The slick catwalk had become an ice rink. His feet glided on the slippery metal grating. He spun around, his ribs smacking the rail. His momentum carried him over and he was facing the long drop down.
He tried to scream, but his lungs were too full of water.
The next moment, he was in free fall.
Another explosion of water erupted from the cylinder, slamming him in the back as he slipped and fell over the side of the platform.
There was a sharp tug and he vomited air and seawater.
His descent stopped abruptly as he swung hard into the side of the cylinder. In that brief moment of contact, he swore he could feel something enormous moving around inside it.
Swinging like the blade in The Pit and the Pendulum, he spied the rungs of the ladder not far to his right. He reached out with wet hands, his fingertips grazing the metal bar.
Dammit! Keep trying.
There was a heavy thud and more water splashed out. He swung through the curtain of water, which spun him around. He closed his eyes, trying to fight off the dizziness and creeping fear that he was going to die up here, dangling in an abandoned military lab.
That would be just my luck. Win all this money, get things just the way I want them, and fucking die!
He hoped Tara was okay.
As he tried and missed his next attempt to grab the ladder, he rethought that.
I hope they’re all okay.
The rope jerked several feet downward as the railing he’d attached it to gave way. He had to get on that ladder!
Whump. Whump. Whump.
It sounded like something was trying to break its way out of the cylinder. A spider web of cracks broke out on the surface, chunks of concrete crumbling down.
Ollie found his voice. “Heads up! This thing is falling apart.”
He couldn’t hear any replies over the rush of water and terrifying thumps.
Swinging lower, knowing the metal bar was going to give way any second now, Ollie steeled himself for a last, desperate attempt to latch onto the ladder. Water pounded the back of his head, the helmet absorbing most of the blow. It still made him see stars.
“Almost there,” he said through gritted teeth.
Three fingers of his left hand touched metal. They curled around it as best they could, his body weight threatening to break his tenuous grasp. Before he lost it altogether, he lunged forward, grabbing another rung with his right hand. It hurt like hell to stop his swinging, his shoulders threatening to pop from their sockets.
But it worked.
He pressed his body flat against the quaking cylinder, holding onto the ladder for dear life. His feet found lower rungs. His body quaked from exhaustion, fear, and the rush of adrenaline. Fumbling for the knife in his pack, he pulled out the blade and cut the rope.
He had to take a few deep breaths before attempting to climb back down.
“I’m coming down,” he shouted.
“We’re here,” Lenny said. His voice sounded as if he were gargling.
Ollie scrabbled down as quickly as he could, praying that no one was hurt. The floor of the lab was covered in half a foot of water. Lenny, Marco and Tara were there to peel him off the ladder.
“You all okay?” Ollie asked.
“Define okay,” Tara said. “Alive is good enough for now. You all right to walk?”
“I’m ready to run.”
“Even better. Come on.”
The four of them sprinted around the cylinder, water sloshing up to their calves, bits of the concrete façade splintering and plinking off their helmets. They made it to the doorway, Lenny slamming it shut behind them. Marco ran smack into a chair, Lenny into the edge of a desk. Ollie and Tara grabbed hold of their arms and kept them moving forward.
They exploded from the lab into the gray light.
Steven and Heidi were waiting for them, practically catching them as they stumbled out, breathless and soaked to the skin.
***
Tara lay on her back, staring at the slate gray sky. “What . . . the fuck . . . was that?”
Lenny was on his hands and knees, coughing out the last remnants of seawater, hocking up great wads of spit. Marco sat with a leg pulled up to his chest. Tara spied a gash in his jeans and a steady stream of blood.
Ollie paced outside the lab door while Steven hugged Heidi, who had calmed considerably.
“Must be whatever storm’s cooking out there,” Ollie said, pointing to the white caps on the ocean. He thought he spied a few sharks patrolling the surface fifty yards out. “The water is rushing into that . . . that tank, for lack of a better word. Guess it’s a little too old for something like that. We’re either lucky for getting out unhurt or very unlucky for choosing this moment to traipse on
in there.”
Marco hissed as he pulled the fabric from the jagged wound in his leg. “Unhurt? Speak for yourself.”
Heidi whispered to her husband, “Is unhurt even a word?”
He shushed her.
Tara had watched Ollie’s body slam against the cylinder again and again. He’d have some gnarly bruises by tonight.
Lenny was back on his feet, staring at the lab. “I don’t know. Everything was fine until Ollie hit that button. Did you see what came out of the chute?”
Ollie shook his head, water dripping off his ears and nose. “It was too dark. It stunk to high heaven, though.”
“What happened after we left?” Steven said. Heidi knelt by Marco, examining his wound.
“I’ll tell you later, over a good strong drink,” Ollie said. “Let’s get back and take care of Marco’s cut. You okay to walk?”
“Yeah. It looks worse than it is.”
They trudged back to the soundtrack of an angry sea. But still, there was no rain, just a stiff, warm breeze.
Tara walked beside Lenny, who seemed deep in thought.
“Bet you never had a little adventure like that,” she said. Her thighs quivered as she walked, a cloak of exhaustion draping over her.
“That was definitely unique. I went to this abandoned hospital once in West Virginia. It had closed down in the seventies. The place was huge but falling apart. I actually fell through the floor. Luckily, I landed on my feet and the floor below held steady. I laugh about it now, but I was scared shitless at the time. It was a good thing I had a change of pants in my car.”
“Any idea what went on in there?”
Ollie was just ahead of them. Tara could make out the blossoming of a deep, purple bruise on the back of his left arm. She wondered if there was any Epsom salts on the island. A good hot soak and some Motrin would be a big help. Ollie was going to be in a world of hurt later. She’d have to make sure he took care of himself. After all, he’d done all of this to take care of them.
Lenny ran his hand through his wet hair. “I just can’t buy that that was water rushing inside the cylinder. I thought I heard something else. And that chute. What came out of it?”
“Maybe Ollie took some pictures that will explain things.”
Sighing, Lenny whispered, “I know this sounds crazy, but I keep thinking of feeding time at an aquarium. What if that chute was filled with some kind of food? It’s probably been sitting there for decades, rotting away, which explains the stench.”
Tara shivered. “Yeah, but what answered the dinner bell?”
“I wish I knew.”
***
“Well, let’s make it a point not to do that again,” Heidi said the moment they stepped into their new island home. She kicked off her sneakers and stripped off all her clothes in the foyer. She turned to her husband. “And before you get any ideas, I have to steam everything off me. God knows what was in that water.”
Steven went right to the tile counter between the kitchen and dining room and poured a glass of scotch. They’d left Marco and Ollie with Tara, who was taking care of their wounds at Ollie’s house. Lenny apologized profusely, everyone accepting his apology, saying there was no way he could know that would happen.
As Heidi slipped under the shower, she couldn’t help blaming Lenny. She didn’t know him all that well. He seemed like a decent guy, if not a little sophomoric at times. In her mind, he did know it could be dangerous, which is why he made them take all that safety gear. What the hell were they doing in there anyway? Getting your kicks from breaking into deserted buildings was teenager stupidity, as far as she was concerned. Just because they gave it a name—urban exploration—and made it a forbidden passion for adults didn’t make the whole thing any brighter.
Steven knocked on the door. “You want a drink?”
“Some wine would be nice.”
“Gotcha. It’ll be waiting for you.”
“I want you to take a shower, too. That place was vile. And don’t sit on anything, especially the bed.”
Steven was silent, then he replied, “Yeah, sure. I can always help dry you off.”
She knew what that would lead to and she was so not in the mood.
He couldn’t see her grin when she said, “Not now.”
“I think this can count as a brush with death. The only way to celebrate surviving a brush with death is by celebrating the act that can bring n-n-new life into the world.”
She shut the water off and froze.
Was he saying he wanted to have a baby? Here? On the island with no doctors?
“Come again?”
He opened the door and was hit with a face full of steam. “I meant practice, n-not actually make a new life. Lots and lots of practice.” He held out a glass of chilled white wine for her. Naked and dripping, she drank it down in one gulp.
She looked down at the bulge in his shorts. He was definitely ready to “celebrate life.” They had been here two nights and hadn’t christened the house yet. The wine smoothed the rough edges of her agitated nerves.
“Take a shower first,” she said. He got out of his clothes faster than a pit crew at the Indianapolis 500.
He gave her a long kiss, his hardness pressed against her belly. “I love you,” he said.
“Love you, too.”
This could be fun. Maybe they could turn this into Fantasy Island, at least for the next hour. Time for a little role play. That always got their engines going full speed. She made sure to put some water by the bed. They’d need it later.
CHAPTER NINE
Ollie ached in places he didn’t even know existed. He’d woken up so stiff, it hurt to yawn.
Just like that time I got jumped by those three guys outside Mickey’s Bar.
That had been a world class beating, though he had gotten his licks in. The next day, when Marco was trying to get him to go to the emergency room, he remembered peeing red Kool-Aid. At least it wasn’t that bad.
And this time, I wasn’t the one that instigated the beating.
After a scalding hot shower, he lumbered over to Marco’s. His friend was on the phone in his office, surrounded by blueprints and dozens of bound documents. When he saw Ollie outside the sliding glass doors, he quickly hung up the phone and ushered him inside.
“How you feeling?” he asked, fixing up a pot of coffee.
“Like I was in a mosh pit with a herd of elephants. How’s the leg?”
Marco wore shorts. His thigh was wrapped in gauze, courtesy of Tara’s excellent first aid attentions.
“Throbs a little but I’m pretty sure I won’t lose it.”
Ollie winced when he sat. “That’s too bad. Having a peg leg is right in line with the theme of living on a remote island in the high seas.”
Marco handed him a warm mug. “I’ll settle for a parrot and an earring.”
The coffee was so hot, Ollie had to suck in cool air, which made it feel like tiny daggers were stabbing his ribs.
“So, any idea what the hell happened yesterday?”
Marco slumped into his leather office chair. He looked up at the ceiling as if seeking answers from on high.
“I don’t have a clue, bro. That was the most freaked out I’ve been in . . . shit, ever.”
“Something was in there. I couldn’t see it, but I felt it moving around,” Ollie said.
“The surf was coming in pretty hard on the beach. The ocean is one powerful, mad bitch.”
“I know. But here’s the thing. The ocean has a rhythm to it. Whatever was inside that tank had no rhythm. It was almost manic, like it knew I was on the other side and it wanted to get at me.”
“You know how crazy that sounds?” Marco looked down at his phone, scrolling through a message, his brows knit.
“I don’t care. I know what I felt. And there was something else that bothered me.”
“What’s that?” He put the phone face down on top of a stack of paper.
“The front door to the lab was open. Who the
hell was in there before us?”
“What does it matter?” Marco gnawed at the pink tip of his thumb. It looked painful as hell.
Ollie rubbed the back of his neck, massaging a kink that was pressing on a nerve. “I don’t know. It just does.”
“Look, this place has been empty for a long, long time. God knows what went on here. I wouldn’t be surprised if there are people buried around the island. What better way to dispose of a body than some deserted rock in the ocean?”
If it wouldn’t hurt so much, Ollie would have laughed.
“You can take the man out of Jersey, but never Jersey out of the man,” Ollie said. “Always thinking like a mobster.”
“It’s what they call buried treasure out here,” Marco joked.
Ollie put his coffee down and was overcome with the memory of the stench of whatever had come spilling out of that chute. He must have made a face because Marco said, “If you smell a fart, it’s your own.”
“I’m going to be haunted by the stink of that stuff that splashed into the water for the rest of my life. Seriously. I think its taken root in the membranes of my nose.”
And that’s exactly when things went crazy, Ollie thought.
Cause and effect? Or just coincidence?
He counted twelve taps on the side of his mug with his index finger, then cursed, making himself to stop.
“Whatever it was, it’s been festering in there since the fifties. Even if it was flowers, they’d reek by now,” Marco said. He turned around to check something on his computer. Playtime was over. The past couple of days had been fun, but there was still work to be done.
And the financial side of things would be a constant. Ollie felt bad about laying this burden on his friend. He had to remind himself that Marco was being handsomely rewarded for his efforts. It just felt weird having anyone working for him. He even felt guilty when the construction crew was out hammering away under the sun. Or when Lae cooked his meals or cleaned his house.
“It definitely wasn’t flowers,” Ollie said. “More like what I imagine chum would be like.”
“Well, if it was chum, that would make sense, out here in the land of sharks.”
