Catalyst.
He liked the sound of that.
“DID YOU HEAR THAT?” EMMET ASKED.
“What?” Calvin answered.
“It sounded like a splash. From that way.” He pointed toward the eastern point of the island. “Or maybe that way.”
“When you’re around water you tend to hear splashes,” Calvin said patiently.
“Ha. Very funny. This alligator thing is freaking me out.”
“Look, you can’t be like that. Ninety-nine percent of the time, an alligator is not going to view you as either a threat or a meal. If you don’t do something stupid, like get between a mother and her babies, or corner it, or poke it with a stick, or try to play cards with it, they’re just going to slip into the water and swim away. Gators are a fact of life down here. Besides, didn’t you have grizzly bears in Montana?” Calvin asked.
“Yes. But you didn’t tend to see grizzly bears sunning themselves by the side of the road. And they have fewer teeth. And what is this ‘ninety-nine percent’ stuff? What about the other one percent?” Emmet said.
“The other one percent of the time you’re gator bait,” Calvin said matter-of-factly. They reached the other side of the small island. Nearby, a nesting cormorant took flight. The flap of wings and resulting squawk made Emmet jump. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves. Apollo jerked the leash and barked. His dislike of birds was intense.
“Are you always such a comedian?” Emmet asked.
Calvin shrugged. He watched the cormorant circle the sky above them.
“Come on,” he said. “We’re making mama bird nervous.”
“She’s not alone,” Emmet said.
They walked along the shore, Apollo in strange-odor sensory overload, darting back and forth, smelling everything and nothing all at once. Now they stood on the north end. The whole island was maybe seventy-five yards wide and one hundred yards long. Calvin recited the names of trees, plants, and birds. Emmet couldn’t remember ever seeing so many different species of birds in one place. His dad, the bird nerd, was probably going to pass out. There were anhinga, egrets, herons, and ospreys. It was enough to drive poor Apollo to apoplexy.
Emmet couldn’t say exactly when his feeling of being watched started. It may have been when Apollo stopped and alerted, growling and nearly pulling free from the leash. The dog peered into the trees massed on the center of the island — small, excited yips escaping his throat. Apollo was straining so hard at his leash, Emmet was forced to lean back to keep from stumbling.
Or it might have been the feeling, a tickle along the back of his neck. Calvin didn’t seem to notice, and for a brief moment Emmet saw how different Calvin was out in the swamp compared to how he appeared earlier in the day. There was a peaceful look on his face. He clearly felt at home here.
Emmet heard a noise, a large rustling sound in the interior of the island, high in the trees.
“Did you hear that?” Emmet asked.
“What?”
“That noise, like something in the treetops,” Emmet said.
“I didn’t hear anything. Relax. It’s probably just a bird.”
Apollo jerked at the leash and whined now, ready to hurl all twenty pounds of his righteous fury upon whatever was stalking them. Emmet looked, and this time there was more and louder rustling, and he saw branches and leaves moving.
“There’s something there. And it’s coming this way. Seriously, dude,” Emmet said.
Calvin looked. His eyes narrowed and he studied the copse of trees, his head cocked, listening. The wind was in their faces, and Apollo was sniffing like he was a contestant in the world’s-most-sniffingest-dog contest.
“Probably just a bird,” Calvin said.
“I don’t think so,” Emmet said.
“Based on what?” Calvin asked. The words were hardly out of his mouth before they heard a strange cross between a grunt and what sounded like an extremely angry lion.
“Was that a gator?” Emmet asked, reaching down and scooping Apollo up in his arms. The dog struggled to get free. Emmet wrapped the leash around his wrist a few more times and told Apollo to settle down. With limited effect.
“I … don’t know. It sort of sounded like one, but not exactly….” Calvin muttered, still studying the trees. The branches of one of the taller trees, maybe fifty yards away from where they stood, clearly shook this time. The weird noise sounded again. Apollo couldn’t control himself, and let loose with a full-on onslaught of barks, still wiggling and trying to free himself from Emmet’s grasp.
Curiously, the branches stopped moving, and the strange call was silenced by Apollo’s anger. This only made Emmet feel more uneasy, because the feeling of being watched was impossible to ignore. Now he felt a little bit like a fly trying to get free from a spider’s web, but the spider was getting closer.
“I think we should go back to the boat,” Calvin said quietly.
“I’m not going back through there!” Emmet said.
“No. We’ll walk along the shore, circle around that way,” Calvin said. He moved to the water line, keeping his eyes on the trees, which only made Emmet feel more creeped out.
“What do you think it is?”
Calvin shrugged, but was picking up his pace. Emmet was still carrying Apollo, and struggled to keep up while contending with his squirming dog.
“I’m pretty sure it was a gator,” Calvin said. “Might be a nest in there. Mama calling to the babies, probably, except …”
“Except what? And wait a minute! We just walked through there a little while ago. Did we go past a nest?” Emmet was freaking out a little bit.
“We could have … it’s just … it’s a little early in the spring for eggs to hatch,” Calvin said.
“But baby alligators … don’t they just run to the water after they hatch, like sea turtles or something?” Emmet asked.
“No. Mama gators take care of their young. They stay near the nest until they’re big enough to survive on their own. If there’s trouble or a predator, she’ll call them and they will swim or crawl into her mouth for protection,” Calvin replied.
“You’re kidding!”
“Not about gators,” Calvin said.
“No, I suppose not. But what do you think that was in the trees? They can’t climb, can they?”
“No, they can’t climb. I’m not sure what it is. It might be a panther,” Calvin said. The boat lay up ahead, bobbing gently in the water. It was a welcome sight to Emmet. Then he remembered that Calvin just said panther.
“A panther? What kind of island did you bring me to?”
“I’m just guessing. It might have been on the southern end and heard us, or smelled us when we walked through. It’s probably just curious. Still, they’re critically endangered down here, so we should leave it alone,” Calvin said.
“Gladly,” Emmet said.
Apollo was still a little furry ball of rage, barking and growling while he struggled mightily to be free. When they stepped into the boat, Emmet set the dog in the seat and hooked his leash to it. Apollo stood up, his body rigid, growling toward the trees in the center of the island. Calvin untied the line from the mangrove root and took his seat at the tiller. He pushed the ignition button and there was a whirring, then a clicking sound.
“Dang,” Calvin said.
“What?” Emmet said.
“I don’t know … yet.” He tried the button again and was rewarded with another whir and more clicks. Calvin knelt behind his seat and pulled up a panel on the deck over the engine compartment. He jiggled some wires and turned a couple of knobs and tried the ignition again. Nothing.
“I’m going to have to radio base and arrange for a tow. We …” He stopped speaking and Emmet looked back at him.
“What?” Emmet asked.
“The microphone is gone,” Calvin said.
“How?”
“I don’t know. It was there when we left,” Calvin said.
Right then, Apollo went berserk. He barked c
razily and jumped off the seat, running the length of his leash until it jerked him to a stop. Calvin and Emmet looked up to find what occupied his attention. They both immediately wished they hadn’t.
Crawling slowly out of the trees and heading toward the boat across the sand came not one but two creatures just like the one that lay in Dr. Geaux’s lab. As terrifying as the dead one was, alive they were even more frightening. One of them opened its mouth and bugled with the awful croaking roar they heard earlier.
Both of them were headed straight for the boat.
OFFSHORE, THE MAN WATCHED THE EVENTS ON THE island through his binoculars. His boat was camouflaged, and he positioned it behind a small patch of saw grass clinging to a mound of soil sticking up out of the water. His pets were behaving strangely. It wasn’t like them to take an interest in anything that wasn’t a snake.
Still, he was reluctant to act. He wouldn’t allow the boys to come to any real harm. But carefully managed, this situation could work to his advantage. If Dr. Geaux believed that more of his creations roamed the swamp, she would proceed with caution. Perhaps even taking the unprecedented step of closing the Everglades to all visitors. Which was his ultimate goal. He intended to restore the ecosystem there to its original pristine state. Nothing less would satisfy him.
He watched as the hybrids crept across the sand toward the airboat. Calvin was a cool customer, not panicking like most boys his age would. They were out of earshot, but he could see them talking and hear the muffled sounds of their raised voices.
Now he studied his creations’ behavior as they approached the boat. Seeing them act this way was mildly alarming. His intention was for the boys to be frightened off by the rustling in the bushes and the unique sound of their fearsome call. For some reason, Hammer and Nails left the cover of the trees, now acting as if they would attack the boys. He decided to let them get a little closer before activating their beacons. But hopefully this field observation would give him some insight into why one of his specimens now lay dead in Dr. Geaux’s lab.
Could it be the constant and infernal barking of the dog? Did the noise awaken some primitive avian or reptilian response, which caused their genetically altered brains to focus on the canine? Might that be what happened to the earlier specimen Dr. Geaux found? His data said it was highly unlikely. Carefully controlled tests showed that the creatures fixated solely on pythons and boa constrictors. Even when offered an easier opportunity for prey, they were fed only snake meat from the time they hatched. The avian strain of the great gray owl, a bird of prey known for its love of snakes, had overridden the alligators’ desire to eat the easiest thing to catch. Given that raptors like the owl could be trained, he was certain he had created the perfect snake-killing machine.
So why were they reacting this way?
Hammer and Nails were now almost at the boat. One of the boys was using the boat hook to pole the boat backward into the water. Perhaps it was a mistake to disable their boat and take the microphone. All he wanted to do was put a healthy scare into them.
The dog was nearly crazed now and barking so much its voice was growing hoarse. The creatures were at the water’s edge and seemed fixated on the black-haired mutt. It was time to reassert control of the situation.
He pressed the button on the console that activated their homing collars. Hammer and Nails stopped and looked in the direction of his boat. They backed up on the sandy shore and held still, appearing confused. Their heads swiveled back and forth, looking at the nearby boat and toward his position.
Frantically, his fingers flew over the tablet, adjusting the beacon’s intensity and frequency. The two Pterogators still did not respond. To his horror, they ignored his signal and turned their attention back to the boys, the dog, and their stranded boat.
“WHAT DO WE DO?” EMMET SAID, HIS VOICE RISING in pitch.
“Remain calm,” Calvin said, his hands still buried in the engine hatch.
“REMAIN CALM? Have you looked around? There’s a couple of … of … of … velociraptors about to climb in the boat with us!” Emmet yelled.
“Use the boat hook, don’t let them get aboard.” Calvin barely raised his voice while he worked on the engine. “Do you have a cell phone?”
“NO!” Emmet said. “Do you?”
“Nope. Don’t really like ’em,” Calvin said quietly. His focus and calmness were starting to irk Emmet. Emmet picked up the boat hook, which was about the size of a broomstick. He groaned. They were probably the only two kids in America who didn’t have cell phones.
“This seems pretty inadequate given our current situation,” Emmet said, hefting the boat hook. “This airboat doesn’t come with a rocket launcher, does it?” With the noise Apollo was making, he nearly had to shout. He’d given up trying to quiet the dog.
Emmet held the boat hook out in front of him and stepped slowly toward the bow. They were floating about ten yards off shore and the scare-a-gators were about to enter the water.
Then the creatures stopped moving and looked off into the distance, like a dog might upon hearing a whistle outside of human hearing range. Emmet wasn’t sure at first, but he thought something was blinking by their throats. The red light flashed again and this time he saw it clearly. They were wearing collars. Whatever was happening momentarily distracted them, and Emmet took the opportunity to poke the boat hook into the water. He pushed back against the bottom and shoved them a few feet farther away.
The creatures appeared confused. When the red light started blinking more rapidly, Emmet pushed harder, until he could no longer reach the bottom.
“They’re wearing some kind of collar!” Emmet said. Apollo appeared to have barked himself out, and now stood trembling on the seat, growling and whining. His body was rigid and the hair along his back stood straight up.
“What?” Calvin said, looking up from the hatch.
“They’ve got collars … for tracking, or so they don’t bark or something,” Emmet said, gripping the boat hook tighter.
“Huh,” Calvin said.
“Huh? Huh?” Emmet said. “That’s it?”
“I’ve almost got the engine fixed,” Calvin said.
The creatures turned their focus back to the boat. They were almost in the water now, their tails swishing.
“You better hurry —” Emmet said. His words were cut off and he flinched as Calvin flew past him, holding two emergency flares. He struck the heads of the flares against each other and they burst into flame, a bright red light dancing at the end of each one. Calvin jumped off the front of the boat into the waist-deep water, waving the flares at the two critters and shouting.
His charge caught them off guard, and they backed away onto the shore. Calvin splashed through the water, kicking and screaming, waving the flares. When they backed up far enough, he tossed the flares up on the shore, each one landing in the sand in front of the creatures. The hissing flames drove them back farther.
Calvin waded back to the boat and hopped in.
“Keep an eye on them,” he said. He hurried back to the engine hatch and knelt beside it again. His hands disappeared inside. A few seconds later he stood and hit the ignition switch, and the engine roared to life.
“Buckle up!” he shouted.
Stunned, Emmet fastened himself into his seat and grabbed ahold of Apollo’s leash. Calvin turned the boat and they roared away, leaving the two creatures on the shore behind them.
“WHAT?!” EMMET SAID, UNABLE TO KEEP THE SURPRISE and shock out of his voice. “Are you serious? I am not going back to that island! In fact, Dad, pack a bag. We’re leaving Florida immediately.” Emmet paced nervously in the small office outside the lab. Dr. Geaux used it when she had to work in this building. Her official office was in the park headquarters building. The shelves were lined with books and photos. Several of the pictures showed Calvin at various stages of growth, his dark curly hair in evidence through each one. Some of the photographs showed Dr. Geaux, Calvin, and a man doing different things: relaxing
on the beach, driving the airboat, fishing, sitting by a Christmas tree. The man was a bigger version of Calvin. Emmet decided he must have been his father.
Dr. Geaux remained calm, running her hands through her curly, short black hair. Emmet was anything but. When they’d returned to the compound, they raced from the dock back to the lab and found both of their parents still working on the specimen. When they explained what happened, Dr. Geaux went into action, summoning two park rangers she trusted. Their last names were Clark and Marcus. Now she wanted them all to go back to “the scene.”
Emmet couldn’t believe it.
“Uh. No, thank you, I’ll pass! We were almost devoured by … by … those owl-a-gators! I’m not going back out there! No possible way!” Emmet was adamant.
“Owl-a-gators?” Dr. Doyle asked, genuinely confused.
“Yeah … they’ve got those weird necks and eyes and their faces sort of look like owls. Don’t interrupt me mid-rant! What the heck kind of place is this? I want to go back to Montana right now!” Emmet stalked back and forth across the floor of the lab, trying and failing to make himself stop shaking. Calvin, after being given the mom inspection and found uninjured, was leaning serenely against the wall with his arms crossed, as if he had just awoken from a nap.
Emmet stopped pacing and looked at Calvin.
“How did you fix the boat, anyway?” he asked.
Calvin shrugged. “The fuel line was removed. It’s fairly easy to do if you know your way around an engine. Luckily, because airboats sometimes get dirt in the fuel line, we keep a spare duct-taped to the engine hatch. It just snaps in place with a clip at each end. Whoever removed it didn’t take the spare.”
“And you’re sure it was taken? It didn’t just come loose?” Dr. Geaux asked.
Calvin looked at his mother and blinked a few times before answering. Emmet wondered if this was the Calvin equivalent of a tantrum.
Menace From the Deep Page 4
