Menace From the Deep

by Michael P. Spradlin

  “Calvin,” Emmet asked. “Suppose you were going to kidnap someone and hide them in the Everglades. Where would you do it? Where would you stash them?”

  “I wouldn’t,” Calvin said.

  Emmet sighed. He’d only known Calvin for about a week, but he was beginning to suspect he was often intentionally difficult.

  “I know you wouldn’t kidnap someone. But let’s just play ‘pretend Calvin is a criminal.’ Where would you hide someone if you did?” Emmet asked, trying and failing to keep the frustration out of his voice.

  “No, I get what you’re saying; what I mean is, I wouldn’t keep anybody in the swamp,” Calvin said.

  “Why is that?” Emmet asked.

  “Because there’s nothing out there, except a few rustic cabins and that’s it. And as big as it is, there’re always rangers and tour guides and hunters and fishermen zipping by unexpectedly. Nope, if it were me, I’d hide them in a town, in a basement somewhere,” Calvin said.

  Emmet considered this while he paced.

  “All right,” Emmet said. “Another question. My dad told me whoever is making these predagators needs at least two things: a lot of knowledge about biology, and money. Just the computers and equipment to … I don’t understand all of his scientist-speak, but he said something about ‘creating the DNA models to properly construct recombinating genes’ … or whatever … would cost tens, if not hundreds of thousands of dollars. So you’d require money and brains.”

  “I suppose,” Calvin said.

  Emmet stopped pacing.

  “That’s why whoever this is, whoever took my dad, has to be hiding in the Everglades!” he said.

  Calvin frowned, and despite the seriousness of the moment, a small part of Emmet was glad it wasn’t another shrug. He seemed to consider Emmet’s point for a moment at least. Before he rejected it.

  “Emmet, I know this is a lot of pressure, and it’s a tense time, but —” Calvin was interrupted.

  “You bet it is. And I’m going to find my dad somehow. But I’m not just saying this. Think about it,” Emmet said.

  “Think about what?” Calvin countered.

  “This whole make-a-new-species thing. Whoever is doing this is smart and has money, or at least access to it. Maybe they stole it, who knows, it doesn’t matter. But like my dad said, they are inside a lab, running an experiment that is going back in time to the age of the dinosaurs. They’re trying to re-create the itchy-actor-ox, or whatever my dad called it,” Emmet said.

  “Yes, and apparently they’ve succeeded, because we’ve seen them in action,” Calvin said.

  “Exactly! If you were this Dr. Catalyst, and you were spending who knows how much money and trying to re-create a species that lived a bajillion years ago, wouldn’t you take every precaution? Wouldn’t you make sure no one found out about it?” Emmet was getting excited.

  “I … guess,” Calvin said. He still seemed skeptical, and a little unsure of where Emmet was going.

  “You would have to build your lab right in the swamp!” Emmet said. “Don’t you see?”

  “No. That would be the last place …” Calvin started to say, but Emmet waved him off.

  “But one of his critters already escaped or died or something, because it’s in your mom’s dinosaur morgue, right?”

  “Yes,” Calvin said.

  “There is no way somebody going to this much trouble would build their lab somewhere else, stir up some new species in a petri dish, hatch them, let them grow, and then bring them here to the swamp for a test drive. What if they got out? Or you were in a car accident on the way?

  “‘What’s that noise coming from your trunk, sir?’” Emmet put his hands on his belt like a police officer might. Then he pretended to be sitting at the wheel of a car. “‘Oh, it’s really nothing, Officer. Just some prehistoric creatures I cooked up in the basement of my Homestead condo.’

  “It would never work,” Emmet went on. “And nobody smart enough to do this would take that chance. But if you were creating and testing those things here, you’d be a lot less likely to be discovered. If one got away, it might die and get eaten by something, or sink to the bottom of the swamp. Or even if it was found, like the one in the morgue, no one at the park is going to say anything. They would do exactly what your mom did. Keep the whole thing quiet to avoid a panic.” Emmet was getting more and more animated by the minute.

  “I’m not so sure,” Calvin said. “And even if you’re right about the ‘lab in the swamp’ part, it doesn’t mean he’s keeping your dad there.”

  “Just go with me for a minute. If this Dr. Caboose is working alone, I don’t think my dad would be kept too far from his lab. He’d need to watch over his animals and the hostage. And I don’t think he’d keep them both together, either, because he knows your mom is going to move heaven and earth to find him. If they find my dad and the lab, he’s toast. Maybe they wouldn’t be right in the same place, but I bet they’d be close to each other,” Emmet said.

  “Dr. Caboose?” Calvin arched an eyebrow. “Do you always make up goofy names when you’re nervous?”

  “Yes. It’s my thing. Like your shrug. But don’t change the subject,” Emmet said.

  “Shrug? What shrug? I don’t have a shrug,” Calvin said. Of course, he shrugged while he said it.

  “And that right there is what I’m talking about, but it’s not important right now,” Emmet said. “Where would you hide someone?”

  “I don’t …” Calvin hesitated. He walked over to stand in front of the map.

  “Calvin, the first day we got here and went out in your boat, your mom said you were the best ‘under eighteen’ Everglades guide in Florida. Your boat is in tip-top shape; you do everything right according to that Manny guy on the radio. When the boat was disabled, you fixed it with some sand and spit. You have the world’s biggest backpack and live in a tree house….” Emmet said.

  “I don’t live there,” Calvin insisted.

  “And Riley likes you,” Emmet said.

  “No she doesn’t!” Calvin said, his face starting to redden.

  “See, you’re getting mad. Try to think like Dr. Catalyst. You love the Everglades. It’s being destroyed. You are going to save it. Taking this hostage will make them close the park and start to repair the damage. So where do you, Dr. Calvin, hide your hostage?”

  Calvin sighed and gazed more intently at the map.

  “There … it’s just … there isn’t much out there,” Calvin started to say. “I don’t see how it would work. You’d need power and there’s hardly any way to get electricity out there.”

  “I thought you said your dad lived out there?” Emmet asked.

  “He did. But it was a really rustic camp. No electricity or running water. He used batteries for light and propane to cook with. To do all the things you’re saying, Emmet, it just doesn’t seem possible,” Calvin said.

  “There’s no electricity in the whole park?” Emmet asked.

  “There is, just not a lot of it. The ranger stations have power, and a few of the public areas, to pump in freshwater, but …”

  “What? But what … ?” Emmet said.

  “Nothing.”

  “Calvin …” Emmet said. “If you’ve got an idea you better spill it. Or … or … so help me … you … My dad is missing and if you’ve got an idea that might save him you better start talking.” Emmet stalked back and forth. He didn’t know what else to do. Calvin was so deliberate in everything he did and Emmet was desperate. Then he thought of something.

  “Speak. Or I’ll call up Riley right now and tell her you don’t like her and think she’s weird.”

  Calvin’s eyes got wide. “She is not weird, and you wouldn’t …”

  ”Swear to God, I will, Calvin,” Emmet said, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket. “I’ll call her right now.”

  “All right … all right! If I was going to kidnap and hide somebody, there might be one place,” Calvin said.

  “Where?”
>
  “Plantation Row. It’s way on the far side of the park where hardly anyone goes anymore. It’s where all the old, big sugarcane planters had mansions. Nobody has lived out there since the 1950s. But they must have used electricity back then, and it might be possible to get it turned on or use the existing power lines if you had the resources,” Calvin said.

  “Good,” Emmet said, snapping the phone shut. “Take me there.”

  “What? I can’t take you there. Are you insane? I would be in so much trouble. We’ll tell the rangers and they’ll …”

  “Do you really think they’re going to listen to me? I’ve seen search-and-rescue operations in the mountains in Montana. There are rules and grid searches and all kinds of —” He was interrupted by Dr. Geaux entering the office.

  “I just wanted to check on you before I went to talk to the press,” she said.

  “Is there any news?” Emmet asked.

  “No, I’m afraid not. But it’s a big park and —”

  “Mom,” Calvin interrupted her, “Emmet has an idea about Dr. Catalyst that makes a lot of sense.” Emmet stared at him, wondering why Calvin had changed his mind so suddenly.

  “What is it, Emmet?” she asked.

  “I … it’s … I was just thinking, if I were …” he stammered at first, nervous and on edge, but then gave her a short version of his theory.

  “I don’t disagree. That makes a lot of sense. But I’m afraid Plantation Row has already been searched by the county sheriff’s deputies. They didn’t find anything.” She tried to keep an upbeat expression on her face but failed. Emmet couldn’t hide his disappointment. He shuffled across the office and slumped into the chair next to the desk.

  “I’m sorry, Emmet,” she said. “We’re going to find him. You guys hang out here a little longer, and after my press conference we’ll go home.” She smiled as she left, but both of them could see the worry in her eyes.

  “Dang it,” Emmet said. Calvin didn’t say anything because he didn’t know what to say. Instead, he picked up the remote for the TV on the wall, punched the on button, and set it on a local Miami station.

  Emmet sat up straight in his chair and stared at the screen. They were expecting to see Dr. Geaux addressing the media. Instead, a very familiar face greeted them.

  He was standing outside the park headquarters in front of a group of protestors holding signs. He spoke into a reporter’s microphone and was wearing a green T-shirt that said SAVE THE EVERGLADES.

  It was Dr. Newton.

  DR. DOYLE CAME SLOWLY AWAKE. IT WAS A TOTAL effort of mind and body just to move. It felt like he’d been asleep for days. His arms and legs seemed unreasonably heavy and it took every bit of strength he possessed to lift his head from where it was hanging limply against his chest. The smell of swamp water was overpowering. He heard a splashing noise, and couldn’t process why he would hear water sounds indoors. Maybe he was outside in the swamp.

  He squinted with one eye, peering through the steelmesh cage, and was able to identify a cement wall. He was definitely inside. But he couldn’t understand how his other senses would tell him he was also in the swamp unless it was some sort of hallucination he was experiencing. His eyes were reluctant to fully focus, but looking down, he found himself seated in a chair. His arm wasn’t working correctly, and slowly he came to the realization that one of them was cuffed to the chair. But he didn’t know why.

  Remembering was difficult. He was somewhere in the Everglades doing something. Cameras. Setting up cameras. It was the last thing he could recall. There was no memory of how he arrived here. And now … he was … he had no idea.

  Squinting, he tried to make his eyes work, closing one and then the other, but raising his head caused the room to spin wildly and he quickly closed them. All he knew was that he couldn’t move yet and all he could think of was getting out of the chair and finding Emmet. He didn’t want him to worry. But his legs and arms felt funny and he couldn’t move. Why?

  Slowly the fog curtain in his brain lifted. Now he could lift his head and glance around without growing dizzy. Why was he inside a cage? He must be drugged or sick, because he could not fathom how he arrived here. Certainly he wouldn’t have climbed in and cuffed himself.

  The chair he sat in was placed upon a wooden platform, and through the mesh he spied water and swamp grass. Had someone built a hut in the swamp and trapped him inside it?

  There was a noise to his rear, something or someone splashing in the water. He could not move his head far enough to see what might be behind him.

  “Who’s there?” he mumbled, but his tongue was thick and his mouth didn’t appear to be working correctly.

  There was movement in the water to his left and now he was quite certain he was not alone. Something was inside the enclosure with him. Desperately he tried to clear his head, but whatever he’d been given was keeping him woozy. Fear trickled slowly into his mind.

  Another splash sounded, this time right in front of him. Had he not been chained down, he would have jumped up and run away screaming. A reptilian head attached to a long birdlike neck popped out of the water. It stared at him with raptorlike eyes. He gasped in alarm, and at the noise the animal opened its mouth and hissed. All Dr. Doyle could focus on was row after row of sharp teeth.

  As quickly as it was there it was gone, darting below the surface. He shook his head back and forth, noticing the water cooler. His tongue was thick and he was thirsty. Bent over at the waist, he clambered on unsteady legs to the faucet. Turning the spigot, he cupped the water into his hand and gulped down several mouthfuls. It gave only temporary relief and he drank more. Slumping back into the chair, he tried to think, but a few minutes later, a sleepy feeling overcame him, and though he tried fighting it, his eyes closed and could not be forced open.

  His head bobbed forward again, chin landing on his chest. Just as his head sank, the creature launched itself out of the water, gliding through the air. Its long claws raked across the steel mesh before latching onto the cage. It unleashed a low-throated bugling call and another creature answered its cry. Large jaws snapped closed as its eyes focused on Dr. Doyle inside the cage.

  Dr. Doyle would have no doubt screamed in fear at the abrupt appearance of the creature. But he was already unconscious.

  “WE OBVIOUSLY DON’T BELIEVE IN TAKING HOSTAGES,” Dr. Newton said. “And we think these hybrid creatures this ‘Dr. Catalyst’ has apparently bred need more study. But the sad fact is, as he indicates, pythons and boa constrictors are destroying the Everglades’ ecosystem. If he has a viable option for restoring the balance of nature, then he should have a seat at the table.”

  Emmet was stunned. Calvin wore a calm, thoughtful expression on his face, as usual. Except for his eyes. There was something in his eyes. Emmet wasn’t quite sure what it was, but it wasn’t shock or outrage. He knew that.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me! What is that jack wagon doing on television? And don’t you dare shrug. He’s on Dr. Catalyst’s side? I don’t believe it!” Emmet was almost shouting.

  The TV report cut back to the studio and Calvin turned off the set.

  Emmet launched himself out of his chair and was really pacing back and forth now.

  “He’s actually supporting this kidnapper?” he stormed.

  Calvin looked really uncomfortable. “I’m sorry you saw that. It’s like I told you, there are all kinds of people down here that believe a bunch of crazy things,” he said calmly.

  “There’s crazy and there’s crazy! Somebody. Kidnapped. My. Dad. Does no one understand that?”

  Emmet’s rant woke Apollo from his slumber and he sat up, watching as Emmet paced around the conference room. The dog whined and Calvin sat on the floor next to him and scratched his ears, for which he received a thorough face-washing in appreciation. Calvin didn’t complain, so Apollo flipped over on his back, waiting for the belly rub he thought he deserved. Calvin complied.

  Emmet couldn’t remember ever being this angry. So mad that
words failed him. It was bad enough some crackpot had taken his dad hostage. Now he had to see people out there who were on said crackpot’s side.

  He snatched the remote control off the desk and switched the TV back on. This time, Dr. Geaux was answering questions from reporters.

  “Will the park close?” came a question from a blond lady with a microphone.

  “In accordance with policies already in place, the park will be closed to civilian visitors until we locate Dr. Doyle. This will allow all search efforts to be coordinated and free from interference of non-search personnel,” Dr. Geaux said. She was using her formal “don’t mess with me because I’m the park superintendent” voice.

  “Have you received any direct contact from the suspect calling himself Dr. Catalyst?” another reporter shouted.

  “We have not been directly contacted by anyone claiming to be the criminal suspect in this case,” Dr. Geaux said.

  “Dr. Geaux!” another man with headphones and a microphone shouted at her. “I’m sure you are aware of the protests taking place right outside the park. Some environmental groups are actually portraying Dr. Catalyst as a hero. Do you have any comment on that?”

  Dr. Geaux’s face reddened. Even on television, Emmet could tell it was an all-out struggle for her not to reach out and strangle the reporter with her bare hands. She took a second to compose herself before answering.

  “The last time I checked, ‘heroes’ don’t kidnap innocent victims to advance their agendas,” Dr. Geaux said. “That’s all the time I have for questions. Anything further will be handled by the park media relations staff.” She turned on her heel and walked through the gate with her head up and shoulders straight. A woman of purpose. If he hadn’t been so frantically worried, Emmet would have congratulated her for her demeanor when she walked into the room a few minutes later.

  She glanced at the TV, which was already replaying her response to the last question of her press conference. Then she looked at Emmet.

  “I’m sorry you saw that,” she said.