by C. J. Waller
For a moment, it looks like Marcus is going to bite back, but instead, he sighs and sits back.
“Okay, this is my idea,” Fi says with all together too much enthusiasm. “We all have rope, yeah? And there are plenty of loose rocks and shit around. I say we go over to the headland with a bunch of those heavy rocks tied to the ends of the rope. We can also take more to chuck in, to make one hell of a disturbance.”
“So, what you’re saying is… chuck rocks into the water?” Marcus asks.
“Well… basically, yes –“
Even I could quite happily slap her for that one. What an idiotic idea. Chuck rocks in the water. Like that’s going to make a difference.
“Look, I know you all think I’ve lost it,” Fi says, “but what other choice do we have? We can sit here and kid ourselves that any movement we think we may or may not have seen is down to currents or whatever, but is anyone willing to wade in and test that hypothesis? Even if they were, I’d stop them, because we all know there's something in the water. We need something else. A distraction.”
“By chucking rocks in the water?” I say. I know they say desperate times call for desperate measures, but this has gone too far. “Even if its hunting strategy is based on vibration, it’ll also be using smell. They don’t just chuck stuff in the sea to catch sharks – they chum it, too…”
I trail off. The look Fi is giving me now is making me feel ever so slightly uncomfortable. It’s sort of caught directly between shame and triumph, which is a weird place to be.
“Yeah, of course. But I’ve thought of that, too,” she says. “Obviously, even if the creature is attracted by the racket we’re making, there’s still a good chance it might smell whoever is swimming and go for them anyway. So we need, uh, chum, too.”
“Chum?” Marcus says, flatly. “And exactly where are we going to get hold of that? We’re not exactly swamped with fishing gear, and whilst there’s quite a lot of shellfish out there, I’m not sure… whatever it is will choose mussels over a nice juicy human.”
There it is again. That look of shame and triumph. She’s already thought of that, obviously.
Then it hits me.
“Oh, no. No. You can’t be serious?” I say. “That’s… inhuman. Sacrilegious. No way.”
“I know it’s distasteful, Meg – but do you have a better plan? It’s not as if he’s going anywhere-“
“What?” says Janos. By the look on his face, he’s twigged on to Fi’s plan, too. “That’s monstrous!”
“Monstrous or not, it’s the only plan we have,” Fi says.
“Hey, hey, hang on – what plan?” Marcus asks.
“Haven’t you worked it out, yet?” I say. “We need ‘chum’. Which in the real world are half-rotten bits of fish. Now we don’t have any half-rotten fish lying about, but we do have…”
A little light dawns in Marcus’s eyes, followed by a disgusted grimace.
“You mean… Clark? Use Clark as chum? Oh, man – that’s sick!”
“As sick as it might be – what other choice do we have? Clark is dead. He doesn’t need his body, which is currently bloating up quite nicely down there. Whatever stink that creates, it’ll be a far more attractive prospect than whoever is swimming across the strait-“
“You hope,” I mutter.
Fi glares at me.
“And so who is going to do this noble deed, then?” Marcus asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm. This is one time when I’m actually happy he has such a hard time hiding his emotions. “You know, hacking up a dead man and dropping him into the water to either lie in pieces on the seabed, or be snapped up by some ancient monster of the deep? Because I’ll tell you one thing – it ain’t gonna be me!”
“Well, if you’re going to be squeamish-“
“It isn’t about being fucking squeamish,” Marcus says. “It’s about respect for the dead! Jesus, Fiona, you are a real piece of work sometimes.”
“And exactly what do you mean by that?” Fi asks.
“You know exactly what I mean. Sometimes I wonder if you need to get yourself checked out. You know, make sure everything is where it should be-“
“Fuck off, Marcus,” Fi snaps. They glare at each other and I can’t help but feel there’s more to this exchange than I realised. I always thought Fi and Marcus got on – when Nik was with us, I always got the impression they resented me, Brendan and Janos’s intrusion into their cosy little set up. Oh well, only goes to show, you know what thought did…
“He does make a good point, though,” Janos breaks in. “Who is going to do it? I suggest Fi, since it is her idea.”
At first, Fi doesn’t say anything, and I wonder if she’s going to try to wriggle out of it. In a way, she does.
“I’ll help bring Clark’s body up,” she says, “But since I’ll be the one swimming, I can’t get involved with the, er, chumming.”
“So, you’ll swim?” Marcus says. He doesn’t sound angry now. If anything, he sounds worried. First three, then two, down to one and that jazz. I can see it going through his mind.
“I’m the best swimmer here,” she says, without a trace of pride because we all know it’s true. Her Marine training means, when it comes to the physical stuff, Fi’s pretty formidable. “I'd skip across that strait in what… five minutes? Seven, tops? With you lot feeding the beast over the other side of the headland, I’ll just go hell for leather. Get over there. Should be a piece of cake.”
Yeah. A piece of cake. And if it wasn’t for the tremble in her voice, I might have believed her. But as it was, I didn’t. I don’t. She’s clutching at straws, and she knows it. Anything to get out of here.
“Look… Look… why don’t we just sit on this for a while?” I say. “We’ve been here, what, a day? Thirty-six hours max? It’s not that long. Okay, sure, it’s not exactly the Ritz, and the supply issue is an, uh, issue, but if we leave it a little longer, then maybe the thing’ll just go away. Why else would it hang around here?” I gesture to the vast stretch of open water beyond the headland. “He’s got all of that to hunt in. All of that versus this tiny strait. I’m guessing if it is as big as we think it is, it’s going to need big prey. Much bigger than a human. We’re over-estimating its intelligence. Give it another day and it’ll move off. It’ll get hungry and go and look for more suitable prey.”
“And how do we know that it’s gone?” Fi asks. “You think I haven’t thought of this? Meg, we could be here all fucking year, and might never work out exactly what that thing is or what its habits are. Another train of thought is that the strait is deep, making it a perfect ambush spot. What if we’re sitting right on top of its lair? What if it doesn’t leave because this is home sweet home? Then all we’ve done is deplete our already dwindling supplies by sitting on our hands. No. I say we do this. We do this now...” …Before I lose my nerve.
She didn’t have to say it, but I know that’s what she meant. And judging by the slow, serious nods Janos and Marcus are giving her, they know it, too.
“Hey – where’s Yuri?”
Brendan hasn’t spoken in so long, I kind of forgot he was with us. We all turn and he’s right – Yuri is nowhere to be seen.
“Oh, shit,” Fi says. “Where the fuck has he gone?”
“We have to find him,” Janos says. “Who knows what he will do?
“Throw himself off the cliff, if we have any luck,” Marcus mutters.
No one has the energy to rebuke him. Instead, we split up – I know every single trope out there says not to, but the danger was in the water, not on the island… well, at least we hope it isn’t on the island – and worked our way out, calling his name. In the end, Brendan found him, gazing over the water from the island’s highest spot, grinning like an idiot.
I don’t know what he told Brendan, but by the time we all arrived, Brendan was gazing with him, as if trying to spot something. When we asked him what he was looking at, he just shook himself and smiled, telling us it was nothing, just humouring Yuri until we al
l arrived to take care of him, but I’m not so sure. There’s a wistfulness to Brendan’s gaze that unnerves me. I don’t think this is a very healthy place for Brendan. I mean, it’s not exactly a health spa for the rest of us… but, I don’t know. Something tells me Brendan’s the one to watch.
With Yuri back with us, the others soon fall to arguing who is going to recover Clark’s body. If I’m honest, I’m only too happy to stand on the side lines and watch. I don’t care what Fi says, or how much Janos tries to rationalise it – I don’t like this. And judging by the grim look on Marcus’s face, neither does he. In the end, it is decided that Janos, Marcus and Fi will retrieve the body, using the remains of the dinghy to wrap it in.
Brendan and I will watch Yuri.
Actually, on second thought, I think I’d like to be on body duty.
***
As it happens, Yuri didn’t give us much trouble. We kept him away from the structure as going anywhere near to that white tower causes him to lapse into mutters, punctuated with the occasion shriek, and instead, we managed to keep him calm by letting him watch the water.
Brendan, though… he's a different matter. He’s definitely worrying me. He keeps looking back to the tower, as if it’s going to suddenly do something quite spectacular. When I question him – gently – about what he’s thinking, he jumps as if bitten and gives me a half-arsed response about how he’s just interested, considering everything. Interested. Yeah. Because standing there, muttering to yourself whilst giving a weird building what can only be described as ‘loving looks’ is totally the definition of ‘interested’.
It takes the others nearly an hour to get Clark’s body to the ropes. I kind of feel like a stressed out mother trying to keep an eye on two toddlers as I flit between Yuri and Brendan. I’m not sure I can trust either of them.
Brendan informs me the others are ready and that they’re calling from the antechamber. By the sound of it, they’re getting quite insistent.
“Meg? Brendan? Where are you?”
It’s Fi.
“For fuck’s sake!”
Yep, Marcus.
“Hey… sorry,” I say, and peer into the darkness. “Why haven’t you all just climbed up?”
“Not that simple,” says Fi. She emerges from the darkness looking stressed, and even though I knew she was there, my heart still jolts at her sudden appearance. “We’ve tied Clark’s body as best we can to the harnesses, but it’s going to be an… interesting job. Where are the other two?”
Now this is a good question.
“Yuri’s watching the water again. And Brendan… I dunno. I think all of this is getting a bit much for him.”
“And you think it isn’t for the rest of us?”
“No… no… that’s not what I mean. Surely, you’ve noticed it? I mean, I know he has far more caving experience than I do, but even I can see that something’s not right with him. He keeps staring at this place and talking to himself.”
I hear a sigh followed by a mutter from below.
“Yeah, we've noticed,” Fi says. She wanders to the door and looks out. There’s not much to see – she certainly won’t be able to spy Yuri, and I doubt Brendan’s visible, either, but she still looks. For a split second, she looks older than her years, and tired. “I'll be honest, I thought if anyone was going to lose it, it would be, well, you know…”
“Me?” I say.
“Yeah. Sorry, but you’re the one with the least caving experience. But Brendan… okay, so he’s a pup, there’s no getting away from that, but cave ecology is his thing. He shouldn’t be going loopy, not yet, anyway.”
“I wouldn’t say he’s gone loopy, as such…” I begin. Fi interrupts me with a chuckle.
“Okay, so, no, not loopy. But definitely ‘conspiracy theory’, anyway. It’s the reason I think the sooner we get out of here the better, and if that means taking a risk…”
She trails off. Even I can see she’s scared. I don’t blame her. A risk? Borderline suicidal, more like. This is it. All or nothing. If she succeeds, then we’re fine. If she doesn’t… yeah. I don’t think I need to draw a picture.
Together, Fi and I carefully haul up the ropes. Tied at the base is a jumble of ragged rubber and a whiff of something that makes my stomach heave. It takes everything I’ve got to untie Clark’s body, and even more to lift it out of the way. The body is heavy, but it has more to do with my unwillingness to touch him, even if he is wrapped up. Everything about this feels wrong, but we’re nearly there. Plus, I don’t think Fi would cope if I chickened out now.
We send the ropes back down, which Marcus and Janos scramble back up. A few minutes later, Brendan wanders back. He’s looking thoughtful.
“It’s out there,” he says. “I’ve seen it. It’s hovering around. I think it’s waiting to see what we’re going to do next. Isn’t that interesting?”
I stare at him. No. That isn’t interesting. In fact, it’s the dead opposite of interesting. Not boring; just something I really wished he’d kept to himself. Marcus snorts in derision, and I agree with him, even if it is only to keep my mind on an even keel. Waiting to see what we’re going to do, indeed.
“Yeah, right. I doubt that,” Marcus says. “It’s a dumb animal, Brendan – not some kind of malevolent force put in the lake with the prime function of fucking up our day. It’s probably hunting or something.”
Hunting, or something. Yeah. My stomach drops yet another notch. Thanks, Marcus. That makes me feel a whole lot better.
Fi rubs her hands briskly together.
“Well, we’re ready. We’ll use the rope, gather up a load of rocks – maybe some of those mussels as well, to add to the, ahh, chum mixture…” she pauses, and I’m glad she found that description as distasteful as I did. You know things have gone beyond desperate when you refer to one of your ex-colleagues as ‘chum mixture’. In public, with other people listening to you. “So we can create as big a slick as possible. We don’t need to attract it for too long – I reckon ten minutes tops – but even so, it’ll be tight.”
“So exactly how are we going to play this?” I ask. Not because I'm keen, but because I’m not prepared to be the one who takes the blame when this endeavour goes tits up.
“Well, I figure that I take my position at the water’s edge – not in it, because I don’t want my scent in the water until it is absolutely necessary. You guys then start chucking in rocks and slapping stuff around – you know, make a real commotion. Hopefully, that’ll be enough to pique the creature’s attention. If you see it, let me know. I can ready myself. Then on to phase two.”
Ahh, yes. Phase two. I don’t think any one needs to really detail that one, because we all know what that entails. Clark Chum.
“So…what are we going to do then?” I ask, as everyone else seems reluctant to ask. “Throw him in whole? Or…”
Look, okay. I know the answer. But I didn’t really want to face it. I don't want to be the one who makes that decision. Call me squeamish.
“I think the answer is ‘or’,” Janos says. “A body whole will not produce enough of a scent trail to attract the beast. For that, you need blood. And… other things.”
“Other things?” Marcus says, and screws up his nose. “Lovely.”
“You’ve been diving with sharks, Marcus,” Fi says. “You know what you have to do. I can’t help – I can’t get any of the scent on me. So it’ll be up to you guys. I know it’s pretty horrible – but this could be our only way of rescue. That’s what’s important. That’s what you have to hold on to.”
And that’s how I found myself standing on top of a cliff, knife in hand, with a decomposing body at my feet.
Lovely.
Chapter Seven
The spot we’ve chosen isn’t all that high, but it does have sheer sides that plunge into the frigid water below. Brendan tested the depth with the ropes, and it seems deep enough. We didn’t think he’d found the bottom, but I find myself trusting him less and less as time goes on, so I’m
not so sure. I don’t really know what it is. He hasn't done anything, or really even said anything, but he has this faint smile plastered on his face that gets my back up.
Time to stop worrying about that. I have bigger, better things to occupy me. Like, how do you actually butcher a corpse? The way Janos and Marcus are hesitating, I don’t think they know, either. I mean, it’s not really an everyday skill that one picks up when leading a normal life.
In the distance, on the other side of the headland, Fi’s kinetic torch blinks. We can yell – it’s not far, and in the perpetual silence of this massive cave, sound travels well – but, for some reason, yelling feels wrong, so we’re relying on lights.
The sequence of her blinks tells us she’s ready, so I gather up an armful of rocks and hurl them as far as I can. They spatter into the still water, forming endless concentric rings, which ripple out and merge into each other. They are quickly destroyed by another barrage supplied by Marcus. Beside him, Janos throws the first of the weighted ropes in. It has been coated in mussel-juice, which we’re hoping will help get the ball rolling.
Janos passes the rope to Brendan, who makes it dance a fandango. I throw in more rocks, and try to fight down the urge to giggle. This is fucking ridiculous. Maybe one day, I’ll be able to look back at this and have a right good laugh about it.
I hear retching sounds behind me. It’s Marcus, trying to hold it together. I can see why. Janos, with a look of utter disgust on his face, is in the process of trying to hack off Clark’s leg at the knee. The smell is incredible and bile tickles the back of my throat. Finally, the joint gives way with a nasty sucking sound, and Janos ties the severed limb to the other rope. I force myself to swallow down my building nausea, because I know this isn’t going to be the worst of it.
In the end, Marcus is the one who dangles Clark’s leg over the edge. He’s making these weird sort of wheezing sounds as he does it. Brendan glances over at him, but says nothing; just gives him that oddly irritating half-smile and then continues gazing over the water.
