“So he’ll either hunker down for a while or lash out in anger at us.”
“We want the latter, right?”
“Usually, I would say yes, but I don’t know,” said Blue Star. His instincts were that Mr. Darwin was trouble; there was something about the situation that was bothering the back of his mind. “We need to be on our guard - this might be a tough Season.”
Chapter 15
5:41 p.m., Saturday, April 13th, 2013
100 Lighthouse Road
West Pacific, CA
There was no way around it: the retaining wall had cracked. Seawolf stood barelegged in her Waverider shorty wetsuit and sighed. She had been putting off this repair for quite some time now, in the futile hope that the wall would somehow fix itself. Of course, delay had only worsened the problem. At this point, the entire seawall would have to be replaced, which would run into the tens of thousands no doubt. She ran her webbed fingers through the cold water one last time and began the climb up the hill to her house.
Buying the historic lighthouse just off the West Pacific harbor and restoring it to its pre-Invasion condition had been a long-cherished dream. She signed the papers the first year her salary topped five million, more than half a year’s income gone with the stroke of a pen. She had felt exhilarated and frightened to spend that much money all at once. But the drain on her bank account never stopped. There were major structural problems that had to be addressed immediately, then the bare necessities of modern life, such as hooking up to the power and water grids. Her biggest challenge had been raising the causeway that ran the two hundred feet between the mainland of West Pacific City and the island on which the lighthouse was built, so that she could reach the island at high tide. The costs of that had run into the millions, especially after she’d been sued by that damn historical preservation society. You’d have thought they would have been pleased by her efforts to restore the property, but once she’d made it clear that she wasn’t interested in having the public traipse through her living room, they’d started raising all sorts of legal challenges. She’d even been forced to seek out sponsorships other than Waverider to pay her bills. The team PR people had been thrilled, but she hated having to film commercials and MC surfing competitions.
The endless construction postponed her housewarming party for years, until finally Sarah talked her into holding one. Seawolf shuddered to remember how humiliating it had been to see her team members struggle to praise the work she’d completed, even though they were clearly taken aback by all that remained to be done. That was the last time she had invited anyone here, though in the subsequent decade the lighthouse really had come along nicely. She couldn’t believe that Starfish had made that crack at the first team meeting about her ‘leaky lighthouse’. After all these years, and that was what the team still thought about the place. People never remembered the good things you did, only the things you did that failed.
She wiped her feet on the grass outside the back door and headed up to her studio on the second floor. Her art was her way to work through the primal urges she could not explain: the claustrophobia she felt when she was inland too long, the way the sea called to her sometimes at night, the almost orgasmic relief she felt when she ran down the hill and dived into the waves. Sometimes she wished she had someone to share all of this with, but of course no one could truly understand. Her mutancy set her apart from everyone else on the planet. One of the counselors at the Institute was always going on about how wonderful it was that they were all unique, but she knew the truth. People played up how everyone was unique - unique fingerprints, retinas, voice prints, DNA - only because they were so like everyone else. At the end of the day, it was commonalities that made life bearable. And for someone who looked like the love child of a werewolf and a mermaid, as one particularly snarky superazzi had once written, there was no one else to be like.
Her latest project was a mixed media sculpture of a faceless woman rising from the ocean. She had built the skeleton from driftwood, laid over with short pieces of dried algae. She tried not to think too much about her art, just letting the creative spirit move through her, but she wondered at the symbolism of the piece. For some reason, the ocean that the woman was emerging from was composed of trash that the sea washed up on the rocks down below. A critic would probably ascribe some environmental message, but like her house, Seawolf kept her art private. She laid a sun-washed can at the base and headed downstairs to start dinner.
Another advantage to living alone was that she could eat whatever she wanted without feeling defensive. Of course, with sushi having become commonplace over the last few decades, her preference for lightly seasoned undercooked fish wouldn’t raise many eyebrows today. She opened the window over the sink to let in the salty evening air and tipped a little olive oil into a skillet. During the Season, she didn’t have enough time to go fishing herself, but she always tried to get fresh catch down at the harbor market. Today she had scored a beautiful tuna and she filleted it with quick, confident cuts of her knife. The oil was popping now and she flicked the thin pink slices in, inhaling the aroma.
Her food-reverie was broken by her HoloBerry’s ring. She glanced at the caller ID: Coast Guard.
“I’m at home, Paul,” she said as she answered with one hand, using the other to carefully lift the barely braised slices out of the skillet and arrange them on a waiting plate.
“Great,” said Paul. “We just got a report of a boat in distress about two clicks from your place. You can be there a lot faster than… ”
“Send the coordinates,” she said, before he had a chance to finish. She glanced regretfully at her meal. It figured that her first day off in weeks would get interrupted.
“Done,” said Paul. “Thanks. We’ll be following…”
“I’m on it,” she said curtly, clicking off the call and plotting the coordinates he had sent. More like 2.2 kilometers actually, up the coast not far from Industrial Island. This would at least be a nice diversion from the Avalon One case that Annie had assigned her. God only knew how she was supposed to get anywhere on that investigation when all she had to go on was a vigilante report of some thug of questionable character saying that the headquarters of the people who’d stolen the PGZ was somewhere out at sea. Typical that everyone would assume that just because the ocean looked flat it was easy to search. As she tried pointing out at yesterday’s debriefing about the Grand Colonial excitement, the ocean was three-dimensional, and it was far more likely that any secret base was located in a submarine installation than sitting obviously above water right off the coast. Of course, Annie and Blue Star hadn’t cared; as far as they were concerned, Seawolf was in charge of ocean investigations, and with everyone else tracking down the villain du jour Mr. Darwin, and dealing with an unexpectedly large number of minor supercrimes in the city, she was expected to suck it up and work miracles.
Seawolf used two claws to lift one of the fillets and swallowed it in one smooth motion. Delicious, but the rest would have to wait. She locked the door behind her, slipped her HoloBerry and keys into the waterproof pouch on her utility belt, and loped down the hill before diving into the cold dark waves below.
The vessel was a pretty little yachting sloop, 36’ and an inboard engine, probably a day sailor judging by the name “3x the Charm” scrawled in purple cursive. It was laying at anchor a couple hundred yards off the coast near a little rocky island, but Seawolf quickly saw several ominous signs: a stainless steel handrail bent clean to the deck, a two-foot-long gash in the mainsail, the dark red stain of blood pooling off the side as if someone had been dragged overboard. Even from here she could smell the blood: it was less than two hours old, probably, and mixed with something salty. As she treaded water and considered whether to approach via the ladder to the swimming platform, something brushed against her foot. She kicked absentmindedly, but it didn’t go away - in fact, it moved back more aggressively, grasping onto her ankle. It felt like algae, but algae with fingers that were trying to pu
ll her under. Definitely worth investigating. She took a deep breath and dropped down under the water to take a look around.
The second membrane closed over her eyes to allow her to see perfectly underwater, even in the lower light. There was a kelp bed down here, giant bladder kelp from the looks of it, long blades and gas bladders waving in the ocean current. Kelp forests like this were not uncommon off the coast; what was uncommon was the mass of sea plant that had latched onto her ankle. It had no discernible holdfast anchoring it to the rocky bottom; in fact, it appeared to be wholly mobile. If that wasn’t strange enough, there was the matter of the three glowing blue eyestalks that were staring right at her…
In a rush of water, the kelp creature launched itself at her, wrapping dozens of long grey-green tendrils around her legs, torso, and head. She lashed out instinctively, letting her body take care of the fighting while she focused her brain on figuring out what the hell this was. Some new form of deep sea life, perhaps or maybe a mutated clump of semi-sentient kelp. Or a fully intelligent mutant plant person. Her right hand was free now and she used it to unstrap the LED dive light from her utility belt, deftly flipping it on and thrusting it towards the bizarre eyestalks. The thing recoiled from the bright light, withdrew from its attack, and darted swiftly down into the kelp bed.
Seawolf hovered in the water, trying to figure out where it had gone, but it was perfectly camouflaged down there. The kelp bed was Macrocystis pyrifera alright - one of the fastest-growing plants on Earth, a type of brown algae that could reach 150 feet long, with individual growth spurts of up to two feet a day. She wondered whether the creature’s appearance near the boat in distress was coincidence - not likely. Still, she needed to check on the boat, figure out exactly what had happened up there, and help any survivors. She kicked up towards the surface.
To her surprise, her lower body was ensnared again - long tendrils had shot out from the kelp bed, wrapping around her and pulling her down. This was getting annoying. She raked at the tendrils with her claws, trying to slice through them and break free. As she did that, something caught her right arm - something thin, rubbery, and strong as hell. It whipped around her upper arm and then electrocuted itself - a nifty power she had to admit, as a couple hundred volts surged into her body. Time to play hard ball.
Seawolf, still shaking from the electricity and feeling a little numb, rolled into a somersault, lashing out when she was halfway around and face to face with the second creature. This one was bizarre, some sort of cross between the first kelp creature and an electric eel - with ribbon-like appendages that darted around maliciously. It seemed to be working in tandem with its friend - so definitely on the sentient side of things she decided. She twisted her left arm around and clawed at the appendage that was holding her, ignoring the immediate pulse of electricity. It took a couple of strikes, but she soon raked through it and the creature pulled back a minute, as if regrouping. Kelp-boy kept its grip on her lower legs, however, making surfacing impossible.
The air situation was starting to become concerning. She could hold her breath for over 10 minutes but the lack of fresh oxygen to her muscles would eventually weaken her. In some ways Seawolf preferred solo fights like this one - no camera crew or Ops director to insist on witty one-liners or showcase power usage. On the other hand, if she got into trouble out here, there was no one to send backup. Of course the Coast Guard would come eventually, but they probably wouldn’t find her corpse down here in the kelp bed. She wondered how many more were down here. Only one way to find out.
She dived down towards the original Kelp-boy, following the appendages holding her legs right down to their source. He wasn’t expecting that, she noted with grim satisfaction, as the three eyestalks widened in alarm from their hiding place behind a gas bladder. Eel-thing was close on her tail, but she had been counting on that. She grabbed Kelp-boy with one hand and used him as a shield against Eel-thing, who improperly timed his electric discharge and poured a couple hundred volts into his buddy, who went limp with shock. She pulled from her last oxygen reserves to fuel an acrobatic attack of claws and teeth against Eel-thing, guessing correctly that he needed some recharge time between uses of his electric power. She was merciless; fighting with the abandon of a cornered wolf, hacking off any appendage she could lay a claw on. A flash of black and white spots warned her that she was truly running out of oxygen. Thankfully, her opponents had run out of appendages. She kicked up and out into glorious air, pulling with her the battered torsos of Kelp-boy and Eel-thing, and launching them and her onto the deck of the boat with one final burst of energy.
Given what she’d just faced in the water, Seawolf wasn’t holding out much hope for the day sailors. After taking a moment to pull tentacles and various kelp-bits off of her, she moved quickly below deck, following a trail of bloody water. Food and flatware was strewn across the galley, and there were signs of struggle throughout: a picnic lunch on a tray smashed against a wall, puddles of water on the furniture, a long strand of kelp wound around a cabinet door quivering ominously. She touched the kelp tenuously and was surprised when it jerked around her hand - probably some sort of delayed reflex motion, or maybe not…
Her wolf-like ears perked at a noise coming from the forward berth. She dashed lightly forward and quickly stripped the mattress off the bed to reveal the storage compartment below. The hatch was stubborn, but she pulled hard, ripping it open to reveal a child of perhaps eight years old cowering below. As his eyes met hers, he started to scream. He didn’t stop until the Coast Guard arrived and a nice human medic led him away.
Paul looked doubtfully at the long strand of kelp around the cabinet door. “Looks like seaweed to me,” he finally said, scratching his sunburned forehead.
Seawolf frowned. “I’m sure it was the appendage of mutant sealife of some sort. Earlier it was even responding to touch. It’s most likely from one of the creatures I found underneath the water.”
“Right,” he said, gingerly prodding the kelp, which now hung limp and unresponsive. “I believe you - it’s just that we don’t have any bodies and well, you know how turned around things can get down there.”
“I do not get turned around! However, what I fail to understand is what happened to the bodies I threw on the deck. I did defeat two mutant sea creatures of some sort.” She stared hard at him, daring him to disbelieve her.
“Well, they weren’t up there when we arrived,” he said with a shrug. “Listen, Seawolf, I don’t doubt you. If you say that mutant sealife did this, then mutant sealife did it. But for report purposes, we’ve got three missing adults, one traumatized kid, and no mutant sealife. We’ll put an advisory on the area - that’s the best I can do without more evidence.”
She nodded. It was deeply disappointing that the bodies had disappeared. She didn’t think it likely that the Coast Guard liaison with the team would be concealing something; she had known Paul for too long. It was probably the work of another mutant associated with the first two. Paul had suggested that the bodies had simply slipped overboard, but that was idiotic given the configuration of the deck. The only other possibility was that one of the creatures hadn’t been completely dead, and that it had managed to propel both of them off the boat. Of course, if she hadn’t stayed below with the screaming child, she could have prevented whatever had happened from happening.
“We have to get this boat back,” Paul said. He pulled absentmindedly at his faded blue Coast Guard ball cap. “Hey, you want to get dinner or something this weekend? Maybe we could catch a movie too; there’s a new one coming out about a typhoon.”
She stared at him, dumbfounded. Paul suddenly looked very nervous.
“I don’t date,” she said icily.
“Oh,” he said. “Well, I just thought…but, okay. Maybe another time…You coming in with us?”
Seawolf glared daggers at him. “No, I’m going to investigate the surrounding waters a bit more.”
Paul frowned. He still looked nervous, but he didn’t move. �
��It’s almost nightfall, Seawolf, and it looks like it’s going to rain. If there is mutant sealife out there, this isn’t the best…”
“Don’t tell me my business,” she snapped. Paul looked like she’d slapped him.
“Okay,” he said finally. “I know I can’t stop you. But be careful. There’s something strange going on here.” His shoulders sagged as he headed above.
She nodded, uncomfortable in the face of his obvious concern. For a regular human, Paul was a decent enough guy. He must be out of his mind though to ask her out on a date.
She made her way to the rocky islet as the Coast Guard got the sailboat and their rescue craft underway. She had the island covered in 30 minutes and there was nothing of interest on it at all. Which meant that either the mutants hadn’t come from this area or that they operated primarily underwater. She sighed. It was dark now and drizzling; even for her it would be stupid to begin an undersea investigation. Paul had been right - this would have to wait for daytime. She looked regretfully in the direction the Coast Guard cutter had gone. She couldn’t call for a lift now, not after the scene she’d made. It was going to be a long, cold swim home.
Chapter 16
8:43 a.m., Sunday, April 21st, 2013
5825 Meadowearth Lane
West Pacific, CA
Camille had almost forgotten how beautiful West Pacific looked from the air. Even with this morning’s light drizzle, the view was incredible, especially the curve of the harbor with the white-peaked waves playing against the breakwater. There were new buildings on the skyline too. The Tomorrow Super Mall and Convention Center was a mammoth glass and steel structure that looked like a fractured mirror from above. She still remembered when Pacifica Super Mall had opened; they’d called it the pinnacle of the modern commercial experience. Apparently, the modern commercial experience had reached new heights. There was also the new baseball stadium, named the Sarah Minoli Stadium in honor of Supersonic Cat, who had loved the West Pacific Samurai and used to throw out the first pitch of the Season. It seemed wrong though that they’d used the name of her secret identity. Sarah had always been intensely private and Camille thought she’d have mixed feelings about this particular honor.
West Pacific Supers: Rising Tide Page 19
