Dead Bait 3

by Cody Goodfellow

  The far north has a certain stark desolation the likes of which no desert or war zone could ever hope to achieve. Even the most heavily populated areas seem to have been dreamt up for use in some existentialist’s nightmare. All around him, snowflakes sank from the sky as though their ankles were cast in concrete. Nothing else moved. The artists and housewives, hunters and children and everyone else seemed to have retreated indoors, but there were no lights in the windows.

  This was normal weather for these people. It seemed like they would be about their normal business, but he hadn’t been there long enough to say for sure. He wondered if there was some function that he had not been made aware of. If so, he would have to have a word with his secretary. It was of the utmost importance that he show respect for the people’s culture at all times. If this deal fell through under his supervision, he would, well… he didn’t want to think about that.

  Finally arriving at the city’s one high-rise, he took the elevator to the tenth floor and opened the door to find it just as empty as the street below. A quick glance at the wall clock confirmed that he hadn’t accidently come in at three in the morning again, so he walked to the window and peered out at the dead city below. Nothing. In that moment, he had the most ominous feeling of loneliness and dread that he had experienced since his parents had forgotten to pick him up from school in the third grade.

  “Where the hell is everybody? It’s Wednesday.”

  He pulled out his cell and called his secretary, but it went straight to voice mail. He dialed Arrluk and again straight to voicemail. He tried everyone in his phone including the pushy foreman whose calls he had been avoiding for weeks, but nobody was picking up.

  “Well, this is weird. Maybe, it’s some kind of Inuit holiday, where they can’t use electricity.”

  Then it finally hit him. The snow probably knocked out the cell phone tower the same way it had the electricity. Maybe, on days like this, the natives knew better than to go outside. Getting around was uncomfortable and dangerous, and any outside work would likely earn you more frostbite than money.

  He felt silly. He should be happy. There was no such thing as a snow day where he came from. His only problem now was what to do with it. He could go home and have another fight with his wife or catch up on the paperwork that had been piling up on his desk. His inner child vetoed both of those. It was a snow day. Why not go out and enjoy it?

  Maybe everyone was snow fishing. He had never been snow fishing. It sounded miserable, but it had to be better than spending time with the wife. He made his way down to the pier, but it too was abandoned.

  A heavy sheet of ice lay over the water, though he couldn’t tell how thick or how far it went. He had never been to a frozen lake before, let alone a frozen ocean, so he decided to make the most of it. He tried the ice with his foot and figured it was thick enough, but just to be on the safe side he found a large rock and hurled it as far as he could onto the frozen platform. It hit the ice and slid away without breaking through the surface, so Tom carefully ventured out to become a better Christian.

  It felt bizarre to walk on top of such a vast ecosystem. The ocean was not usually so hospitable to its prodigal children. He was so caught up in the novelty of it that he didn’t notice how far out he had gone until he started to hear strange cracking noises coming from beneath his feet. His heart fell right into his colon. He struggled to remember what he had been told to do in this situation, but the hurricane of panic which deluged his higher brain function had toppled trees to block every synaptic pathway. The closest thing to an intelligent thought that managed to traverse the horizontal forest was that running on ice was a bad idea.

  He made for the shore as delicately, and as quickly as his frozen toes would take him. “Don’t look back! Don’t look back! Don’t look back!” repeated in his head like a mantra, but eventually his curiosity got the best of him. When he finally gave in, he couldn’t believe his eyes. There were no signs of instability at all. He stopped and listened more closely. The sounds swirled darkly beneath his feet like auditory vultures. After listening a moment or two, he decided that they weren’t cracks at all, they were clicks coming from some sort of animals under the ice.

  His heartbeat slowed slightly and he snorted at his own paranoia. He wondered why he had suddenly developed a tendency to jump at shadows.

  “I don’t know what you guys are, but you sure scared the crap outta me. You’re gonna have to go play with somebody else. I have work to do.”

  As if in response, the clicking, which had been sparse and scattered, suddenly congealed into one pattern which shook the ice beneath his feet. He stumbled, slipping forward, but was saved from falling by a long twisted spike which shot up through his right foot and the calf muscle of his left leg. For once, he was glad that the wind had frozen him to the point of numbness. He could barely even feel the warmth of his blood as it trickled out of him to freeze in his clothes. Hardly any of it made it onto the ice.

  He expected it to withdraw at any moment, but instead it kept him pinned there while another came up through the other foot, crossing the first and reminding him of seventh grade biology and the games he had played with the dissection animals. He frantically waved his arms, hoping that someone might intervene, until with great precision, two more shot up through his wrists.

  “Oh God, what are these things?!!”

  A large section of ice exploded as a narwhal the size of a limousine rose up to answer his question. Propping itself on the remaining ledge, it glared down at him, the way one might at a roommate’s pet who had just chewed up one’s Gucci high-tops. It all began to make sense as he stared at the two giant teeth the creature had aimed at his torso. No sense in any logical or realistic terms, but sense nonetheless.

  He heard himself mumble, “One who betrays is a betrayer and must be punished.”

  His mind was flooded with questions. “How had they found out? How would a narwhal even comprehend the actions of a human? Why would they care? Whales are supposed to be smart, but…”

  The leviathan plunged forward, puncturing both of Tom’s lungs, almost snapping his spine in the process. It was then that he began to feel the tingling. Not the tingling of cold or shock. It wasn’t a fleshy tingle at all, but rather some metaphysical itch, like his being had been bitten by mosquitoes. He could feel the very shape of his soul began to warp as it was tugged in all directions by the tenacious tusks. He felt like a milkshake that was being shared by six hungry children. As the last of his soul swirled down through the calcium helices, he thought of the funny hats and polar bear shaped license places and couldn’t help but smile.

  Old Man and the Fish

  by Randal Tanabe

  Xiao Chen woke before dawn as he did every day and got ready to go down to the river. His family had fished the upper Mekong River for as long as there had been a river to fish in. Now the old man was the last in his line to carry on the tradition. His eldest son, Xiao Bo had once fished the river alongside him; until the boy had fallen overboard and was swept away by the Mekong’s unpredictable waters. Chen never saw him again.

  The old man had hoped his next eldest son, Xiao Jiang, would join him on the river. Much to his dismay, the boy held no such desire. Jiang was a smart boy, perhaps a little too smart, and he planned on leaving the village and going to Yunnan University. Chen didn’t really blame him. A life spent fishing the Mekong wasn’t easy, but it was the only life the old man had ever known.

  After dressing, he ate a simple breakfast consisting of rice, tea, and the leftover bok choy from the previous night’s dinner. His other two children were still asleep, so Chen left their breakfast on the stove. He cleaned his dishes and knocked on his son’s door.

  "I’m going. Don’t forget to wake your sister for school."

  Jiang mumbled something, and rolled over for another hour of sleep. Chen shook his head and left his house, making his way down to the river docks. His family’s life had been so much simpler when his wife, Xiao Mei
had been alive. She had died shortly after they had lost Bo to the river. Chen had come back from a day’s fishing, and found his children crying by the river. They told him that their mother had walked into the river that afternoon and drowned herself. Like their eldest son, Mei’s body was never recovered. Some days, Chen hated the river.

  This morning was not one of those days. Chen passed by his fellow fishermen who were already hard at work. Some mended nets while others made repairs on their boats. He waved good morning and checked his own skiff. The patches in the hull still looked good, so he pushed the boat into the silt-laden waters.

  His nets were set a little ways down river in a deeper area of the Mekong that was his family’s fishing grounds. The waters here were over thirty feet deep and had once teemed with fish. That had been a long time ago. These days, over fishing and upstream damming had taken their toll, and less fish were being pulled from the Mekong each year. Before Chen headed out, he said a prayer to his ancestors, hoping that his nets held one of the river’s legendary giant catfish. It had been years since anyone in the village had caught one. When that happened, it was a cause for celebration. People from far and wide would come to the village to see the catch before it was butchered and sold off. A large cat would bring in a good amount of money. There would even be enough of the fish left over to feed the village. Chen licked his lips thinking about the possibilities of fish head soup.

  His stomach grumbled and the old man shook his head, digging his paddle into the muddy waters. Now was not the time to be daydreaming about food or family. The nets would not haul themselves in, and without his eldest son, the task would not be an easy one.

  Chen came upon his family’s fishing grounds and started hauling in the first net. He didn’t expect much, yesterday’s catch had been barely big enough to feed his family. The old man was surprised when he saw the large cat tangled up in the net. Chen whooped with joy, praising his ancestors for heeding his prayer this day.

  The fish was a monster; at least ten feet long. Possibly the biggest cat he had ever seen. It’s grey head broke the surface, the enormous toothless mouth sucking in the brackish water like a giant vacuum. A fish that big had never been caught on the Mekong, though there were always stories about fisherman seeing cats that size. The monster fish thrashed about in the net, churning the water and rocking the skiff. Chen held onto the net, even as the fish threatened to break free. He had no idea how he would bring the cat in by himself.

  Bracing himself against the stern, the old man struggled to haul in the net. "I won’t let you get away."

  The cat stopped struggling and turned its head towards the old man. "Why do you want to catch me?"

  Chen yelled in surprise and let go of the net. He tumbled backwards in the skiff almost falling into the river. The old man gulped down a deep breath like a drowning man, and splashed some water onto his face. Had the fish really spoken? That was impossible unless the cat was a...

  He peered over the boat’s railing. Still entangled in the net, the cat bobbed in the turbulent water. It regarded the old man with unblinking jet black eyes, the tiny barbels around its mouth twitching.

  Chen leaned over the railing. "Are you a yaoguai?"

  The cat titled its head. "A what?"

  "A demon who takes the form of an animal."

  The fish made a noise almost like a laugh. "If I was a demon, would I tell you?"

  "What are you then? How is it you can talk?"

  The fish rolled its head. "I’m a fish. As to how I can talk, let me ask you a question. How is it you can talk?"

  Chen blinked. "I’m a human. Of course, I can talk. Fish on the other hand are not supposed to speak."

  "Why is that? How do you know we can’t speak?"

  The old man shook his head. "This isn’t happening. I’m not having an argument with a fish."

  "I beg to differ. You are in fact, having an argument with a fish. A rather annoyed fish. Here I was swimming along this fine morning, minding my own business, when I wind up stuck in ... what is this thing I’m tangled up in?"

  "That is my fishing net."

  The cat nodded; at least that was what Chen thought it was doing. "A net. I’ve heard of these things. Nasty. Clogging up our beautiful river. Catching my brethren and yanking them out of their home. You humans are terrible creatures. Why can’t you leave us alone?"

  "Because I need to eat. If I don’t catch fish, my family starves, and we run out of money."

  "What’s money?"

  Chen stood up and grabbed the net. "Bah. You wouldn’t understand." He began hauling the net back in. "I don’t catch fish because I want to. I catch fish to survive."

  The cat flopped about trying to break free. "Please don’t do this. I can help you."

  "Help me? What could a fish possibly do for me?"

  "I know that you lost your son and wife to the river. If you set me free, I could bring them back to you."

  "How could you possibly know about that?"

  The fish looked down at the river. "I’m a fish. I’ve swum through this river many times. I’ve seen things. Heard things. I saw when you lost your son, and when your wife walked into the river and drowned herself. I watched the river carry their bodies away."

  "If that is the case, why didn’t you try to save them?"

  "Because I’m a fish. My kind has seen the river claim many lives. That is the way it has always been. Your kind catches us, and we swim the river, watching the years pass by. Every year, there are fewer of my kind. Soon the river will be empty and no one will remember that we ever swam these waters."

  The old man sat down in the boat, the net still clutched tightly in his hands. He wasn’t sure if he believed the cat’s story. What if the thing was really a yaoguai? Was it trying to trick him? Somehow, it would lure him into the river so that it could take his life, or worse his soul? Chen stared into the fish’s dark moist eyes and watched its mouth open and close slowly. The creature reminded him of a neighbor’s puppy he once saw. It didn’t look like a monster. He felt himself loosening his grip on the net. What if the creature was telling the truth? Surely, it was a magical fish. How else could it talk? Perhaps, it was related to the legendary Kun, a giant fish rumored to live in the northern sea with the power to transform into a giant bird. If that was the case, this fish might have the power to bring his son and wife back to him.

  "If I let you live, how do I know that you’re telling the truth?"

  "You don’t. For all you know, I could be lying."

  Chen sighed and resumed pulling in the net. "Then I can’t risk losing you."

  The cat shook its body. "Wait! I can prove to you that I’m magical." The water frothed around the boat almost tipping it over.

  Chen let go of the net and gripped both sides of the boat. The old man cried out, wishing the fish to stop whatever it was doing. Suddenly, the river calmed and a small puppy floated to the surface. The tiny dog coughed up some water and began paddling towards the boat. Chen scooped it out of the water and held the puppy up. The little dog barked and licked his face.

  "This is the puppy my neighbors lost! It wandered away from its home a few days ago."

  The fish smiled. "I know. It slipped into the river yesterday and drowned. I used my power to bring it back."

  "That’s amazing." Chen sat down and stared at the fish. "You could do the same thing for my son and wife?"

  "I could, but not here. I would need to search the river. Find their bodies. The puppy was nearby. Otherwise, I couldn’t have brought it back so easily."

  The old man set the puppy in the boat and watched it walk around. "This is a miracle."

  "Then, do we have a deal? Let me go, and I’ll search the river for your family. It shouldn’t take me long. I know this river like I know my own body."

  "When do you think you can give my son and wife back to me?"

  "Free me now, and I’ll return them to you tomorrow. You have my word."

  Chen took out his pocketknife a
nd began cutting the cat free. "I will do it, noble fish. You are free! Promise me that you will return my family."

  The fish broke through the last strands on the net and dove into the river. It re-surfaced a short distance away. "I promise! Come to the river tomorrow and you shall be reunited with your loved ones!"

  With that said, the fish swam away. Chen retrieved the rest of the net, finding it empty of fish. He didn’t really care. Tomorrow, his family would be whole.

  #

  Chen returned to the village that night empty handed. He was ashamed that he did not catch anything, and wondered what he should tell his son and daughter. Would they believe his story about the talking fish? Looking at his empty boat, he had a hard time believing the strange events of the day. It was only when the puppy barked and wagged its tail that the old man remembered the miracle.

  He picked up the puppy and carried it home. His son and daughter were waiting for him, and had begun preparing their evening dinner.

  Jiang glared at his father. "About time you showed up, Father. That’s the strangest fish you ever brought home for dinner."

  Chen set the puppy down. "Good evening, my son. You won’t believe what happened to me on the river today."

  His daughter, Xiao Ni knelt down and petted the puppy. "Where did you find this dog?"

  "It belongs to our neighbors. I found it out on the river."

  "The river?" Jiang laughed. "What was a dog doing out there?"

  "The dog had fallen into the river and drowned, but a magical catfish brought it back to life."

  Jiang shook his head. "What are you talking about? Where is your catch?"

  "When I checked my first net, I found a giant catfish in it. The fish spoke to me and told me that if I let it go, it would bring back your brother and mother."

  Ni picked up the puppy. "Did it really?"

  "Don’t listen to this old man. First, he let our brother die and then our mother. Now he fails to bring home any fish and makes up stories to cover his failure."

  Chen slammed his hand down on the table. "I am not making up a story! The fish really spoke to me. It told me it would return your brother and mother to us."