"Have you been drinking again? Is that it?"
"How dare you speak to me like that! I am still your father."
Ni got between the two arguing men. "Stop it. The both of you. Mother and elder brother would not want you to fight."
The old man hung his head. "You’re right. They wouldn’t. I apologize."
Jiang turned away. "Did you really catch a talking fish?"
"I did. He promised to make our family whole again, if I let him go."
His son nodded and returned to chopping the vegetables for their meal. Chen knew his son still didn’t believe him, but he did not wish to start another fight. The old man sighed and sat down at the table. Chen supposed he couldn’t blame his son for being skeptical. Had he not spoken with the fish himself, he wouldn’t have believed his story either. It didn’t really matter whether his son believed his story. He had faith that the fish wouldn’t let him down.
Watching his children, the old man knew that things hadn’t been easy for them. Without their brother and mother, they had to shoulder more of the household burden. Ni carried the puppy outside before setting the table. Chen got up and helped his son finish up the cooking. Afterwards, they sat down to eat. They didn’t speak anymore about the fish.
#
Chen woke before dawn as he always did and got dressed. His children were already waiting for him in the kitchen. Five place mats had been set at the small table where they took their meals together.
"What’s this?"
Ni smiled. "I set places for everyone. We can dine together when we come back home."
The old man was pleased. At least, his daughter had faith. He looked at Jiang, wishing the same for his son.
Jiang rolled his eyes. "I still can’t believe we’re doing this. How do you know that your magical fish will even show up?"
"He’s an honorable fish. I know he will be there."
Chen led his family down to the river past the fishermen mending nets and repairing their boats. The family did not offer any greetings to their neighbors, though their passing drew curious stares.
Ni looked back at the fishermen. "Should we tell them about the miracle?"
Her brother scoffed. "What miracle? We haven’t seen anything yet."
For once, Chen and his son were in total agreement. "The villagers will know soon enough. We don’t want to scare away the fish."
They made their way a little down river and stood on the riverbank, the sun just breaking the horizon. The river was calm this morning, but there was no sign of the fish. They watched the sky brighten and saw other fishermen heading out to check their nets. Still the cat did not show.
"I knew this was a waste of time."
Chen knelt at the water’s edge. "The fish will come. Have faith."
Jiang grabbed his father’s arm. "There is no magical fish. You imagined the whole thing! I’m going home."
"No. The fish is coming."
Jiang let go of his father and snatched his sister’s hand. "Let’s go home, Ni."
"No." The girl pulled free. "I know that father’s fish will show."
The old man sighed and stared at the river. What if his son was right? Had he imagined seeing a talking fish? He just didn’t know any more.
"Father! Look!"
Chen stood up and looked where his daughter was pointing. A short distance from the shore, ripples radiated across the river’s surface. The old man walked into the water and smiled when the cat swam up to him.
"You came!"
The fish opened its mouth in what Chen believed was a smile. "I promised to come, did I not? Fish do not break their promises."
"Did you find my son and wife?"
The cat bobbed its head. "That’s what took me so long, but they’re here."
Chen gestured for his children who stared wide eyed at the talking fish. "Please, noble fish, make my family whole."
The fish dove back down and swam round and round. The water bubbled and frothed, churning so violently that the old man retreated to the shore. Seconds passed, then minutes, until a head finally surfaced.
Tears filling his eyes, Chen and his family staggered towards the river. Bo rose from the water, and Jiang and Ni cried out. Their brother stood before them, little more than a walking corpse.
Bo’s skin had turned gray from his years spent in the river’s torrid waters. Flesh and muscle were missing in places revealing bare bones. Both his eyes were gone, and when he opened his mouth, his upper teeth fell from rotten gums. Snails crawled across his body, while worms squirmed through his decaying flesh.
Behind him, Chen’s wife Mei shambled forth from the depths. Like her son, Mei was just a deathly shade. Her beautiful long hair was now gone and her bare arms were little more than bones. She groaned when she saw her family, muddy water pouring from the gaping hole that had once been her mouth.
The old man gasped and fell to his knees. Jiang and Ni fled back towards the village, their screams echoing in Chen’s ears.
The cat swam up to the shoreline. "Are you pleased?"
"What have you done?"
The fish seemed puzzled. "I did what I told you I would do. I brought your family back to you."
Chen stabbed a finger at his son. "That is not my son. You said you’d bring them back to life."
The fish looked at the two walking corpses. "No. I said I would return them to you. Bringing them back to life is impossible."
"But I saw you bring that puppy back to life."
"The dog had been in the river for only one day. Your son and wife were in the river for years. I did what I could, but my magic has limits."
Chen wrung his hands. "I did not want this. What do I do with these ... things?"
The fish bobbed about. "Why do you cry so? Your son and wife have come back to you. Take them home. Be whole again."
Bo reached for the old man. "Fa ... ther ..."
Chen threw himself at his son’s feet. "Please forgive me. I only wanted our family to be whole."
"Hus ... band ... whad ... hab ... you ... dun?"
The fish watched the old man wail and tear out his hair. "I’m sorry he’s so unhappy, but I gave him what he asked for. Honestly, I’ll never understand these humans."
With that said, the cat flipped its tail, and disappeared back into the river, leaving Chen with his family.
The End
SINKERS
by
Murphy Edwards
Jerry Lemmen piled into the Envoy next to Chappham, holding his arm, dripping blood on the seat. Chappham eyed the droplets staining his buttery leather interior. “You wanna watch that shit? I just shelled out two hundred to have the leather conditioned.”
Lemmen was glazed over. “That sumbitch got a piece of me. Didn’t even have time to react. He was on me like that,” he said, snapping his fingers.
Chappham pulled a rag out of the console, tossed it in Lemmen’s face. “Told ya to be careful, didn’t I?”
Lemmen bobbed his head. “I know, but that fucker is ruthless.”
Chappham held up the jagged nubs where the last two fingers on his right hand used to be. The skin was still bluish-gray at the tips. “You’re tellin’ me. I’m still healin’ up from the last time.” He put the Envoy in drive and pulled away from the docks. A thick fog was setting in, hiding the choppy water in a misty blanket of white.
They rode in silence, Chappham smoking and Lemmen nursing the gash in his arm. Lemmen finally broke the silence. “Fuckin’ Frank Cates. Man that guy was a royal pain, floppin’ and kickin’ and screamin’ that little girl scream of his, while that thing took him down.”
Chappham flipped a smoldering butt out the window and rubbed the back of his neck. “To top it off, he barfed in the boat.”
Lemmen snorted. “Didn’t have his sea legs.”
“Yeah, and then he didn’t have any legs.”
Lemmen started to cackle, and then caught himself. “Jesus, it was pretty awful, wasn’t it? I mean, the damn thing rol
led up outta’ the water and took Frankie like he was a five-piece chicken dinner.”
Chappham lit another cigarette and pulled smoke deep into his lungs. “Never seen it happen that quick before. It was vicious.”
Lemmen pressed the rag over the gash on his arm. The wound was still flowing freely, steady streams of thick, dark blood. “Did Ronney say what Frank did to deserve that shit?”
“Nah, you know the rules, we don’t get involved in that end of it. We just collect the stiffs and feed them to the beast.”
“But still…”
Chappham held up a hand. “But still my ass. Ron Ronney is hosting this dance. When Ronney says waltz, we hoof it. And we don’t stop till Ron says so. Not ever.
Lemmen lifted the rag from his arm. The bleeding had slowed to a trickle, but the flesh flapped like a kite in a stiff March breeze. He knew Chappham was right. No one ever questioned Ron Ronney’s business practices. Do that and you might well be the next one to go out on the boat and not come back.
Chappham eyed the gash in Lemmen’s arm. The slice was so clean and precise a surgeon could have made it. Having witnessed the attack, he knew that wasn’t true. When the thing’s head broke the water to snag Frank Cates, it was a blinding flash of razor sharp teeth inside a slimy green mouth. The jaws stretched back over the gaping maw to reveal not two, but three staggered rows of teeth—teeth designed to do one thing—rip flesh. Then there was the horrid clacking sound of teeth snapping together, gnawing through tissue, vessels and bone. Lemmen’s arm got caught up in the fray. Now he was getting an ashy complexion. “Best get that looked at,” said Chappham, chin nodding at the gash. Lemmen shook his head and closed his eyes, letting the hum from the Envoy’s tires lull him to sleep.
***
They got back to Camden just before dawn. Chappham wanted breakfast, a shower and a stiff shot of bourbon. Lemmen just wanted to forget. Chappham eased up to the curb outside Lemmen’s apartment. “Last chance. Sure you don’t wanna get the arm checked?”
“Nah,” Lemmen lied. “It’ll be okay. I just need to get some sack time. I’m beat.” Lemmen did want to get the arm treated, maybe even have a dozen stitches thrown over it, but he didn’t want to take any chance of Ron Ronney getting wind of it. Ronney would consider it weak—a loose end. Ron Ronney hated loose ends. Lemmen watched Chappham ease the Envoy out into traffic and drive away, then staggered up the steps and flopped on the couch.
The wound was hot to the touch and turning black. Thick yellow fluid oozed from the center. He stumbled to the kitchen, uncapped a bottle of Jim Beam, and he splashed some on the gash. A surge of pain ran up his arm and shot out his eye. He filled a water glass, emptied it in one gulp and refilled it. After the third glassful, he rummaged through his closets and found a first aid kit, a pack of sewing needles and some thread. He spread it all out on the kitchen table and spooled out some thread.
His hand trembled as he threaded the needle. Twenty-four holes, twelve stitches, no problem.
He took a hit of bourbon, jabbed the needle in, pinched the skin together and drew the thread tight. One down, eleven to go. He bit into the heel of his hand and waited for the pain to subside. After twenty grueling minutes, the bourbon was gone and the wound was closed. He passed out in his chair, his head lolling on the table.
He woke with a dull ache in his neck and a ringing in his ears. His fingers were numb. The stitches in his arm grinned at him like a scarecrow’s mouth. Outside, it was dark. How long had he slept? The ringing in his ears continued.
The phone.
Lemmen felt his stomach roll, tasting bile on his tongue. It had only been two days since the Frank Cates job, but he knew who it was. He could feel it down low in his gut. He let the machine get it. The voice was low and threatening: “Don’t mess with me Lemmen, I know you’re there. I don’t wanna hafta come lookin’ for you.” Ron Ronney.
Lemmen acted as if he’d had to make a mad dash to get to the phone, faking a puppy dog pant. “Ron— whoa— sorry there—you caught me in the can. You know how it is.”
“Don’t try and shit me Jerry, I know you too well.”
Lemmen let out another long, fake gasp. “Hey, you can’t ignore the call of nature.”
“Put a cork in it. You’re wearin’ me out. Be at my place in an hour, there’s work to be done.”
Ron Ronney’s place was an abandoned cannery in the warehouse district. Lemmen hated the cannery. It smelled of greasy tuna guts and rancid fish oil. He’d never made it through a meeting at the cannery without barfing off the back dock. Ronney would just clap him on the back and tell him to get some balls, then toss him a roll of paper towels and tell him to clean himself up.
When Lemmen got to the cannery, he spotted Chappham standing next to his jet black Envoy, smoking like a fiend. He pulled up next to him and gave him the ‘what gives.’ Chappham dropped his smoke to the pavement and crushed it under his heel. “Ronney’s havin’ a calf.”
“No shit,” said Lemmen. “She called my place, sounded like she was gonna blow a gasket.”
Chappham rubbed his palm over the hood of the Envoy, shaking his head. “Freakin’ salt water’s wreckin’ my clear coat.”
“Who gives a toss? What the hell’s wrong with Ronney?”
Chappham shrugged. “All’s I know is there’s some kinda rush job. It’s got to be done tonight.”
“Tonight? You kiddin’ me?”
“Ron says it won’t wait.”
“Where’s…?” Before Lemmen could finish, a pearl white Lexus pulled into the lot and parked next to the cannery office. The door swung open revealing a pair of long, tanned, shapely legs. Ron Ronney stepped out and brushed a silky strand of auburn hair from her eyes. There was a gold cigarette case in her hand. Chappham watched her open it, select a smoke and slide it gently between her red, pouty lips. She snapped the case shut and waited for Chappham to offer her a light. He obliged. She took a deep drag, seducing the smoke into her lungs. “Bennie Smale. You know him?” she asked.
Chappham shrugged. “I know of him.”
“And you?” she said, pointing the glowing tip of her cigarette at Lemmen.
“He’s a lawyer, isn’t he?”
“He’s scum!” shouted Ronney.
Lemmen scratched at the bandage on his arm. “Ain’t that the same thing?”
Chappham stood behind Ronney, making a slicing motion across his throat with his finger, indicating Lemmen should knock it off.
Ronney exhaled a wall of smoke in Lemmen’s face. “You’re funny. I like a guy with a sense of humor.”
Lemmen looked at her face, trying not to stare. She was a knockout. Watching her smoke was getting him aroused. He considered whether giving her a jump would be worth being turned into fish food. He felt the gash in his arm throb and decided he would pass.
Ronney reached into her purse and retrieved a yellow envelope. She opened it and held up a photo of Smale. “Bennie has worked for the Ronney family since I was in diapers. In that time, he’s been privy to some, shall we say, sensitive information.”
Lemmen rubbed his chin with the back of his hand. “How sensitive?”
Ronney arched an eyebrow, her hazel eyes taking Lemmen and Chappham in. “Sensitive enough for me to call you two meatheads. Now don’t interrupt me again. Got it?”
Lemmen hushed.
“Long story short,” Ronney continued, “Bennie Smale has outlived his usefulness. Understand?”
Both men nodded.
“He’ll be at the Blue Star. Know the place?”
“I do,” said Chappham. “When?”
Ronney rolled the cigarette in her lips, giving Lemmen a little show. “The last four months? Every damned day of the week. He shows up when they open, doesn’t leave till last call.”
“You sayin’ he’s got an alcohol problem?” asked Lemmen.
“Not unless he runs out.” She dead-eyed Lemmen. “See, I can be funny too.”
Lemmen was silent.
“Ho
w you want it done?” asked Chappham.
“Snag him in the parking lot. Make it clean. You make a big scene and it’ll get messy. I don’t like messy.”
“What about his car?”
“I got other people to take care of that. You two just hook Smale, take him to the lake, and sink him.”
Lemmen scuffed his foot on the broken concrete and waited a beat. “About the lake, I…”
Ronney’s eyes widened. “Yes?
“Well, it’s just…”
“Out with it. I don’t intend to stand here all night freezin’ my tah-tah’s off. I got places to be.”
Lemmen swallowed hard, coaxing up the nerve to continue. “It’s that thing out there. It’s hideous.”
“That’s not my concern,” Ronney sniffed. “If it were, I’d be doing this myself, instead of relying on you two.”
“Have you seen what it does? How it tears a man apart?” Lemmen’s lip began to tremble. “It’s not a fish, that thing’s…it’s some sorta…”
“An abomination?” Ronney interrupted.
“Exactly,” said Lemmen. It’s ravenous. If it ever gets out of control, I mean really goes ‘balls out’ on us; I don’t think we could stop it. Nobody could.”
Ronney stared at her perfectly polished fingernails, letting Lemmen boil like a lobster pot. When he’d leveled off, she caught him by the collar and drew him up close. “You silly shit. What’d you think you’d be doing for me, giving these dinks a ride on a Tilt-A-Whirl and spanking them with a fly swatter? This isn’t business, you yuck, it’s war. My war. And I intend to win. If it means using some ugly, smelly piece of fish meat to do it, so be it.”
Chappham stepped in, trying to rescue Lemmen without raising Ronney’s ire any further. “Jerry didn’t mean nothin’. He’s just antsy. We all get that way sometimes.”
Ronney tugged Lemmen’s collar, drawing him in closer, close enough to give him a good whiff of her perfume. Shalimar. “Just do your job and spare me the ‘Creature Feature’ details.”
Dead Bait 3 Page 9
