Loch Ness Revenge

by Hunter Shea

  “Go to bed, dillweed.”

  “If I can even sleep after this.”

  I forgot to tell him to get a flight into Inverness Airport so I don’t have to travel all the way to Edinburgh or Glasgow. I wait a while, giving him time to pass out from booze and my crazy news, then text him the best way to get here.

  My stomach grumbles and I shuffle to grab a granola bar. I’m two bites in, sitting in the captain’s chair of my traveling home, looking at the sun’s rays shafting between the canopy, when I feel sleep tugging at me again.

  My last thought before I give in is: take it while you can, because once Austin gets here, you’re not sleeping until even George W. can say ‘mission accomplished’ and mean it.

  Chapter Six

  I haven’t seen Austin in over a year. The last time he came to Scotland was for two whirlwind days while on his way to Paris to meet a woman he met online. He spent most of that time making fun of my RV. I wasn’t unhappy to see him go, but missed him immediately.

  When I see him at the airport, I barely recognize him.

  He’s a heck of a lot broader, the stubbled edges of his hairline creeping back, giving him a wicked widow’s peak. His swollen muscles ripple beneath his tight-fitting shirt. He doesn’t resemble my dopey older brother. He looks, well, like a bodybuilder with a chip on his shoulder.

  But he can’t change his smile. He drops his bag and crushes me to his chest with one arm.

  “Look at you, ‘roid boy,” I say.

  “I’ve been preparing.”

  “For what? A part on the new Jersey Shore?”

  “Hey, while you’ve been doing your thing, I’ve been doing mine. Just because I haven’t been here doesn’t mean I’m not down with our plan.” His bag is almost as long as he is and looks heavy as hell. He easily slings it over his shoulder. No wheeled luggage for Mr. Universe.

  “You are aware that when we do find those things, you’re not going to be wrestling them, right?” I say, guiding him to the parking lot. It’s a particularly warm, cloudless day. Heat waves rise from the baking blacktop.

  “You don’t know that,” he says, laughing.

  I hate flying. Airports, naturally, remind me of being on a plane. It’s part of the reason why once I landed in Scotland, I’ve stayed put. It would have been easy to go back to the States when winter set in. I vowed the next time I’d get on one of those vile flying tubes, it would be to go home for good.

  I’m happy to leave the airport. Just being there gives me anxiety.

  The Bug is a tight fit for my oversized bro and his bag. He can’t help but spill into my side of the car.

  “This should be fun,” he says.

  “At least the drive from Inverness will be quicker than if I’d let you land in Glasgow. I’d have had to cut the roof off of Eileen for a trip that long. You could ride like Dino on the Flintstones.”

  “Can I make one tiny request?” His hand is out the window, riding the wind current.

  “No, I can’t get a bigger car.”

  “I want to make one stop.”

  “You should have gone back at the airport.”

  “Ha. No, I want to see the Loch Ness Visitor Center in Drumnadrochit.”

  I glance at him with exasperation. “Now why on Earth do you want to go there?”

  He gives a sly smile. “I promised my lady friend I’d bring her back a souvenir.”

  “You want to go souvenir shopping?”

  “Yeah. I figure it’s better to get it out of the way now. Later, we’ll have other things to do.”

  “I should tell you no.”

  “Ah, but you won’t. You’re so happy to see me, if I asked you to stand on your head and sing show tunes in the town square, you’d do it.”

  “I haven’t missed you that much, Austin. No one could miss you that much.”

  He put his hand over his heart. “You hurt me with words, sis. Right in the aorta.”

  I pass by a trio of cars moving so slow, I’m tempted to flip them the bird, even when I see they’re driven by old ladies who can barely peek over the dash.

  “You better be careful of that ticker, what with all the stress the juice must be putting on it.”

  I kid around, but I’m seriously concerned that Austin is augmenting his physique pharmaceutically. How else could he get so damn huge in so little time?

  He flexes his pecs. I’m disgusted.

  “Hate to break it to you, but this is all natural. You’re not the only one with compulsion issues. Once I got bitten by the bug, I haven’t been able to stop. By the way, you have any gyms by you?”

  I laugh. “You can bench press the boat.”

  It’s early afternoon when we roll into Drumnadrochit. The Visitor Center is jammed with cars and people milling about. As we mingle among them, I feel homesick. I haven’t heard this many American accents in ages.

  “I think I’ll stay out here,” I say, leaning against a rail.

  He tugs on my arm. “Oh no you don’t.” I’m dragged along like a rag doll.

  The interior is exactly what I pictured it to be – chock full of Nessie paraphernalia, books on the ghosts and castles of Scotland, a looping film on the Loch Ness Monster, and general stupidity.

  I want to scream at them, “Nessie isn’t a goddamn cute curiosity! She is a they, and they are killers, plain and simple!”

  Austin stops to watch the dumb movie, then buys a ceramic Nessie figurine, leather wristband, earrings, and a couple of books.

  As we head back out to the car, he says, “You know, we should buy the place out.”

  I stop and stare at him as if his face inexplicably slid off his skull. “And why the hell would we do that?”

  “Strictly business.” He has to curl into a ball to get into the car. The interior feels like the inside of a pizza oven. I quickly start the car and power the windows down. “After we kill those bitches, this stuff is going to be worth some serious dough.”

  This time around, he doesn’t make fun of my RV. He stows his gear in my room at the rear and sits on the galley bench by the window.

  “Now, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but your place has, shall I say, a malodorous hint to it.”

  I look out the window at my stained picnic table. Somehow, I’d actually gotten used to the smell Clarabelle left behind. It makes me worry about myself.

  “There’s the culprit,” I say, pointing at the table. “You want to earn your keep, help me dispose of it.” I explain how the damn thing got that way.

  Austin does all of the lifting. Who needs a gym?

  “Where do you want it?”

  “I guess down by the boat slip for now. Anywhere but right outside my RV.”

  Resting the tabletop on the crown of his head, he carries it down to the water, tossing it in with a splash.

  “Hey, I didn’t saw to throw it in the Loch!”

  “A good soak is all it needs. You got anything to tie it to the slip so it doesn’t float away?”

  I find some rope on Vindicta and he secures the table.

  “It’ll be good as new in a couple of days.”

  “Or it’ll just stink like the Loch.”

  “Anything is better than what’s coming off it now.”

  After that, I go back to the RV, grab a six-pack of Black Isle Blonde lager, and we sit on the deck of Vindicta to bullshit and catch up. It’s actually really pretty out today. Too bad I can’t fully enjoy it.

  “I ordered some more meat,” I say, sucking down the dregs of my second beer.

  “It seemed to work.”

  “Seemed? Dude, it worked perfectly.”

  “So we just go fishing until we find them?”

  “Find them all, if we’re lucky.”

  He downs his third beer in one huge gulp, letting out a belch that echoes over the Loch.

  “This is why everyone hates Americans.”

  “Burping is like pooping. Everyone does it. Even Europeans.”

  It feels nice
to have him here. I’m nervous and excited about what’s to come next. Having Austin by my side gives me more comfort than I’ll ever let on to him.

  “What’s for dinner?” he asks. “And do you have more beer?”

  “I was going to barbecue some steaks. I can throw on a couple of baked potatoes. And yes, there’s another sixer in the fridge. I prepared it myself.”

  He pats my shoulder as he passes by.

  “Mom and Dad are with us now, too. You know?”

  I swallow the lump that bobs in my throat.

  “I know. I feel them every day. They’ve never left this place. I hope we can help them move on.”

  I hope we can all move on.

  Chapter Seven

  This time, I let Austin answer the door when Popeye and Bieber Hair deliver cow number two. My brother grabs one of the hooks and hauls it out of the van himself. Since the table is now in the water, I laid a tarp on the ground. Austin eventually drops it on the tarp, but not after giving the carcass a few deadlifts, the veins on his neck bulging like milk snakes.

  “You want a job?” Popeye says, staring at Austin in disbelief.

  “I don’t think you could afford me,” he replies with a crack of his knuckles that sound as if he’s breaking them into tiny little pieces.

  The delivery men get back in their van. I wave to them. “See you soon.”

  “They must wonder what the hell you’re doing with all of this meat,” Austin says. “You don’t look like a raging carnosaur.”

  “I’m sure they do, but I made sure they’re from several towns over. I don’t think any gossip will come this far.”

  “Unless they stop at a local pub for a pint on the way back.”

  Shit. I hadn’t thought of that.

  “Well, hopefully this will all be done soon and it won’t matter. Does King Kong need any help getting our bait to the boat?”

  He stares at the white, red, and blue-fleshed meat at our feet. “I thought you said you got the other one all stinky.”

  My stomach rumbles. I can’t believe the sight of raw meat is making me hungry. Add it to the growing list of things I need to talk to a shrink about.

  “I did. This time, I want to see if we can skip the ripening process. If this works, that means we don’t have to wait a couple of days for things to get nasty and most importantly, we don’t have to smell it.”

  “Good plan.”

  He bends down, grabs an edge of the tarp, and starts to drag it down to the water.

  “Hey,” I call out. “I thought you said you had a surprise for me.”

  He only smiles.

  “It’s coming. Tomorrow. Be patient.”

  I take Vindicta out before dusk. Austin keeps taking pictures of the surrounding glen with his phone.

  “First souvenir shopping, now you’re taking pictures like a tourist. Did you hit your head with a dumbbell or something?”

  He stuffs the phone back into his pocket, I think intentionally flexing his bicep while he does it. Must be a force of habit. Move. Flex. Look for swooning chicks and envious dudes.

  “I’m doing all of this based on the assumption that this is our last time in Loch Ness. I may want to look back at it someday in my dotage.”

  “Your what?”

  “Old age. You really should have finished college.”

  “They barely let me start. I’m quite happy with my decision.”

  The Vindicta sways back and forth. An early evening breeze has been kicking up. The Loch is pretty choppy, especially as we go further out. The slap of the water against the metal pontoons is hypnotic.

  For old time’s sake, I turn on Shania Twain, keeping the sound low. Austin shakes his head. “You still like that fake country crap?”

  “Nothing fake about Shania. She lived in the middle of nowhere and ate moose. That’s country.”

  “Let me ask you a question. Have you heard of any recent sightings? I know you’re not big on being neighborly, but I also noticed that you buy all of the papers.”

  I say, “Not to mention trolling social media, message boards, and every online group devoted to the Loch Ness Monster. Nope, it’s been quiet. I think they’re getting smarter. They’re keeping their ugly heads low.”

  “I doubt they’re that bright. They’re frigging fish.”

  “I’m not so sure, on either count. But I know with their size, they have to eat. And they’ve been doing a damn good job with the low hanging fruit.” I tell him about the fish and domestic pets. “Supplies are dwindling. So we have to entice them to come to us.”

  “So, we’re like a floating food truck.”

  “If we’re lucky.”

  “It’s kinda strange, how our lives turned out, isn’t it?” He takes a swig from a bottle of murky water. I wonder if he slipped some protein powder in it.

  “Did you know there are some guys who have been camped out on the Loch for decades? They spend day after day with their eyes glued to binoculars and telescopes, waiting to see a hump or ripple. And if they do, then what? Everyone already thinks they’re loons. No one would believe them anyway.”

  He laughs until he snorts. “Isn’t that what you’ve been doing?”

  “I’ve been on the water, my eyes glued to my sonar, waiting for those sons of bitches to return. Whether they make their way to and from the Atlantic or are hiding in the underwater caves that haven’t been discovered is anyone’s guess. But they do hide away for long stretches of time. I suspect they come back here to feed, a kind of genetic programming. Thanks to weird changes in the weather, I think their food sources aren’t what they used to be. Which means we have to get them now, while they’re still hungry but still foraging. Pretty soon, they’ll just slink back to wherever they call home.” I take the bottle from Austin and take a sip. It tastes awful.

  I cut the engine just as the orange sun dips below the distant hillside. It makes the tips of the trees look like they’re on fire.

  “I just want to sit here for a while, let the world below pass the word around that an all you can eat buffet has arrived.”

  Austin fiddles with the pneumatic spear gun I bought the same week I picked up Vindicta. I may not have been able to use it for what it was purchased for – yet– but I do shoot it off every now and then to make sure it’s still in working order.

  I have a .44 in my windbreaker pocket.

  If those creatures come to feast tonight, we have a couple of big surprises for them. I also have a Bowie knife strapped to my thigh, in case I need to cut the bait loose in a hurry. If the boat starts to get dragged under again, I won’t hesitate to sever the line.

  Austin aims the spear gun at the water. “If these things are so smart, maybe they won’t fall for the floating side of beef ploy again.”

  “Even in higher life forms like yourself, hunger has a way of trumping common sense.”

  I realize we’re talking real low, just above a whisper. It reminds me of when we were kids and used to camp out in the backyard, telling each other ghost stories. The trick was to see which one would cave-in first and go back inside for the night. Our parents always left the sliding back door open because they knew we’d never last.

  In the end, we scared each other silly. It was a draw when it came to who headed for the safety of their room.

  Austin says, “Well, that and sex.”

  “I’m not hooking myself out to these things, but there’s nothing stopping you from offering your services.”

  He does that little dance thing with his pecs again.

  “Please, stop doing that. It’s revolting.”

  “I don’t think Nessie could handle me.”

  I cover my mouth when I laugh so I don’t wake up the whole Loch.

  And then it hits me – why Austin has turned himself into Schwarzenegger.

  Our dad was a scientist, a nerd, a bookworm. He was slightly shorter than our mother and thin as a table leg. I once saw him struggle to carry a cooler of drinks to a picnic my mother laid out in a
park in Madrid.

  When he and Mom were attacked, there was no way he could fight it off.

  Austin was just making sure if the time came, he’d succeed where our father failed. To protect not just himself, but me as well.

  I rise from my seat and give him a quick hug. He stiffens.

  “What’s that for?”

  “Can’t a sister hug a brother?”

  “When they’re both carrying weapons and waiting for a lake monster to appear, it’s kinda strange.”

  “Well, we are kinda –”

  Something takes a quick, hard hit at the body beneath Vindicta. We both stumble forward, falling to our knees. The tip of the spear is inches from my face.

  “Do not touch that trigger,” I warn him.

  He sweeps the gun away from me and I take a good, deep breath.

  Austin runs over to the sonar. “I don’t see anything.”

  “It probably got a chunk and sped off. Here, I’ll keep an eye on the sonar. It’s better if you have that spear ready.”

  This time, I’m better prepared. I use a belt to fasten myself to the captain’s chair. I stare at the sonar, but there’s nothing to see. Austin takes a knee by the bow, spear gun at the ready.

  “Any incoming?” he asks.

  “Not yet.”

  Something sweeps past the periphery of the sonar, but it goes too fast for me to tell what it could be. I have to be careful. Every dark shape is not the monster. There are some pretty big fish in the Loch, too. Just not any that people are able to snag on their hooks lately.

  It gets so quiet, the drumming of my blood pulsing in my veins is overwhelming.

  And there it is.

  “We’ve got something coming up straight for us.”

  “Where?”

  “Starboard.”

  Austin changes position, the spear gun aimed at the water.

  “Holding steady,” I say, captivated by the huge, dark shadow emerging from the depths. Where we are is a little over four hundred feet deep. Whatever this thing is, it swept into view at the very bottom of the Loch and is making a beeline for our bait.

  “I can’t see a damn thing,” Austin complains. “It’s too fucking dark. The water is like ink.”