Loch Ness Revenge

by Hunter Shea

  He catches my eye, shrugs, and says, “Just in case.”

  It better hold one hell of a charge, because the thing in the water is huge. I’ll bet it eats dolphins as snacks.

  I pull Vindicta right up alongside the creature. I run to the side of the boat. I have to see it clearly for myself.

  The neck is long and bent downward. The head is somewhere under the dark water. Its body rounds out, looking like a long manatee. The back end tapers off, becoming more snake-like. I can see a powerful back flipper. The body rolls a bit, and the front flipper comes into view.

  I gasp, and I’m not much of a gasper.

  “Do you see that?” I say.

  “That’s a surprise,” Henrik says.

  The front flipper ends with what look to be five fat fingers, with webbing between the digits. Each finger is tipped with a curved claw. This thing could tear the face off a person with one easy swipe.

  “Kill the fucking thing,” I tell Austin. “Go right for the neck.”

  It’s big and it’s dangerous and I know odds are, it isn’t the exact beast that killed my parents. But I didn’t come here to play the pan flute for these things and connect with them on a spiritual level.

  Austin raises the pole. “You know, we can make a fortune off this if we want to sell pictures and the rights to our story.”

  “I’m sure people will line up to hear the heartwarming story of the two Americans and one German arms specialist who set out to kill Scotland’s favorite pet.”

  He pauses to consider my point, then says, “You’re probably right. It’s not like we need the money anyway.”

  No, we don’t. We’re here to eradicate these creatures and hopefully get out of Dodge with no one the wiser. Even if these things never show up in Loch Ness again, the tourists won’t stop coming. Commerce always trumps reality.

  “Here goes!”

  Austin plunges the sharp end of the pole at the creature’s neck.

  The hook glances off its oily flesh. Austin loses his balance. The pole slips from his hand and goes into the water. Henrik and I rush forward to keep him from following it.

  “What the hell is that thing made of?” Austin bleats, searching overboard for the pole. It’s probably twenty feet under and sinking fast.

  “You did scratch it,” Henrik says, pointing out a jagged red line on the neck.

  “It must be pure muscle,” I say. “At least you and it have something in common.” Austin doesn’t appreciate my humor. I think he’s upset that his manliness was just thwarted by a sleeping giant.

  Henrik leans so far over the rail, I worry he’ll fall. “That confirms it.” He straightens up and turns to us. “It’s not dead.”

  “How do you know?” I ask.

  “Because unless my eyes are playing tricks on me, it’s still breathing. But the good news is it’s out cold. It didn’t even flinch when Austin stabbed it.”

  “It might not feel that if it was awake,” Austin says. “That neck is solid as granite.”

  So now we have a slumbering lake monster and only a handheld taser to protect ourselves when it wakes up. I’m not liking where this is going.

  “You guys can forget tying it to the boat,” I say. “For all we know, it could be wake up any minute. I don’t want to be attached to it when it does.”

  Henrik nods rapidly. “No, you’re very right about that. Maybe it’s best we put some distance between us and it. We can watch it revive with a safe buffer between us.”

  I don’t need to be told twice. Austin looks like he wants a second crack at it, but I’m all out of gaffer poles.

  No sooner does Vindicta’s engine let out a rumble of retreat than the beast thrashes, throwing up white plumes of foam. We pulled about fifteen yards from the thing, which is about one yard clear from bearing the brunt of its spasms.

  Water splashes over the pontoons, drenching the deck. I make like a tree and leave as fast as Vindicta will go. The creature looks pretty angry.

  It couldn’t spend at least a few groggy minutes before Hulking out?

  “I think we’ve seen and learned all we need today,” Henrik says in his calm, neutral tone. He can’t take his eyes off the clearly unhappy lake monster.

  “Understatement of the century,” I reply.

  Something breaks the surface on the other side of the boat.

  I see a hump a second before it descends. The V of a great underwater wake points straight toward the restless beast.

  “I think the cavalry is coming,” Austin says. His knuckles are white as a fish belly from gripping the top rail.

  Vindicta kicks into high gear. I’m so glad I had its motor overhauled. A regular pontoon boat would still be churning away in the danger zone.

  The hump becomes visible again, this time right next to the monster we zapped. Its frenzy immediately stops. In an instant, both disappear. It’s as if they were never there.

  “Holy shit that was close,” Austin says, breathing pretty hard. There’s a smile of relief and astonishment on his face. I’m pretty sure I’m wearing a matching one.

  “Unreal. It makes you wonder how people haven’t had encounters like that before, what with everyone trolling around here for decades.”

  Henrik sits back on one of the lounge seats. “Because no one has ever come here with the intention and equipment to harm them before. We can consider today quite the success.”

  I’m so jazzed, my fingers shake on the boat’s controls.

  My brain won’t stop buzzing, thoughts churning in a dizzying whirl. Did the wounded one send out a distress signal that brought the other to its aid, or did they travel in schools like fish, or packs, like wolves? Those eerily human fingers on the flipper haunt me. It’s almost like they’re the prehistoric link between amphibian and the eventual transformation to man when they pulled themselves onto dry land. I know it’s impossible, but I can’t shake the thought from my head.

  “We’re going to a pub, any pub, and the drinks are on me,” Austin says.

  I’m about to second that emotion when something smashes into the port pontoon. Vindicta dangerously tilts for a split second before settling back to stasis.

  I bite my lip and taste blood. I look down at the gauges. We’re going as fast as we can.

  A slew of curses flow from my mouth like chocolate at a fondue fountain. “Those mothers are chasing us.”

  I look back and see several humps cresting the rain-dappled water before submerging again, presumably to get under Vindicta and flip her over, leaving us floating around like fish food. I shout choice words at Henrik and his damned gadget. He can’t hear me through the wail of the boat.

  Wham!

  Wham!

  The pontoons on each side of the boat are dinged, one after the other. I lose my grip on the wheel for a moment. Austin and Henrik are hunkered down. There’s nothing any of us can do except pray that Vindicta can somehow outrun these bastards.

  Or bitches. I don’t want to be sexist about the matter.

  I have her pointed to the shore, mentally calculating the depth of the water. If we can last long enough, sooner or later, the lake monsters are going to run into shallow water, at which point I pray they’re intelligent enough to turn tail rather than beach themselves.

  I have a strong feeling they’re not dumb animals.

  Austin keeps looking back at me, his face white as death. Henrik is transfixed by the rising and falling humps.

  There are no other boats around. We’re the only witnesses to what I’m sure is the first case of a boat being chased by Loch Ness Monsters. For once, I don’t like being first at something.

  “They’re gone,” Henrik shouts.

  I turn around. Sure, I can’t see any more humps, but that doesn’t mean they’re not right under us.

  Refusing to be optimistic, I keep the engine humming at max power. If it overheats or just plain explodes, we’re in deep shit.

  “Come on, baby, just a little further.”

  We make i
t to a square of a floating dock, the kind kids swim out to and jump off on hot summer days. There’s a small ladder on one side. I swing Vindicta around the dock, finally slowing down. It should be way too shallow here for anything that size to safely follow.

  No one says a word while we wait.

  Rainwater blurs my vision and I have to keep wiping at my eyes.

  After fifteen minutes of absolute silence, I finally exhale. “I think old Bandit just left the Smokey in the dust.”

  Austin lays his head back, letting his face get pummeled by fat raindrops. “That was some good driving, sis. Can we go to the bar now?”

  Henrik remains quiet.

  I’m soaked and exhausted and in need of many, many drinks.

  “We sure can.”

  Hugging the coastline, we make it to my slip without any further attacks. Austin has to grab my arm to keep me from falling when I get off the boat. My legs turn to mush the second my feet touch dry land. It takes me a few seconds to shake it off.

  I keep thinking, how many of those things are out there?

  Do they have memories?

  Will they know Vindicta the next time we head out?

  Worst of all, will they want to do us in as much as we want to make them a memory?

  I feel as though we’ve just lost an advantage.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Austin wanted to go to the trendy Nessie’s Tavern, but I wasn’t having it. After today, I’ve had my fill of Nessie. Plus, that tourist trap this time of night is always three deep at the bar. I don’t need the headache.

  Instead, we go to the one tavern I’ve been known to pop in from time to time, the Thorny Crown. The religious overtone of the name says little about the dark, smoky, seedy interior. The older barflies congregate at the end of the bar, watching some soccer match on the TV. They give us a quick, disapproving look when we walk in, then immediately dismiss our presence. An old Hank Williams song is playing on the jukebox. I was surprised to see how many people in Scotland love good old American country music.

  “Charming,” Austin says, sidling up to the empty corner of the U-shaped bar. “Nothing like a pub where you can smell every piss ever taken.”

  “You’re free to walk down to Nessie’s. It’s only about a mile and a half. You can get your quad or lat work in or whatever it is you do.”

  Sean the bartender is a portly guy in his early sixties. He’s got a whopper of a mole right between his eyes. I learned a long time ago not to stare, but my brother is hypnotized.

  “I see you found some strays. What’ll it be?” Sean says.

  “Three whiskeys and three pints, Sean. I’m thinking of adopting these lost souls.” I lay my money on the sticky bar.

  Sean casts them a sideways glance. “Just make sure they’re toilet trained.”

  He pours the whiskey and stout beer and ambles back down to the regulars.

  “To surviving,” I say, toasting with the glass of whiskey. We clink glasses. Henrik and Austin knock the whiskey back and wince. I take a nice, long sip, savoring the taste, the burn reminding me that I’m not cooling in some creature’s belly.

  Henrik looks pensive. He has questions. I can tell. I have plenty of my own, but there’s no one around to ask. After today, we may be the world’s foremost authorities on Nessie, and that’s not saying much.

  “So, do you have any more little gadgets like that?”

  Henrik sips his beer. “A couple.”

  “Do me a favor – the next time you bring one aboard my boat, tell me what the fuck it is and what you’re planning to do with it. That way, we can plan appropriately.”

  The pontoons took a beating, but there weren’t any breaches we could see when we made land. I hope Vindicta is still above water when we get back.

  His cheeks redden. “Please, accept my apologies. I had no idea that would happen.”

  “No one could have foreseen that,” Austin says. I shoot him a don’t give him any excuses look. “Either of you have a guess as to how many were out there with us?”

  I scratch my knee. It’s been hours and my legs still feel weak. “I don’t know. Three?”

  Henrik leans back in his seat. “Five.”

  “You sound pretty positive.” Austin cracks his knuckles, an annoying habit that started right after our family trip that resulted in only half the family making it back to the States.

  “I looked for distinguishing marks. I’m not sure you noticed, but each one has certain scars, just like whales or sharks. Living underwater isn’t a life of leisure. If my observations are correct, there were five unique creatures out there, including the one we stunned.”

  I want to ask Sean for a bag of peanuts and crisps, but I don’t want him over eavesdropping just yet. “Where there’s five, there could be five more.”

  Austin leans against the bar. “I don’t think so. You and I have always known there has to be more than one of these things in order to survive. However, I think their overall numbers have to be low.” He holds up his index finger. “First, a gaggle of Nessies would destroy the ecosystem.”

  I remind him about the current lack of fish in the Loch and the growing concern of the locals.

  “Yeah, but that would have happened a long time ago if there were too many big boys down there.”

  “And girls,” I add, tipping my Guinness back and drinking half the glass. “Without them, you don’t get more boys.”

  Austin rolls his eyes. “And girls. Consider this – the greater their numbers, the greater their chance for discovery. I mean true discovery, not blurry pictures or shadowy video. It’s almost as if nature keeps the family small so they can remain hidden.”

  Henrik looks to me, his cobalt eyes shimmering from the booze. “You’ve been here for years, Natalie. What do you think they are?”

  I’ve been waiting for Henrik to ask this question ever since he dragged his soaking butt into my RV. I’m surprised it’s taken him this long.

  “I’ll tell you what they’re not. Dinosaurs. I don’t buy that whole plesiosaur theory. It’s cool and intriguing because if one dinosaur managed to survive here, there have to be others, right? Jurassic Park could be just around the corner, only we round up the dinos rather than grow them in a lab.” I finish off the whiskey and motion for Sean to bring another round. “Eels were a popular consideration for a while, and it’s one that I keep filed under ‘mmm, could be.’ Then there’s catfish, fresh water sharks, a branch of chimaera fish, seals. You ever been to the zoo or an aquarium?”

  Henrik nods. “Of course. Several in different countries.”

  “You ever see a seal?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you know how dumb that is. And catfish? What’s out there isn’t going to end up on some creole dinner buffet.”

  Sean slides our drinks over. Austin, the big macho man, sucks down the shot and chugs the Guinness. Good to see he’s loosening up. “Okay, you’re great at telling us what it isn’t. I personally fell for the plesiosaur story for a long time.”

  “And now?” Henrik asks.

  “I’ve moved past that, mostly based on some of the things I said before. Dinosaurs take up a lot of space and need a lot of food. So, Nat, what are you putting your money on?”

  It’s funny. Austin and I grew real close after our parents were murdered. Even though we’ve been on different continents, we stay in touch as much as possible. The one thing we rarely discuss is the true nature of the Loch Ness Monster.

  I shrug my shoulders and look into the creamy head of my beer. “I have no fucking clue. Whatever they are, they’re something we’ve never seen before. A whole new species. And when I say new, I mean really new. I know that the legend goes all the way back to the sixth century and the account of Saint Columba.”

  “I read about him,” Henrik says. He looks like a kid who just got the right answer in social studies class. “He supposedly saw the creature attacking a man in the water and he used the power of God to drive it away.”

>   Austin shakes his head. “Yeah, he exorcised the Loch. Why didn’t we try some ‘power of Christ compels you’ when we had the chance, Nat?”

  “That whole story is a crock of shit. Those old saints did a lot of crazy, impossible stuff if you believe everything you read. When you get right down to it, the Loch Ness Monster doesn’t really poke its ugly head out of the water until the 1930s. I’m sure there were plenty of hoaxes that followed, but basically, we’re dealing with something that has about an eighty-year history. In terms of world history, that’s less than a popcorn fart.”

  Henrik doesn’t get my humor. Or he doesn’t eat popcorn. Or fart.

  I continue, since the boys are hanging on my every word. “What we have is a brand new species struggling to survive. Don’t ask me how they came about. I’m no biologist. By the time we get to the eighties, the species hits hard times. There’s a die-off. That’s why sightings are few and far between. But, at least one male Nessie and one female Nessie carry on, and get it on. Maybe they tunnel under the silt in the Loch’s bottom to care for their young. Or find some underground cavern to raise a family. Every now and then, they need to venture forth for some food.” I think of my parents, the looks on their faces as that monster squeezed the life from them before dragging them down to a watery hell. I feel tears coming on, but will them the hell away. “Well, the kids have outgrown the home, and they’re out and about, as we can attest.”

  Pausing to drink my whiskey and beer, I notice that Sean is giving me the hairy eyeball.

  I think he doesn’t approve of my companions.

  Being the lone American chippie happy to frequent the bar, it was never hard to quickly become the center of attention. The local boys dig my accent as much as I can’t fathom theirs. Tonight, all of my attention is on these foreign guys and I guess Sean isn’t a big fan of change.

  I turn away from Sean and say, “In conclusion, this is our chance to get them all, before whatever wiped most of them out before rears its ugly head again. We know they’re around, and hungry and responsive to our bait. Next time we go out there, we go loaded for bear and finish this.”