by Russ Elliott
“Fair enough.” John said with a grin.
Kate glanced at the TV. “Anything show up on the news yet?”
“You bet,” John said. “And I knew it was coming. Just caught part of an interview with our friends from the speedboat, then something about the Motanza. The media’s starting to piece it all together, Kate.” He aimed the remote at the TV to click it off. “We’ve got to stop this thing tonight.”
Chapter 4
DEAD OF NIGHT
Erick tiptoed down the dark hallway and carefully approached the light coming from the ship’s surveillance cabin. Rex was at his heels. Reaching the doorway, the boy held out his arm to keep the anxious dog from passing. He peered in through the window next to the door and watched Nathan and Nemo. They were at each other’s throats again.
Grownups were starting to make less sense to Erick. After weeks of being depressed because they couldn’t find the giant squid, the crew had come upon something even greater: a living pliosaur. That at least should have made everyone happy, he thought, crouching lower behind the window. But he couldn’t have been more wrong. To Erick, ever since they’d discovered the creature, all anyone did was argue about it.
Mid-rant, Nemo looked at the gridded monitor. “I know we’ll get better footage in the daylight. Any fool knows that . . . but by then, the beast could be long gone!” Nemo picked up the radio mike and pointed it at Nathan. “And you’re sure you didn’t call anyone earlier?” he growled. “You swear you didn’t relay the new coordinates to Paxton?”
Nathan bellowed, “NO, for the last time . . . NO!” Nemo slammed the mike back down. “If you didn’t call anyone, then explain to me why, when I walked back into the cabin, the mike was dangling by the cord.”
“I have no idea, Captain. It wasn’t me,” said Nathan. “I was with you, if you recall. I returned to the cabin just ahead of you. The mike had to be like that already.”
Nemo’s face reddened. “Well, if you didn’t use it, then who did?” He paused, and looked toward the doorway, his eyes narrowing. “Where’s that kid?”
“You mean Erick?”
“Yeah. Let’s see what he has to say about this.”
Crouched behind the window to the control room, Erick whispered to Rex, “Uh-oh, time to go, boy.” When Nemo was looking the other way, he tiptoed past the doorway with his dog close behind him.
Erick crept along the dark hallway. The ship swayed and creaked around him as if it were somehow alive. Cautiously, he ascended the stairwell leading to the main deck. When he reached the top step, an eerie sensation gripped him as lightning filled the night sky. The moment the white flash disappeared, there was almost total darkness due to the smoke-like clouds that shrouded the moon.
Erick pressed on into the pitch, guided only by the faint reflection of moisture on the deck and across the top of the port rail. He could barely make out the stern and the silhouette of the crane’s long arm which bent down to the water. He whispered to Rex, “Wow. I’ve never been on the ocean when it was this dark before!” Another jagged streak of lightning tore through the night sky. The deck appeared before him as if it were in broad daylight, then quickly disappeared to black again.
Rex stopped with a whimper. Erick reached down and rubbed the dog’s head. “Don’t worry, boy. It’s just an electrical storm.”
Reluctantly, the dog continued to follow Erick until they came to the stack of crates tied off along the ship’s starboard rail. Climbing up the first layer of crates, he saw lightning reflect from a shiny, red, metal box. “Looks like Nathan left his toolbox out here. I’ll bring it in for him when we go back. Don’t want it to rust.”
Reaching the top of the crates, Erick stood tall, face lifted toward the darkness of sky, and closed his eyes. He felt the sway of the ocean beneath his feet as he balanced on the crates. The cool ocean breeze swirled around him and up the back of his loose-fitting shirt. Slowly, Erick opened his eyes. The view was almost the same except for a slight reflection of light on the distant waves. Suddenly, another streak of lightning danced across the sky, and a haunting groan echoed from the sea.
Erick froze. He stood atop the crates, paralyzed in fear, while the eerie sounds continued. He slowly realized they were the same sounds that he and Nathan had listened to three days ago in the Atlantic.
It’s only the mating calls of distant sperm whales, stupid.
Stepping across to another crate, he tried to rationalize the creepy surroundings. The lightning was only an electrical storm, and the weird sounds were only whales, but the combination of the two was nearly enough to send him running back to the cabin.
Another flash of lightning showed him the familiar opening between the crates—his secret hiding place. Erick climbed down into the comforting space and called, “Here, boy!” Rex shot through the small opening between the crates in front of him. The dog’s eyes glowed in the light of the flashlight Erick had just clicked on.
The boy slid the back of his flashlight into a knothole in the crate behind him and opened his science fiction paperback to the folded page. As he began to read, another haunting call from the whales evoked a whimper from Rex. Erick scratched the dog’s neck. “Don’t worry, boy, it’s just whales . . . but it’s still kind of spooky, huh?”
After only a few pages, the bright light began to tire his eyes. He leaned his head back against the crate and allowed his eyes to focus through the narrow opening between the crates in front of him. Suddenly, a strange speck of light floated across his view. He closed his eyes then reopened them, but the mysterious light was still there.
Quickly, Erick scurried up to the top of the crates for a closer look. “Wow . . . what is that?” he whispered, trying to distinguish what he was seeing.
Slowly, the strange, white shape floated closer. Then another one appeared from behind it and drifted across the deck toward the bow. Erick dropped back to his hiding spot and turned off the flashlight. He quietly climbed back up. The mysterious light was now close enough for him to see that it wasn’t an actual light but rather a swath of some type of luminous, white paint. As the object drew nearer, Erick could see it was in the shape of a long triangle. A glint of metal dangled below it.
Suddenly, a flash of lightning revealed a muscular black torso beneath the glowing triangle. A white streak reflected from a long machete blade. Adorned only in a pair of khaki shorts, the massive figure approached.
Erick dropped back into his hiding spot. He tucked into a fetal position in the shadows of the crates, Rex right beside him, growling low. “This can’t be real, boy. It must be a dream, right?” He hugged the dog with all his might. He squeezed his eyes shut to make it all go away. The haunting calls of the whales continued to supply background music to the perfect nightmare.
Thomp . . . thomp . . . thomp!
Heavy footsteps stopped just on the other side of the crates. Then the crates above Erick creaked. Someone was climbing up to the opening! Rex growled more loudly, the lightning reflecting off the dog’s glossy coat.
“Dead dog!” Erick whispered urgently, and Rex plopped down motionless on the deck.
The footsteps stopped directly above the opening. Erick lay motionless, not daring to take a breath. He peered upward from the shadows.
The powerful figure was looking down in his direction, into the dark space between the crates. He turned his attention to the ship’s port side just as another bolt of lightning illuminated the small space, exposing Erick as he lay shivering beside Rex. Holding his breath, Erick prayed that the dark figure hadn’t been looking in his direction just then. His eyes clamped shut, he held his breath, and clung tightly to Rex.
Eventually, the footsteps headed toward the outside edge of the crates again. Erick heard the man jump to the deck with a deep thud. Time seemed to stand still. Then, the eerie calls of the whales were interrupted by a curious noise from the opposite side of the ship—a dull thud followed by a loud splash.
~~~
Inside the surveillance
cabin, Nathan reached over to adjust the tint on the monitor covering an underwater camera attached to the hull. Suddenly he saw something crash through the surface in a haze of bubbles.
“What is th . . . ?”
Nathan froze as the mass of bubbles dissipated, revealing a thrashing man—the chef! He was gripping his throat, blood gushing through his fingers. The blue hue from the monitor turned pink.
“Oh no . . . Nemo’s finally snapped!” he shouted and jumped from his chair.
He hit full speed along the dark hallway and stumbled up the stairs until he reached the main deck. Blindly, he stepped forward as his eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness.
He walked toward port when a flash of lightning revealed a shiny, dark puddle which continued around the corner. Nathan cautiously approached, keeping his back to the wall, then stepped out onto the open deck that ran along the side rail. He stopped when he saw a glowing white spike, a glint of steel.
Swooosh! A searing pain crossed his chest.
Nathan fell back against the rail as a bloody blade rose above him. He looked at the black hand and long, muscular arm that raised the machete and then into the smoldering eyes behind the white spike—eyes burning with rage. Again, the blade whistled through the air and sliced across his chest, sending him backward over the rail. Plummeting thirty feet, he splashed into the black water below.
~~~
Kota gave a satisfied glance over the rail. He turned back to the ship in time to see a thin man with a camera round the corner. Their eyes met.
Freddie’s eyes widened as the dark figure stepped toward him. Lightning reflected from the long blood-streaked blade.
“I . . . I didn’t see nothing. Hey, guys, I’m just the photographer,” pleaded Freddie, stepping backward. “Take anything you like! We have more gas if you need it. Hey, take the ship! I don’t ca—”
Suddenly, Freddie’s chest bowed outward and his elbows strained back as the point of a blade protruded from his chest. His scream pierced the night as he was lifted to the tips of his toes, Kolegwa guiding him from behind toward the side rail. Then, in a single motion, Kolegwa thrust him over the rail, gripping the machete at the proper angle so it would exit the body as it dropped away.
Freddie’s high-pitched scream ended with a loud splash.
For a moment, Kolegwa watched the body writhing beneath the surface, then he looked up and pointed his machete behind where Kota stood.
Footsteps were clanking up the stairwell.
~~~
Reaching the main deck, Nemo shouted at the darkness. “Nathan, where in the blazes are you?” Enraged, the captain headed toward port, murmuring, “How dare he go on break and leave no one covering the . . . ”
Nemo stopped when he noticed the enormous bloodstain beneath his feet, looking at it curiously. When the lightning flashed across the sky as it had been doing all night, he looked up and saw two dark figures before him: half-painted faces, demonic grins, blood-soaked blades rising into the pitch.
Nemo grabbed his heart and stepped back, slipping on the blood and tumbling onto the deck. He quickly rolled over and scrambled across the bloodstained area. Racing in the darkness to port side, he reached the large stack of crates. Looking over his shoulder, he could see the first man was closer than he’d expected, and Nemo pushed one of the empty crates toward him.
Effortlessly, Kota knocked the crate aside with his machete while Nemo scurried up the crates. The captain reached for the metal toolbox and tried to throw it at the charging tribesman, but it only flew a few feet because of its weight. Another crate came crashing down causing Kota to stumble slightly. He quickly regained his footing and began a slow, menacing climb toward Nemo.
Straining and grunting, Nemo pulled himself onto the top layer of crates. He ran across them precariously, passing Erick’s secret hiding place. Then, just when he reached the other side of the crates and started to climb down, Kolegwa’s face, glowing with its painted triangle, rose in front of him. The warrior smiled, machete cocked. A glint of steel whipped through the air. Nemo dove from the top of the crates, narrowly missing the slashing blade, and tumbled hard onto the deck. When he got up to run, he felt his ankle collapse beneath him.
~~~
Inside the stack of crates, Erick remained silent, motionless, listening to the brutal struggle less than ten feet away. He felt the vibration of the crashing crates and could hear Nemo grunting as he tried to claw his way up the pile in a last ditch effort to get away. Then Erick heard the whistle of a blade, a defeated moan, a thud, then more thuds as the dying body of Captain Nemo tumbled back down the crates.
Through the a narrow opening between the crates, Erick could see the captain’s face as he lay on the deck just in front of the side rail, and he could see that the captain saw him. The seaman’s intimidating demeanor was gone as he looked toward Erick, desperately reaching through the opening with his left hand. Erick quietly pushed himself back against the crate and away from the opening. He watched Nemo being pulled away, his hand still reaching out. Their eye contact never broke until Nemo’s face disappeared into the shadows.
A moment later, the anticipated splash. Trying to inch farther back into the hiding space, Erick inadvertently pinched Rex’s paw with his elbow. The dog yelped, the sound seeming to echo like a foghorn in the night. Erick froze.
Maybe they didn’t hear it, maybe they didn’t hear it, maybe they didn’t hear it . . . A glowing white triangle appeared in the small crevice.
“Let’s get out of here!” yelled Erick as he scurried up through the hole, out of his no-longer-secret hiding spot, and across the smattering of crates. Rex darted through the mess to the other side of the crates, meeting Erick at the exact same time the boy hit the deck.
Boy and dog ran to the stairwell, nearly falling down the steps in their panic. Blinded by the darkness, they raced to the surveillance cabin, jumped through the doorway and turned off the overhead light. Still, the blue hues from the monitors offered just enough of a hint as to what was inside the room: a terrified boy and his faithful companion, panting in unison. A quick glance down the dark hallway showed a pair of white spikes and steel blades floating down the stairs. Slowly so as not to cause a sound, Erick backed farther into the surveillance cabin, taking Rex with him.
A pink haze coming from monitor three caught his eye. The chef floated by.
Erick barely flinched at the gory scene. His mind was on his own survival. He tiptoed into the adjacent sound room, Rex at his side. He walked through the pitch-black room, careful not to turn over any of the mike stands and sound equipment. He stopped beside the far door which led back into the hallway.
From across the sound room, he could see the shadowy figures stop in front of the surveillance cabin and open the door. The machetes glimmered in the blue hue of the room. When the men entered the surveillance room, Erick threw open the back door of the sound room and raced down the hallway, taking him back to the stairwell. Reaching the top of the stairs, he stopped briefly to look behind him. There were no white triangles, no machetes, and no Rex.
~~~
Kota lunged through the surveillance cabin and then entered the sound room, slashing at and knocking over equipment on his way toward the far door. When he stepped into the hallway, something furry tripped him, causing him to lose his balance and fall, hitting the floor hard with his rear end. The dog growled, snapping at shadows until a few sweeps of Kota’s blade sent him running toward the stairwell.
When Kota reached the top of the stairs, he saw the boy already climbing the left side of the stacked crates.
He motioned for Kolegwa to go around to the opposite side of the crates, so they could corner their prey. The moment they reached the crates, there was a loud splash. They raced to the side of the ship where they saw the dog with its nose beneath the bottom rail, whimpering at the sea. The frantic dog then pressed its body beneath the rail and plummeted thirty feet into the black water below.
The tribesmen
looked at one another, gave one impassive look over the side of the ship, and shrugged their massive shoulders.
They headed back to the surveillance cabin.
Inside the blue room, Kota flipped on the overhead fluorescent lights. He sneered at the wall monitors, and with four powerful blows, bashed in the screens with his machete handle and then sliced all the cables with a sweep of his blade.
On the opposite side of the cabin, Kolegwa violently kicked the four monitors which tracked the homing devices, sending them crashing to the floor. He picked up the monitor closest to him and held it overhead, pulling cables from the wall, and hurled it down on top of the others. Broken glass spewed across the floor and into the hallway.
Kota looked around then nodded approvingly at their handiwork. “Like to see them find Kuta-keb-la now!” he said in their native tongue.
He motioned for Kolegwa to follow him back to the stairwell which they saturated with gasoline. Kota then opened another can of gas, laid it on the deck, and kicked it over, gas spewing from the opening. After he scanned the deck one last time to make sure all bodies had been thrown overboard, he raised his machete above his head.
“Behold!” he shouted as lightning filled the night sky. “It is as the prophecy foretold: all who interfere shall be delivered into our hands!”
Kolegwa howled with delight, whirling his machete and jumping from the ship’s stern to their small fishing boat. Kota untied the boat’s bowline and quickly followed.
As they sped away from the ship, Kota raised a flare gun. Carefully, he took aim at the mini-sub laying sideways on the ship’s stern. Poof! A red arc reached through the darkness, and the burning ship illuminated the night sea. He slowly turned the boat around and headed in the direction of the African Coast.
He felt no remorse, only intense satisfaction.
Chapter 5
GHOST SHIP
“Well, there she is.” Kate peered through the helicopter’s windshield at the night sea. A distant ship appeared on the horizon, and its long silhouette slowly became more detailed. She worked the stick, descending toward the huge vessel. “Didn’t expect a welcoming committee, but it doesn’t look like there’s a soul on deck. Of course, it’s really foggy out there.”
