Vengeance from the Deep - Book Two: Blood of the Necala

by Russ Elliott

  Wringing the water from the front of his shirt, he said, “Just give him a second to veer back around.”

  The boat maintained its course, heading farther out to sea.

  Kate tapped John on the shoulder and nodded toward the back of the boat. “What do you make of those?” They stood up and approached the stern.

  At the stern were two large barrels, and flowing from the barrels out the back of the boat and into the sea for thirty yards behind them was a red trail.

  Kate looked over the transom. “Ah, Henry . . . care to explain why your boat is bleeding?”

  Henry glanced back from the driver’s seat as he eased into the throttle. “To get the big critter’s attention. Ya gotta lay down a good scent, ya know!”

  “Get its attention?” Kate gasped. “That’s bloody great. Well, turn it off, Henry. Turn it off now!” Kate’s voice was almost pleading.

  Undeterred, Henry did just the opposite and continued to accelerate. As he did so, a large dorsal fin rose behind the boat. Kate and John’s eyes shot open, and they stepped back from the stern.

  Henry looked back, laughing. “Relax! That’s just a twelve-foot great white—my bait fish. Got a hook in her. Didn’t you mates see that thick line attached to the transom? Come on, fellas. You act like you’ve never seen a shark before.” As the shark rolled to the side sending up a spray of water in the middle of the chum line, Kate looked at John, her eyebrows arched. “That’s the little something he had to do before taking us in?”

  John approached Henry at the wheel. “You mean you’re trying to catch the pliosaur with that? And pull it all the way in to shore with this boat?”

  “Well, that was part of the plan,” said Henry. “But—”

  Kate broke in, “Well, you can just stop and let us off here then, because we’re better off in the water!”

  Henry looked at her, holding up his camera. “No, mate, I’m not that dof. I just want to catch it on film. The plan is to get the beastie close enough to get a good shot of it, then cut the bait shark loose to keep it busy while I get away.”

  “Ahhh, brilliant plan, Henry,” Kate said, her voice bristling with sarcasm. “A kamikaze would question the safety of that mission!” She glanced back at the rolling bait shark. “What happens if the ‘beastie’ decides to go for the boat rather than the bait?”

  “Why would it do that?” asked Henry, clearly puzzled by the question.

  “Aaauuughhh!” yelled Kate, at the limits of her frustration. “That’s it! Turn those chum barrels off now, or you’re going in the water!”

  With a nod of approval, John said, “Yes, I believe it’s time to commandeer this vessel!”

  Henry puffed out his chest and bellowed, “This is my boat. No one tells me what to do on my own boat!”

  Kate walked up to him, poked a finger into his chest. “Well, it’s my life you’re trying to end. So turn it off now, or it’s time for swim class!”

  John held up a finger and pointed at the waters behind the Sea Ray.

  “What bloody now?” said Kate in a defeated tone, and she turned to look, as did Henry.

  A group of fishing boats were coming straight toward them, motioning them to slow down. Henry eased off the throttle, and seven boats surrounded them.

  Henry was quick to notice the chum barrels on most of the boats. He yelled over the noise of all the engines, “Hey, you skeefs . . . this is my spot. I’ve been laying down a chum line for hours. You go somewhere else!”

  A Hatteras pulled along their port side. The driver called out, “No, you got it all wrong, mate. We’re not chumming anymore. We heard a distress call from a cruise ship in this area. We’re all on our way to help ’em out. Come on, turn off that chum line and follow us. Over three hundred passengers still on the ship. We need all the boats we can get.”

  John had heard enough, waved his hands in the air. “Stop! Wait a minute, everyone. We were just over the cruise ship in a chopper. The creature responsible is at least three times the size of any of the boats I see here. You’ll never make it to the ship, much less save a passenger. It’s a nice thought, but it’ll never work.”

  “You mean that leguaan is as big as those lighteys in the speed boat said it was, eh? ’Bout eighty feet?” the driver of the Hatteras said in an incredulous tone.

  “Leguaan.” John squinted at Kate, “What’s a leguaan?”

  Kate muttered, “It’s local slang for lizard.”

  John stepped closer to the rail, and shouted, “Yes, every inch of it. Probably bigger!”

  “Well, what are we gonna do then?” yelled a man from the bow of another boat. “The Navy hasn’t shown up, and we’re the only boats in the area. We can’t just park out here and let them all die!”

  Anglers from the other boats murmured amongst themselves.

  A barrel-chested, red-bearded man yelled from an old fishing boat, “Ahhh! Forget these blokes, they’re just afraid . . . a couple of pansies. Come on, let’s get going. We’re wasting time.”

  One by one, engines began to fire.

  John turned to Kate in frustration. “He’s right,” he muttered. “We can’t just sit here.” All the while, his tortured eyes were fixed on the distant cruise ship. The clock was ticking, and he knew it. Then John noticed the blood splatter on the deck. His eyes rose to the huge drums on the stern and stopped on the powerful engines between them. “Henry . . . how fast’ll this thing go?”

  It was Henry’s favorite question. “Got twin Merc 400s on her. She’ll hit close to ninety.”

  “What about the boats around us . . . any of them faster than this one?”

  “In their dreams,” Henry scoffed good-naturedly.

  Kate clearly didn’t like the sound of this, but it was all John needed to hear.

  After a long moment of looking in the direction of the cruise ship, John nodded to himself.

  Kate looked at him with growing concern. “What?” she said, hands on her hips. “No . . . no, John. I’m not sure what you’re thinking . . . but no.”

  John was at the side of the boat again, calling out to the boats about to depart. “Wait, guys. I’ve got an idea.”

  All heads turned in his direction. Kate’s frown line deepened.

  “Okay, we’re listening,” yelled the man in the Hatteras. He motioned for the other boaters to cut their engines.

  John spoke up. “First, I need all of the chum you have on board to refill our barrels.”

  There was silence as all the men listened intently.

  “Then, all of you will follow us to the ship, but lagging behind about a hundred yards or so,” he said with growing confidence. He put a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “Henry, we’re going in front of the beast with the chum lines flowing. With any luck, it’ll follow us far enough from the cruise ship, so the rest of you guys can go in for the passengers.”

  Henry looked at the hand on his shoulder. “Yeah, that oughta work. Like I said, this baby’ll do close to ninety.”

  “Not towing fifteen hundred pounds of shark behind it, it won’t!” Kate said with a pout.

  “I reckon that might slow her down a little.” Henry gave his neck a scratch, then with a hesitant nod, he put his foot on the gunwale. He stepped across to the Hatteras tied off beside them and looked back at John. “If it’s all the same to you mates, I think I’ll go with these gentlemen and help rescue the passengers. That way your boat’ll be a little lighter.”

  “That’s very noble of you, Henry,” muttered John with a smile.

  ~~~

  Once safely on the deck of the Hatteras, Henry glanced back, wringing his swarthy hands. Looking along the metallic-blue hull of the Sea Ray, he sighed heavily. “That’s too bad. I really loved that boat. Wonder if my policy will cover this?” he muttered to himself.

  ~~~

  The driver in the Hatteras yelled to the stocky fisherman, “Hey, Red. So much for the pansy theory, eh? All right, blokes. Let’s load up their chum barrels and chivvy along!”

&n
bsp; Kate jerked John aside and got in his face. “The words ‘one-way trip’ mean anything to you? What are you doing? This is a suicide mission!” She tried unsuccessfully to keep her voice low, spittle flying from her clenched teeth. “Look, I know this whole thing’s eating you alive, but getting us killed isn’t gonna do anybody any good either.”

  John pulled away and pointed at the transom, determined. “You gotta hear the rest of it, Kate. First I need two more bait hooks.”

  Kate squinted with suspicion.

  “No, seriously,” John insisted. He pointed to the boat alongside them. “I just need two more. Get the ones from those guys?” He forgot the magic word. “Please?”

  Giving John a long look, Kate rolled her eyes and stepped across to the other boat.

  The moment she was stabilized on the other boat, John jumped into the driver’s seat of the Sea Ray and slammed the throttle. The nose shot up, hurling John back in the seat.

  Kate’s eyes bugged when she heard the roaring engines. She took off along the fishing boat, raced along the gunwale like a cat, and bound across the water, landing in the back of the speedboat.

  John heard the thud and turned, eyes wide. “Hey! This was supposed to be solo.”

  Kate rose from the deck, her face boiling red with anger. “You expect to survive this? Have you completely lost your—” She paused when she saw his tortured eyes—the burning guilt and rage. The realization hit her, and she put her hand to her mouth. “You didn’t plan on coming back . . .”

  John turned back to the windshield. He couldn’t look her in the eye. His tormented mind raced. Now what? She’s ruined everything. “I’m taking you back,” he finally said.

  “No, I’m not getting off this boat!” She ran to the cockpit and grabbed his shoulder. “There’s no way you can pull this off alone. One person can’t work the chum lines, cut the bait shark loose, and maneuver the boat at the same time. Besides, what happens if that thing gets to you before you lure it far enough from the ship? You know those fishing boats will go in anyway and add to the slaughter.” Her eyes narrowed. “You need my help . . . because if you fumble this, yours won’t be the only life lost!”

  After a long moment, he eased back to half throttle. “All right,” he said. “But do you know how to work the chum lines?”

  “Sure, I do it every day!” She smirked.

  Leaving the boat at half throttle, he walked her back to the stern. He knelt and pointed to the bottom of one of the barrels. “Under here, there’s a handle just like on a water cooler. Feel it?”

  When Kate reached down to the handle, John rushed at her, grabbing her legs, and tried to throw her overboard. But Kate’s cat-like reflexes allowed her to sidestep the attempt. She tumbled back onto the deck. John stumbled against the gunwale.

  Kate rose from the deck, stunned. “You . . . you tried to toss me overboard!”

  John groaned as he slowly stood.

  “Not quite quick enough.” She laughed at him. “Or clever enough. Your eyes tipped me off. On our way back to the chum, I saw you glance at that life jacket under the gunwale.”

  John stormed back to the wheel, gripping it tightly. “You’re going back!”

  Kate latched onto the steering wheel, not letting him turn around. Between clenched teeth, she growled, “I refuse to let you . . .” The fight went out of her suddenly, and John followed her gaze—to the sinking cruise ship. Clearly, there was no time to argue. He hit the throttle as they slammed into their seats.

  Chapter 18

  LIVE BAIT

  Wrists swollen from gripping the warm metal of the starboard rail, a young steward named Betty looked down the sloping deck and into the water. Four feet beneath the surface, a long streak of sunlight shimmered from the portside rail. One thing pounded her mind: were they still out of reach?

  Beside her, lifeless postures suddenly became rigid. Fatigued muscles found new strength as legs and arms locked tighter around the rails. The frill again split the sea. One by one, passengers looked across the angled deck as the rippling shadow passed below them. Just beyond the sunken rail, the giant silhouette rose, transforming into the now-familiar gray back as the creature glided parallel to the ship. Wet, pebbled skin twinkled in the sun. Slowly, the head tilted sideways, lifting a red eye just above the water line. Horrified passengers watched as the burning orb passed before them, peering upward, searching.

  ~~~

  From the ship’s tilted bridge, Captain Porter peered through his binoculars. Surely we’ve reached the end of this horror, he thought, and then he had a morbid side to that: though some nightmares never end.

  He focused on a black woman and two little girls who’d defied death, thanks to the helicopter which had appeared out of nowhere. Now back at the ship, they clung to each other in the swimming pool that was even with the waterline. For the moment, they appeared to be safe behind the coping.

  He puzzled over the helicopter. It appeared to be commercial, not a naval chopper. Why had it gone down? The captain focused on the sunken port side rail, a horrifying gauge he used to determine their remaining time. Although the ship was listing dramatically, he could tell her rate of descent had slowed. Air pockets trapped in some of the submerged cabins might be partially responsible, he thought. But the main source for their buoyancy was without question the undamaged starboard pontoon.

  Looking down toward the stern, he saw the giant shadow come around for another pass. It circled closer, much closer than before.

  The captain scooted beneath the leaning port window, trying to keep the creature in sight. He watched until it disappeared around the bow. He turned around and looked up at the angled floor leading to the starboard window. He crawled along cabinets that ran the width of the bridge, gripping inside each one, and pulling himself closer to the window. Finally at the window, he looked down and regained sight of the giant shadow. Slowly the creature rose, rubbing its snout along the starboard hull. Then the water swept over its wide head, and it disappeared beneath the waves.

  The ship trembled, almost knocking the captain from the window.

  Regaining his balance, he looked out again. No trace of the beast. He pressed his face against the glass to get a better angle, and his greatest fear was confirmed. A parachute-sized cloud of bubbles rose from the starboard pontoon.

  ~~~

  The engines whined as the vessel jerked and lunged forward under its heavy load. With every wave that passed beneath the Sea Ray’s keel, John’s self-doubt grew stronger. His earlier encounter with the pliosaur replayed in his mind. Looking down at that thing from the chopper was some sight, but from the waterline, just above the enormous jaws as they clenched the ladder beneath his feet, that was a different story. The sheer size of the head was incomprehensible! And now I’m going back . . . in a boat . . . laying a chum line . . . and pulling a bait shark. What’s wrong with this picture?

  He glanced at Kate. She put up a good front, but he could tell by the way she refused to make eye contact that she was pissed off and terrified. Now, with her on board, it all seemed wrong, like he was transporting the condemned to their execution. What am I doing? He questioned everything.

  A sudden jolt of the wheel made him regain his focus. A wave had caught the bait shark. Looking up, he saw the tilted cruise ship less than a quarter mile away. He could tell there was only about half as much of the vessel remaining above the surface as when they’d first flown over it in the helicopter. He began to see movement of orange life jackets along the starboard rail. At that moment, in spite of the risk, he knew he had made the right decision. He glanced over at Kate and gave a half smile.

  Kate looked back with an uncertain nod.

  “I’d still feel better if you put on that life jacket.”

  “Life jacket!” Kate gasped. “If this all goes south, what’s that supposed to do? Clog its intestinal tract?”

  John twisted around in his seat. The cluster of boats were trailing about thirty yards behind. “Argh, they’re to
o close. They need to drop back more.” John tried to wave them back, but the boats continued to close in.

  When he turned back around, the tip of the giant frill glided out from behind the cruise ship’s stern. It passed along the sunken port side rail, slowly rising until several feet of its hide was above the water. Behind John, the roaring engines ceased.

  “Looks like that did the trick. They’ve backed off a bit now,” Kate said, looking back. The fishing boats continued to slow until they were about eighty yards behind them.

  John looked over at Kate, his mouth too dry to speak. He swallowed hard. “You know how to open the chum lines?”

  “Yes. I got the gist of it before you tried to hurl me over the gunwale. All I have to do is turn the handle in front of each barrel.”

  John eased back on the throttle. “Okay, you ready to go in?”

  “No. Are you?”

  “What do you think?” said John, looking at the enormous frill.

  “Well, at least I know you’re still sane.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.” John cautiously eased into the throttle.

  Slowly, they pulled away from the seven fishing boats, toward the cruise ship. After reaching about half speed, John nodded toward Kate. “Okay. Go ahead and start the chum lines. Turn on both barrels. We want to make sure we get its attention.”

  “Okay.” Kate got up from the passenger’s seat. “And then you better drive this bloody boat like you stole it!”

  The vessel skimmed across the water at half throttle as she made her way back to the chum barrels. She turned the handle on each and made her way back to the cockpit.

  With the chum flowing, they slowly proceeded. John could feel the shark carcass in tow shifting the boat slightly with each passing wave. How the boat would handle at top speed, he was afraid to imagine. Moving closer, obscure lumps in the water gradually took human form, while circling seagulls landed on them at random. Among the corpses were several life preservers and fragments of what appeared to be a lifeboat. Debris from the ship was everywhere. All this John saw through his peripheral vision—without moving his eyes from the frill gliding slowly through the water ahead of him. They drew within sixty yards of the cruise ship and watched the towering frill disappear behind the ship’s bow.