What Lurks Beneath

by Ryan Lockwood

  She was always making bad decisions in her personal life. She was still mad at herself for kissing Sturman. But she hadn’t been able to send him away. He’d come all the way here just to see her.

  Will Sturman was like an overgrown teenager, or a perpetually failing college student. Who else flew almost 4,000 miles after a woman, hoping he might find a place to crash? Maybe that was what happened to a man after he spent years in the Navy, then became self-employed, lived on a boat, and never raised a family. But a part of her liked the hopeless romantic in him.

  He said, “Did you know that thousands of years ago, Egyptians hunted octopuses for food? They lowered clay pots into the water, and when the octopuses went inside they just brought the pots back up. Just like that, they had dinner.”

  Val smiled. “No, Will, I did not know that.”

  “Thing is, I can’t figure out why such smart animals can be trapped and killed so easy.”

  “An octopus is like a cat, I guess.”

  “Curiosity kills them?” he said.

  “Exactly. You’re really getting into them, aren’t you? Working at the aquarium?”

  He shrugged. “Well, I thought it was a safer interest than squid. Now I’m starting to wonder. With what Eric told me about that woman missing at that resort, and the kid in the swimming hole . . .”

  “It’s got you wondering too. About the lusca.”

  “Yeah. Why not?”

  “Well, right away, we write off the shark-head part. We focus on the large size, and the image of what might be a tentacle—”

  “Don’t forget bone piles,” Eric said, walking out onto the patio.

  Val turned to him. “Right, and the features in the marine hole resembling middens.” She thought for a moment. “I keep coming to the same conclusion. I guess it’s possible to have an undiscovered species of giant octopus, or maybe a novel type of giant squid, but it’s very unlikely. And we’re not going to find out on this expedition unless it decides to come out and meet us.”

  Sturman snorted. “Same old Doc. Never believes in anything she can’t bring back to the lab.”

  “That’s because I question things, instead of just believing everything I hear. It’s called science, Will.”

  “But he’s got a point,” Eric said. “You are pretty skeptical, even for a scientist.”

  “Ganging up on me now, huh?” she said.

  Eric turned to Sturman. “I still think it’s possible. Did you know we know more about the surface of the moon than about our own deep oceans?”

  Sturman nodded. “I’ve heard that before.”

  “It’s true. You can look it up. NASA’s annual research budget for space exploration is four billion dollars. But you know how much the US government spends on ocean research?”

  “I suppose you’re gonna tell us,” Sturman said.

  “Less than twenty-five million bucks. That’s it. Less than one percent of what we waste to explore lifeless planets and distant stars every year. So we really don’t know what’s living deep down in the ocean. Nobody does.”

  Val said, “Eric’s right about that. But it doesn’t mean there’s a bunch of giant octopuses living here, undiscovered for hundreds of years. There’s virtually no legitimate documentation. No real evidence for an undiscovered species. Besides, what on earth would it eat to sustain itself? This part of the ocean isn’t nearly as productive as, say, the North Pacific. Or Monterey Bay.”

  “Maybe they eat those little whales down here,” Sturman said.

  Eric laughed. “How would an octopus eat a whale, even if it was big enough? Do they even have teeth?”

  Sturman regarded him for a moment. “You really don’t know? They have a beak.”

  “I know. But it’s just a beak.”

  Sturman smiled, extending his right hand toward Eric, palm up, as if to flip him the bird. Where his middle finger should have been there was a stump. “Bad drivers all over Southern California have a beak to thank for this.”

  “That’s from an octopus beak?”

  “No. But close enough.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Val said, “I’ll tell you some other time. But back to the whales. If our hypothetical giant octopuses feed on them, then why don’t we ever see sucker marks on the ones that got away?”

  Eric said, “You said yourself that scientists know very little about the whales here. And there are other animals to eat. Sharks, rays, groupers. Other big fish.”

  “But octopuses prefer to eat shellfish. Smaller animals that move slower.”

  Sturman shook his head. “Maybe. But even a pretty small octopus can kill and eat a shark. Seen it myself, in an aquarium video.”

  Val sighed. The ridiculousness of it all hit her again. Even though Andros Island historically had a small human population, reducing the chance of sightings; even though they had a picture of a suckered arm from inside a blue hole; even though people were going missing, with witnesses claiming they’d seen a sea monster—

  “Why are you here, then, Val?” Sturman said. “If you don’t think what we’re talking about is even possible, why did you come down here in the first place?”

  She looked away from him. At first, she thought maybe it was mainly just to get away from him. To give herself room to think. As she tried to figure out what to say, Eric spoke up.

  “Sturman, you work back at the aquarium. You’d really appreciate the exhibits they have here at Oceanus. The place is a monstrosity, full of rich assholes, but the aquariums are first-class.”

  Sturman stared at Val a few moments longer, as if reading her thoughts, then looked over at Eric. “Yeah. I think I’d like to see those while I’m here.”

  Val said, “You should bring him with you tomorrow, Eric.”

  He said, “Sure. You want to join me tomorrow? They’re releasing a manta ray, first thing in the morning.”

  “Aren’t you going, Val?” Sturman said.

  “I still have more work to do.”

  “Well, hell, I’m in. I gotta see this.”

  After the men went inside to get ready for bed, she remained. She watched as the clouds began to blot out the stars. Moisture was on its way.

  She mostly thought about Will. He had such determination. But would he ever have the ambition to do any of the things he was so capable of? She thought maybe she’d go after all.

  CHAPTER 51

  On the shallow bottom, she ceased moving, tasting the water in the lagoon. Tonight, there was nothing.

  On another recent night, near here, she had found the dead whale. And the other, living prey on which she had also fed. The unusual prey that had now become a regular part of her diet.

  She could not stray far from her den. Not now. But she could not suppress the nagging urge.

  She moved along the familiar sandy bottom, again pressing herself low beneath the gentle waves, and maneuvered her great body toward the beach, over coral heads and sea grass beds until the waves started to break over her leading arms. There, she stopped. Felt. Tasted.

  She slid back into the deeper water of the dark lagoon and moved down the beach, remaining in the shallows. This place was not safe, not comfortable. But perhaps it would again yield sustenance.

  She felt the first vibrations.

  Click. Click-click.

  She stopped moving. She turned back toward shore. The clicks rose in intensity as she neared, arousing her, but again she was confronted by the impassable shallows.

  Click-click. Click-click-click-click.

  This was food. And it was very close.

  She moved quickly toward the source of the vibrations, compressed between the waves and the jagged coral bottom, now past the sandy beach. As she slid into a rough channel of deeper water toward the sounds, her writhing arms slid fluidly around most of the obstructions, but in her haste she broke off many fragile coral fans and pillars, scattering the terrified sea life.

  Mild waves now crested over the small island of her protrud
ing flesh. She paused in the shallows at the very edge of the ocean, at the very edge of her own world, and extended the first of her arms.

  Immediately, the long, exploring appendages crossed the surf line. They felt impossibly heavy as they left the water and entered the space above it, and then met with the firm shore. The friction between her own flesh and the rigid surface of the land was incredible, but the arms found it even harder to raise themselves into the thin, unsupportive air above.

  Testing the unfamiliar world, moving in various ways, some of her arms soon began to move most effectively in hydrostatic fashion, by inching themselves along the hard ground in short, regular sequences. Extensions, followed by contractions. This collective information was shared, passed through her brain and to each of the other limbs.

  Still, no food was encountered. And the clicking sounds were gone. From where had they come?

  The arms explored, on land and in the sea. One of the arms still submerged beside her found a break in the land; a narrow hole, where the seawater extended farther into the hard, unyielding landscape.

  Click.

  The single pulse of sound reverberated from within the narrow hole and again passed into her soft body. Whatever was emitting the clicks was close. Very close. Somewhere within the hole, or just past it. But even the tip of her tentacle could not pass into the tiny opening.

  There was food here. She was certain. But she could not reach it. She expelled an enormous measure of spent seawater, clouding the darkness around her with sand.

  Ingesting more water, she calmed. More patiently now, she carefully felt at the opening. Water flowed slowly past the exploring arm, steadily, into the hole. There had to be water beyond.

  She remained in the surf line for some time, testing the shore for a route. But there was no deep water. No submerged tunnel besides the tiny hole. No passage. Her hunger nagged at her, a wrenching thing inside her. Commanding her to action.

  She focused on the four arms still extended out of the water, and pulled her huge body several more inches from the water.

  In coordination, the arms heaved her forward, this time assisted by the push of the arms gathered behind her. The oppressive weight of the outer world increased, and for the first time she found it difficult to take seawater in to oxygenate her gills.

  She contracted her arms again.

  Dragging her immense, saclike body out of the water and onto the dark rocks, she felt impossibly heavy. The rough edges cut into her skin as she crept forward, as tons of flesh pressed down on itself, unable to rise off the surface without the necessary hydrostatic support of water. But the jagged surface was narrow, quickly replaced by an equally hard, but mercifully flat, surface. As she moved farther from the water, the weight of her boneless body crushed down on itself, flattening painfully, the oxygen in her blood quickly dwindling as she found herself unable to breathe. Seawater drained from within her cavity in sheets.

  Still she pressed forward.

  Splayed on the dark concrete, her lead arms groped desperately ahead of her. There had to be water somewhere ahead. Her trailing arms were now leaving the ocean behind her. She felt the first impulse to stop. To turn back. A faintness began to overcome her. Her arms extended again. With immense effort, she lurched forward. Extended an arm as far as its length would reach.

  Water.

  She dragged her bulk toward it, along the hard ground, feeling many small tears erupting in her flesh. But now her arms were entering another pool of water. Immediately, their chemical receptors tasted the prey. The clicking sounds had come from here. But thoughts of feeding had left her mind. She felt herself losing consciousness, and desperately pulled her bulk toward the water. Toward safety.

  She reached the edge. The pool of water dropped off steeply, providing a solid anchor from which to pull with her lead arms. She pulled again, and her flattened, wet body overhung the lip of concrete. A final lurch, and then she was rolling forward.

  She sank heavily into the pool, sending a large wave across its surface.

  CHAPTER 52

  Ashley made her way through the casino, wishing for a more direct path. She needed to get home, to get a few hours of sleep before the helicopter arrived tomorrow morning. Her supervisor had insisted she be there.

  The resort’s designers had intentionally made it difficult to find a path through here, to increase the odds that gamblers might pause to drop a few more dollars into a slot machine or rest at a card table as they looked for a way out. Around her, the ceaseless beeps and dings of the machines rose into cool air scented with cigarette smoke.

  She never gambled. Ever. She knew it was a losing proposition in the long run, and she wasn’t comfortable with the risk involved. But she appreciated that many of the guests here did gamble, bringing in good revenue, although not as many on a Friday night like tonight. This was the final night for a large percentage of weeklong guests, so many had already lost their money and drunk more alcohol than they had intended—

  “Hey, girl!”

  Ashley turned her head. Two young men near the blackjack tables were leering at her. She remembered these men, and their fathers. The Russians. She smiled, but kept walking.

  “You there. You work here, right?” He had a slight accent.

  Her shift was over and she was ready to go home. But she retained the fake smile and approached the pair.

  She remembered that they were staying with their families in upper-floor suites. They were the spoiled, entitled sons of two men she had pegged as criminals the moment she met them at check-in. Russian gangster types, who’d moved to America to continue the family crime syndicate. Who did bad things to get rich. And who, like normal families, apparently brought theirs to fancy resorts on vacation.

  They were dressed well, in pressed shirts and nice slacks. But their eyes were bloodshot, their faces sunburned. Each held a mixed drink. The shorter one was weaving.

  “Can I help you?” she said.

  “Hey zare, Bahama Mama. How tall are you, girl?” It was the one with curly brown hair and stud earrings, who had called her over.

  “Taller than you,” she said, knowing she was only that way because of the heels she wore.

  He laughed, but his eyes narrowed. “Funny. You may be tall, but I am very long.”

  His friend, shorter with a shaved head and large gold medallion, laughed as he looked her up and down.

  She said, “That’s nice. Where are your parents, boys?”

  “Not here. Why you asking? You wanna be my mama . . . Bahama Mama?”

  Curly Hair moved closer to her. His breath smelled like a still, and Ashley suddenly felt uncomfortable, despite all the people around.

  “I’m Niki,” he said.

  “Is there anything I can help you with, Niki?”

  “I can think of something.” He reached out and traced a finger along her shoulder. “Want a drink, girl?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t. I’m working.”

  “Come on. Just one drink. We’re harmless.” The way he looked at her made her wonder what awful things he had done to other girls, girls who had had a drink with him.

  “Really, I need to be somewhere now. I’m sorry. Good night, gentlemen.”

  Niki waved a hand at her dismissively. “Whatever. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

  The smile left her face and she turned and hurried away to the doors that led out of the casino.

  In the warm, humid air outside, it was far more deserted than usual, even this late. People were afraid to go onto the resort grounds at night. After the woman at the beach had gone missing, guests had become scared that somebody might be kidnapping guests. Rumors were even spreading that she had been killed.

  Ashley heard a noise behind her and glanced over her shoulder. Nobody was there.

  She hurried down the serpentine path, lined by greenery and lit from below by carefully concealed floodlights. The only sounds were the distant roar of rushing water and her heels clicking on the s
mooth stone pavers. She continued toward the far end of the grounds, and the main entrance. It was still five minutes away. She looked over her shoulder again, and suddenly felt very alone. She wished she’d stayed inside the casino.

  She rounded a bend and saw the flat, dark expanse that marked the Dolphin Playground. The attraction, fed by water piped in from the ocean, allowed guests to swim with the playful animals. She’d always felt sorry for them, cut off from the ocean, even if it was a large pen.

  The roar of water grew louder as she neared the attraction. The stone pathway entered a narrow strip where it passed between the playground and the adjacent waterpark. Opposite the darkened dolphin enclosure, the Neptune Pool was lit from within. The sound came from water surging into the otherwise calm pool at the base of the park’s tallest waterslide. The man-made obelisk rose eighty feet above her into the night sky.

  She wondered why tonight the water in the slide had been left running. Perhaps for some maintenance purpose. But she didn’t like not being able to hear anything over the rushing water, and she moved faster. She glanced again over her shoulder, then at the dolphin enclosure. The water in it was now sloshing inexplicably, as though a small earthquake had rippled the surface. Maybe the dolphins at play? But they normally slept at night, and she couldn’t see them anywhere.

  She felt the hairs on her arms and neck stand on end. An overwhelming urge to get away overcame her.

  She hurried down the path.

  CHAPTER 53

  Sergei had finally passed out facedown on the red felt of the blackjack table, forehead on a forearm. The bald, fat fuck could never hold his vodka. He was an embarrassment. Niki Melnikov shook his friend’s shoulder again, but Sergei didn’t move. The dealer, a young Asian woman, had stopped shuffling and looked at him with concern.