He used his trash grabber to pick up yet another piece of litter from the sand. Someone’s gigantic red Big Slurp Styrofoam cup.
How long had it taken this person to drink that monstrosity?
A week?
Did it come with its own wheeled carrying case?
As long as it would take to milk the thing dry, you’d think whoever lugged it around would be able to remember to throw it away. Its colors certainly made it hard to miss.
Or forget.
At least he had the beach largely to himself.
About a quarter of a mile away, Jim was wandering the shoreline with his magnetic detector, doing his morning treasure-hunting ritual.
June and Sarah were out with the other retirees for their combination power walk and seashell-finding expedition.
All in all, it was a good day to be out and active.
Whoa!
What was that?
He’d never seen a rock like this on the shore.
This thing was massive!
Had someone dumped it here?
It certainly hadn’t washed up!
Interesting…
He walked a little closer, curious as to what it was and why it was here.
There were no tire tracks or drag marks… either from the shore or inland.
Odd indeed.
At least this wasn’t another mess to clean up.
Maybe it was part of some beach beautification project.
Two mammoth tentacles whipped out and broke his neck before he could manage a scream.
As its prey disappeared within its folds, the octopus’s chromatophores flickered briefly in myriad soothing colors before returning to its original, mottled, rocklike coloration.
Out for a Jog
There’s nothing like going out for a run as the sun sets over the Pacific.
A refreshing breeze coming inland off the shore. Babes to scope, to ease the discomfort of the jog. Sand giving way underfoot as the lungs take in the heady air. Beautiful mountain and inland views. The pleasure of the body put to good use.
Life is good.
He could see another runner up ahead.
A real looker.
The view just got even better.
He smiled and picked up his pace.
If she was a regular, maybe he would say more than hi.
Why else did he do this anyway?
Yeah… he’d said hello in passing to her a few times in the past.
He knew exactly what he was going to say. This would be good!
He smiled as she neared and raised his hand to wave.
She smiled in reply.
Yes!
Signs were good!
“Holy shit!”
Her gaze clouded briefly in hurt confusion before the giant squid’s two long tentacles, covered in serrated suckers, lashed out and wrapped around her, whipping her into the shallows, her screams a muted gurgle as she splashed and thrashed into the water.
He turned and starting jogging quickly inland.
He would ask someone else for their number.
On the Beach
The break was unbelievable.
The waves were clean and well-formed with no chop, beautifully glassy in the early morning light. The air was calm, with no onshore breeze to knock down the waves’ faces. The swells rode easy and uninterrupted all along the shore.
He was stoked.
Why there was no one else here, he had no idea.
Usually he had to fight the crowds to get the waves he wanted… and that was just on the beach before he reached the shore.
Today the state park was abandoned.
He felt like he was entering an untouched wilderness.
Had he woken from his campsite in the bush after an evacuation?
He hadn’t felt any tremors or smelled any smoke.
Today wasn’t a holiday.
Though he seldom worked, he kept track of the calendar enough to avoid the beach on holidays.
This was a dream.
Shrugging at his good fortune, he clamored down the hill from his semi-permanent camping site hidden within the recesses of the rolling golden hills that protected the shore.
Gulls clustered and squawked eagerly in the near shore break, a noisy counterpoint to the scuttling crabs.
The sand already warm beneath his feet, he jogged eagerly onto the wide, gently sloping beach toward the distant break, intent on the swell’s dance beyond the near shore.
Smiling, his eyes flitted along the shoreline, taking in the beauty of an unblemished morning.
The smile quickly fell from his face.
Farther down the strand, he could see parts of broken boards washed ashore, more boards and their parts than he wished to count.
What had happened here?
Running forward in case anyone was hurt and needed help, now knowing what to look for, he spotted more colorful board fragments washed up all along the shoreline, flotsam of dreams lost.
Gulls clamored and flew away at his approach.
When he arrived at the water’s edge, fragments of boards weren’t the only things he found in the surf.
His eyes widening in shock, resisting the urge to vomit, he took one last look at the wasteland.
Boards were torn to pieces. Scavengers feasted on the remains of what might have been his friends. A world of horror filled his eyes.
He turned and sprinted away from his idyllic delusions.
For once, he would be glad to speak to the authorities.
Reinforcements
The unbelievable wavering cellphone footage of the immense flying octopus filled the screen as the reporter gave her stunned warning to stay away from the water.
He turned off the TV.
As much as he hated to lose control of a situation, this had to be done. Word had to get out. People had to know to stay away from the shore.
He’d already lost at least nine, and he didn’t want to lose more.
He already dreaded the phone’s ring, knowing there had to be more… that there were going to be more.
They had to get help, and fast.
He needed to understand what was going on.
His team needed assistance getting the situation back under control.
His force was too small to do it alone.
He’d already called in the Guard.
After they’d finished snickering at him, making him repeat his story several times, probably so they could record it for posterity, they’d promised to send some troops to help secure the shore.
At least that took some pressure off.
Now he just needed people to steer clear of the beach until they had this figured out.
Like that was going to happen.
One thing he could count on: people were stupid. Give them the chance and they’d show you every time.
He decided to call Megan at the aquarium up in Monterey. Her fisheries research, toxicology background, and general ecological knowledge might be able to help shed some light on what was happening and why.
Besides, she was overdue for a visit.
She hadn’t been home in far too long.
He’d give her a call.
Picking up the phone, he dialed her number with only a small amount of trepidation. While listening to the phone ring, he cleared his throat, anxiously waiting for her to pick up. Finally, on about the fifth ring, just as he was deciding what to say on her answering machine, she answered. Her soft voice brought back so many bittersweet memories of childhood: her growing up, the loss of her mother, his joining the force and moving up with each promotion, her leaving Oceanview to pursue her dreams, him left alone…
“Hello?”
“Hi, honey.”
“Daddy, is that you?”
“Of course it’s me!” He smiled even though she wasn’t there to see it.
“You just sound different… tired. Sad.”
“I am. I’m worn out and need help, and I’m sure the real work has yet to
begin.”
“What’s wrong? Tell me.”
So he did.
She promised to come down as soon as she packed her things and gathered the necessary testing equipment and supplies.
For that at least he was thankful.
The realization that he was bringing his daughter into a place where she would face so much risk quickly wiped away any feelings of satisfaction or excitement at seeing her.
So much for a happy reunion.
A Moment to Plan
“You mean to tell me they’re protesting our restriction of access to the beach?”
Major Ganlin’s response was clear and firm on the other end of the line. “We have detained several groups of protestors intent on breaking through our patrols and have similarly held many more who have circumvented our cordons.”
He shook his head, muttering under his breath. “Not even the sight of guns and tanks will deter them.”
“Sheriff, no one wants to lose access to the beach.”
“Heaven forbid they lose their lives instead. The break will be there another day… their health won’t be.”
“I’ll be sending another convoy your way to hold those we have detained until they’ve been processed.”
“Thank you, Major Ganlin. And I’ll be sending another rounds of officers to help your efforts. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
Major Ganlin barked a short laugh. “Send fewer sightseers and more men.”
“I wish I could help more than I am, Major. I’ve already stretched my staff as thin as I can—extending hours, reducing off time, and calling in reserves. Another few days and I fear my men will start to to revolt. And the neighboring towns just can’t afford to send men, for similar reasons.”
“Understood. I’ve requested more men to augment our efforts.”
“Thanks, Major.” His voice was tired, he was tired, and no rest was in sight. “I’ll see you at tomorrow morning’s planning session. We need to decide how to handle this long-term before we all start falling apart.”
“Until then.”
“Thank you for all you do, Major.”
The line clicked.
Megan would be at the meeting. It would be nice to see her even under those circumstances. Her view would be refreshing, not bogged down by logistics, pressing problems, fears, and the minutiae of command. They needed some solid ideas on how to move forward and an understanding of what was really going on.
Otherwise, they would start floundering, could risk drowning.
And no one wanted that.
Except perhaps the sea monsters.
Shit, Meet Fan
To say the beachfront was a circus would be a Nobel-winning study in understatement.
Media outlets from San Diego to Seattle crowded the streets, competing for space, while residents tried to at least go through the motions of a normal day. National news and radio stations jammed sidewalks and fought for ground between rows of National Guard vehicles and troops. Reading and deciphering all the stations’ call signs was like trying to grasp a foreign language without a frame of reference.
More numerous and vocal than the media were the protesters marching along the boardwalk, parading before the storefronts, and gathering before the entrance to the pier. Signs ranged from the grounded and topical—“Our Beach, Our Lives,” “One World, One Ocean,” “Our World, Our Voice” and “Give Us Our Beach Back”—to the more inflammatory and off-the-wall—“Man does not belong,” “The End is Nigh!” “An End to Tyranny!” and “Strike Down the Oppressors!”
Scattered among the Guard, the citizens, and the protestors, the sheriff’s troops remained calm and composed within the surging waves of activity.
Seeing their calming presence, he was proud of his men and women, who put such a brave, positive face on the city in a time of tragedy.
The National Guard command station, his destination, was at the center of the fray by the pier’s entrance. Pulling into the spot reserved for him, he took a deep preparatory breath, then stepped out of the patrol car and entered the melee.
“Officer Hayes!”
“Sheriff Hayes!”
“Mister Hayes!”
“Will!”
“Willard!”
“Sir!”
“Hey!”
“You!”
“Just a moment!”
“A word!”
“A question!”
“We want to know!”
“A single answer!”
“What’s the plan?”
“What’s happening?”
“What do you know?”
“What’s the status?”
“What are you doing to keep everyone safe?”
“Why now?”
“What does this mean?”
He was assaulted by hundreds of questions, swarmed by microphones, encircled by pushing throngs of querying reporters, jostled by protestors, all the while pushing forward to the command center.
The command center itself was a large matte canvas tent flanked by National Guard and local police officers. It was also free of turmoil.
He longed to reach it like a drowning man grasping desperately for purchase.
His deep voice measured and steady, filled with a surety he did not feel, he replied simply and generally to all those who buzzed incessantly around: “I will answer your questions as best I can after our meeting.”
“Please be patient.”
“Thank you.”
“But…”
“We need to know…”
“What about…”
“Why…”
“When…”
“Who…”
He tuned their unending questions out completely and moved back into the calm of his own world.
They would get their answers in due time.
At least the ones he was willing to give.
“Daddy!”
The first voice he heard upon pushing through the tent’s flap was the most welcome.
His daughter had grown into quite the woman. An accomplished scientist and researcher, she was also an outspoken advocate for marine preservation, with several widely cited papers on the use of sustainable fisheries and the restoration of degraded aquatic ecosystems.
His long arms enveloped her in the warmest way he knew how, completely and with a bright smile.
Leaning to whisper in Meg’s ear, he said, “Glad to see you, hon.”
Above and past his daughter’s head, he saw Major Ganlin offer a brief nod in acknowledgement of his arrival. Where Megan was tall and lithe, as playful as the waves on the shore, Major Ganlin was short and solid, as unyielding as the seawall backing much of the beachfront along Oceanview’s seaboard. The major’s hair was cropped short, with striking silver bands visible even in the stubble.
They walked toward where Major Ganlin, her assistants, and Deputies Smith and Carver stood around a central table that held a map of the coastline around Oceanview. He leaned once more toward his daughter’s ear and muttered, “Let’s get this started. I want your job done and you out of here as soon as possible.”
“I can take care of myself, Dad.”
“I know that, Megs, but so long as I can, I’ll try to take care of you, too.”
“Sheriff Hayes. Doctor Hayes.” Major Ganlin’s firm voice offered little room for casual familiarity. “If you’re ready, we’ll begin.”
With a slight nod, the sheriff replied, “I want to thank you and your troops for coming to our call. We need all the support we can get under the circumstances. You’ve been a godsend.”
Major Ganlin pursed her lips. “We’re here to do whatever we can. I only hope it’s enough.”
Diving in, knowing the answer but asking anyway, he said, “Have you heard back from the governor’s office?”
“The governor is reluctant to commit more troops given the uncertainty of the situation. As you are aware, she has already positioned more Guard along the coast in anticipation of further
emergencies. Until the need is here greater, the situation will probably not change.”
Although he seethed inside knowing that he had mile upon mile of oceanfront to protect with far too few resources to do it, he asked, “What’s the status of your team? Are they are tired as ours?”
“We’re making do. The citizens of Oceanview have been most welcome hosts.”
She obviously wasn’t talking about the protestors then.
Although to be fair, most of those weren’t local. And of the ones that were local, he wouldn’t expect them to be doing anything but protest. In fact, for them, protesting was a positive.
He shared what little good news he had. “The CHP has sent officers in to bolster our forces along the roadways. With the Highway Patrol’s help covering the regions outside town, we should be able to create a much tighter cordon barring access to the beaches along the coast.”
This at least got a brief smile from the major.
Turning to Megan so that she could explain her role and be about her business—and then be safely out of town as soon as possible—he asked, “What do you hope to be able to do for us, Megan? We could really use some help understanding why this is happening and what, if anything, we can do to prevent further casualties.”
Megan sensed her father’s concern for her and his eagerness for her to get started. “I will be taking water and wildlife samples for toxicological analysis, along a transect over the entirety of the shoreline in this jurisdiction.”
Major Ganlin raised her eyebrows. “Is that wise?”
Megan didn’t yield. “It’s necessary.”
Accepting Megan’s response without reaction, Major Ganlin replied, “Would you care to offer any conjecture on the cause of this… anomaly?”
“A fishery collapse may explain the marine life exploring new regions and resources in search of food. As for the unprecedented mutations… I’ll be testing for a range of mutagens, but there’s no precedent for anything like this in the literature.”
“And out of the literature?”
Octopocalypse Page 2
