by Russ Watts
“Hey, how’s it going?” he asked.
The girl stopped unpacking a box full of ‘Diablo’ baseball mitts, and looked him up and down. She shoved her phone back in her pocket and then resumed unpacking. With her back still turned to Don she muttered, “We’re not open yet. Come back in an hour.”
“I didn’t want to buy anything, darling, I’m chief of security here. You got some ID?”
The girl pulled a wallet from her back pocket and held up an ID card with the Wild Seas logo emblazoned across it. “Look, mister, I’ve got a lot of stuff to sell tonight. I need to get rid of at least half this crap to make my bonus, you understand? So what’s up? What did I do wrong?”
Don took the ID card and checked it over. “And you’re so busy that you still have time to check your phone?”
The girl shrugged. “It was my friend. They found that missing cruise ship in the middle of the ocean. Reckon some of the bodies might wash up on Pacific Beach. We’re gonna check it out later.”
“Charming.”
The girl reached into her other back pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. As she placed one into her mouth, she grabbed her lighter off the cart and raised it to the unlit cigarette. Don suddenly snatched it from her mouth and grabbed the lighter. It had a picture of naked woman on it, lying on a tropical beach, silhouetted against a setting red sun.
“Hey, that’s mine. You can’t do that!”
“I think, Stacy Woodman, eighteen years old of Fern Glen, La Jolla that you need to listen up.” He handed back her ID card and stuffed her lighter into his pocket. “First of all, this park is no smoking, so you can forget about that until you finish up. Secondly, if me or any of my staff ask you a question, I would request that you answer a little more courteously next time. You’re here representing the park and there are going to be little kids around soon. Knock off the attitude, or you’ll find yourself on a bus home without your bonus. You understand that?”
The girl nodded, suddenly losing her nerve. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything. I just really need to make some money tonight.”
“Well, by the looks of your stall, you should make plenty. The reason I came over here was to tell you to mark up everything by another ten percent. I just had word from the boss. Can you let the others know for me?” asked Don, looking down the row of stalls that led all the way to the park entrance.
“Sure thing,” said the girl sweetly. “I’ll do it. I’ll do it now.”
Don froze and shivered as a blanket of fear wrapped itself around him as he heard those three words.
Do it now.
He was instantly back there. The dirt and the blood and the sand were flying everywhere, his head ringing, and his body aching. Don clenched his right hand into a fist and gritted his teeth. The scar on his head seemed to spring to life, and he wanted to rub it, to touch it to know that it was real and not a figment of his imagination. He wanted to know this was real and not the start of another nightmare.
The girl smiled. “You know, we’re going for a drink afterwards. Take a few beers down to Pacific Beach after sunset. You want to come along?” She was so close Don could feel her breath on his face.
Stacy Woodman inched closer to Don and he could smell her perfume, sweet and light on the breeze. He became aware quite suddenly of how close she was, and how young she was. This was a nightmare, but of a different sort to the ones he was used to.
“Sure is hot tonight, ain’t it? I can’t wait to get my lips around a…” Stacy licked her lips and took a step toward Don. “A nice, cold beer,” she said, smirking.
“Here,” said Don handing back her ID card, “I’ve got to go. You have fun tonight and stay out of trouble. And move your cart, you’re blocking an exit.”
He left the girl by her stall. He didn’t know if the girl had seriously been coming onto him, or just trying it on, trying to butter up the chief of security. It wouldn’t be the first time. It was usually college graduates trying to impress their friends, trying to see if they could get a visit after hours or a lock-in so they could dare each other to skinny-dip in one of the Aquariums. Don let his tightly balled fist loosen, and put Stacy and her tacky merchandise out of mind as he headed to the office. He didn’t hear Stacy whisper “asshole” under her breath as he left, or see her sneak a gulp of beer from the six-pack she had hidden underneath the cart’s base.
Don checked his watch. He hoped Amanda was getting on with Diablo. He had managed to talk her out of quitting, and made her realise that the best way to ensure the safety of everyone tonight, was to be there. He told her that Jay was competent, but his intentions were unclear. Zola had clouded his judgement, and the lure of promotion was all Jay needed to dance to her tune.
He just had one more job to sort out and took his mobile phone out. He dialled the number and looked up at the blue sky as he waited for her to answer. When she picked up, he smiled. “Hey, Meghan, how are you, it’s Don. Look I know that it’s late notice, but you said you might be free tonight. I wanted to ask you something. You ever been to Wild Seas?”
CHAPTER 10
OCTOBER 18TH 16:58
The seven men, made up of six cadets and one officer, jogged down the coastal pathway, halfway through a gruelling run. The sun was sapping their strength, and each of the men was determined to not only finish the course, but win it. They were undertaking a series of tasks, each one designed to test their endurance and stamina, both physical and mental. Their Warrant Officer, Bob Hendrickson, had developed a new programme called ‘Iron Men,’ and he made new recruits start on it the moment they arrived on San Clemente Island. The programme today consisted of two six-mile runs sandwiching an assault course in the middle of the island. At the end of the run, they had to complete another circuit of the island on a cycle followed by a one-mile swim. It was the most demanding thing Ryan had ever done.
Training for the Navy SEALS was more intense than regular military training, and they had already passed several tests just to get this far. The six men had gone through the Physical Screening Test and had been selected to attend the training base on San Clemente. The island was isolated, just under eighty miles from the western coast of the US, and all the more perfect for training because of its isolation. There were no distractions, just the US base purpose-built to enhance and develop every man and woman who resided there.
Ryan Pieters was comfortable in the middle of the pack, aware that the WO at the rear was monitoring his every move. His friends had told him he was lucky to get in. His family had said they couldn’t believe little Ryan Pieters had gotten so far. He had always been a slight boy, fair-haired, blue-eyed, and innocent looking, so it had come as a bit of a surprise to everyone when he announced his intention to join the Navy. His father had tried to talk him out of it, assuring him of better trades he could learn. His mother was just worried he would be sent overseas and come back in a body bag. She had cried when he’d left home and his father had shaken his hand, saying nothing. Ryan, however, knew he wasn’t merely lucky. He had worked hard to get in and sacrificed a lot. When the boys had started drinking, taking bottles of Rolling Rock back to the clubhouse, he had gone home and worked on his fitness. He had been a slim teenager, but had soon bulked up when he became serious about joining the Navy. He gained muscle and size, but no fat. There had been no late nights or parties for Ryan Pieters. He had even skipped Prom. Sandra Hamilton had virtually guaranteed she would go all the way with him if he took her, but he still refused. He had lost his share of friends too. George Merriweather, his closest friend, had called him for the last time one late night last spring. George had told Ryan he was dreaming if he thought he would ever make the SEALS. Ryan had said something about friends supposedly supporting other friends, and the phone conversation had descended into another argument. It was the last time Ryan had spoken to his once best friend. The last he had heard was that George Merriweather was selling curtains and blinds for his father, working fifty hours a week.
Th
e coastal path was a killer, and they had not done the full circuit before. The stretch of path they were on now was steep and the path itself was stubborn, strewn with small stones that tried to trip him up. The goats who used to inhabit the island had worn their own groove into the path, but they were all gone now, removed for their own protection. Ryan casually wiped the sweat from his forehead and kept focused. Fagan, Dobbs, and Creech were a few feet ahead of him, Crowson and Kelly just behind. After a week on the island, he was just beginning to figure the others out. They had all been welcoming and friendly, with the exception of Fagan who was proving to be more than competitive; he was an animal. He spoke little to the others, really only interacting with them when he absolutely had to. Ryan knew there was more to being a SEAL than fitness though. Being part of a team, trusting who you worked with, and being able to communicate with them, was integral to the success of the role and any mission you were given. Fagan was going to have to join the party sometime, or he would never get through Boot Camp.
As the incline levelled off, Ryan cast a look to his left, down the cliff face to the jagged shoreline. One trip, one foot in the wrong place and it was sayonara. It had to be a hundred feet down, and the coastline was littered with huge boulders and jagged rocks. There was no beach to speak of, and no reason to go down there apart from what could be found underwater. The Pacific was calm this morning, and Ryan could see a tourist’s yacht. The Navy allowed boats to moor up close to the shore, in certain designated areas, to allow avid Scuba-divers access to some of the best scuba diving around. Ryan could make out a long yacht today, its white hull reflecting the brilliant sun. On the wooden deck, he could see a lone figure, lying prostrate in the sun, wearing nothing but bikini bottoms and a pair of sunglasses. The woman had wavy brown hair and a perfect body, as far as Ryan could tell from so far away. It had been a long time since he had seen a naked woman. That was something else he had sacrificed in the last few years. When George had been feeling up Libby Tucker in the back of her Dad’s Camry, Ryan had been in the basement at home, lifting weights and working up an altogether different kind of sweat.
“Shit!” cried Creech as he stumbled. The athletic man tripped and his ankle went from under him, sending him crashing into the stony ground.
The group slowed, and then stopped as they realised Creech had done some serious damage.
“Creech,” said WO Hendrickson, “get your ass up now.”
Creech got up and when he tried to put his weight on his ankle, he crumpled back down to the ground again.
“I think it’s broken,” said Creech, rubbing his ankle and loosening his sneaker. “Fuck.”
Hendrickson sighed and crouched down beside Creech. “God damn it, Creech, you had to do this now?”
Ryan looked at the others. They were all using the time to get in some more oxygen, and stretch their aching limbs.
“Sir, let’s roll,” said Fagan impatiently. “Creech can hobble back on his own. I want to finish the course. Looks like Creech is more glass than iron, Sir.”
Nobody laughed apart from Fagan. Ryan knew the base was halfway across the island, at least five miles away, and it was going to be a long walk back for Creech. As much as he wanted to finish the course, he knew Hendrickson would be looking for volunteers to help.
“Sir, I’ll take him if you want. Let Fagan and the others finish the course.”
Hendrickson looked up at Ryan. “You sure, soldier? It’s a long way home.”
The WO appeared to mull the situation over. Ryan could see that Creech was in pain, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. Creech was probably going to be out of action for a while, even if it turned out to be nothing more than a strain.
“Sir, tomorrow’s a rest day. Perhaps I can complete the course then, on my own? Then nobody misses out and Creech will get back to base to have his ankle looked at before we’re all singing carols round the campfire, Sir.”
“Dickwad,” muttered Fagan from behind Ryan’s back.
“Fuck,” said Creech again as he stood up using the WO for support.
“Okay, Ryan, try to get back before nightfall. If I have to send out a search party for you girls, you’ll find Christmas comes early and Santa’s bringing a pink slip.” Hendrickson passed Creech over to Ryan. “Okay, ladies, this isn’t a Sunday stroll, move it!”
Ryan put an arm around Creech and watched Fagan and the others jog up the path to complete the course.
“Sorry, dude, guess you drew the short straw.” Creech was pale and sweating, and not just from the exertions of the run.
Ryan shrugged. “You really think it’s broken?”
It was time for Creech to shrug. “Could be. It’s starting to go numb.”
“I guess we should move out. Hendrickson’s right about one thing, if we don’t hurry up it’ll be dark before we get back.”
As Creech began limping along side Ryan, he apologised. “I’m sorry, Ryan, truly I am. I should’ve looked where I was going.”
“Forget it, this path is a bitch,” said Ryan kicking a large stone away. “I’m surprised this is the first time anyone’s fallen. There’s shit everywhere.”
“Yeah, but…well, I was kind of distracted. I was looking down there.” Creech pointed down the cliff to the yacht Ryan had seen earlier and grinned. “Can you blame me? I haven’t seen a nice pair of tits like that since Prom night.”
Ryan looked down at the yacht again, anchored by a small cove, and admired the woman’s curves. He supposed her to be the wife of a rich tourist, or more likely the mistress. The husband was no doubt under the water right now, swimming amongst the kelp forests and coral. Sometimes, they had famous actors come out. Fagan told them he’d seen Jennifer Lawrence on his first day, putting on snorkel gear at Lark Cove. He had been dismissed and laughed out of the canteen, but now Ryan wondered if there had been some truth in it. He had never seen anyone famous in real life. He squinted and held his hand up to shield his eyes from the sun. Ryan couldn’t really make out who the woman was from atop the cliff, so he looked over the yacht for clues as to who the owner might be. Other than the name of the yacht, ‘The Mangahoe,’ he couldn’t see anything. It was just another rich tourist with nothing better to do.
“Let’s get moving, Creech, the speed we’re going it’s got to be a good two hours back.” As they trudged down the path, Ryan noticed Creech looking out to sea. After a few minutes, he couldn’t ignore it any longer. “Hey, come on, man, you’ve seen tits before.”
“It’s not that, it’s…there’s something else. It’s…odd.”
They stopped walking and Ryan began to get irritated. “Look, Creech…”
A loud barking noise interrupted him, so loud that it echoed off the cliff walls and reverberated around inside his head. Three short, sharp barks that could only have come from the direction of the ocean.
“What the hell is that?” asked Ryan.
“There’s something down there. In the water.” Creech pointed, but all Ryan could see was the yacht. The woman was on her feet, apparently looking around for the source of the unusual noise as well. “You see it?”
Ryan shook his head. “What? I don’t see…” Then he saw it and his blood froze.
The sunbathing woman was at the stern of the yacht, looking out at the still Pacific Ocean. On the shore, just a few meters from the yacht, was the head of an enormous creature. Its head was almost as large as the yacht itself, and it was stealthily climbing out of the water. Its neck was thick and scaly, and as the creature emerged, Ryan was able to see more. It moved slowly, gallons of water cascading off its back as it came, and it had two front legs that dragged its heavy body along. As it rose, its long body began to brush the yacht, and it tipped up, sending the woman into the ocean with a faint scream. The creature kept climbing, its hideous head getting closer and closer to the top of the cliff.
“Amazing,” Ryan said quietly.
He watched as the thing finally dragged itself completely clear of the water. It rea
ched from the base to almost the top of the cliff and had to be nearly a hundred feet in length. Its body was fat, and yet, it heaved itself over the jagged rocks as though they weren’t there. Ryan was reminded vaguely of a crocodile, yet this was ten times as big. The creature thrashed its tail around, splitting the yacht in two, and Ryan lost sight of the woman. If she had any sense, she would be swimming away, far away from the sea giant that had materialised from nowhere.
The monster barked again and Ryan put his hands over his ears. The noise was like the combination of a barking dog and a Jackhammer. Ryan stood still, in awe of what he was seeing. The monster kept climbing, over the top of the cliff, across the goat path, until it had finally hauled itself up onto the island top. The monster was so big, it was blocking out the sun, and Ryan was cast into shadow by its head. He saw two rows of teeth with two larger incisors at the front. They dripped with seaweed and the ground beneath his feet trembled when the monster moved.
Ryan crouched down and whispered to Creech. “Is this real? Is this…” He reached out for Creech, but found himself reaching through thin air. Spinning around he saw Creech running across the open ground. Running was not really the correct term, for what Creech was doing was really screaming and hopping on one foot, trying to get away from the monster.
Ryan had doubted the creature could move quickly, such was its width and length, but no sooner had he noticed Creech’s screaming, than so too had the monster. In one leap, the monster had jumped fifty feet and planted itself directly in front of the running man. When it landed on the earth, Ryan felt the vibrations course through his body. The thing had to weigh several tonnes and half of it was made up of sharp teeth. Ryan watched as the monster opened its jaws. He could see down its throat at the pink gums and red flesh. There was a small brown tongue, but it moved with such speed that Ryan had no time to take in anything else. The monster’s jaws swept up Creech and a mound of earth, and then he was gone. Creech was swallowed whole without even being able to utter a cry for help.
