by Michael Cole
“Hmmm,” Nevers said as he examined it. “I’m not too sure myself. It might be a solidification of jelly and plankton that was on the surface for too long and dried up.” Nevers was just guessing, and knew that theory was not likely correct.
“Of course that wouldn’t account for the flesh attached to it,” Meya said.
“There is that,” Nevers said. “I’m honestly not sure.”
“What about the other biologist who works here,” Sydney said. “Is he available to take a look?”
“Oh, that’s Dr. Wilkow,” Nevers said with a laugh. “I won’t waste your time with him. I doubt he’ll be able to tell us what it is. Besides, he should be in the middle of a class right now.”
“Not the class fishing in the pond outside?” Sydney said. Nevers looked straight at him. His expression was now very serious.
“I beg your pardon?”
“There’s this group outside…I’m presuming it’s a class…over at the pond. There’s this really enthusiastic guy over there leading the thing, with a fishing pole.” Dr. Nevers’ face tensed up for a moment.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” He placed the shell back in the solution and removed his gloves. He hurried to a window in the back of his office and looked outside. He could see the class across the parking lot, huddled by the pond. He grabbed his cell phone from his pocket and dialed a number.
********
Wilkow felt his phone buzzing in his cargo pocket. He dug it out, seeing Dr. Nevers’ name in the caller ID. He tapped the button to answer the call.
“I knew to never say Never!” he quipped.
“You’re hilarious,” Dr. Nevers said. “When you’re done with your class, I expect to see you in my office.” His voice was stern.
“Grades aren’t due until August,” Wilkow joked. He could hear the dean sigh through the phone.
“I think you already know what I’m about to chew you out for,” he said.
“Looking forward to it, Doc,” Wilkow sarcastically remarked. “Be there soon!”
“After your class is over,” Nevers emphasized. He understood summer classes were expensive, and wasn’t about to interrupt the lesson, despite how ludicrous it was.
“As you wish,” Wilkow said before hanging up the phone. He turned to his class. “Alright everyone; that’ll be it for today. Read chapters six through ten over the weekend. Remember, the stuff in bold is important. See you on Monday!” The group broke up, with some students going straight for their vehicles, and others returning to the building to collect their belongings. Wilkow secured the line on his fishing pole and started walking to the Liberal Arts Building.
********
Dr. Nevers had led Sydney and Meya into the lab, where he carefully removed a bit of flesh closest to the attachment on the shell. He then placed the meat on a slide and placed it under a microscope. The images he saw were a series of greenish squiggly shapes all conjoined.
“Well, it’s definitely organic,” he said. “The greenish bit of flesh here is definitely skin. Although, it’s surprisingly thin.”
“That’s weird?” Sydney asked.
“Even in small species, you’d be surprised how thick skin can be. This stuff is thin…characteristic of bony fish.”
Just as he spoke, the lab door swung open. Dr. Wilkow entered and removed his fishing hat. Dr. Nevers felt his blood pressure increase at the sight of him, and he carefully placed the specimen down.
“You said you wanted to see me?” Wilkow said in a loud booming voice.
“In my office!” Nevers nearly yelled. “And after your class is finished.”
“Done!” Wilkow said, holding out a thumbs up.
“You’ve already dismissed your class?” Nevers said.
“Sure did!” Wilkow said. Nevers looked at his watch.
“You had at least another hour!”
“Yeah, but it was a great lesson!” Wilkow said, lifting up the pole. The tip scratched the ceiling, irritating Nevers’ further.
“Yeah? What’d they learn? How to bag the big one?”
“Oh come on, Doctor,” Wilkow said.
“Address me as Dean,” Nevers said, imposing his authority.
“Okay, Doctor Dean,” Wilkow said. Nevers’ face tensed up. “These guys are bored as hell with these summer courses. They learned about sound travel in water, digestive enzymes, along with other cool things. They retain more this way.”
“I wish you’d retained the fact that you’re not allowed to fish in those ponds. If the vice-presidents…or the president herself saw that, they’d be on my ass,” Nevers said. Wilkow looked over at the two guests, particularly at Sydney.
“You under arrest, Doctor Dean?” he asked. Nevers looked at them. For a moment, he almost forgot they were there. Sydney and Meya didn’t know whether to feel awkward or amused at the exchange they witnessed. It was hard for them to believe that Dr. Wilkow was even a scientist, much less a professor.
“I’m helping them out with something,” Nevers said. He turned to face them. “Tell you what, if you let me, I’ll keep this for a while. I’m sure I’ll figure out what it is.”
“That’s perfectly fine,” Sydney said. “Either way, I think I can discontinue its status as evidence.”
“Thank you,” Meya said. Dr. Nevers led them out of the lab, leaving Dr. Wilkow alone. He approached the large shell to look at it. Upon seeing it, his heart began to beat hard in his chest. He felt a wave of excitement start to blast through him. It was as if he injected himself with adrenaline.
“Holy shit!” he called out. He saw one of the lab techs coming in. “Do you have any idea where this came from?!” She stopped after seeing his energized demeanor.
“Uhhh…I think I heard them say it was Ridgeway Lake,” she said. Wilkow looked closer at the shell, and the sample Nevers took. He saw the skin cell structure, and took a closer look at the underside of the solid object. The inner layer seemed to be made of lamellar bone. He felt the surface, believing it to be keratin. He looked at the tech, who stared at him, concerned.
“Babe! You know what we have here?!” The tech slowly shook her head. “This is a fish scale! We got ourselves a giant prehistoric fish!”
The tech suddenly recalled the notorious history of Doctor Mike Wilkow. It was so well known and infamous, it was practically part of the orientation for new employment. After obtaining his doctorate, Wilkow obtained funding to explore his theory of underground lakes and the ecosystems they contained. He was fascinated with lake fish, and developed theories that some of the species evolved to be giant-sized over the course of time. During his studies, he discovered partial skeletons of unidentified aquatic species in caves of Lockport Cave in New York. He used part of his funding to investigate random flooding in a rural area in Illinois, when an area of farmland became flooded without explanation. He stated in a thesis that a massive underground lake rested beneath the area, and that pressures caused by a recent earthquake caused some of the water to seep up through the earth.
When examining samples of the water, he reported that he found trace elements of fish slime. His sponsors scoffed at his claims, as did several other scientists. They believed it was simply rainwater stored deep in the ground, brought up by the pressures created by the quake. Additionally, Wilkow’s eccentric personality helped push the belief that he was simply a crazy playboy using university funds to simply gain fame.
His wide joker-like smile only perpetuated that image to her. With an uneasy chuckle, she collected what she needed and returned to the next room. Wilkow looked once again at the scale. Further tests would be needed for his thesis. He knew he only had limited time before Nevers would return, so he quickly started gathering samples from the specimen.
CHAPTER
10
“That’ll be twenty-four fifty,” the scrawny taxi driver said to his customer. Jimmie Stanton handed him a company VISA card, labeled CAMPIONE on the top. After the transaction was completed, Stanton stepped out
of the back seat. The taxi backed out of the driveway. Stanton started walking toward up the small hill to the porch steps, with his grey suit jacket hung over one arm. The sight of his lakeview home was gratifying after being gone for a week.
Being a vice president for an Italian food distributor known as Campione Foods, he often had to travel to locations across the country for inspections. It was a rewarding career where his hard work paid off with him moving up in the company. As he climbed the ladder, his bank account inflated along with his midsection…a result of corporate lunches. This recent trip was to inspect a restaurant in Louisiana. There, he spent six days and seven nights tasting foods and inspecting conditions of the warehouses.
After returning from his flight, he had to stop at the office to file some paperwork. He rushed the work and took a cab home, at Campione’s expense. With only a couple hours sleep, he was ready to get out of his business suit and get into more comfortable attire. His blue tie was already loosened at the collar, and the top three buttons of his dress shirt were undone.
“Amanda,” he called as he walked up the steps. “I’m home.” His wife didn’t respond, which was sometimes typical. She seemed to resent the demands of his jobs, particularly his traveling. Or maybe it was envy. He was never sure. All he was sure of was how irritated she felt each time he had to leave. Of course, she didn’t mind the income it brought. Every time he returned, he’d find tags for dresses or shoes.
He grabbed the doorknob, only to find that it was locked. Considering the time of day, it was a bit unusual. Where is she? he thought. As he dug into his pocket for his house keys, he thought she may have gone out shopping. However, her car was still in the driveway.
“What’s up, babe?” he called out. “Having an indoor party?” As he prepared to insert the key into its slot, he noticed something in the reflection of the door window…something in the sand near the dock. He turned around, seeing the pile of clothes bunched up. “What the…?” he mumbled to himself. He went down to inspect. Scrunched up in the sand were a pair of jeans and a navy blue shirt, damp and peppered with sand, next to a pair of brown boots. All of which were men’s size.
All of a sudden, Stanton found himself wide awake. The drowsiness had been overtaken by a swell of anger and distress. His mind fought for any other explanation for why these men’s clothes were here on his property. Finally, he had to surrender to the obvious after seeing the red dress washing up in the water. He took a quick look at it. It was definitely Amanda’s size, and new. She never wore it for him, and it was certainly designed to attract attention. Tunnel vision set in. Both of his hands clenched into fists. Confusion and despair overwhelmed him. Stanton twisted and turned, walking several steps in multiple different directions, kicking up sand with each thunderous stomp.
With bloodshot eyes, he looked up to the door. No wonder it was locked; his wife was screwing somebody inside! Probably in his own bed. He charged up to the porch, nearly tripping over a step in his blind rage. At the door, he started fumbling for his house key, only to throw them down in a fit of anger. With a heavy kick, he busted the door off its hinges, sending it crashing down into the living room. He marched inside and saw the empty living room. He started to stomp his way upstairs, knocking over a tray table in his path.
“You having a good time?!” he yelled as he ascended. He entered the small hallway, seeing his bedroom door closed. He didn’t bother with the door handle. He body slammed it, breaking the latch with his hefty weight. “Am I interrupting?” he shouted as he lifted the covers, only to find nobody there. He hurriedly explored the closets before checking the bathroom, believing his wife and her lover to be hiding. His rage increased with each failed attempt to locate them. He checked all of the rooms but they weren’t there.
He looked out the window for any more clues. His eyes went straight to the pontoon boat floating about ten feet from the dock. There was a cover on it; the only rational spot to hide from him. Stanton charged outside, grabbing a baseball bat from the living room on his way out. On the dock, he stomped hard on the wooden planks as if to signal his arrival. He grabbed the tie-off line and pulled the heavy boat closer. It took a lot of effort, but the adrenaline coursing through his veins added strength to the outraged husband.
“Okay, you ungrateful bitch!” he yelled. Before he could leap into the boat, he saw that it was empty. Now he was getting frustrated. He wanted so badly to viciously beat the man who was with her. “Where the hell are you?” he roared at the top of his lungs.
A slight banging on the dock posts caught his attention. He looked down below and saw a rope-like object in the water beneath him. It was red and white in color, unlike any plant, and it definitely wasn’t a snake. Through the cracks in the deck, he could see that it was attached to something else, which was bumping into the deck leg with each swell of water. He knelt down and reached beneath with his baseball bat to prod the object out from beneath the dock. It floated into view, a white, shrunken upper torso. Stanton stood up, struggling to comprehend what he was seeing. Although pale and drained of blood, he recognized Amanda’s face. Her jaw was agape and her eyes stuck wide open, as if still experiencing the terror that took her life. Her lower body had been torn away at the abdomen, causing her intestines to come unwound. The edges of the large wound flapped in the water as little fish swam up to nibble on the loose bits of flesh.
His frustration was now replaced by a combination of despair and nausea. Feeling the blood drain from his face, he started to stagger. He put his hands on top of his head, as if somehow that would stop the spinning sensation he was now experiencing.
“I…I…oh my God…” he muttered and repeated. Each word was louder than the last, and soon he was screaming at the top of his lungs. He stumbled down the dock toward shore, eventually collapsing to his knees to vomit into a bed of cattails.
CHAPTER
11
“…So yeah, ever since then he’s been obsessed with his ridiculous theories,” Dr. Nevers said to Sydney and Meya, explaining Dr. Wilkow. He led them through the building’s main lobby to the exit. “Once again, I apologize for that display.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Meya said. She and Sydney took turns shaking hands with the Dean. “Thanks again for your help.”
“Yes, thank you,” Sydney said.
“Not a problem,” Nevers said. Sydney and Meya left through the front doors and returned to his Jeep. They buckled in and Sydney started driving off campus.
“So that was the great biologist they have?” he said, steering onto the main road.
“I never said he was great,” Meya said. “Nevers just told me there was a biology professor working there. I didn’t know he was some sports star wannabe.”
“He’s something,” Sydney remarked. After a couple minutes, they came to a stop at a red light. While they waited, a loud thundering bang echoed from the south. The ground briefly shook beneath them as a shockwave traveled outward. Meya naturally grabbed her seat, despite knowing there was no danger.
“Good God,” she said.
“They’re blasting at Corey Mine again,” Sydney said.
“They’ve been doing that quite a bit lately,” Meya said. “What’s the deal? Do they just have a quota of how much dynamite they have to blow up? Good lord, even at the hospital, we feel the aftershocks.”
“Don’t even get me started,” Sydney said. “We’ve received several complaints over the past week. Even the mayor has bitched to me about it. But what can I do? They have the permits, and apparently, they’ve struck a thick layer of granite. There’s no other way to get through it.”
The light turned green, and Sydney resumed driving on the street. It led them onto an overpass, where they had a decent view of the large Corey Mine. The dark brown abyss contrasted strongly with the vast circle of trees that surrounded the sight. Enormous cranes elevated their arms at sixty-degree angles, some towering over two-hundred-and-fifty feet into the air. Dump trucks were parked all around t
he site, and several workers moved about in pathways carved into the enormous pit. A cloud of smoke billowed from the opening, and cranes started swinging their large crates, which contained more dynamite. The view disappeared as they descended down the other side of the overpass.
“I’m shocked your ER isn’t flooded with workers coming in with black tar in their lungs,” Sydney said.
“They’d be transferred to other hospitals,” Meya said. At that moment, the police radio installed on the dashboard blared.
“RPD Dispatch. Chief, you there?” Sydney picked up the radio speaker and clicked the transmitter.
“Chief Sydney. What’s going on, Dispatch?”
“Chief, we just got a call regarding a homicide. Resident’s area; 4619 Hogback road. Caller called in a panic.”
“Is there a suspect on the premises?”
“He says he found the victim when he got home,” Dispatch said. “Emergency services have already been notified.”
“Okay, all units, head over to that address right now,” Sydney said, knowing the other officers were listening. Each officer responded over the radio. Sydney looked at Meya, quickly trying to figure out what to do. “Uhh…do you want me to drop you off at the hospital, or…”
“Just go,” she insisted. “I’ll stay out of the way.” There wasn’t any time to argue. Sydney blared the siren and switched on the emergency flashers.
********
Upon arriving at the address, Sydney saw no choice but to park the Jeep off to the side of the street. The driveway was packed with police vehicles and two ambulances. Sydney quickly walked across the street into the driveway. Meya stayed behind, standing outside the jeep, observing the scene.
Two police cars were parked in a line, almost directly behind one of the ambulances. Sydney noticed their drivers standing by them, looking as if they’d seen a ghost. Another police cruiser was parked off to the left. Leaning on the hood was another officer, breathing long deep breathes as if trying to regain his composure. Sydney looked at him and saw his sickly greenish complexion. He was barely holding it together. Sydney looked ahead toward the beach area. Police and EMS personnel were gathered at the dock, with the paramedics kneeling down at the far end to observe the reported body.
