Mount Misery

by Angelo Peluso

  “Yeah, I have one,” blurted Captain Marrone. You all know my boat. Low freeboard, close to the water. If I do hook one of these things, any suggestions on how to handle it? Based on what I’m hearing, do I throw a flying gaff into the damn thing, try to tail rope it, or shoot it? I’ll have clients on board and the last thing I want is a three-ring circus with one of these monsters tearing up the place, or worse yet, taking a chunk out of someone.”

  “Leave that to me,” Sandy Bassonet exclaimed. “I’m real good at catching monsters. I’ll be out there with my brother-in-law and two other experienced fishermen and I will definitely be trying to catch one of these fish. There’s fame and fortune riding on it. I’ll bring some tuna and shark gear along and we’ll be certain to get one to the boat.”

  “Let’s not get too cocky. None of us is quite sure what we are up against so be careful,” Rick said.

  “I want to emphasize the careful part,” Katie added. “If we all work together and just stay alert, this should all work out just fine. See you all out there.”

  Rick mentioned one final instruction. “I know you all are on the water every day. If you see anything, just report in. I want to make sure we are all on the water the days of the bluefish tournament. Our best chances of an encounter will happen when all those rods are on the water.”

  With that, the waitress opened the door as a loud roar erupted from the bar.

  “Jeter just hit a walk-off homer. Can I get you another?”

  CHAPTER 20

  On the beach with Rick, Katie felt like she could finally exhale. “That was a good get-together. I just hope we did the right thing, Rick. I’m so fearful that someone else is going to get hurt and I could never live with myself if that happened.”

  “Look, Katie, they’re all very good at what they do. I really don’t think any one of them will try something stupid and get hurt for a fish. This is their livelihood and they are professionals. They won’t take it too far.”

  “Sandy concerns me a little bit. I have this feeling he may view this as a game just to see if he can catch one of these things.”

  “He’ll be okay. Talks toughs.”

  Looking out into the water, Katie tried changing the subject. “This beach is just beautiful tonight. It’s been a long time since we took a walk like this.”

  Rick stopped walking and leaned over to kiss Katie on the forehead. “I really miss this part of it. I know I sometimes act like a prick but when we are apart, it hurts. I’m glad you’re back with me. I miss you more than I miss fishing. Well, sometimes, that is.”

  “You really are such a jerk.”

  “Hey, how about we strip down and go skinny-dipping like we used to? Just a quick swim. In and out.”

  “With everything we just talked about?”

  “Oh, come on, Katie. What are the odds of something happening right here, right now? The damn Sound is almost 120 miles long. Those fish could be anywhere, if they are still around at all. And we still don’t know for sure what this deal is all about.”

  “No, Rick.”

  “Well then, I’m going in.” Rick stripped his clothes. “Last chance, sweat pea. Come on. Just like old times.”

  “Rick, please don’t do this. I realize I should be rational about it but I’m very anxious . . . even a bit scared. I’ve seen what these fish can do.”

  Rick was not to be deterred. He made up his mind to go in for a nighttime swim and that was what he would do. As Rick swam parallel to the beach, a pod of the mutant killers cruised about a mile offshore. The pack broke away from the main school at dusk and had since been hunting for food. There were dozens of other patrols scattered about the Sound from Smith’s Bay to Plover Dunes, all on the prowl. Their hunting forays on this night would result in multiple kills.

  A lateral line running along each flank of their bodies detected the slightest vibrations in water that signaled the presence of prey. Through a network of sensory receptors known as neuromasts, the lateral lines helped the fish navigate and avoid other marine species and objects. It also helped each member maintain contact with the others.

  The alpha male now sensed something in the water: disruptions in the pattern of impulses His instincts told him these vibrations were being made by struggling prey. The rest of the pod sensed this too. None of the pod was yet certain of the source or the nature of the vibrations, but they all instinctively sensed food. The alpha male changed direction and headed straight toward the beach, his charges in hot pursuit.

  “The water is so warm, Katie, come on. It’s refreshing.” Rick was like a kid in a bathtub splashing water everywhere trying to wet Katie. He swam back and forth off the beach at a distance where his spray could reach her. He’d cup his hands and pushed the water toward Katie. His movements and motions further excited the pod of killer fish.

  “Rick, stop this childish behavior. Hurry up with your foolishness and get out of there. Please!”

  Rick was about five yards from shore. He stood on a shallow ledge beyond which the water dropped off to ten or twelve feet. It was a natural corridor for game fish to cruise in search of prey. Fish would orient to that edge during the period of a receding tide and travel along its course. When baitfish or other prey were encountered on the shallow shelf, they would burst from the deeper water, attack, and then retreat to the sanctuary of the deeper recesses beyond the ledge.

  There were no other fish in the Sound that could challenge these evil creatures or threaten them, but imprinting that had taken place when they were young and vulnerable still motivated their behavior in shallow water. All varieties of marine life prowling the shallows at night looked to make meals of them when they were juveniles. These creatures never forgot those experiences. They were cautious killers.

  “Get out of the water. I’m tiring of this game.”

  “One more quick swim down the beach and back and I’m done.”

  “You’re impossible. Hurry up!”

  The pod was now less than a half-mile offshore and each fish was fully aware of Rick’s presence. Their collective senses worked in overdrive to determine his precise location. Their bodies stiffened as they swam, a sign of agitation, aggression pheromones fueling their every action.

  “On second thought, I think I’ll swim out to the lobster buoys,” Rick said to an already disquieted Katie.

  “Cut the shit, Rick, and get the fuck back here. Now! If you swim out to those pots, I’m outta here. For good. Do you understand me?”

  “I’m just messin’ with you. Chill out! You’re wound up. Calm down.”

  “Get out of the water now! I want to leave.” Katie sensed something she didn’t like or understand. Something that elicited a primal fear response. She had always depended on her instincts and intuition, especially in bad situations, and now she was feeling those exact emotions.

  “Okay, okay. Don’t get upset. Give me another minute and I’ll come out.”

  “I have a bad feeling.”

  The killers were about a quarter mile from the beach, a distance they could travel with lightning speed. Their combined senses confirmed that what they were tracking in the water was indeed food. The signals were not like other prey fish, but they were familiar messages, signals that had recently led to a large creature they attacked and fed upon. Not being certain of what it was he sensed, the alpha male had to be vigilant.

  Like all other aquatic predators, these mutants had the ability to sense their world by acquiring life-sustaining information and cues from the watery environment. As apex predators, they evolved with immensely heightened senses of sight, touch, and feel. They were able to hear signals through vibrations absorbed into their body and smell and taste potential prey through chemical receptors within their brains and nervous systems. Through an arrangement of nostrils and an olfactory rosette, the alpha male and his pod mates were able to detect and distinguish chemicals, often in minute quantities. In a much purer sense, they actually tasted through taste buds in their mouths and on their lip
s and tongues. Physiologically, the alpha male and his pack had many of the same senses as humans and other animals; only theirs were sharpened to the finest point by a jolt of radiation their ancestors received decades before. Within a period of only thirty years, these fish had transformed into one of the most vicious and efficient killing machines ever to swim the world’s oceans. Now in the Long Island Sound, they were bearing down on yet another unsuspecting victim.

  CHAPTER 21

  Nick Tanner and Valerie Russo were still seated at the table well after the others had departed from Grumpies. Valerie had intentions of getting to know Nick on a much more personal level so she volunteered to drive him back to his car parked on the State University campus. They realized quickly they shared a couple of interests—desserts and espresso. When the waitress showed them the dessert sample, it was an indulgence that neither cared to dismiss. Nick was a sucker for New York cheesecake and Valerie simply could not resist tiramisu.

  “It’s a bit like eating the forbidden fruit,” she said playfully.

  “This is pretty good cheesecake,” Nick said between bites. “I’m pleasantly surprised. Didn’t expect this at a sports bar. I’ve eaten lunch here before but never had time to enjoy dessert.”

  “They don’t bake the desserts on premises. They buy them from Port Patisserie in town. One of the best bakeries on Long Island. They were recently featured on one of the cable food channels.”

  “How’s the tiramisu?” Nick said.

  “I’ve had better. At least one of my urges is satisfied.”

  Nick was absorbed in his cheesecake.

  “Did you know that tiramisu is one of the most popular Italian desserts and a relatively new creation? Some claim 1981 as the year of origin, others 1969,” Valerie, said.

  “No I didn’t. Don’t think I ever tasted it.”

  “Are you kidding me? You’ve never had tiramisu? You just don’t know what you are missing!”

  Valerie cut a small piece of the dessert with her fork. “Here, give it a try,” she said, licking her lips seductively as Nick took the small wedge of dessert into his mouth.

  “Wow, that is pretty good.”

  “It is made of savoiardi that have been dipped in espresso and sometimes rum.”

  “Savoiardi?”

  “Literally, of Savoy, but better known as Ladyfingers. Do you know what they are?”

  ”Of course I do. I love dunking them in my coffee. My maternal Italian grandfather got me started with that when I was a kid. Funny thing, one of my uncles used to belong to a singing quartet called The Ladyfinger Boys. At his house, the biscuits were always on the table with coffee.”

  “That’s very nice to know. So you’re an old pro with fingers? How lovely.”

  “Yep. Ate my fair share over the years.”

  “Shall I continue with my description of this lovely dessert? Still interested?”

  “By all means, go on. I’m intrigued.”

  “Okay then. After the fingers are soaked in coffee and rum they are layered with a yummy concoction of sugar, egg yolk, mascarpone cheese, and sabaglione. Do you know what sabaglione is?” Valerie licked the index finger of her right hand.

  “Actually I do. It’s an Italian custard. Right?”

  “I’m impressed, Nick. Very impressed. It is a very light custard usually made with Marsala wine or some other liqueur.”

  “Valerie, I have to ask, how does a charter boat captain know so much about Italian pastry?”

  “The New York Institute of Culinary Arts. Studied there . . . pastry arts and baking. After graduating, I worked at a few of the best restaurants and hotels and I even did a stint at in Atlantic City as a head pastry chef.”

  “So what happened? How did you get involved with fishing?”

  “A significant other I worked with was into fishing the southern New Jersey backcountry and I would tag along. After a while, I got pretty good at it and actually fell in love with the sport. I decided that I wanted to become a professional guide. So I moved back home to Long Island and got my captain’s license.”

  “Why didn’t you just stay in New Jersey?”

  “The relationship turned bad, really bad, and I needed to put that part of my life in the rear view mirror. And before I forget, the last step preparing tiramisu is to sprinkle some cocoa powder on top and then refrigerate it before serving. Delicioso!”

  “Well thank you for that pastry education. You are a woman full of surprises. I like that.”

  “You have no idea. So tell me, how did you become a marine biologist?”

  “It’s ichthyologist to be precise.”

  “Oh yeah, that’s right. You are the fish man.”

  “I guess you can say that. Ever since I was a kid, I was into fish. I raised tropical fish and even sold them to pet stores. Helped pay my way through college.”

  “Where did you go to school?”

  “Here’s the Reader’s Digest version. I was born and raised in New Jersey, Hunterdon County, not far from the Delaware River, where I spent most of my spare time fishing and exploring. Went to a Catholic elementary and middle school in Raritan, and then Hunterdon Central High School. Then I came out to Long Island to attend the State University, where I thought I would pursue pre-med studies but after two years I decided to follow the passion of my heart and study fish. I had good grades and got into Cornell, where I double-majored in marine biology and marine zoology . . . ichthyology for short. Got my master’s, came down to Long Island to work with the Marine Division, and worked toward my PhD at State University. Partnered up with Katie D and here I am.”

  “Impressive credentials there, mister.” Valerie had always been turned on by brains.

  “Any ladies in your life?”

  “Never really had the time. Some close friends but nothing serious.”

  “Can a friendship between a man and a woman ever be really close without getting serious or sexual?” Valerie winked.

  Nick laughed. “That can be a dilemma for sure. Been there, done that, and have the tee-shirt and the scars to prove it.”

  Captain Russo felt more encouraged.

  “So what’s your real take on the happenings in the Sound?”

  “I think Katie put all the cards on the table,” Nick replied.

  “Gargantuan fish?”

  “Very possible but we don’t know for certain,” Nick was unsure where this discussion was headed and he was uncomfortable with the questioning. He didn’t know Valerie well and wasn’t sure how far he could trust her. “We have some ideas, we are following some leads and hopefully after this weekend we will have a better handle on it. Katie put all the issues in full view and with full disclosure of the facts as we know them.” Nick couldn’t have been more measured in his response.

  “How long have you worked with her?”

  “Three years. She is very good at her job and we make a good team. This has just been one of the toughest challenges we’ve faced since working together. But we will figure it out and we’ll get through it.”

  “I have an offer for you,” Valerie said.

  “What’s that?”

  “I have a charter both days this weekend but the guy is a real Wall Street dirt bag. I wouldn’t mind ditching him. If you’d like, come out on the boat and set up shop. We’ll see if we might get some intelligence on the fish you’re looking for. Consider it a scientific expedition. I could use a few vacation days.”

  “How will that sit with your sport? Won’t he be pissed?”

  “The guy is such a wuss and, if I must say so, he has a thing for me and he likes being bossed around. Strange dude. As soon as I tell him I can’t fish him this weekend, he’ll be crying like a baby and begging me for another booking. If he really wants to fish and not gawk at me for six hours, I can easily get him on another boat. I’ve done it before and he always comes crawling back.”

  “Why do you even bother with someone like that?”

  “Because only one letter of the alphabet make
s a difference in how we each view the world. I like big tips and he likes big tits.”

  “You don’t mince words, do you?”

  “Not in the least. What you see is . . . what you get.”

  “Well if you have the room and if it is no inconvenience, I’d love to step aboard and fish with you. Mind if I bring some of my scientific electronic gear?”

  “Not at all. Sounds sexy! I’ll bring a very special dessert.”

  “That’s a deal. Hey, it’s getting late and I need my sleep. Can I take you up on that offer to drive me back to my car?”

  “How about a nightcap at my condo?”

  “I’ll take a rain check. Come on, let’s go.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Rick waded from the water at a snail’s pace and toward a very anxious Katie, who was standing on the beach. “A drink in town, and then maybe some nookie-nookie?”

  “Yeah, whatever,” Katie replied. “Just get a move on it and get out of the damn water.”

  Katie’s somewhat implied agreement to Rick’s request should have been enough to motivate him to sprint from the water, but he was milking this moment for as long as he could. He liked toying with Katie since he knew it would piss her off, and then reconciliation would be sweet.

  As Rick procrastinated, the killers cruised about five hundred yards off the beach, rapidly closing the distance to their prey. Rick was thirty feet from the safety of the sand, taking his sweet time exiting the water. He had not a care in the world and thoroughly enjoyed being immersed in the warm water. Finally in disgust, Katie began walking back to the parking lot.

  “See you at the truck, Rick. I’ve had enough of your bullshit.”

  “Katie, hold on. I’m right behind you.” Rick did not want to lose an opportunity to spend the night with Katie.

  While Rick contemplated a night of bliss, the fish sensed their next meal escaping and accelerated. Powerful sweeps of their abnormally muscular caudal fins propelled them forward at astonishing speed. The vibrations broadcast by Rick’s movements fueled a growing frenzy among the aroused creatures. Their robust and oversized circulatory systems pumped natural chemical stimulants rapidly throughout their bodies . . . fueling a crazed killing high. Their eyes glowed a freakish luminescent yellow and locked in on the direction of the vibrations. Soon they would be able to see their prey. In their agitated state, the killers snapped their large conical teeth, generating eerie, clicking reverberations that echoed throughout the water column. Each assassin could hear the other’s sounds, signals acting collectively as additional aggression stimuli. With jaws snapping open and shut at a robotic rate, the fish raced toward the source of food. All other life in their path fled—all except Rick.