Mount Misery

by Angelo Peluso

  “It’s just that to win in a battle, you need to understand your opponent better than you understand yourself. And we are not there yet with this. Nick, we have to let Ted know these findings.” Katie heard all she needed to hear.

  “I agree I gotta run. Let’s huddle up in the morning.”

  “Hope he’s a nice guy?” Rick jabbed.

  Nick gave Rick the middle finger salute, and as he walked out from the diner, he dialed a phone number on his cell.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s me, Nick, I’ll be back in a bit. Just finished up the meeting at the diner. Okay, sweetie, I’ll expect you to have dessert waiting for me.”

  Nick looked back into the diner and gave the peace sign as Katie and her companions had gotten out from the booth and prepared to leave. The next few days would be like nothing any of them could ever have imagined. Katie dialed her boss’s cell phone number but the call immediately went to voice mail.

  Once in the diner parking lot, Katie and Karen hugged and each kissed the other on a cheek.

  “Thank you, Karen. My problem is so much bigger now. Your efforts have put this into perspective.”

  “Not to worry kiddo. Keep me in the loop and if you need any other assistance just give me a shout. Take care, Rick.”

  Katie and Rick watched as Karen walked to her car. Once safely on her way, Katie asked Rick to take her home.

  “My place?” Rick inquired hopefully.

  “No. Not tonight, Rick. My place. This is all so overwhelming. I just need to be alone and I need to get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a long, tough day.” It was already past midnight and Katie knew she’d have trouble sleeping with all Karen’s information crashing around in her head.

  “All the more reason for me to stay with you. I promise, I’ll be good.”

  “Rick, if you want to maintain harmony in this relationship, just drive me home and let’s call it a night.”

  “Okay, you win.” Rick hated concessions. “But don’t forget, we need to check on Jack in the hospital tomorrow. Make sure he is okay and hear his story. He might have something to add to all this.”

  “Fine. We can do that but first I need to contact Ted and arrange the meeting. That’s my priority right now. Why don’t you go visit Jack first thing in the morning, and if there is anything I need to know, you can all me. Tell him I’ll stop by to see him after my meeting. If there’s anything left of me, that is.”

  “You’ll do fine, as always.”

  Katie just nodded in the affirmative and then closed her eyes. She slept the rest of the way home.

  Once in her condo, and although mentally and physically exhausted, Katie DiNardo could not stop thinking about the killer fish and Karen’s findings. This was the biggest challenge of her career and she was frightened like never before over what could transpire during the next few days. Her job could be on the line, but more than that, she feared these mutant bastards might kill again. That was the last thing she wanted on her conscience. Katie paced the first floor of her abode as much in the hope of tiring herself out as to clear her head. Neither objective was attained. As a last resort, she mixed up batch of her grandmother’s favorite sleep remedy: warm milk and honey with a bit of dried chamomile. As she waited for the milk to warm, Katie removed her slacks and, as she did so, she felt something in one of the pockets. She pulled out Ned Mack Jr.’s business card. She would call him in the morning. Katie changed into pajama shorts and a tank top, drank her concoction, and tried Ted Gunther’s cell phone again. Still no answer. Now she waited for sleep, which that would take time in coming.

  CHAPTER 33

  Later that morning . . .

  Jonathan Bennett had graduated in June from Saint Luke’s High School. The seventeen-year-old was one of the top scholar athletes on Long Island and in all of New York State. His accomplishments in the swimming pool earned him an all-expenses-paid four years to Penn State University. This future Nittany Lion broke every high school and Long Island record in the men’s freestyle, backstroke, and breaststroke events. He also maintained a straight-A average. Jonathan was driven by two goals: he wanted to make the US Olympics swimming team and he wanted to become a veterinarian. Both those objectives demanded hard work and personal dedication. Not many could achieve either of those two goals, but this kid was up to the challenge.

  Jonathan also loved his two fiercely loyal dogs—a big-boned black Labrador retriever named Scoter and a Japanese Akita called Yuuki. He was saddened by the realization that this was the first time since the dogs were puppies that he’d be leaving them for such an extended period. He wished he could take his dogs to school the following week, but only fish and some other innocuous pets were allowed in the dorms. Jonathan wanted to spend as much time as possible with Scoter and Yuuki before his freshman college semester began. The trio would often swim together in the back northeast corner of Treasure Cove, an appendage off the main portion of Port Roosevelt Harbor.

  The manmade cove was dredged by the Salt Marsh Dredging Company in the early 1900s. Initially called Dead Man’s Pit, the town’s first chamber of commerce quickly changed the name to Treasure Cove in an effort to add some mystery and panache to an area that was beginning to establish a tourism trade. To the best of any local historian’s knowledge, not an ounce of treasure was ever buried there nor had a single pirate ever stepped foot on the sandy shores of Treasure Cove. The closest the area came to hosting a renegade buccaneer was the time a somewhat on-the-fringe clammer hid among the beach roses and poison ivy to spring out and flash unsuspecting women joggers. He was finally caught by the harbormaster after exposing himself to a packed ferry on its way out of the inlet. Following a brief psychological evaluation at one of the local hospitals and some prednisone treatments for the poison ivy that had invaded his groin area, the clammer was back on his skiff raking in bivalves.

  A number of large sand dunes, remnants of the dredging activity, rimmed the cove. When crested, the dunes offered a stunning view of the Long Island Sound and, on clear days, the Connecticut shoreline. The cove is a very popular mooring location, especially on the weekends after Memorial Day. It sometimes appeared there were more partying boats anchored up in the cove than there were boats on the entire Long Island Sound. The small cove at times would resemble a parking lot with not only moored boats, but also various craft tied together forming big party flotillas, littered with booze, bikinis, and boom boxes. Large boats easily made way into the area since the moorings were in deep water, capable of accommodating long-keeled sailboats and substantial motorboats. From rafts and kayaks to forty-footers, the cove attracted them all.

  Jonathan typically avoided weekend or holiday swims with his dogs. With this being the last big vacation week of summer, he decided to take Scoter and Yuuki for an early morning swim before most folks would engage in water activities. Six a.m. was way too early for the party crowd to arrive at the cove, or for those already moored to wake up from the previous night’s festivities. Jonathan was aware of the weekend bluefish tournament but any fishermen who would be inclined to do some pre-tournament scouting would leave the harbor and motor directly out into the Sound, not bothering to make a pit stop in the cove. To Jonathan’s surprise, there weren’t many boats in the cove and the few that were moored there were at the extreme opposite end from where he and the dogs would swim.

  Jonathan had a ritual he performed before actually swimming with the dogs. He would first toss out one stick as far as he could throw it. Scoter, the Lab, had a marked advantage at this game. Retrieving was in his genes. Jonathan would then throw two sticks in slightly different directions. Yuuki liked that, since he now had a fair chance to get in on a retrieve. Once both dogs were into the game, Jonathan would chuck a tennis ball beyond the last mooring. The tide was at flood stage and the cove was full of water that extended well into the sod banks. The extra water made for a longer swim to the mooring.

  The dogs sat at attention on the sand, watching the flight of the tennis ba
ll and awaiting Jonathan’s command to fetch. When he did, the dogs leapt forward in full swimming stride. Jonathan then dove in and joined them. It was off to the races with Jonathan setting the pace. While either dog could run much faster than their master on land, the dog paddle in water was no match for Jonathan’s super-strong freestyle stroke. Each dog kept an eye on the other and an eye on the tennis ball and stayed close to Jonathan. The real fun began as the trio approached the mooring ball that acted as a turn-around, the halfway point. Jonathan slowed his pace and let the dogs compete for the coveted tennis ball. As always, Scoter reached the ball first and gently snatched it. Retrievers have been bred with soft mouths since duck hunters are not too fond of mangled waterfowl. It is a signature trait of the breed. Once the tennis ball was secured in Scoter’s mouth, he swam around the mooring and headed down the homestretch. His objective was to get the ball back to the beach. That’s what he had been taught to do.

  Jonathan made the turn next and swam behind the Lab while Yuuki brought up the rear, foiled again by a waterdog. As Jonathan eased around the mooring ball to begin his power stroke, he felt the water beneath him bulge oddly upward, and he felt something brush against his right leg.

  “Yuuki, back off,” Jonathan commanded, thinking the dog had gotten too close and wanted to play. He felt the water up-swell again and looked back. To Jonathan’s surprise, Yuuki was a full five yards behind him. Again he felt something surge past. The water was about thirty feet deep and one thought raced through Jonathan’s mind: Shark. Jonathan’s swimming pace accelerated as he called out to Yuuki to hurry up. But as Jonathan turned back around facing forward, he saw the most frightening vision of his young life: a gushing of water erupted ahead of him, like a geyser at Yellowstone, and in an instant, Scoter was catapulted fifteen feet into the air. It was surreal and appeared to Jonathan to be taking place in slow motion. He could see the big black bundle of fur twist and turn in the air as if it were some disoriented and uncoordinated acrobat. As the dog crashed back onto the water, it amazingly still had the tennis ball in its mouth.

  “Swim, Scoter! Swim!” Jonathan yelled with alarm, knowing intuitively that his pet’s life was in peril. Scoter must have understood Jonathan’s command and the urgency of the situation for his webbed paws paddled as fast as his retriever legs could move. Jonathan saw the huge forked tail break the surface just behind his beloved Labrador. He panicked and slapped the water with his arms in an attempt to distract whatever it was that was on his dog’s tail. Scoter was but twenty yards from the safety of the sand when another bulge of water pushed him upward a second time, tossing him about like a rag doll. It was almost as if the thing beneath the water was maliciously playing with the dog. Yuuki also sensed danger and he began to snarl and growl; the matted hairs on his back stood straight up. His bark must have resonated with some sensory mechanism in the killer fish because it and its pack mates stopped chasing Scoter and turned their attention toward Yuuki, swimming straight past Jonathan to circle around the Akita. By now, Scoter was within a few yards of safety so Jonathan’s attention was riveted on Yuuki. With the pack of killer fish closing in on the dog, the boy reacted from his heart not his brain. Adrenaline pumping hard, he swam back toward Yuuki and toward the creatures beneath him. He needed to save his dog.

  An alpha male lead the attack from below. He was sizing up his floating adversary, knowing from past encounters that the dog’s legs would be his first bite target. He would sever all four legs. From there the kill would be easy and then his pack mates could dispatch the human. The alpha male toyed with his victim, finning on the surface of the water and nudging first Jonathan and then Yuuki. Jonathan was paralyzed by the sight of the creature but he yelled for help. The boats in the cove were too far away to hear him, or their occupants too deep in sleep to respond. While the lead fish played cat-and-mouse with his prey, the others encircled Jonathan and Yuuki, swimming in sinister procession. In all, there were ten fish in the pack, including the alpha male.

  The lead fish bumped Yuuki hard. The dog growled, a primal, guttural snarl. The fish continued to torment the dog, completely ignoring Jonathan, and moved beneath Yuuki. With a short flick of its head, the fish hurled Yuuki from the water, all the while its mates engaged in a death procession waiting for their chance to feed.

  Yuuki landed back in the water, ready for the fight of his life. Akitas are fearless, built for battle. Strong and muscular, this centuries-old breed was used to hunt boar and bear. But the dog was out of its element. This life-and-death struggle would only end favorably for the dog if it could outwit its demonic foe.

  The alpha male finally had had enough of the game. It was done playing with the dog. It surfaced and moved to within a few feet of Yuuki. The fish swam around him once, twice, and then a third time. The dog watched, measuring every move the fish made . . . studying his would-be assailant. At one point, Yuuki locked eyes with the fish. He showed his own dominance by holding fast to his stare and not flinching. By now Jonathan realized there was no way he could help his dog and, fearing for his own life, he slowly backed away from the confrontation. But Yuuki’s look and demeanor communicated to Jonathan his dog was not afraid, and that something remarkable was about to happen; and then it did.

  The fish assumed an aggressive posture like others of its kind when ready to attack. Its fins became erect, its movements erratic. It made one final pass around the dog and then rushed in to inflict the first lethal wave of pain. Yuuki’s instincts were sharp, his senses acute, and before the fish could deliver the mortal bite, Yuuki gathered all the strength from within his powerfully built body and went on the offensive. As the fish opened it huge maw and turned its head to the side, Yuuki lunged forward, ears back flat, teeth exposed, and clamped his massive canine jaws down hard on the most vulnerable part of the creature’s head. The strike was perfect. One upper fang penetrated the fish’s orbital eye socket, tearing into the eye as the other upper fang penetrated near to the fish’s olfactory nerve, a critical sensory mechanism used by the fish to smell its surroundings. Yuuki shook his head violently, ripping flesh and bone, his long top fangs digging deeper into the creature’s head. Yuuki’s lower canines dug in as well and acted as supporting anchors strengthening the dog’s grip. The fish felt fear like never before and sensed it was in peril.

  Without a complete sense of sight and an olfactory network, the killer fish would be vulnerable, especially to younger males wanting to assume the alpha leadership role. The pack’s patriarch wouldn’t allow that. In an attempt to rid itself of the dog, the fish went airborne like a surface-to-air missile. Jonathan watched in horror as Yuuki ascended from the water, teeth deep into the beast’s head, looking somewhat like a cowboy being flung about by a bucking Brahma bull. The dog’s tenacious death grip bore down on the fish with all his will and spirit. It was as if the dog had reverted back to the primitive wolf. Yuuki knew instinctively that for the moment the advantage was his. He would die before he would let go.

  The creature also knew instinctively it was in deep trouble if it didn’t extricate itself quickly from this situation. The alpha male was equally tenacious, jumping from the water twice more. But the dog miraculously hung on. The fish almost hoped that his pod mates would come to his rescue. But they wanted nothing of the confrontation and just kept circling. They took their cues from their leader who was now not in any position to lead. His body automatically shifted into survival mode. His teeth clicked involuntarily, sending out a danger signal to other fish in the pack, and his body released endorphins into his system to ease the pain. Now fear pheromones and aggression chemicals released into the water. The other pack fish sensed fear in the alpha male and fled, leaving their leader to fend for himself.

  The mutant fish had only one choice. He whipped his tail upward and sounded straight to the bottom of the cove. The fish tried to scrape the dog off by running its back along the hard bottom much like migrating salmon trying to remove sea lice. But amazingly, the dog held fast to the fish�
��s head. As valiantly as Yuuki had fought, he could only hold his breath for a short period of time. The dog released its grip on the fish and swam quickly toward the surface, thirty feet away. As filtered light silhouetted Yuuki’s body, the killer fish looked up, glad to be rid of the dog. The killer fish saw all four of the dog’s legs paddling feverishly, appearing as easy targets. The fish was tempted to strike but extreme pain in the creature’s eye and head triggered a reflex flight response. The alpha male swam off to find its pack, glad to be rid of the unyielding canine.

  Yuuki bobbed up through the surface of the water and howled in victory. In response, Jonathan and Scooter swam out to meet their pal and savior.

  CHAPTER 34

  Katie managed to get a few hours sleep thanks to her grandmother’s potion. The clock alarm blared with its usual musical fanfare at six a.m. Katie was still exhausted and, despite the urgency of the day, she slapped the snooze button four times before finally dragging herself out of bed. Katie put up a pot of coffee and hopped in the shower.

  As the warm water sharpened her senses, Katie played through in her mind what she was to tell Ted. He wasn’t going to like what she had to say, but this was now crunch time and some tough decisions needed to me made; decisions that were well above her pay grade. No matter how Katie cut Karen’s findings, there was no escaping the fact that the killers were genetically altered bluefish and there could be hundreds or even thousands of them swimming in Long Island Sound. Without public notification and beach closures, these monsters could easily kill again. And the worst was that Katie had no clue how to stop the carnage. Ted Gunther was going to have a shit fit when he heard Karen Hammond’s findings.

  Katie dialed her cell phone. “Morning Nick, it’s Katie. Are you ready for this?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be. Been giving this whole thing a lot of thought. Our options are pretty limited. Katie, this is a mess.”