Big Ass Shark

by Briar Lee Mitchell

  Peter took a deep breath, then, started his monologue.

  “Hoax or the real thing? Earlier today, on this public beach at Merrill Point, dozens of beachgoers were injured when the alarm went up that a shark was cruising the waters just offshore.”

  Peter paused, then, frowned into the lens. Jethro and Hobart cast each other an annoyed glance, and wondered what stupid thing Peter was about to do this time.

  Peter laughed loudly, then blurted out, “Cruising! Wait? Is the shark gay or what?

  “Come on man, we’re rolling,” Jethro hissed at him.

  Peter regained his composure then continued as a helicopter from the Coast Guard flew low and fast above them, doing a flyby of the area.

  Thrilled with the addition of the helicopter in his shot, Peter timed his speech just as the overwhelming sound of the blades started to fade.

  “Hoax or the real thing?” he repeated. “Earlier today, on this public beach at Merrill Point, dozens of beachgoers were injured when the alarm went up that a shark was patrolling the waters just offshore.”

  Hobart whispered to Jethro, “Patrolling? Now that is brilliant.”

  “Wish I could write snappy dialogue like that,” Jethro whispered.

  Peter paused for a moment and said, “Yeah, okay, we’ll cut the interview footage of the lifeguards in there.”

  “Sound good?” Peter asked them.

  Hobart responded with a golf clap. Peter gave him the finger off camera, then, continued.

  “Authorities have two fears concerning the supposed sighting. First of all, if a shark is swimming offshore, will it pose a hazard to swimmers? And, secondly, even more sinister than a man-eating fish, did this young woman perpetrate a hoax that could have been more life threatening? If so, will she do it again? At this time, she is being sought for questioning.”

  Peter paused again, staring into the lens, trying hard not to squint.

  “Annnnnnnnnnnnnnddddddddd . . . we’re out!” Hobart said.

  Peter quickly put on his shades, then said, “Okay, good. Was that a live feed?”

  “Yeah.” Jethro said to him. “They’ve already got it back at the station. It’s going out in ten minutes as a special bulletin once they massage the edit.”

  “Great! Let’s blow this pop stand.”

  Peter turned and addressed the small group of tourists gawking at him. “Unless any of you fine folks have something else you might like to add?”

  Most shook their head no except one young man, clearly reluctant to talk with him, was pushed forward by his friends. One of his companions urged him on, saying, “Dude, come on. Do it!”

  “Ummm, not really sure, but, you know, maybe . . . , ” the young man stuttered.

  He held up a small video camera. Peter and his crew eagerly reached for it.

  Chapter 4

  Misty raced through her front door, then, slammed it shut behind her. Her cat Dave, who had been sleeping peacefully on the couch, leapt up, clearly startled by her abrupt entrance. She flew right past him into the tiny kitchen that overlooked the alley by her building. The view sucked, but when she rented it she was thrilled that is was so close to the beach. Right now, she was regretting that decision.

  She was still clutching the enormous tooth in her hand, having held it tightly during her entire drive home since she pulled it from the ocean.

  Misty dumped her belongings on the counter and noticed with dismay that the lens to her camera was smashed. It could have been broken anytime during her encounter earlier in the day, or when she was driving like a crazy person right onto the beach at Merrill Point.

  “Dammit,” she cursed, picking up the damaged camera and gingerly turning it around in her hand. “Maybe it can be fixed. Damn!”

  Dave wandered into the kitchen and hopped up onto a chair, then started to examine the things she had dumped there. Misty looked at her other hand, the one still gripping the tooth, and noticed a small trickle of blood leaking out from between her fingers. Carefully, she pried her fingers open, dismayed at the painful spasm that kept them wrapped around the tooth. She had been clutching the tooth so hard, for so long, it was hard to open her hand.

  Finally, her fingers yielded and the gigantic tooth clattered onto the counter. She turned on the tap and let cold water run over the cut between her fingers. Dave apparently bored with studying the other items she had dropped, moved over to the tooth and sniffed at it.

  “Oh, Dave, no!” she called gently to him, “No no, little guy. That thing could take your head clean off.”

  The cat sat down next to the tooth, and gingerly tapped it with his paw. The tooth was wider than he was.

  She turned off the water and wrapped a dish towel tightly around her wounded hand, then scooped the inquisitive cat up and headed into the living room, leaving everything behind in the kitchen.

  Misty turned the TV on and plopped down on the couch, still cradling her hand and her cat. She managed to catch the tail end of Peter Everett’s broadcast from the beach.

  “ . . . she is being sought for questioning.”

  Misty bit her lower lip and flipped through the channels, seeing if she could catch a repeat of his broadcast. On another station, she caught the majority of Peter’s report, and also watched the recorded interviews of some of the people who had been on the beach when she made her rapid entry, trying to warn people of the presence of the massive shark.

  “Yeah, this stupid girl drove through the rocks over there,” one of the witnesses said. “She was honking her horn and driving like really fast. She stopped and jumped out and started screaming. ‘Shark, SHARK!’ Everyone like totally panicked.”

  The witness was a middle-aged man with a thick coating of zinc oxide on his nose. He pointed towards the low hills she had driven through. The wild tracks left by her tires zigzagged all over the sand.

  She cringed when she saw some of the big rocks near her tire tracks. Her SUV had suffered badly, and she winced when she thought about what the repairs would cost.

  A second eyewitness gave another account. “I didn’t see nothing. I was like way out there, you know, in the water.”

  She pointed woodenly over the sand towards the sparkling waves, then, continued.

  “People started screaming and running over each other. I got pushed down into the sand, a lot, and sucked up a lot of water. I coulda’ drowned.”

  The broadcast cut back to Peter Everett, who finished his monologue. “Authorities have two fears concerning the supposed sighting. First of all, if a shark is swimming off shore, will it pose a hazard to swimmers? And, secondly, even more sinister than a man-eating fish, did this young woman perpetrate a hoax . . . ”

  Outraged, Misty leapt up and turned off the TV.

  “Dammit! That guy is such a pissy jackass!”

  A knock sounded at her door causing her to jump. Dave, startled by her movements, dug his claws into her arm.

  “Who is it?” Misty shouted angrily as she carefully extricated the cat’s claws. She was beginning to feel like anything she did today was going to cause wounds.

  “Misty Witlow? Miss Witlow? Are you there?”

  Misty bit her lip, and tried to keep the fear out of her voice when she called out again. “Ummm, who is it?”

  “I’m looking for Misty Witlow. My name is Ranger Barry Fitzsimmons and I’m from the Park Service. You reported seeing a shark today? Ma’am? Down at Merrill Point?”

  Misty, still clutching Dave, moved towards the door but did not open it.

  “I really don’t want to talk to anyone right now.”

  “Ma’am, I’m afraid you have to. Two lifeguards reported that people on the beach were injured during a panic that started because of a supposed shark sighting which you reported. I need to get your side of the story.”

  “Can we do this later?” she asked hopefully.

  “You can talk to me now, or, you can talk to the police later. The choice is yours.”

  “Fine!”

  Misty
opened the door, but left the security chain in place. Barry looked her up and down, noticing her disheveled, wet clothing.

  “Went swimming, did you?” he asked.

  “Not on purpose. Can I see some ID?”

  She set Dave down on the floor after Barry produced his government identification. Cautiously he slipped the ID through the narrow opening between the door and the frame. As she reached for the card he saw the dishtowel, stained with blood, wrapped around her hand.

  “What did you do to your hand?” he asked.

  “I had an accident.”

  Barry held up the piece of lawn chair he had retrieved from the ocean.

  “Did you cut it on this? I saw some blood on the rock where you were—”

  “What? No! Where did you get that?”

  He produced the half-smoked joint from his pocket and showed that to her.

  “Did this have anything to do with what happened today?”

  “NO!”

  “Why don’t you tell me what you really did to your hand?”

  Barry returned the joint to his pocket and squeezed his fingers through the narrow opening, reaching for her injured hand. Misty, quite upset at this point, backed away from him and hid her hand behind her back.

  “Really, ma’am, why don’t you tell me what happened? I just want to hear your side of the story. That’s all.”

  “I cut my hand . . . on the shark’s tooth,” she volunteered reluctantly.

  Now concerned, Barry asked her, “It bit you?”

  She burst out laughing, then, felt her breath catch badly in throat as she fought back a sob.

  “Oh my God! No! Do you know . . . how . . . ridiculous that sounds? If that thing bit me and all I got was this tiny scratch?”

  Misty flashed back to the sight of the massive shark right in front of her, with its rows of gigantic teeth snapping. If that thing had been able to get to her, it would not have just bit her . . . it would have swallowed her whole. The thought of what that could be like—being alive inside the shark’s tooth filled maw— filled her with terror again, and the color drained from her face.

  “Please, let me help you.”

  Slowly, while wiping tears away, Misty released the safety chain and let Barry into her apartment. He quietly closed the door, then, grasped her gently by the elbow.

  “Come on. Where’s your kitchen?”

  She pointed through an open door.

  “There.”

  Gently, he propelled her into the kitchen, over to the sink. He walked right past the tooth on the counter without seeing it, then reached for the cold water and, after removing the blood stained towel from her hand, pushed it under the running water. At first Misty flinched, but she relaxed as she watched, and felt, Barry gently probing for any foreign bodies in the cut.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Looking for tooth fragments.”

  “Oh? Finding any?” she asked, then, giggled.

  He saw some liquid soap on the counter and squirted a generous amount over the cut. As he worked up the lather and let the water rinse it clean, he continued.

  “Sharks have a lot of bacteria in their mouth. I need to wash this out. So, tell me. How did it bite you?”

  “It didn’t.”

  “Then, how . . . ?”

  “That thing, that shark, it just came right up on the rock. The one I was standing on.”

  “Okay. I saw the rock.”

  “Yeah well, okay,” she continued, the words just spilling out of her mouth now. “Well, I guess it was trying to get to me or something ’cause it raised its head way up and out of the water, and bit the rock. When it did that, a tooth came out, and I went back and got it. That’s why I’m wet. I fell in trying to get the tooth. I grabbed the tooth, and it was really sharp. It cut my hand.”

  “When you went into the water, was the shark around?”

  “No. God, no.”

  Barry finished cleaning her hand and Misty pointed to a nearby kitchen drawer. When he opened it, he found some clean dishtowels. He selected one and wrapped it around her hand.

  “I have a first aid kit in the truck and can do a more proper bandage. Might be a good idea to have a doctor look at it, though, and for you to get a tetanus shot. Like I said, sharks’ mouths are filled with bacteria. It’s easy to get an infection.”

  “Great.”

  “So where is this tooth? We can identify the kind of shark it is just from the tooth. See what we’re dealing with here.”

  Misty pointed to the counter.

  “It’s right there.”

  Barry turned and looked at the counter, and was actually staring right at it. However, the fact that it was a tooth didn’t register with him.

  “Where?”

  “There!”

  “I don’t see . . . ”

  Misty reached over and tapped the enormous tooth in the middle, causing it to wiggle back and forth. Barry’s mouth fell open as he stared at the gigantic tooth. He took a step closer to the counter and leaned forward, staring with fascination.

  “I videotaped it too, the shark that is, but look, I broke my camera.”

  Hating to tear his eyes away from the tooth, he glanced at her little digital camera, lying among the shattered pieces of the lens.

  “It’s digital?”

  “Uh-huh. My mom gave it to me when I moved out here. It’s how we stay in touch. She plays what I send her on her computer. She . . . she’s deaf, but she can read my lips, so it’s one of the ways I stay in touch with her.”

  “Well, the camera might be broken, but the images could be okay. Do you have a computer?”

  “No, I just use my cell phone for the internet and email and stuff. Do you think you can fix it?”

  He looked back and forth between the camera and the tooth.

  “No, but I might know a guy . . . ”

  Gingerly, he picked up the massive tooth and studied it closely. To himself, he whispered, “Does mama see this . . . ?”

  Chapter 5

  At the KQRX newsroom, people were huddled over desks, staring intently into computers, prepping dialogue, footage, and scanning the internet for content to add to the evening broadcast.

  Peter strode into the newsroom, followed closely by Jethro and Hobart. Immediately, he made eye contact with Janet Pierson, the hard-as-nails news director. He noticed that the fifty-eight-year-old seemed to have pulled her iron gray hair into an even tighter bun, if that was possible.

  She locked eyes with him as he made his way across the room. Her lips were pulled thin and white as she glared at him. Peter was certain that if the big quake hit right now, and the building fell down on them, she would still be frozen in that same position.

  He sidled up next to her.

  “Why the sour puss?” he whispered to her.

  “You were transmitting live this morning,” she said curtly.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “A live feed back here.”

  “Uh-huh. What happened? The feed get screwed up?”

  Peter shot his crew a reproving glance. They both quickly showed him the finger, then, retracted before Janet could see them. They all had had run-ins with her, and chose to avoid teasing the tiger if they could.

  “You want a law suit? Is that what you really want?” she asked.

  “What? No! Why . . . ?”

  “Gay sharks?”

  Peter and his crew laughed out loud.

  “Ah, come on!” he complained. “It was a joke.”

  “It’s also grounds for sexual harassment.”

  “Why? Do we have gay sharks working here?”

  “Maybe we do! Bottom line is, you do that again and I’ll have your ass laminated. Clear?”

  “Got it.” Peter sighed, with a thick trace of condescending attitude leaking through.

  His crew both whispered to each other, “Clear?” then fought back laughter.

  “What are you doing back here?” Janet continued. “I thought you were g
oing to cover that car crash in Pomona.”

  “As much as I love Pomona,” he said, rolling his eyes and dragging out the word love until it sounded vaguely obscene, “we thought you might want this for tonight’s story, so, we hustled it back here for ya.”

  “What is it?”

  Jethro showed her a flash drive. It was in the shape of a cute little purple monkey holding a bright yellow banana.

  “Dare I ask?” she snorted.

  “We have some interesting footage here.” Peter told her.

  “A kid shot this at the beach this morning, when that girl drove like a crazy person up to the lifeguard’s shack,” Jethro told her as he held the drive out to her.

  Janet stared icily at the flash drive in his hand as if he were trying to hand her a dog turd.

  “Yeah, fine,” she sighed heavily, refusing to touch the drive. Janet pointed at a nearby work station. “Go ahead and queue it up for me. Let’s see what you’ve got that’s better than Pomona.”

  Jethro popped the flash drive into a nearby machine and Hobart, manning the keyboard, queued up the video. Footage quickly flickered to life, showing the events on the beach that morning. The camera work was rough and shaky, as the young man—the one who had provided Peter with the footage—swung it wildly about, trying to capture the events while Misty had confronted the lifeguards.

  The video showed panicked people screaming and running away from the water. Off to one side, barely visible, was Misty, talking with a great deal of animation to the lifeguards. The camera panned back and forth between framing shots of her, the lifeguards, and the people running madly on the beach.

  “There!” Jethro shouted, causing Janet to flinch.

  She shot him a look that could shatter concrete. Jethro gave her his best gap-toothed grin.

  “Got it,” Hobart called out. He froze the video on one frame. Janet leaned forward, scanning the monitor, while Peter held back, watching her closely. A broad grin was beginning to form on his face.

  “What am I looking at here?” she asked, barely disguising her annoyance with him.

  Peter, with a flourish, pointed to a shape in the water a ways offshore.