by Dale Mayer
At that, Bruce snorted. “Jesus, again?”
Samson slid him a sidelong look. “I forgot you were here last time he pulled this, weren’t you?”
Bruce nodded. “Absolutely. He was gone for a full day, wasn’t he? And then he sauntered back in like any other day. I was pissed. You were pissed. And he just smiled at us with that vacant look on his face.” He shook his head. “But sometimes I wonder if he isn’t more there than we think.”
“I think he’s all there,” Whimsy said quietly. “I just think he tends to be a petulant child acting out.”
Bruce looked at her approvingly. “I think you’re right. But that doesn’t make his behavior any easier.”
“True enough,” she said. She sat down beside the fire. “Did you see anything else while you were out there? Either of you?”
Both men shook their heads. “I presume you have a boat somewhere?” she asked Bruce.
Bruce nodded. “I have a small research vessel, but it’s big enough for my needs.”
“Did you see any other vessels out there?” Samson asked. “Anybody on the platform? Anybody around the platform? Anybody on land?”
Bruce shook his head. “Honestly, I didn’t see anyone anywhere. It’s a bit disconcerting to consider that thing presented itself almost overnight. We know how long it takes for rigs to be built.”
“Months, in most cases,” Samson said. “So I assume, because it wasn’t rocking in the waves, it was fixed to the ocean floor. But I’m wondering if it isn’t that we’ve got a bit of a shallower base there or if it’s just secured by cables to the cliff around it. It’s nestled in the middle of this little spoon-shaped segment.”
“I saw that when I climbed up,” Bruce said. “It’s definitely fixed there. When were you last in that corner?”
“I can’t pinpoint that,” Samson said regretfully. “It could have been as long as six weeks ago.”
At that Bruce winced. “All kinds of shit could happen in six weeks.”
“True, but I wasn’t expecting to have to case my island daily to see if some asshole had put down some weird platform.”
She threw up her hands. “Surely there’s got to be a way to know whose pet project that is, and what it is they’re trying to do.”
“What they’re trying to do and what they’re actually doing,” Bruce said, “might be two different things.”
“Meaning?” she asked for more clarity.
“It’s possible that platform was part of an oil rig. Somebody bought it, moved it, and they have their own little project going. And just because it might say Property of the Russian Government, it does not mean it is.”
“Oh,” she said. “Right. I never thought of that.”
“It didn’t look very big,” Bruce said. “When I was standing up high, looking down, it appeared bigger than when I was down there. It’s riding the surface of the ocean. Originally when I saw it, I thought it was just a floating dock.”
“Well, it’s not that,” Samson said. “And we saw it in action. When it’s lit up, it looks massive. Like a two-, three-, four-story-high building. Like an electrode reaching for the sky.”
Bruce’s face lit up. “Really? It’s running that much power through it?”
“Yes,” Samson said. “A massive amount of power. If that’s what they’re trying to do, to generate power, how will they store it?”
“Water is definitely a conductor,” Whimsy said. “But it doesn’t make any sense to put that charge into the water, so they must have some battery system they’re charging.”
“Or they’re not storing that energy at all,” Bruce continued, “but they’re dissipating it, because it’s not how much they’re collecting, but the fact they are collecting it at all.”
“So a new source of power?” Samson asked.
Bruce shrugged. “We’ve seen worse. As a matter of fact, we’ve seen some really crazy ideas, if you think about it.”
Samson chuckled. “I remember a couple of those strange fishnet ones. They were supposed to automatically open and close, depending on the size of the fish. But that was a major fail. An octopus got in there and gummed up the works.” He shook his head. “But you’re right. I mean, things like this happen, and we don’t register what it is until it’s too late. And, by then, they’ve already got patents, and they’re being produced all over the bloody world.”
Bruce took a seat beside Whimsy. “Back to your brother …”
Samson nodded and walked to the kitchen door where he could stare outside again. “When the storm abates, I’ll go back out.”
“I’ll go with you.” Whimsy jumped to her feet and walked to the window. “How long until the storm passes?”
“The weather patterns all over the globe are crazy right now,” Bruce said. “You know that, and I know that. But one of the biggest effects of global warming is changes in weather patterns. We’re getting more storms. They’re more often, and they’re worse, almost each and every time. They cluster together now, instead of coming in erratic points. Now, once you get one, you might as well count on the fact that you’ll have a good dozen of them. Eventually it’ll get ugly, and I think very quickly.”
“I won’t argue with you there, but …” She pointed outside and nudged Samson. “Do you see that?”
He peered over her shoulder and studied the darkness in the trees. “I can’t see anything. What do you see?”
“Another person walking,” she said in a low voice. “But it isn’t Jamie.”
“Really?” Samson said in disbelief. “It’s bad enough Bruce came in during this storm. That would be like a once-a-week event. Two visitors would be very unusual.”
She looked back outside where she had seen the man walking, then asked, “What if he came with Bruce?”
Samson frowned, then turned to Bruce. “Hey, Bruce, did you come up here alone?”
“I did,” he said, stretching his feet out toward the fire. “But I left Jerry manning the boat. I didn’t want to leave it alone.”
“What does he look like?” Whimsy asked.
“I don’t know why you would be asking, but he’s like six-two and a redhead,” he said. “But there’s no way in hell he’d leave the vessel.”
“Are you sure about that?” she asked, “because I swear I just saw somebody by that description cross in front of the trees out there.”
Bruce slowly got up and walked over to join them. “He better not,” he said. “I’d fucking kill him.”
“Why? Because he left the vessel?”
“For one, yes. For two, he broke an order. And, for three, there’s no reason for him to be up here. At least no good reason. And, if there’s no good reason, it means he’s up to no good,” he said, his face twisted in a hard grin. “And I mean that from the bottom of my heart.”
*
Samson bolted out of the double glass doors following the direction Whimsy had pointed to, barely hearing Bruce calling out behind him, “Generally he’s a pretty shy guy. Don’t terrorize him too much, Samson. His name is Jerry.”
Samson didn’t care what his name was, but it was definitely a concern to have someone wandering around his space. He had markers, antennas, triggers laid, depth markers that would measure all kinds of things here. Some of it was put in by the earthquake society to keep track of any tremors as they hit the island. Others were items Samson himself had put in; still more were projects from the university students.
Because Samson was heavily involved in research, it made sense these people would utilize his space to get more data. And he didn’t mind as long as they let him know they were here. He did mind, however, strangers wandering around without permission.
He headed into the trees as fast as he could, where some of the heavy rain had eased back, giving him more visibility. Red hair, that was a natural color that tended to blend in with the trees and bushes and leaves. It wasn’t an easy place to hunt for someone with that hair color.
At that, he winced. Because of cour
se, hunting was something that he did, just not in any normal venture.
Something he hadn’t shared with Whimsy yet either. But it was partly how he found things. Partly how he knew the migration patterns and where to look. Some hunting sense he had been able to use. He’d easily say it was instinctive, but Stefan used to laugh at him over that and said it was anything but.
Samson knew this talent had helped drive him and his company to the top of their field.
Through the trees, moving swiftly, he knew every inch of this island. He’d spent days just wandering it, tracking it, mapping it out. He had a unique machine that helped him put it all into 3-D perspective at close range.
He knew where the hills were and where the big boulders were. But, even for all that knowledge, he wasn’t seeing anything. He came up on one of the rises he often used as a lookout to check on the sound’s activity, and what he saw was wave turbulence again. At one point, he stopped and turned, looking behind him, sure something odd was tracking him. But he couldn’t figure out what it was.
He moved along the rocks until he came to one of the lookout points. He stepped up and peered out at the water. A couple vessels were farther out, but nothing was close in.
As he turned his gaze to study the rocks down below, he saw something. Swearing softly under his breath, he moved back inland, taking one of the paths that would bring him down to the water. Some of these paths he’d created with an ax and a chisel and hammer to carve out some way to get down.
As he came around the bottom corner, he saw the dogs sitting there, staring at a man floating in the water. “King, is he alive?”
King just turned his head slowly and looked at him.
“I’ll take that as a no,” he said, sighing.
He reached out with a long stick and tried to hook the body. The waves were churning hard. If Samson went in the water, he’d end up being pulled out with the tide himself. He had come without ropes.
Just then another wave came in, tossing the body closer to shore. With the stick Samson managed to grab the man’s collar and pull him forward.
It wasn’t a sandy beach like where Whimsy had washed up. Instead this area was rocky, and the body was slapping against the hard granite pieces without any forgiveness. Finally Samson managed to get a grip on one of his arms and tugged. The body rolled toward him. With great effort he pulled it up onto the rock and took a look at the face. He was a young redhead. He took a picture of the body and sent it to Bruce. He knew the satellite internet service would be shitty, so he didn’t know if it would go through. Thankfully cell phones were on completely different systems, but that still didn’t mean he always had a signal here. He’d done his best, and within seconds his phone rang.
“That’s him,” Bruce said grimly. “Did he drown?”
“Yeah,” Samson said. “Looks like he went over the rock somewhere. There’s a great big bash on his head too.”
“Front or back?”
“Back.”
“Somebody could have hit him,” Bruce said, his voice hard.
“Might be,” Samson said. “I don’t know for sure.” He studied the wound. “It could have been a rock, either wielded by a man or a rock that Jerry hit on his way down. The waves could have tossed him on the sharp rocks too.”
“Right. I hear you,” Bruce said. “I’ll come on down your way.”
“I wouldn’t,” Samson said. “We’ll have to get a helicopter. I don’t think we can carry him up this steep cliff, not with the rain too. I’ve got a bit of a path cut in here but not much of one.”
“Between the two of us, we could do it. You have a stretcher around?”
“I have one of those folding ones,” Samson said, “but it’s more of a folded hammock.”
“Perfect,” Bruce said. “I’ll grab it, pick up some rope and be there in a few minutes.”
“When you come, head straight through the trees, break out on the right where the path diverges, and then follow the rocks down on the right side. At one point, you’ll have to go back into the trees to find the path that’ll bring you lower.”
“Yeah, I’ve spent a lot of time on that side of the island. I think I know the path you’re talking about.”
Samson hung up, checked the kid’s pockets and found it was indeed Jerry. The question was, what was he doing on land if he was supposed to stay on the boat? And how would he have ended up here? Although the island was full of treacherous paths, the kid had been close to the house at one point, or Whimsy wouldn’t have seen him from inside the house. Jerry couldn’t have missed seeing the house and that they were all there. Samson had windows along the full length of the front of it. So why come down here?
Samson wasn’t a suspicious man by nature, but that head wound … He had to admit it gave him cause for alarm. Jerry also didn’t appear to have been dead for very long. At that, he thought he saw the man’s eyes flicker. He rolled him over and pressed hard on his chest to empty it out. A whole lot of water gushed up and out of his stomach and lungs.
Then Samson started CPR.
He was focused on the chest compressions when he heard a scrambling noise up above. He looked up but saw no sign of anyone. Frowning, he kept up his CPR, while studying the area around him. He didn’t want to call out, but, if anybody had seen him, it was obvious where he was.
In the distance he heard his name called. He yelled back, “I’m down here, keep coming.”
And suddenly there was Bruce. He took one look, and his face lit up. “Do you think we can save him?” He jumped down, checked on the kid’s vitals.
“I don’t know how long he was in the water,” Samson said. “If you think about it, it couldn’t have been too long. Whimsy saw him up top.”
“True enough,” Bruce said. “Give me a chance.”
A few seconds after Bruce took over, Jerry coughed and sputtered. They rolled him over into the three-quarter prone position, letting his lungs clean out any more water. When he could finally breathe, he collapsed back down again and groaned.
“Take it easy, buddy,” Bruce said. “I don’t know what the hell you’re doing on shore, but you sure ended up back in the water again.”
Jerry opened red-rimmed eyes and stared at him, a blank look in his face. “What happened?” he whispered.
“We were hoping you could answer that question,” Samson said, studying him. He was relieved to see color coming back into the kid’s face. “Are you all right?”
“My head hurts,” Jerry whispered. He held up an arm, then dropped it aimlessly and started shivering. “Last thing I remember was a pain exploding in my head, and then I don’t remember anything else.”
“So you didn’t fall?” Bruce asked.
“No,” he said. “At least I don’t think so. Maybe I fell backward, smacked my head and rolled into the water. I don’t know.” They tried to help him up to a sitting position, and he groaned, gasping in pain. “My head,” he cried out.
“You’ll get hypothermia if you stay out here in this storm with wet clothes,” Samson said. “Let’s get you up to the cabin.”
Jerry took several deep, deep breaths, and then said, “Okay. Let me try to stand.” With their help, he stood up slowly. Once he was upright, he took several more breaths, giving them a wan smile. “I appreciate the fact that you saved my life,” he said. “But right now, everything hurts.”
“Come on. Let’s go.”
Moving slowly, one step at a time, with both of them supporting Jerry, the trio made their way back to the top of the hill. The dogs leading the way. Samson worried about Jerry’s story. If somebody had hit him, that meant they had yet another stranger to contend with. And that was no good either.
“Why were you on the island?” Bruce asked him. “You were under direct orders to stay on the boat.”
“I know,” Jerry said. “And then I saw a couple men crawling up the side of the cliff over there. I tried to warn you guys other people were approaching, but I couldn’t get through to you.”
>
“The storm must have interfered with all the communications.”
“Yeah. You’re not kidding,” Samson said. “It interfered all right. I haven’t seen either of those two men you’re talking about.”
“Of course not,” Jerry said in disgust. “That would be too easy, right? It would give me a reason for being down here. Instead, I’m looking like an idiot who didn’t follow orders with my head cracked open and soaking wet and almost having drowned.”
As they came in sight of the cabin, Samson could feel Jerry’s strength giving out. “Come on, Bruce. We’ve got to get him inside.” He swung the lanky kid over his shoulder and walked the last one hundred yards.
Bruce raced ahead and opened the door.
Samson could hear Whimsy inside as she caught sight of them and came out to grab more firewood.
He really loved the fact that she was efficient and, in times of stress and trouble, knew what to do.
With the kid inside, Bruce and Samson quickly stripped him down to his boxers, and then Samson grabbed a couple blankets from his room. They bound him mummy style and laid him on the floor in front of the hearth. King and Queen both came inside. One lay on either side of the man.
Jerry was shivering. “So cold,” he whispered.
“We’ll make you some hot tea and soup,” Whimsy said. “Just hold on. Let your body shiver and bring that heat back up. You’re lucky you’re not dead.”
“I know,” Jerry said. “I have Samson to thank for that.”
“Samson?” she asked, tossing a look at him.
Samson shrugged and said, “I fished him out of the water. He was pretty well dead. He came to warn us about two men climbing up the cliff face.”
They exchanged a long look. He knew she was thinking about what had happened to her.
He shrugged. “He thinks he was either hit over the head or fell and hit a rock. Either way he ended up floating facedown.”
Whimsy gasped and turned to look at him. “Now I can see the head wound. I have to admit I didn’t see it earlier. I wasn’t looking.”
