by E. J. Foster
Katie rolled her eyes at that.
“Trying to get me on a technicality?” she asked.
I laughed at that.
“Nope. Just trying to keep my promises as best I can. When we get back to the lab, we'll throw that thing into the bay and be done with it.”
After a long pause Katie took a swig of her beer, set her bottle back down and said, “Fine.”
11
Every day, gigantic container ships park out in the Chesapeake Bay to the west of Claw Island. Some days, there are ten or more large ships waiting to be called up into Baltimore by the harbor master.
Until they are called, they usually sit there. But today, the bay looked sparse. Only one ship rose out of a mist that had formed on the water.
Finn and Jessa were headed straight for it. The long rust-red ship was the only thing of interest in their field of view. There were lighthouses to the north and the south, but they were too far away for this small jon boat.
Finn worked the tiller, steering right at the massive ship. Jessa sat at the bow, the wind tossing her hair around her face.
She pulled a pair of binoculars out of her pink backpack and trained them on the behemoth ahead.
Through the lenses appeared giant letters on the side of the old ship. The letter C practically filled the viewfinder of her specs, the corners of the image blacked out in two circular shapes. Jessa slowly drew her gaze to the right. The letter A. She continued reading to the right: S, then T. The Castle Queen.
“I think that’s it,” she shouted back to Finn, her voice barely audible over the buzz of the outboard.
“What?” Finn yelled back.
“The treasure ship! Castle Queen!”
“I thought you said the ship was named Queens Castle?”
“Do you not see? There were other inaccuracies in the accounts of the story. This could be the ship!”
Finn wished he had more throttle, but he was already maxed out. Instinctively, his grip tightened on the tiller.
After another minute, Finn killed the motor, and let the jon boat drift closer, in silence.
The ship grew larger as it came into view, until Finn and Jessa were looking almost straight up the side of this rusty skyscraper in the middle of the Chesapeake Bay.
Finned pulled alongside the ship at the bottom of a wooden rope-ladder that extended from the water’s surface all the way up the side of the ship.
He looked up to the top. It must have been ten stories tall.
He wobbled from the vertigo, and put his hand on his stomach, and sat back down.
Jessa wasted no time. She threw on her backpack and reached out to grip the bottom rung of the ladder.
The jon boat started drifting away from the rusty ship, creating a watery gap between the two. Jessa was stretched out, her feet on the jon boat, her hands grasping the ladder.
“Help!” she cried out.
Finn grabbed an oar and started working it against the current, driving the jon boat back toward the ladder.
Jessa strained to hold on. “Hurry!” she called out.
Finn finally regained control of the small boat. He made contact with the ship once again, and quickly tied off to the bottom rung of the ladder.
“There,” he said. “Now we’re lashed to this rust bucket—”
Jessa was already climbing.
“What are you doing, Jessa?” Finn hollered up the ladder.
“I’m investigating the anomaly,” Jessa shouted down.
“I wouldn’t go up there,” Finn warned, but Jessa continued to climb. “Jessa,” Finn tried again. “What are you doing? You’re going to fall.”
“Highly unlikely.” Jessa’s voice was faint in the distance.
Jessa was getting smaller and smaller until she disappeared over the top of the gunwale, what seemed like a mile away, straight up.
Finn’s face was flush. He wanted to pace back and forth, consider his options, but the small jon boat was wobbly under his feet, so he just stood there with the rope ladder in one hand.
“Jessa, why, why, why,” Finn muttered through clenched teeth and grunted out a sigh.
He looked up the hundred-foot-high rusty wall of steel and retched as his throat tried to hold back nausea.
“Don’t look up,” he muttered to himself as he grabbed a rung with both hands and planted a foot firmly on the lowest rung. “Don’t look up,” he repeated, and continued to repeat this mantra to himself with each step he climbed.
After a minute of slow climbing, Finn stopped to take a break.
“Don't look up,” he said, breathing heavily from the labored effort. This climb seemed so easy for Jessa. He must be farther than he thinks.
Finn looked down to gauge his progress. The jon boat was the size of a small toy now. The nausea returned. A torrent began spinning in Finn’s belly, and then the whole ship started spinning with it.
“Don’t look down. Don’t look down.” Finn had a new mantra now.
His eyes clenched tightly closed, straining all the muscles in his face.
“Don’t look up,” Finn said, and added, “Don’t look down.”
Finn took a few sharp breaths and exhaled rapid-fire through puckered lips, his eyes still shut tight.
“Don’t look up, don’t look down.” The mantra now perfected, Finn started climbing again, very slowly. “Don’t look up, don’t look down,” he repeated, eyes now open and trained on the rusty steel wall right in front of him as he climbed.
“Jessa. Why do you do this to me?” Finn muttered as he climbed.
12
Katie and I had agreed to get rid of the meteorite, and that was alright by me. The sooner I could get back to kicking my feet up on the deck of my boat, and relaxing the summer away, the better.
Despite the warm sun, there was a thin mist on the water today. It should burn off by late afternoon, I thought.
I had the throttle at cruising speed and the bow was riding high on the water as we headed back to the lab with our bellies full. The bay was calm and still today, and we created a perfectly-defined wake behind us.
The breeze was tossing Katie’s long dark mane of hair in every direction. Wisps of hair fell across her face as she smiled at me. I could tell she loved this island life, too. She had grown into a beautiful woman, and a great mom.
Life could be beautiful here, in the simplest moments.
As we approached the lab, I throttled back, and the hum of the engines settled into a low gurgle. I maneuvered the boat into the dock, bow facing out to the open bay. Old habits.
We tied off and hopped out, making our way to the entrance.
That eerie feeling was back again, and I wasn't entirely sure why. Katie was here with me. I’m not alone this time, so, why are my nerves tingling? I wondered.
As we approached, Katie pulled out her phone to unlock the door.
I noticed the sidelight window, which I had peered through before, was now opaque. It looked as if someone spray painted it lime green, from the inside.
“Wait,” I said to Katie, holding my hand up.
Katie looked up from her phone at me. “What?”
“Don’t hit that button,” I said. “Look at this.” I pointed to the window.
Katie narrowed her eyes, trying to make sense of the new development.
“What the f—” Katie started, but I interrupted her.
“I know. It wasn’t there when we left,” I confirmed.
Katie reached out a hand and gently probed the green glass with her fingertips.
“It seemed to be on the...” Katie hesitated before continuing, “inside.” She turned to me. Her face was all concern.
“Yeah. Someone’s in there,” I said, and then added, “Or was in there.”
“I’m going in,” Katie declared.
“Katie, wait—”
She pushed a button on her phone, the door lock made a clicking sound, and she twisted the handle before I had a chance to protest.
A spike of
fear pierced my heart, and the tingling radiated outward to my hands.
“This is my lab,” Katie declared. “Nobody comes uninvited.” Katie looked back at me, defiant, before pushing the door open and stepping inside.
Katie was fiercely territorial and protective of the things she considered to be hers. And this mentality extended to her family, as well.
A memory flashed in my mind about the day I arrived on Claw Island two summers ago, uninvited.
After not seeing Katie for decades, I showed up and intruded on her life. She was just as fiercely protective then, of Finn. Only, that time, I was the intruder.
Katie would do anything to protect her family. And now, I was glad to be considered part of that family, once again. I’d hate to go up against Katie, in any arena. And the poor sucker who decided to break into this lab was about to find out why.
The hard way.
13
Finally at the top, standing with both feet on deck, Finn held onto the rusty railing that ran along the length of the giant ship as he bent over it, retching. A stream of vomit hurled out of him at the speed of gravity, and fell a hundred feet down to the water, making a silent splash.
Finn put a hand on his stomach, sure that there wasn’t anything else left inside of it.
Gulls whined and cawed as they gathered around him, flying in circles before lazily gliding downward, headed toward the freshly chummed water below. The sight was dizzying, and Finn lifted his gaze to avoid it, focusing instead on the giant unmovable rock that rose out of the bay in front of him. Claw Island.
Finn took in the majesty and let it calm his nerves until his stomach settled. The view was something Finn hadn’t seen before. From this height, he could see the entire island from north to south, and for a moment, Finn felt like he was floating in the clouds, a god among men.
Finn suddenly remembered why he was here. Jessa.
Finn whirled and scanned the deck of the container ship, immediately spotting Jessa in the distance, on the same side of the boat as he, down along the same railing. However, she wasn’t taking in the beautiful landscapes. Her attention seemed to be focused inward, as she investigated everything on the deck of the massive ship.
Finn tore off in her direction, and when he arrived, Jessa was still marveling at the odd things on the boat.
“I made it,” Finn huffed, out of breath.
“Peculiar,” Jessa said, not looking at him. “These large boxes, they seem to resemble... Legos. Giant stackable blocks.”
Finn looked at the huge boxes, stacked up high, each one a different color. Some red, some yellow, or green, or blue. The long rectangular boxes seemed to be eight feet high and wide and about as long as a school bus.
“Shipping containers?” he asked aloud, half to himself, incredulous that Jessa cared about something so boring.
Finn wasn’t interested. He shrugged his shoulders, and then turned back toward the railing, facing the island.
“Look, Jessa, you can see my house from here.” Finn pointed in the general direction, but Jessa seemed to be transfixed on the giant Legos aboard the ship. Finn decided to try another tack.
“I think I can see Chum,” Finn lied, saying anything to get Jessa to take in the view, but it didn’t work.
Jessa continued following the walkway along the railing, headed toward the bow of the great ship, and Finn followed.
Jessa soaking in everything about the ship.
“Is this not fascinating?” she asked aloud.
Finn was looking in the other direction, mesmerized by the view.
“It is,” he said.
When they reached the very tip of the bow, Finn had an idea. He grabbed Jessa by the arm and pulled her to the railing, facing out to the water ahead.
“Selfie time,” Finn said, pulling out his phone.
Jessa smiled big. Being invited into a photograph with Finn was an unexpected pleasure for her; her skin tingled at the request, and she snapped out of the spell she had been under.
Both facing outward and with the wind in their hair, Finn pulled Jessa in tight with one hand, while the other hand extended his phone out over the edge of the railing.
In that moment, Finn felt a sudden visceral urge and shouted as loud as he could, “I’m the king of the world!”
Jessa smiled brightly, and then said, “May I remind you, the last time that phrase was uttered, the boat sank.”
Suddenly, from behind them, a man shouted something, killing the moment. He spoke a language that Finn didn’t understand.
Finn flinched and turned toward the voice. He felt the phone slip out of his hands. Panicked, he turned back in time to see the device disappear into a watery grave, before snapping his head back to the man, once again. His heart was a motor.
Jessa fled to a steel staircase and disappeared down it.
Finn was paralyzed, his feet welded to the deck. The man at the other end of the ship was shouting, but the words were all foreign. The stranger started making the long trek in Finn’s direction.
The man in the distance wore a silver jumpsuit decorated with a vertical blue stripe that ran down from his shoulder to the bottom of one pant leg. His jet-black hair had a bolt of platinum blonde streaked through it.
Finn decided it was time to move, but a voice to his right caught his attention.
Finn turned toward the close voice but couldn't understand the foreign language.
The man was right there, ten feet to his right. The same man. Same silver jumpsuit, same jet-black hair. Same blonde streak.
How? Finn thought. Was this a ghost?
Finn decided not to find out. He spun on his heels, turned toward the stairs, and bolted down them.
14
I stepped into the lab; all my senses aware. I was on high alert.
The smell of rotten eggs hit me and burned my nostrils.
“Sulfur,” Katie said. “Hydrogen sulfide, maybe”
The lab was mostly dark with some natural light coming through the windows.
A lone light bulb directly above the lab table illuminated the egg. The table was covered in wisps of green dust that radiated outward from the strange object in all directions. It looked like a small blast zone.
“Dad, the egg.” Katie’s voice had an edge.
I focused on the small black rock in the center of the lab table. The meteorite. It had cracked open. A network of fissures gapped and the thing glowed green from the inside out, like it was radioactive.
“Do you think it’s safe?” I asked.
“Unsure.” Katie was calm and focused.
A momentary bright flash of light nearly blinded me from the corner of the room.
“What the hell,” I said.
“Security cams,” Katie explained. “Jules is supposed to come fix them. They take photos on motion, like a traffic camera, but only when the alarm is set. They’ve been glitching all week.”
There wasn’t much to this lab; it was basically a one-room facility, with a kitchenette and bathroom. After my eyes readjusted, I could see everything in the lab from where I stood. There were no intruders.
“The bathroom,” Katie suggested.
I redirected my focus to the bathroom door, specifically, the narrow gap between the floor. No lights on in the small room.
Katie was examining the rest of the lab.
“My notes,” Katie said. I couldn’t tell if she was talking to me, or to herself. “They’re charred.”
I diverted my attention from the darkness under the bathroom door, and back to Katie.
“What?”
“Charred. Like a fire,” she said.
I stepped in for a closer look. The edges of the papers were indeed charred.
A thought occurred to me, and at the same moment, Katie and I both looked over at the candle she had lit earlier. It was extinguished.
Puzzled, I scanned the room, looking for clues. Then I spotted something.
“Uh, Katie,” I beckoned.
She
turned to me, her brows went high, expecting new information.
“I think your rabbit hit the bricks,” I said.
Katie furrowed her brow in confusion. I motioned to the rabbit cage. The door was open, and the marsh rabbit was gone.
Katie’s mouth gaped.
“What in the world,” Katie said. “Who would? Why?” She searched for the right question but couldn’t find it.
“What kind of a jackass steals a rabbit?” I helped her.
At that moment, a soft scratching sound reverberated from the direction of the bathroom.
We both snapped our necks toward the noise, turning to see nothing in the darkness. I instinctively grabbed Katie and pushed her behind me with one arm, putting myself between her and whatever was making that sound.
“He’s still in here,” Katie hissed.
I scanned the lab for anything I could use to defend us.
“Do you have a weapon?” I whispered.
“Um,” was all Katie could stammer out. She seemed frozen with fear. But I, on the other hand, had a different reaction.
I felt a bile of anger rising up inside me. Blood throbbed in my neck, and my fists clenched on instinct. I didn’t know exactly who I was dealing with, but I knew one thing. I hated him for intruding on my family.
“A weapon,” I repeated more forcefully, trying to snap her out of it. “A broomstick, a hammer, anything.”
“N-no,” she said, her voice shaken. “I don’t keep anything like that here.”
“What about on the boat? Do you have a firearm?”
“A gun? God, no. I don’t keep a...” she said before stopping to think. “Wait. There’s a flare gun,” she remembered.
“Get it.”
Katie bolted out of the lab and the place was dark and silent once again.
A new clawing sound emanated from inside the bathroom, breaking the silence again.
As I inched closer, the sound intensified, and became more frenzied and desperate, echoing off the hollow walls and reminding me there were only two people facing off in this moment. Me and him.
I felt my heartbeat drumming against my rib cage and could barely hear the alien scratching sounds over the blood throbbing in my ears. An eternity seemed to pass. Where the hell is Katie?
