Primeval Waters

by William Burke

  Micah steered towards a huge kapok tree blocking the tributary, hoping the girls might have used it to escape. As he drew close, the water around him began churning, buffeting the inflatable boat. Massive air bubbles burst onto the surface.

  Struggling to stay afloat, he yelled, “What the—?”

  The hundred-and-fifty-foot tree trunk rose up from the water, like a drawbridge spanning a canal. Micah saw a serpentine coil break the surface, pushing the fallen tree upward. A moment later a reptilian head the size of a refrigerator burst from the water directly in front of him.

  “Holy shit.”

  The massive snake’s emerald-colored eyes locked on to him, its tongue flitting back and forth. Then it vanished beneath the water.

  Micah jammed the tiller hard, cutting right just as the tree slammed back down into the water. The impact wave almost capsized him.

  A flash of movement on the tree trunk caught his eye—someone clinging on to the branches as it bobbed in the current. At first Micah thought it was a sailor. Then he realized it was a woman.

  Micah shouted, “Catalina!” knowing she couldn’t hear him.

  The snake’s head rose from the water again, this time mere feet from Catalina.

  #

  Catalina saw the snake looming over them and pulled Faye under the thickest branch. Most of the snake’s body was underwater, coiled around the tree. Its every move set off shockwaves that rippled through the trunk. The snake’s head shot downward, locking its jaws around the thick branch, mere inches from Catalina and Faye. It pulled away, taking the branch with it.

  Catalina’s first instinct was to shoot, but doing that meant letting go of Faye. Releasing the child for even a second could be disastrous. All they could do was cower behind the remaining branches.

  She looked around, desperate for some way to escape. Then she saw an orange dinghy bearing down on them. The maniac inside it was screaming at the top of his lungs, trying to get the monster’s attention. When she finally saw the lunatic’s face, her spirits rose.

  Micah was alive.

  #

  Gunning the engine, Micah made for the downed tree, screaming at the top of his lungs, “Come on, you son of a bitch! Come after me!”

  But the creature ignored him. Micah fumbled around inside the dinghy, searching for something to distract the snake. The first thing he saw was Umberto’s satchel of grenades, but that was too dangerous. He yanked open the boat’s emergency kit. Packets of water, food bars and some first aid gear tumbled out. Among the pile were three pull-cord style emergency flares—small, inaccurate, almost feeble, but at least it was something.

  The snake pressed its weight onto the tree, poised to attack. Micah throttled down the engine till he was almost drifting. He raised the flare, aiming it at the snake’s neck, and yanked the cord.

  The flare zipped through the air, striking just below the snake’s head. The impact didn’t penetrate its skin, but the burning flare fell, landing in the snake’s coil. The bright red flare seared at the snake’s hide.

  Micah stood up waving his arms, getting the snake’s full attention. He fired a second flare. This one shot harmlessly past the snake’s head, but now the creature had clearly identified the source of its pain. It vanished beneath the water, but Micah saw its body rippling just below the surface, heading for him.

  Gunning the engine, he headed straight for Batista’s flotilla, muttering, “You’re gonna have plenty of folks to munch on.”

  Once the snake became Batista’s problem he’d go back for the ladies.

  #

  Catalina saw the snake recoil from the flare and turned to Faye.

  “When I say run, we run! Got it?”

  Faye just nodded.

  The snake writhed in pain, pushing the tree trunk upward, forcing Catalina to hang on for dear life. Then it submerged, passing underneath the fallen tree in pursuit of Micah. Its massive tail struck the underwater branches, uprooting the tree trunk from the muddy riverbed that had held it in place. The current caught the now freed trunk, sweeping it downriver, spinning it like a giant drill bit.

  For a moment Catalina was submerged, desperately clinging to Faye. After what seemed an eternity, the tree trunk righted itself. It continued downriver, leafy branches catching the current like oars, driving it faster. Catalina realized they were on a hundred-and-fifty-foot log ride with no brakes.

  The tree trunk rocked back and forth then pitched over again.

  Catalina shouted, “Hold your breath!” as they were spun underwater. She thought, Okay, we can just let go and swim for shore.

  Then a brown shape zipped past her, followed by a second.

  The piranhas were back.

  #

  Micah’s dinghy skipped across the water, pummeling his kidneys with every bounce. He didn’t bother looking back, certain the snake was right behind him.

  A tender boat pulled alongside, coming recklessly close. Micah glanced over and saw Santos extending an AK-47 in one hand. Micah cut right hard, bullets zipping past his head.

  Then Santos must have seen the oncoming snake and changed his target. The snake rose up then slammed the front half of its body down onto the water, nearly crushing Santos’s boat.

  One of the gunboats roared into the fray, its dual front machine guns spraying lead across the water. A twenty-foot tender boat came in from Micah’s left. Two men kneeling at its bow opened fire with assault rifles.

  Plumes of water sprayed in every direction, but the snake kept coming.

  Ducking low, Micah shouted, “How can you assholes miss a seventy-foot snake?!”

  He was trapped in a hornet’s nest, with Batista’s men blazing away with the accuracy of Star Wars stormtroopers—a bad place for an inflatable boat. But at least they’d pissed off the monster. Seeing no other option, Micah continued forward, hoping to clear the shooting gallery then make a wide turn to double back for the girls.

  Keeping his head down, he barreled towards the bend in the river. After a white knuckle minute, he felt confident that he’d cleared the line of fire. Then he saw red-flagged go-fast boats coming straight at him.

  “Aw shit!”

  The queen’s flotilla was bearing down on him. He could even see Her Highness’s flagship straight ahead.

  “Okay, they ignored you before, so maybe—”

  Muzzles flashed on the queen’s flagship, tracer rounds zipping over his head. Two of the go-fast boats opened fire on him, adding to the chaos.

  Micah cut sharply, turning right back into the first firefight.

  #

  Queen Caveira stood at the bow of her flagship, arms held high, howling with religious ecstasy.

  “Boiúna has risen!”

  The glorious serpent god had come to her aid, just as she’d prophesied. All her life she’d dreamed of seeing the river spirit, but no dream could compare to the sheer majesty of its physical form. Men around her shouted in excitement, firing their weapons in the air.

  The queen yelled, “Stop firing! You’ll need those bullets.” Then she raised her binoculars for a better view of her god—but what she saw instantly dampened her evangelical fervor.

  Her stolen orange dinghy was bouncing across the water, headed straight for them. Perched in it was the American who’d betrayed her.

  “After all I did for you!”

  She yanked the gunner out of the makeshift turret and fired off two long bursts, sending bright red tracer rounds at the American. Other armed men ran to the bow. By following the tracers, they were able to identify her target. They fired as one, sending a hundred rounds downriver.

  #

  Batista’s mind struggled to process the last few minutes’ parade of disasters. The Valentina was burning in the water while multiple boats were locked in a firefight with some unknown opponent. Only moments ago there’d been roaring gunfire. Now it had gone quiet.

  Clutching his walkie talkie, he shouted, “Santos, situation report!”

  Panicked cross talk
from multiple boats reduced all communication to gibberish. Black smoke from the burning Valentina choked the air, rendering his binoculars equally useless. Batista turned to a frightened crewman behind him, shouting, “Idiots, goddamn idiots!”

  The crewman gulped and said, “Look,” pointing to a tender boat coming alongside.

  Batista leaned over the rail, demanding, “What’s the situation?”

  The tender boat’s gunner replied, “It’s another snake, sir, bigger than the first!” Then he just stared slack jawed at Batista.

  “Well then, get out there and help them kill it!”

  Batista watched the tender speed off, muttering, “Idiots, nothing but—”

  The water in front of the tender erupted. Suddenly there was thirty foot of writhing snake looming in its path. The tender boat banked sharply. The panicked gunner fired volleys that hit nothing. The snake’s head hammered down, plucking the gunner out of the boat. The snake crushed the man in its jaws, and, with a shake of its head, spat him out. The tender slewed wildly, trapped in the snake’s wake.

  The snake slammed straight down, using the front half of its body like an axe, crushing the boat. Both serpent and boat vanished beneath the water. A moment later, the snake resurfaced, a man clenched in its jaws. It turned to focus on its next prey—the yacht.

  Batista stared into its emerald-green eyes, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

  That silence was shattered by machine gun fire. One of the gunboats came in fast, front machine guns blazing. Unfortunately, Batista’s yacht was also in the line of fire.

  Batista hit the deck while keying his walkie talkie, shouting, “You idiots are shooting at us!”

  The snake spat out the dead man and slipped beneath the surface.

  The gunboat ceased fire, throttling back its water jets. It performed a slow circle of the area, guns trained on the water for any sign of the snake.

  Batista came out of hiding and scanned the water. There was nothing, not even a bubble. “Come on, you bastard, where are—”

  The gunboat’s bow shot straight up in a geyser of water. The snake had struck from below, like a vertical battering ram. The impact shattered the gunboat’s fiberglass hull, catapulting men over the side. The gunboat splashed down into the river, its fractured bow already taking on water. The snake surfaced again, stretching its body across the foundering gunboat’s hull—capsizing it.

  The snake vanished beneath the surface once again.

  Screaming men paddled around the capsized boat, desperate to crawl onto the overturned hull. One managed to latch on, only to be dragged back under, screaming. Giant piranhas descended on the drowning men, pulling them under in a feeding frenzy.

  Batista grabbed a deckhand by the arm, shouting, “Go below and bring me the two gray cases marked Bazalt, now!”

  The deckhand scrambled below.

  A second gunboat came alongside the yacht, barely slowing down.

  Its crew chief shouted over the PA, “Incoming boats. They’re coming around the river bend!”

  Raising his binoculars, Batista saw a fleet of boats coming around the bend—all bearing the Red Flag Fleet’s insignia.

  Batista muttered, “That bitch.”

  Queen Caveira was coming, and she was out for blood.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Batista charged into the yacht’s pilothouse, barking orders into his radio. “Break off from the snake. Focus all machine guns and mortar rounds on those pirates.”

  A panicked radio voice came back asking, “What about that thing?”

  From the pilothouse, Batista could see the snake tearing apart one of his tender boats.

  Batista said, “Leave it to me. I want everything but the Multi Cat and the landing barge hitting the pirates! Santos, take command of the attack!”

  Batista set down the radio.

  Hans ran in, wide-eyed, stammering, “Sir, what happens if that thing comes after us?”

  Fighting the impulse to slap him, Batista said, “If it decides to follow our boats into the attack it’ll be as much of a menace to the pirates as us. If it stays back here it’ll likely attack the slow Multi Cat, which is expendable.”

  “Yes, yes, I see,” Hans said, nodding like an imbecile. “What can I do?”

  Disgusted with him, Batista said, “Go down into the cargo hold and make sure our equipment isn’t damaged,” and waved him off.

  The two crewmen returned, lugging a pair of gray fiberglass cases with Bazalt stenciled across them.

  Batista yelled, “Bring them up top, quickly!” and climbed the ladder to the fly bridge.

  He had ensured that the yacht’s highest platform was armored with reinforced steel, while still offering a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view.

  Santos’s voice crackled over the radio. “May I commence the attack?”

  Keying his radio, Batista said, “Yes, keep those bastards away from me.”

  “Copy that.”

  #

  Micah turned fast enough to escape the oncoming pirate armada, only to run straight into Batista’s oncoming flotilla.

  At least they ain’t shooting at me.

  He barreled through them without incident.

  But he had a bigger problem—the snake had broken off from pursuing Batista’s boats, turning back on a course for Faye and Catalina’s position.

  In frustration, he shouted, “Goddamn monster’s got OCD!”

  Micah made a beeline for the snake, knowing the only thing between it and the ladies was Batista’s yacht, the Multi Cat and the landing barge.

  Micah caught up to the snake, running alongside it, screaming at the top of his lungs. But the damn thing wouldn’t even look at him. In desperation he reached down for Umberto’s bag. He fished out a grenade while keeping one hand on the tiller.

  Staring at the rust-coated grenade, he thought, Okay, just like in the movies. Squeeze the handle doodad in and pull the pin.

  He squeezed the grenade’s spoon while clamping his teeth around the pin and yanked. His front tooth chipped, but the grenade’s rusted pin didn’t budge.

  So much for movies. Got to use two hands.

  He wedged the tiller between his legs and winced as the bouncing handle delivered rabbit punches to his groin. Squeezing the aged grenade’s spoon in, he gripped the pin with his other hand and yanked. This time the pin came out—but the rusted spoon broke off in his hand.

  He stared at the smoking grenade for one precious second, yelling, “Rusted out piece a shit!” and lobbed it hard in the snake’s direction while turning sharply from the blast.

  The grenade came within twenty feet of the snake, detonating midair. The hailstorm of shrapnel peppered the snake. Enraged, it twisted in the water, hunting for the source of its pain.

  Micah yanked the cord on the last aerial flare and let it fly. It zipped harmlessly past the snake, getting the beast’s attention.

  Now it was coming at Micah. He veered off, making for the lumbering Multi Cat. The snake was right on his tail, like some monstrous water skier.

  Two men on the Multi Cat’s deck saw what was coming and opened fire with AK-47s.

  Micah heard bullets zipping past him and cut left sharply.

  The snake submerged, and the water became calm. The men on the Multi Cat scanned the water, rifles at the ready.

  The snake erupted from beneath the Multi Cat, sending it listing starboard. The two armed men rolled off the deck into the river, where the piranhas were waiting.

  The snake’s body slammed back down across the deck, crushing the pilothouse. Its upper body thrashed left and right, knocking over fuel drums like bowling pins. Ruptured fuel drums sprayed gas and diesel across the decks. The snake snapped up another man in its jaws and spat him into the river. The barge’s hydraulic hoist collapsed onto the snake’s back. The beast squirmed and writhed, attempting to dislodge itself.

  Micah saw the stacks of fuel drums and remembered that the Multi Cat also had internal tanks. It gave him one Hail
Mary opportunity to ensure the monster didn’t go after Faye and Catalina.

  Turning the dinghy around, he lined it up to pass alongside the Multi Cat. He knelt down, the tiller wedged between his knees, and grabbed the sack of grenades. Three remained. Keeping one hand outside the bag, he squeezed the spoon of the top grenade. With his other hand he reached into the sack, found the corresponding pin and pulled it free. This time the spoon didn’t break off. He kept his hand clamped around the outside of the bag and grabbed the tiller again.

  He muttered, “Do it right, do it right.”

  The dinghy scraped against the side of the Multi Cat, almost capsizing. As soon as it made contact, Micah lobbed the sack hard while gunning the outboard motor.

  The snake wrenched itself free of the collapsed hoist, slithering across the barge.

  The sack of grenades clattered across the deck. All three grenades exploded in a series, igniting the fuel-soaked deck, detonating the fuel drums, and rupturing the internal fuel tanks—the whole daisy chain took under a second. A mushroom cloud of fire and black smoke shot into the sky, raining steel and snake meat in every direction.

  Micah felt a blast of heat and saw chunks of steel and burning fifty-five-gallon drums splashing into the water around him. Thankfully, nothing hit the fragile dinghy.

  Raising one hand in the air, he screamed, “Yeah!” Then he spun the dinghy around, making for the downed tree.

  But when he arrived, the tree wasn’t there anymore.

  #

  Queen Caveira stood at the bow of her flagship, binoculars pressed to her eyes, staring in disbelief. One moment Boiúna had been tearing apart Batista’s fuel barge—a truly glorious sight. Then that American bastard threw something, and she saw her god consumed in a blazing inferno. The sight of Boiúna’s flaming, severed head splashing down into the river was like a dagger piercing her soul. She sank to her knees screaming, “No!” and slamming her fists against the deck.

  The pirate next to her said, “Queen, they’re coming straight at us!”

  Queen Caveira spun around, glaring at him, her flowing tears smearing the skull makeup. The rage burning inside her suddenly transformed into ice.