Claws

by Russell James

  That exchange should have made her feel better. Everything Larsson had said had been confirmed. But while a red tide was tough on the marine environment, since she and Nathan didn’t have any chronic respiratory problems, it likely wouldn’t affect them. Getting instructions to stay inside made no sense at all. And it certainly wasn’t enough of an emergency to close the park and put someone else in charge.

  There were a lot of bizarre things happening, and in too short a time for her to sort them all out. But she had an awful feeling that they were all connected in the worst possible way.

  Chapter 13

  Kathy’s ears perked at the growing whine of rotor blades out to the east.

  The entire Dry Tortugas was restricted airspace. That helicopter could only be from the military or the Coast Guard. And she expected neither. She left the office and went to the fort’s main gate.

  A huge, dual-rotor CH-47 helicopter screamed in just off the water’s surface. The military aircraft was painted an ominous matte-black. It stopped at the water’s edge and dropped the big ramp at the aircraft’s rear. A gray Zodiac inflatable boat with an outboard clamped to the stern slid out and hit the water with a splash. The helicopter hovered sideways across the shore and set down on the east beach.

  Nathan joined her. “I didn’t order any pizza delivery. Friends of yours?”

  “I’m afraid they’re friends of Larsson,” Kathy said.

  Three burly men in black fatigues jumped out, one black, two white. One of the white men had his hair up in a Samurai top-knot. He waded into the water and pulled the zodiac ashore. Others inside the helicopter passed several crates and duffel bags out to the other two men. The black man gave the pilot a thumbs-up. The helicopter rose and headed back east.

  Larsson emerged from the powder magazine and jogged for the main gate. Kathy held out a hand to block his way.

  “Who the hell are those three?”

  Larsson slapped her hand away as he passed. “They’re with DHS. Stay in the fort and don’t interfere.”

  Kathy had to stop herself from grabbing the smaller man by the collar and yanking him back into the fort. Instead, she gave Nathan a hand signal to stay put and followed a dozen feet behind Larsson.

  The three men began inspecting the contents of several crates. When she got closer to see details, it was clear that unless DHS had started hiring felons, these three were not DHS. The black-ops uniforms were the first hint. The biggest one with the top knot had a hint of Asian features that made his hairstyle more sumo-wrestler level menacing than hipster-stupid. The other two weren’t quite as big, but still intimidating. The black man’s skin was dark as obsidian, and he sported a shaved head and a full beard. The white man had his sandy hair in a more conventional military style, but a full-color tattoo of a rattlesnake coiled around his neck worked hard to offset any normalcy. The three all screamed of ex-military turned para-military. Pistols hung heavy from web belts around each one’s waist.

  She didn’t need a private army setting up in her park. The man with the top knot turned around and caught sight of Kathy.

  “What’s she doing here?” he said to Larsson.

  Larsson looked over his shoulder and stopped. “Damn it. What are you doing out here? Did you hear me say not to interfere?”

  “I heard you and ignored you.”

  The other two men closed the lids of the crates they were shuffling through.

  “What did you bring into my park?” Kathy stepped closer to the crates.

  The big man raised his hand in front of her. It was her turn to slap someone’s hand away. She struck him and suddenly she was staring down the very black barrel of his pistol.

  “A few rules,” the big man said. “First, steer clear of our equipment. Second, touch me again and I will put you down. Hard. Are we clear?”

  There was a complete lack of emotion in his black eyes, just cold, reptilian resolution.

  “My man Valadez there,” Larsson said, “he isn’t real touchy-feely. I’d give him some breathing room.”

  She raised her hands shoulder-high to calm the situation. “Everything’s okay.”

  Valadez stepped forward and pressed the pistol barrel against her chest. He eased Kathy’s sidearm from its holster. “You seem a little hot-headed. I’m going to hold onto this for both our sakes.”

  “What the hell?” Kathy turned to Larsson. “You can’t do this. This is my park.”

  “It’s our park for a while,” Larsson said. “And these men are here for your protection.”

  “Protection from what?”

  “I think you need to get back in the fort,” Valadez said. The request sounded more like an order.

  Kathy was outnumbered, and in the dark about whatever was going on here. She was steaming hot and ready to make a stand, but her best bet was to back off until the odds turned more in her favor. She turned and retreated to the fort. The empty holster beat against her leg with each step and kept her anger simmering. She passed through the gate. Nathan looked at her holster, confused.

  “They took your pistol?”

  “At gunpoint. Those three work for DHS about as much as I work public relations for Japanese whalers. Follow me.”

  She led him into the office and went to the radio. She flicked it on. It whined with static and an odd oscillating tone.

  “And, ouch,” Nathan said.

  Kathy grabbed the mic and tried to raise Park Headquarters. All that answered was white noise.

  Nathan went to the commercial radio and flipped on the Key West station. Nothing but the same static.

  “Either we’re the last survivors of the apocalypse…” Nathan said.

  “…or all the radio signals are being jammed,” Kathy finished.

  Chapter 14

  As soon as the park rangers disappeared into the fort, Charlie Valadez, the mercenary with the topknot, turned and lit into Larsson.

  “Why were we sent out here early? We don’t have all our gear. The emitters are still in Naples.”

  “A string of unfortunate circumstances accelerated the schedule. A second flight’s coming with the rest of the gear, and it’s swinging by Naples for the emitters.”

  Valadez bit his lower lip and grimaced. Experience said a lot was bound to go wrong during any mission. Starting out all screwed up was just tempting fate.

  “First,” Larsson said, “I need reconnaissance around these keys. Take someone with you. Confirm this place and the waters around it are empty.”

  Valadez bit back a sharp answer. “Roger that.”

  Larsson headed back to the fort. The other two mercenaries joined Valadez.

  “What was with the big rush to get out here?” Zimmer, the sandy-haired man with the neck snake, said.

  “Sale on crab salad,” Wilson, the black man, answered.

  Both of them laughed.

  “Cut that short,” Valadez said. “Our employer is a firm giant crab believer, so while we are getting paid by said employer, we are, too. Wilson, set up an overwatch at the fort entrance and keep the rangers in their cage.”

  “Aye, aye.” Wilson had spent too much time in the Navy. He headed for the fort.

  “Zimmer,” Valadez said, “you and I are taking a boat ride.”

  “Boat ride?” Zimmer said. “Me? He’s the former SEAL. Let him take the boat ride. I don’t do the water.”

  “Can’t swim?” Wilson said.

  “And don’t want to,” Zimmer said. “You see any gills on me?”

  Valadez went to the Zodiac and rotated the stern into deeper water. Zimmer grabbed an assault rifle from one of the crates, slapped home a magazine, and hopped into the bow. Valadez fired up the outboard and backed the boat away from the shore. With a twist of the throttle, he spun the Zodiac around and headed away from the key.

  The water beneath the Zodiac had a turquoise tint and amazing clarity. In the shallows, individual shells and bits of coral were easy to see. The water remained clear even farther out, with coral reefs app
earing as darker patches against the white sand.

  Zimmer suddenly jumped from the port to the starboard side of the Zodiac. “Damn, did you see that?”

  Valadez peered into the clear water. “See what?”

  “A damn shark. Ten feet long if it was an inch.” Zimmer tucked himself back into the bow.

  “For the love of God,” Valadez said. “You’re in the boat, it’s in the water. You’re safe.”

  “I’ve seen Jaws. No one’s safe.”

  Valadez was willing to do something to spice-up this useless recon, and shark-watching fit the bill. He rolled down the power and steered the Zodiac in a lazy left-hand circle.

  “What the hell?” Zimmer said. “You trying to piss the thing off?”

  Valadez caught sight of something long and dark down below. He cut the engine to idle. The Zodiac slowed and coasted over a shark on the sea floor about a dozen feet down.

  Zimmer peered over the boat’s side. “There! See. Damn monster shark.”

  “That’s not even ten feet long. And look at its head. It’s a nurse shark. You can practically sit on one and it won’t care.”

  “Yeah, well, a shark is a shark. I say we finish this and get back to dry land.”

  Valadez opened up the engine and sent the Zodiac back on course around the key. “Why is it you took this island mission if you’re so Chicken of the Sea?”

  “My daughter wants a trip to Disney World for her birthday. And I’m not scared of the water. I just respect it.”

  “Chill out, Mr. Respect. People come out here to go snorkeling. Nothing is going to kill you.”

  The boat lurched up and down. Water rippled all around the sides. Something scraped along the length of the boat’s carbon fiber bottom.

  Suddenly, half of a giant, open crab claw burst up through the Zodiac’s bottom. It severed Zimmer’s left leg like a carving knife. The claw’s other half broke the water’s surface off the port side. Zimmer screamed as blood pumped out of the stump of his thigh.

  The boat came to a dead stop, the engine screaming in protest. Valadez threw the prop in reverse. The Zodiac stretched against the immovable claw.

  Then the claw snapped shut. The raft boomed as the claw popped an inflatable compartment. Fiber shredded as the claw sheared the raft’s bottom.

  A second claw swept in from the other side. It clamped tight around Zimmer’s midsection. His scream went to a higher pitch and his wide, pleading eyes locked on Valadez’s.

  Then the claw pinched closed and dragged Zimmer underwater. Seawater surged into the bottom of the raft. Zimmer’s rifle washed out into the Gulf.

  If he tried to go forward, he’d scoop water straight in through the damaged bow and flounder the raft in an instant. Valadez twisted the throttle wide open in reverse. The Zodiac’s twin tails smacked against the waves. Valadez gripped the motor housing with both hands and struggled to keep the raft pointed toward the key.

  Beneath the boat, the sea floor changed color. Valadez glanced down. A giant crab skittered across the sand and coral, pacing the flooding raft. It had to be over twenty feet across. Seaweed and remora fish clung to its shell. Zimmer’s limp corpse fluttered in its left claw. A red slipstream of blood painted the water in the body’s wake.

  Black eyestalks protruded from the crab’s head. One faced forward. The other rotated and pointed its black eye up at Valadez.

  The crab pulled ahead. The creature was going to cut him off from the beach. If it got the chance to punch through the Zodiac again, he was a goner.

  Grey fins with black tips knifed the water on either side of the raft. Two reef sharks zipped past the raft like it was standing still. They dove along the dissipating blood trail, toward the crab.

  Valadez cut the Zodiac right. The sharks accelerated through the clear water on a beeline for Zimmer’s body in the crab’s claw.

  The crab spun around to face the predators. One shark darted out ahead of the other. The crab’s eye stalks turned to the approaching fish. It crouched down in the sand and tucked Zimmer just under the front of its shell.

  The sharks dove in formation, the second’s nose just off the first’s pectoral fin. Their tails swept the sea in rapid unison as the fish sprinted in to grab Zimmer’s corpse.

  One great claw swept up and crashed against the lead shark. It deflected the fish and the shark careened off to the left.

  The turbulence slowed the second shark and doomed it. The crab’s other claw darted out and snapped shut just behind the shark’s dorsal fin. The powerful fish cleaved in two. Its eyes rolled up in its head. The tail drifted down to the seafloor. Momentum kept the front half of the shark going forward, but it slowed, rolled on its side, and bumped harmlessly against the crab’s shell. The crab dropped both claws back down to protect Zimmer’s body from the next attack.

  Valadez’s heart pounded in his chest. He angled the Zodiac back to the key. From behind, he watched the surviving reef shark make a second pass at the crab. But at the last moment it broke right, opted for an easier meal, and scooped the tail of its dead brother off the sand instead.

  The shark attack was the delay Valadez needed. The Zodiac churned into shallow water off the south-facing beach. The prop bit into an outcrop of coral and the engine ground to a stop. Valadez jumped out into thigh-deep water and splashed ashore as fast as he could. He made the beach and turned back to see a claw clamp down on the drooping Zodiac and pull it away and under the surface. Muffled booms sounded under the water, and bubbles from the raft’s burst compartments turned the surface white.

  Valadez drew his pistol and pointed it at the sea. His chest heaved with huge breaths as he awaited the crab’s final assault. The gun trembled in his hand.

  But the sea went calm. The surface returned to a pattern of placid ripples that kissed the shore as tiny waves. A Caribbean postcard picture.

  Valadez’s heart slowed. He lowered his pistol and backed away from the shore. He turned to face the reddish hulk of Fort Jefferson and wondered if crabs could climb walls.

  Chapter 15

  Valadez’s fear of the crab turned to fury over Larsson as he marched to the crates near the east beach. He pulled out a rifle, jammed in a magazine, and headed for the fort.

  From the open main gate, Wilson watched him approach. He looked back at the east beach, as if maybe he’d missed the Zodiac’s return, then back at Valadez. “Hey, Chief. What’s going on? Where’s the boat?”

  “It’s gone. Shredded by the biggest crab I’ve ever seen.”

  Wilson laughed. “Oh, yeah, good one.” He studied Valadez’s face. “Wait…you’re seri—Where’s Zimmer?”

  “The crab killed him. Chopped him up and pulled him under. I barely got to shore.”

  “Damn, those things are real? How can that be?”

  “I’m about to find out. Keep a watch for something big to come crawling out of the ocean.” Then he pointed to the two park rangers standing by their quarters. “And make sure those two stay put.”

  “Aye, aye.”

  Valadez shouted at the two rangers. “You two get inside and stay there!”

  The little nerdy one looked scared and scampered inside one of the rooms. The tall woman he’d disarmed shot him a pissed off look before backing in. As he’d thought from the start, she was going to be a problem.

  Valadez went straight to the powder magazine. Inside, electric lights lit up a variety of historical displays along the walls. Larsson sat at a wooden table, tapping on a laptop. He looked at Valadez’s disheveled appearance with concern.

  “What the hell happened to you?” he said.

  “Zimmer’s dead. The Zodiac’s gone. A giant crab tore the crap out of both of them.”

  “Damn it, I told you not to engage those things.”

  “It engaged us. And I can tell you right now that we don’t have the firepower now to take something like that out.”

  “The CH-47 is making a second trip with the rest of our gear, including the big Zodiac. Then you’ll ha
ve everything you need and more.”

  Valadez sagged against the wall from a combination of exhaustion and frustration.

  “Oh, I see,” Larsson said. “You thought I was crazy or full of bull. You didn’t think there were giant crabs, and that you were going to just spend a week at the beach. Well, surprise. I wasn’t lying.”

  “Where the hell did those things come from?”

  “They’ve always been here, long before people I guess. The CIA found them, but they were only about half that size. A little chemical, genetic mutation for size and stronger shells and, poof, super crabs.”

  “What the hell for?”

  “Foreign intervention with plausible deniability. A natural disaster that would wreak havoc on a country and couldn’t be tied to the USA. Relax, the emitters will make this island the literal safest place in the world from giant crabs. And they’ll be on their way to Cuba where they were always supposed to be.”

  “What support do we have if these things end up being more than we can handle?”

  Larsson shook his head. “None, so they can’t be. This little operation was off the books in 1961, and it’s off the books now. The Agency wants this kept out of public consumption. I promised I could get this job done quietly with you contractors, and we’ll do just that.”

  A voice crackled from Larsson’s laptop. “Whiskey Two Four this is Tango Seven. We are inbound.”

  “There,” Larsson said. “Second load of gear on the way. Just as planned. Get Wilson to the beach and guide in that slingload.”

  Valadez grabbed his rifle and headed for the fort’s main gate. Wilson stood on the terreplein above him.

  “Everything we need to blow those things to hell is on the way in,” Valadez shouted up to him. “Come with me down to the beach.”

  “What about the rangers?”

  Wilson had a point. They didn’t need the two rangers added to a mix that had already started to sour. But now they were a man short.

  “First things first. The sheep will stay in their pen for a while. If we don’t get the rest of our gear, we may all end up being on the wrong end of a crab dinner.”