Thing Bailiwick

by Fawn Bonning

  “Great. That’s perfect. Now smile,” Pam prompted. “Let’s look like we’re having somewhat of a good time, here. Say swordfish.”

  “Swordfish,” they chorused, and she snapped the picture, just the first of many she would take throughout the day, shots of them lounging in the sun, of them playing Scrabble, eating tuna and cucumber sandwiches. She even captured for all eternity Carl’s disgusted expression as he spilled a fresh glass of grape juice all over his white shorts. It even had the audacity to trickle down his leg onto one white sock and sneaker.

  ~~~~

  As predicted, they hit deep water right around two o’clock, and Ray broke out the heavy-duty reels—sturdy Kristal XL 651’s attached to six-foot bent-butt rods. They’d cost a pretty penny, but anything less just wouldn’t do. Only the best for Captin’s Glory.

  The three stooges observed over his shoulder as he checked the knots and baited squid to the hooks, three to each rig. Lastly he turned on the rig-light. “So your trophy can see its dinner,” he informed them. “No light, no bite.”

  “Cool,” Justin said.

  “Your rod stays anchored in the holder,” he said as he slid one in to demonstrate. “This will keep you from losing it once you hook that five-hundred pound swordfish. Let the line out slowly. Once you hit bottom, it’s basically a waiting game. Keep an eye on the line and a hand on the pole so you can feel for nibbles. You’re gonna be sitting at right about a thousand feet, and it can be hard to feel what’s going on down there. That’s why you have to pull the rig up every now and again to check that the bait is still there.”

  “And if we get a bite?”

  “Reel in hard for about twenty seconds to set the hook. Then you can slow it up a bit. Just enough tension to haul that baby up without snapping the line. But I’ll be here to guide you through it. There she is,” he said as the sinker hit bottom. “Justin, you’re up.”

  “Ay aye, Captain,” Justin said, taking his spot at the pole with a salute.

  “How’re you feeling, Justin, better?”

  “Yep, right as rain.”

  “All right then. Nick, grab the other pole. Let’s get you set up on the other side. Justin, give us a shout if you get a bite.”

  “What should I shout?” Justin asked with a goofy grin.

  Ray pondered on this for a second. “Hallelujah!”

  ~~~~

  One hour later, Ray and Carl took over.

  “Okay,” Carl said as he lowered the line with a steady crank, “let’s show these bitches how it’s done.”

  Ray was grinning as he gazed out over the water. He loved the sea, loved everything about it; the smell, the beauty, the taste and feel, the sound. He loved the vastness, the serenity it portrayed when the weather was calm. He even loved it during the height of a storm. The power it possessed, the churning, roiling waves capped with foam. The sound of the howling wind as it whipped the waters into a frothy fury. The stinging spray.

  Oh, to be born but a few hundred years earlier, he thought. A sea-captain in the days of old. A life dedicated to traveling the high seas in search of conquest, braving the harsh elements, foraging from the sea’s bounty, forever keeping an eye out for marauding pirates, never blanching in the face of danger. A life full of adventure.

  He let out a sigh laced with longing. Life in this day and age just didn’t compare. There were no hidden continents to discover. No more wonders of the world to unveil. Life was mundane. People complacent.

  He peered out at the undulating waters that stretched endlessly around them. There was no sense in dwelling on things that couldn’t be changed. Perhaps the adventurous days were gone, but beauty still abounded and he was bound and determined to spend his life enjoying it.

  ~~~~

  Carl rolled his eyes when Rene giggled yet again. What the hell was so funny about a Scrabble game, anyway? And how many times could you listen to the same CD? Garth Brooks was getting on his nerves almost as much as muscle-head and pencil-chest. And fishing had to be the most boring sport in the world. Waiting around for hours hoping for a nibble. He didn’t know if his heart could hold up under such excitement.

  He looked down at his watch. Five-thirty. Time to reel up the rig and check the bait again. Though he was sure it would still be there. Half-way through his second shift and still no nibbles. He was getting sick of reeling up nothing. His arms were getting tired and his back was stiff.

  Putting on an evil grin, he began to wind furiously.

  “Got something?” Ray shot from across the deck.

  “Only a big fat nothing.”

  Ray glanced over at Carl where he was hauling up his line like a madman. He thought about telling him the reel had an electric feature, but decided against it. The guy needed to work up a little elbow grease for a change. He spent way too much time clicking away on a keyboard and shuffling paperwork. The physical activity would do him good. The poor guy needed a little excitement in his life, a little adventure. He needed to loosen up, have a little fun. Twenty-eight years old and already a stiff. He left work half an hour early every Friday so he could get his nails manicured, for Christ’s sake.

  He released a long breath as he began to reel up his own line. Maybe adventure wasn’t in their cards this time around. Maybe his hunch had been wrong. Nearly four hours, and nothing.

  “How’s it going, Uncle Ray?” Coming up beside him, Justin peered over the rail.

  “Nothing.”

  “Maybe we should try a different spot.”

  “Yeah, I’ve got a different area in mind for tomorrow. There’s a deep spot just a little west of here.”

  “Intact and untouched,” Carl hollered as he inspected his rig.

  Justin rolled his eyes. “Could he be any cornier?”

  Ray chuckled. “Could you be any redder? I don’t think your suntan lotion is doing its job.”

  Justin held out his arms for inspection. “SPF of a thousand and still not enough.”

  “You got your mom’s complexion.”

  “Yea. Lucky me.”

  “Hey, just be grateful you didn’t inherit her ratchet jaw.”

  Justin’s mouth fell open. “I am so telling her you said that.”

  “Better not.”

  “Yeah, who’s gonna stop me?”

  “You know, you really shouldn’t threaten people when you’re out in the middle of the ocean.”

  “Tell you what. You let me have the rest of your shift and mum’s the word.”

  Ray raised his brows. “Are you blackmailing me? You do know I’m a lawyer, right?”

  “Uh, Captin?” Carl spoke up from where he was paying out his line.

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s it mean when you don’t hit bottom? I’m nearly at the end of my line and still going.”

  “Really?” Pulling his cap off, Ray scratched at his head. “You must have drifted into a canyon or something. A deep one. That’s three thousand feet of line. I didn’t see anything like that on the charts. Just bring her back up and try again. You won’t catch anything that far down.”

  Justin crossed the deck to stand beside Carl. “No, keep going. Let’s see how loooow you can gooooo.”

  Ray laughed.

  “You never know what could be lurking in the deep, dark depths,” Justin spoke, assuming a deep, dark timbre and an exaggerated Transylvanian accent.

  Carl smirked. “Are we talking about the ocean or your brain? Because I believe both may contain a lot of deep, dark nothing.”

  “Ouch,” Justin said. “That stung. A little. Like a mosquito prick. A pesky mosquito prick. A nasty bloodsuck—”

  “Whoa!” Carl gasped. “What the…”

  “Yeah, right,” Justin said.

  “No, I’m serious. Holy shit!” he yelled as the rod arched sharply.

  ~~~~

  “That’s right, just let him go,” Ray spoke calmly. “Adjust the drag though. You don’t want to snap the line.”

  They were all gathered around, the boys
and Rene peering into the water while Pam snapped pictures.

  “Okay,” he said as the whining of the reel began to slow, “let up off the drag and bring him back in nice and steady. You want to keep tension on the line at all times, otherwise he could throw the hook. But on the same token, you don’t want too much tension either, or the line might snap. Patience is the key. And you’re going to need a lot of it. Holy cow,” he said, studying a reel nearly depleted of line, “you’ve got nearly three thousand feet of line to reel in.”

  “What do you think it is, Uncle Ray?” Justin asked where he was leaning over the railing.

  “I’m not sure,” he said, scratching at his chin. “My first guess would be a wreckfish, but I don’t know. Nobody hooks anything at three thousand feet.”

  “I’m not nobody, Ray,” Carl huffed as he strained to pull back on the pole, then reeled in the slack. “I’m the somebody pulling in a freaking whale. This mother is big and he ain’t happy. He—whoa—he’s diving!”

  “Engage the drag and let him go. When he slows up, start working him back in again nice and slow. You want to wear him out and guide him in, got it.”

  “Got it.”

  Ray glanced at the excited faces. At last, what they’d all been waiting for. Carl was now the center of attention and basking in the glory of it, his face flush and his grin wide. And he’d even called him Ray. A good sign. The kid was loosening up.

  The thing he’d hooked was a mystery though. But at least it was something. “Well, I’ve only got one thing to say, and it isn’t holy shit,” he said, frowning at Carl.

  “Yeah, sorry about that,” Carl said as he commenced to pulling and winding with renewed fervor.

  “What is it, hon?” Pam asked, willing to bite when no one else would.

  “Holy hallelujah!”

  ~~~~

  Ray was anxious to see what was on the other end of Carl’s line. Whatever it was was putting up a hell of a fight, diving for the ocean’s bottom with untiring tenacity.

  “Why don’t you let me take over for a few minutes, son? Take a little break. Eat a sandwich. Rest your arms.”

  “No, that’s okay. I’ve got it under control, really.”

  Ray nodded. The kid was hanging tough. After nearly an hour, the others had lost interest and were lounging about eating sandwiches and chips, and watching the sun set. But Carl was determined, continuing to pull and wind, pull and wind, his breaths deep and labored.

  Ray caressed the teak rail, watching the water’s surface darken as the thickness of dusk descended. He was glad it was Carl. He’d been a bit surprised when he’d accepted the invitation. The fact that Rene had accepted probably had a little bit to do with that. If the poor guy was looking to spark up a romance, he was bound to go home with a bruised ego. Unless, of course, he managed to bring in the catch of a lifetime. He would certainly have something to brag about to the boys at work if he reeled in a five-hundred pound swordfish.

  Finally, their luck was turning. Maybe, just maybe, they would get that trophy after all.

  As the last traces of the sun disappeared into the sea, the waters turned dark and mysterious. Beside him, Carl was panting as he pulled and wound. He was hurting, but still refusing help.

  Ray knew where he was coming from, though. A man with a fish at the end of his line could be funny that way. Call it stubborn or proud, he had to make the catch all on his own, come hell or high water. As his brother Frank liked to say, ‘you never wanna touch another man’s rod’. Unless they were golfing. Then it was balls.

  Ray chuckled at the thought of his brother. Frank was a goofball, but he was right. If someone else took the rod, even for a few minutes, then the catch would be tainted. Some of the glory taken away. So be it. This was Carl’s baby and he was doing a pretty decent job of it; keeping tension on the line, guiding his catch in slowly as he’d been told. And if he could bring this baby in alone, more power to him.

  ~~~~

  Carl glanced at his wristwatch. Nine-thirty. Four hours! Four hours of fighting this thing! But it was almost over.

  “The end of the line,” he whispered on an exhausted breath. “Literally.”

  He was more than ready. He was exhausted. Fishing was a hell of lot more challenging then he’d ever dreamed. Whatever was fighting him on the other end of the line was powerful. He had blisters on both his hands to prove it. His arms and legs felt like putty and his back felt like it might give out at any moment. But it was going to be worth it. He was psyched to find out what the hell he’d been sparring with for the last four hours. Something big, that was for damn sure. Yep, he was gonna rub Nick’s nose in it, too. That muscle-head thought he was hot stuff. And the way he and Rene were cozying up over there was really pissing him off.

  Well, he wouldn’t be such a hot shot once this beast was hauled onboard, would he? Then good ole Carl would be the man of the hour.

  And his snot-nosed nerd of a brother could just eat his heart out, too. Smart-ass brat needed a little attitude adjustment. Where the heck did he find those goofy black glasses, anyway? He looked like a bad Buddy Holly imitation. And the way he kept drooling over Rene was really pathetic. Like he really stood a chance. Come on, wake up, dork boy! Look in the mirror! Hello! A woman like Rene didn’t want some nerdy four-eyed dweeb or some muscle-bound pea-brain. No, she wanted attorney material, sophistication, style, class, all of which he could offer aplenty, thank you very much.

  “Whoa! Uh oh! Ray? Something…shit! I think I lost it.”

  “What?” Jumping up, Ray tugged on the line. “Wind, wind, hurry! Reel in the slack.”

  “I am. No resistance, nothing.”

  “Has to be there. Keep reeling. Come on, now. You almost had him.” Ray shined the spotlight over the water, searching for any break in the surface. “Come on, baby, where are you?”

  Pam came up to join Ray at the rail, peering out over the black waters, and the others weren’t far behind.

  “Lost him,” Justin muttered under his breath. “Figures.”

  “Wait a minute,” Pam said, “I think I saw something. Over there.”

  Ray directed the light to where the water’s surface was rippling. “Yes! I knew it. Just wind in the—” He shined the light at the water, following something that was skimming just below the surface, barreling directly toward them.

  Beside him, Carl continued to wind furiously, huffing and puffing like a runner during a short sprint. “See anything? Anything?” he gasped.

  “Ray…what is that?” Pam asked, her voice an awed whisper.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, Carl, hold up for a second!” Ray ordered.

  “Uncle Ray,” Justin spoke in a panic. “It’s gonna—”

  The boat shook as it hit the side, spraying them all with water.

  “Holy crap!” Justin bellowed.

  “What the hell was that!” Carl huffed, halting his labors to lean over the rail with the others.

  “There,” Pam said, a quiver in her voice. “It’s coming back!”

  A shooting torpedo was mere yards away and closing fast.

  Everyone braced themselves for an impact that never came.

  Someone screamed—Rene—and at the last second, Ray ducked as the torpedo shot through the surface of the water and came hurtling through the air toward them.

  A commotion ensued; a showering of frigid water followed by an explosion on deck scattering things in all directions.

  Still squatting, Ray pivoted on his heels just in time to see the bottom of a sneaker clearing the top of the railing on the opposite side of the boat. The other got caught and popped off, bouncing back to the deck.

  Several people were screaming in unison, a whole chorus. He scanned their frightened faces with the light; Pam, Rene, Justin, Nick.

  As if on cue, they all fell silent.

  Rising cautiously, Ray shined the light at the wet smear that spanned the breadth of the deck. The table had been tossed aside and the chairs scattered every which way. There wer
e tiny wooden squares strewn about the deck, and it took a few seconds before he recognized them as Scrabble letters. There was a dark puddle. Grape juice. Yes, of course. Pieces of the shattered glass lay in the middle of it.

  The beam of light came to rest on the lone sneaker. It was white.

  Everyone stood stunned, staring at Carl’s empty sneaker in the beam of light. In the wake of such pandemonium, it seemed preternaturally still. There was only Garth Brooks now, singing a slow, soul-filled tear-jerker, something about rain and storm clouds. Except there was a high-pitched whining accompanying him. Ray recognized that sound, but for some strange reason, it wasn’t registering.

  He couldn’t stop gaping at the sneaker.

  There was something surreal about it sitting there, right side up, still neatly-tied, perfect little bow, perfect in every way…except that it was minus an occupant.

  Somebody at his left whimpered. “It took him,” Rene squeaked, her voice high and frightened, her lilting southern accent seeming to disappear in her terror.

  Ray couldn’t take his eyes off of the damned sneaker. Carl had been standing right next to him in that sneaker seconds earlier, reeling in his catch. He’d been doing a pretty decent job of it, too. He was tougher than he looked. And now that sneaker was sitting over on the other side of the deck. Just sitting there. Empty.

  He caught a glimpse of movement up near the rail and reluctantly tore his light away from the sneaker to investigate.

  Fishing line.

  He moved the beam of light slowly along the line, following it back to Carl’s rod where it was secured in the rod holder beside him, the reel spinning furiously.

  Of course. That’s what the noise was. He’d known all along.

  Suddenly, everything was crystal clear. Whatever it was that Carl had dredged up had just sprung from the water, taken a hold of him, slid across twenty feet of deck, and was at the very moment plummeting back to depths unknown with its own trophy in tow.