“You want to plant the explosives?” the sheriff asked.
“Yes, and immediately. We need to jump on this while we still have daylight. I have the gear at my house, shouldn’t take me long to get it all together and get back in the water.”
A shiver ran down Steele’s spine. “I think that’s a bad idea, Marty. You don’t want to be in the water with those things. We had enough trouble with one of them trying to climb aboard the boat!”
“Sheriff, I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’ve been down there before, and this time I’ll bring weapons.”
“Marty! There could be a dozen of those things swimming around there for all we know!”
The diver shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think the one you encountered was a rogue anomaly. These things are clearly nocturnal predators, and probably won’t come out of that cavern until nightfall.”
“I don’t know…”
“Trust me, Sheriff. We go in now, while the sun’s still up, and take care of this before they have a chance to come out again tonight.”
The sheriff looked to Mason for input, and Mason shrugged. “I think he’s right, Sheriff. If we don’t do this now, there could be more deaths tonight.”
“Okay. Just be damn careful when you’re down there, Marty. Dr. Warden told me those things have poison in their claws.”
“Alright, then.” Marty stood and dug for his keys. “I’m going home to load up all the gear I’ll need.”
“Alright,” Sheriff Steele acknowledged.
“I’ll meet you at the cove in an hour,” Marty stated. “Then we’ll seal that cavern up so they starve and die.”
CHAPTER 26
Marty pulled into his driveway and parked the van. Then he hurried inside the house to gather his supplies. He could not afford to waste any time getting back to the waters of Pirate’s Bend – the more daylight he would have while underwater the better.
He moved through the house and headed for the shed in the back yard. Swinging the door open, he went to the workbench inside. Marty pulled his Mares Sten Mini speargun from the wall and a handful of stainless steel shafts armed with double-barbed tips. Then he went back into the house for the rest of his gear.
The diver collected his mask wetsuit from the utility tub in his laundry room. Next he turned to his air compressor station and grabbed two full air tanks. He brought them out to the van, and then went back into the house for the final necessary items.
Heading to his guest bedroom, which was difficult to navigate because of all the accumulated clutter, he made his way to the footlocker in the closet. He yanked the wool blanket that was covering it, then opened the lid. Inside he found his stash of explosives. He took out half a dozen sticks of dynamite and a spool of detonator cord, then stuffed them in a backpack and returned to the van. Armed with all he would need, Marty left his house and drove back to Pirate’s Bend.
By the time the sheriff had gotten Carl caught up, left him to man the station, and arrived at the cove with Mason and Eaver, he saw Marty’s brown van coming around the opposite bend. He parked the cruiser, stepped outside, and stood to face the oncoming van.
Marty stopped his vehicle and set the emergency brake. Then he got out and waved for the others to join him. While the group came closer, the diver opened the side panel and prepared to load up with gear.
“You got everything you need?” asked Steele, still leery about this excursion.
Marty nodded while stripping down to his underwear. Mason and Eaver politely turned away while the diver slipped into his wetsuit. But Marty thought nothing of changing in front of others; just another day at the office for him.
“Okay, help me take some of this down to the water, will ya?” said Marty, standing in his neoprene outfit.
The sheriff took the flippers and air tank Marty handed to him. Then he watched while Marty turned back to the van and pulled out the backpack containing the gelatinized dynamite and detonating material. “I take it that’s the explosives,” said Steele.
“Yep,” the diver replied. “Good old dynamite.”
Eaver, curious, craned her neck to see inside the backpack. “I’ve never seen real dynamite before.” It looked just like she imagined.
“What the hell do you even keep something like that for?” Sheriff Steele asked.
“Well, you know, for blasting stumps or clearing boulders and such.”
“You have a lot of need for that?” the sheriff smirked.
Marty hesitated before responding. “Okay, you got me. I like blowing shit up. Sometimes I bring some up to the cabin when I’m shooting and stuff. Sue me.”
“Where did you even – you know what, I don’t even give a shit,” said Steele, throwing a hand up. The only thing that mattered right now was the success of this marine operation. “As long as you know how to use it.”
“Here, son,” said Marty, handing the speargun and shafts to Mason. “You all take this stuff for me, and I’ll carry the explosives down.”
Sheriff Steele looked at the 20-inch weapon with skepticism. “Is that little speargun powerful enough to protect you from those things down there?”
“It may not kill what we’re dealing with, but it’ll sure hurt enough to send ‘em away.” Marty was not sure if his statement was true, but the speargun was better than nothing. “Besides,” he admitted, “it’s the best I’ve got.”
“Well Jesus, Marty,” said Steele, “just be careful down there.”
Marty gave an acknowledging salute. “Should be easy enough. I’ll place the explosives at the mouth of the cavern, get away, and blow it. Simple as that.”
“Are you sure that’s the only entrance?” Steele asked.
“Pretty sure. That was the only entrance into the pool, and the cave walls were all solid everywhere else in the chamber. Plus it was the only way out when I got spooked and fled out of there last time. So yeah, sealing this will do the trick.”
“I sure hope so,” added Eaver. She knew that if the creatures could get out, more people were likely to get killed.
Marty secured the speargun to his side by strapping it into its modified leg holster. Then, making sure he had a few extra barbed shafts tucked next to the weapon, he picked up the backpack of explosives. He put it on backwards, wearing it in front.
“Do me a favor,” said Marty. “Someone click this tight around my back.”
Mason stepped closer, helped the diver position the shoulder straps, and then fastened the clasp. “Okay,” he said, “you’re secure.”
Marty gave the backpack a slight tug to check. “Thanks.” Then he donned his air tank and mask. The diver walked into the water, turned to give a final thumbs-up, and disappeared beneath the surface.
The water was murky, greenish-brown. But the sunlight penetrated well enough to where he could effectively see his surroundings. He wished he had an M1 underwater gun for this dive. The six-round waterproof gun would have been a comfort to have, but he did not own one. At least he had his speargun; and it was a decent one. Marty was about as safe as he could be in this water. He kicked forward, heading for the corner of the cove where the underwater cave was.
He found the mouth of the cave and paused to turn on his flashlight. Then, after a quick feel inside the backpack to make sure the dynamite and fuse was with him, he proceeded into the dark cave.
After twenty feet of confinement, he reached the section that broadened into a more spacious chamber. This might be a good spot to blast, he thought. But further in would be better. He continued his swim through the limestone passageway.
While swimming, he felt a sudden change in the water current next to him. His skin crawled as he realized something could have just swum past him in the black water.
Marty quickly aimed the flashlight behind him.
Nothing but floating sediment and zooplankton dancing in the light beam.
Just creeping myself out, he reasoned. Focus on the job at hand, set up the dynamite, and get the hell out of here. He kept
moving forward.
Sixty feet in, he was now at the opening to the large cavern containing the egg pool. This was the spot. After a final sweep around him with the flashlight to make sure Marty was still alone in the water, he carefully pulled the explosives out of his pack. He positioned them around the base of the rocky opening, strung on detonator cord. Satisfied at his placement of the dynamite, he unrolled the rest of the detonator cord. Then he began swimming back toward the cove with the unraveled wire in hand.
On his way, he couldn’t shake the creepy feeling that something was going to attack him before he made it out of the water. He kept the flashlight aimed forward and his hand holding the wire close to the Mares Sten on his hip. His heart was pounding anxiously.
Finally the diver arrived at the mouth of the cave. The light coming from the cove outside was a warm welcome, inviting him safely out. Marty emerged from the underwater cave and took cover against the adjacent rocks. Then, still gripping the detonator cord, he pulled the detonator from the backpack. He enabled it, took a deep breath, and activated the trigger.
The dynamite exploded deep inside the cave, sending shock waves out through the rock and water. Marty felt the force rumble through his body. It made his nerves tingle.
On the road, the others heard the muffled blast. Their eyes grew big with awe and hope. Then, when they saw Marty’s head breach the surface, they cheered. Marty heard the response and acknowledged the people on shore with a wave and a thumbs-up. The mission was a success; the monsters were trapped inside their lair to die. Victorious, the diver smiled and swam back to the road to join his elated partners.
CHAPTER 27
Sheriff Steele uncapped the bottle and began pouring into the paper cups. The aroma of Johnnie Walker Black floated across the sheriff’s desk and into the noses of all. Marty and the sheriff smiled in anticipation.
Eaver held up a hand in polite refusal. “None for me, thanks,” she stated.
The sheriff shrugged. “More for us, then.” He handed cups to Marty and Mason, and then raised his own to toast. “Here’s to killing monsters.”
“Here here,” said Mason. He took a small sip of the whiskey, absorbing the flavors slowly.
Marty shot his down in one long swallow. “Ahhh… I earned that one.”
“Hell, you’ve earned another,” said the sheriff. He refilled Marty’s cup. “That was a job well done today, sir. Well done.”
Eaver nudged Mason. “And I think we’ve earned dinner. Wanna go see Momma at the restaurant?”
Mason nodded. “Yeah, I could go for some food.” He finished his whiskey and set the cup on the sheriff’s desk. “You guys mind if we cut out on you?”
“Not at all,” said Steele. “You two go and enjoy. It’s been one hell of a day. Get on outta here. And thank you for all your help today.”
“You’re welcome, Sheriff,” Mason replied. “See you fellas later.” He gave a departing handshake to the sheriff and Marty. Then he and Eaver left Sheriff Steele’s office and headed outside.
The sun was dissolving into the horizon, decorating the sky with vibrant pinks and oranges. Eaver admired the sunset with a quiet, thankful smile. She wrapped her arm inside Mason’s and they walked the streets to Sherrie’s Shack.
The couple arrived at the restaurant and walked inside. There they saw Sherrie and Cinch polishing tables. Sherrie set down the cloth and went to her daughter to give her a hug.
“There you are,” Sherrie sighed. “I’m glad you’re back. I was wondering where you two were.”
“You probably wouldn’t believe us if we told you,” said Eaver.
“Try me, sweetie.”
“Well, we went out to Pirate’s Bend on the sheriff’s boat to find where the monsters are coming from, one of them attacked the boat, and we killed it.”
Cinch’s eyes popped wide. “De sligger? You killed de bogeyman o’ de water?”
“We did.”
“Do you have de body?”
Mason shook his head. “Oh no. The propeller chopped it up pretty good. It’s fish food now.”
Sherrie seemed less surprised than Eaver expected. “I still don’t know what to think about all this monster talk, but I don’t want you out on the water again. Will you do that for your momma?”
Eaver held her mother’s hands. “Don’t you worry, Momma. It’s not a problem anymore. Mr. Bennett went to their cave underwater and blew it up with dynamite. It was really cool, you should’ve been there.”
Cinch drew closer, intrigued by the news. “He blew dem up?”
“Trapped ‘em in their nest to die,” Mason clarified. “Whatever survived the blast will starve to death.”
“So we’re safe now, Momma,” said Eaver. “No more monsters will be breaking into here again.”
“Aww, you mean I brought that ol’ thing here from the house for nothing?” said Sherrie sarcastically, tilting her head toward a shotgun leaning in the corner by the kitchen.
“Well, not necessarily… you might get rude customers,” Mason said in jest.
“Or Mal’s buddies,” added Eaver, less jokingly.
Sherrie raised an eyebrow. “Touché.”
“The restaurant looks good,” noted Mason. “A lot better than it was this morning.” The broken window had been covered with plastic sheeting stapled to the frame, the blood and broken wood were cleaned up, and the gouges in the wall had even been spackled over.
“We’ve been busy. Even had a pretty decent lunch rush, just had to keep that side blocked off.” Sherrie smiled. “You two hungry? How about I whip up some sandwiches for us all?”
“Please,” Eaver and Mason said in unison.
Sherrie and Eaver went to the kitchen and began putting sandwiches together. Cinch reheated his soup and pulled four bowls down for the group. Before long they were enjoying a simple but satisfying dinner.
While they ate, Cinch prodded for more information about the creatures. “So you saw de sliggers; what did you think when you saw dem?”
Mason leaned back. “Oh my God. I was like ‘what the hell is that?’ – I couldn’t believe my eyes. Yesterday you said you saw one?”
“Yes,” said Cinch. “By my house de other night, when I be fishin’. It was dark, but I know what I saw. Came right for me. I ran home fast as I could.”
“Jesus,” muttered Eaver. “And we didn’t believe you. I’m sorry, Cinch.”
The old Creole shrugged. “A hard thing to believe. I’m just glad you don’t think me crazy anymore.”
Eaver gave the cook a hug. “Oh, Cinch… we still think you’re crazy.”
Everybody at the table laughed. The mood was relaxed, friendly. The group continued their pleasant meal together.
Right about when they were finished, the bell above the door jingled. The group noticed the entering patrons, and quickly got up from the table to welcome them inside. Sherrie sat her guests and brought them menus. Then she returned to her group.
“Why don’t you two go find something nice to do?” she proposed.
Eaver looked at Mason. “Whatcha wanna do?”
“I’m beat,” Mason confessed. “Let’s just go to my house. We can put on a movie and relax on the couch.”
Eaver found the idea appealing. “Sounds good. You sure you don’t want us to stick around and help, Momma?”
“I’m sure,” Sherrie smiled. “Cinch and I can handle it here.”
CHAPTER 28
It was half an hour after sundown when the sheriff got the call. He was taking a quiet, peaceful drive on the back roads around town to unwind from the whirlwind of the long day. The calm of the dirt roads at night was working, until Carl’s voice blurted for him on the two-way radio.
“Whatcha got, Spud?” asked the sheriff, somewhat disappointed by the interruption to his tranquil drive.
“Mrs. Johnson called, says she heard a commotion next door at ol’ Ms. Murphy’s house. Like someone was breaking in through a window.”
“Kimberly? On Silas
Hill?”
“Yeah. You near there?”
Steele unknowingly nodded. “Near enough. I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Ten-four. Over and out.”
“Out.” The sheriff set the microphone on the cradle. Sighing, he steered his cruiser toward town.
A few minutes later he was at Silas Hill Road, which overlooked the adjacent coast. He parked the car and stepped out, hearing the waves in the dark from beyond the trees. Then, knowing which house was Kimberly Murphy’s, he grabbed his flashlight and walked toward the house.
As he neared the front porch, he saw that all the lights were off and one of the windows was smashed in. Crouching down just a little, he pulled his gun and continued his approach.
The front door was unlocked. He opened it and announced his presence. “Ms. Murphy? Sheriff’s Department. Are you in here?”
There was no reply. Steele scanned the dark room, noticing upturned furniture and broken glass on the floor.
And a sulfuric odor.
The sheriff’s heart rate quickened, the stench triggering his memory of the deadly sea creatures. “Ms. Murphy? This is Sheriff Steele.” He stepped through the front room and moved toward the kitchen. “Ms. Murphy?”
When he entered the kitchen, he saw a body lying on the linoleum floor. The beam from his flashlight confirmed it was the body of Kimberly Murphy. She had been savagely attacked and killed, blood covering her ripped and bitten body.
“Sweet Jesus…” muttered the sheriff. He spent a moment mourning the loss of a sweet old lady, then realized the killer could still be there. His eyes hardening, he gripped the gun tightly and began searching the rest of the house.
Whatever had killed her was gone now. After making sure the house was clear, Sheriff Steele returned to the street outside. He looked all around for any movement or signs of the creatures. Nothing out there with him.
Noticing the lights of the other houses on the street, he decided he had better warn them about what had happened. He knocked on each door, explaining to the residents that the area was not safe and that they needed to lock themselves inside their homes.
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