Mason and Eaver entered the station and saw about twenty townspeople crowded inside. Danny was among the group, and he acknowledged his arriving friends with a nod. The sheriff’s family was there also, and they were crying woefully. Mason had a bad feeling.
Deputy Lewis Simkins was at the desk, looking older than his fifty-eight years this morning. Marty was standing next to him, and together they were trying to console and reassure the shocked community. Mason and Eaver wedged through the group and joined Lewis and Marty at the desk.
“Glad you two are okay,” said Marty. “Looks like we didn’t do as good a job as we thought yesterday.”
“Those things got out, alright,” Mason avowed. “They attacked us in my house last night. And several other houses, judging by what I saw on the way over here.”
“Yeah,” Marty affirmed. “They came out with a vengeance, apparently. Reports of them attacking all over the coastal side of town. Killed several people.”
“Where’s the sheriff?” asked Eaver.
“He’s dead. They found what was left of his body inside Ms. Surrow’s house last night, and Spud on the lawn.”
“Oh my God…”
Mason was afraid to ask. “And Spud?”
Marty shook his head. “He died early this morning in the hospital. Toxins in his blood.”
“Poison from the claws?”
“Yep. I’m pretty sure.”
Mason turned to Deputy Simkins. “Well we have to call the state police again,” he said. “They have to come help after this.”
Lewis nodded. “I did. They said they could get troopers to us by tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” scoffed Marty. “And let those things come back out tonight? We could lose half the town before tomorrow. We’ve got to take care of this today.”
“How?” the old deputy asked. “I’m the only police here now.”
Mason raised a finger. “Not necessarily. I was deputized yesterday. So technically, you’re not alone.”
“And I might as well be considered a deputy,” added Marty, “as many times as I’ve helped out the sheriff over the years.”
The pudgy old deputy nodded, appreciating their enlistment. “Okay. First thing I think we should do is evacuate the town,” said the deputy. “But some won’t leave; they either have no place to go, no means to get there, or just won’t want to leave.”
Mason thought for a moment. “I guess you could set up cots in the high school gymnasium. Anybody who wants to stay in town would be safe inside. It’s all brick walls and steel doors – nothing could break into there tonight.”
“Alright, but that still leaves the problem of what to do about the creatures.”
Marty straightened his back. “We just have to finish the job we thought we’d done yesterday. The explosives I planted underwater were done right; that entrance is definitely sealed. The only other opening to their cave was the hole at the top. You know, the fenced-off one on top of Pirate’s Point. So we’ll just have to go down through there and seal them up for good.”
Mason was on board. “Count me in.”
Marty turned to Mason. “I won’t lie; I could use all the help I can get. But are you sure you want to put yourself in that kind of danger?”
“Yeah,” Mason replied. “If we don’t wipe them out now, they’ll just come back out tonight and I’ll be in danger anyway.”
“You have any rock climbing experience?”
“Are you kidding?” said Eaver, recalling her memories of Mason’s cliff scaling. “Captain Spelunker here? Yes, he can climb.”
Marty was satisfied. “Alright, then. Let’s get on it. We need to finish the job while it’s low tide.” He eyed Mason gravely. “Once we get down there, I can’t guarantee we’ll make it out. Are you sure you want to help me with this?”
Mason glimpsed around the room, noting the solemn faces of those who lost loved ones last night. He knew the feeling all too well, having recently lost his own mother, and he hated watching others suffer the same pain. He returned his attention to Marty.
Mason’s face was stone. “Mr. Bennett, I want nothing more than to kill these fuckers.”
CHAPTER 35
The group approached the hole atop Pirate’s Point. They walked slowly, guns ready in case they saw any of the monsters emerge from the cavern beneath. But the hole was dormant. It almost seemed smug, daring.
Mason held the late sheriff’s Smith & Wesson in one hand, keeping the 9mm handgun aimed at the dark opening, and was carrying a plastic gas container in the other. Marty was at his side with a second gas container and one of the shotguns from the police station. They stopped when they were about ten feet away, just outside the broken rope fencing that used to surround the hazardous hole.
Eaver set down the duffel bag of explosives they had picked up at Marty’s house. She looked at the two men while unloading the coil of rope from her shoulder. “You guys sure you wanna do this?”
“Of course not,” Marty said, a cheesy smile on his lips. “I’m scared to death right now. But it’s gotta be done.”
“How about we just dump the gasoline down there and burn ‘em all up?” Mason suggested.
Marty shook his head. “I considered that, but it would be a short burn. The creatures would probably duck into the pool and stay underwater until it burned out… they’d survive.”
“Then let’s just drop the dynamite down there with the gas.”
“Wouldn’t do the trick. The explosion would just be concussive. The dynamite needs to actually be placed in the walls to effectively blast them down.”
Mason shrugged. “I guess we’re goin’ down, then.”
“We’re goin’ down,” Marty confirmed. Then he grabbed one end of the rope and brought it to the nearest tree. He secured the nylon rope around the tree using the sturdiest knot he knew, and then doubled it. If this knot failed, they wouldn’t make it back.
Mason kept his weapon pointed at the hole. He watched Marty pull the rope tight and unroll the rest of it. Marty then weaved the loose end of the rope through the handles of the gas containers, laying the containers on the ground near the hole. Next he fed the sixty feet of remaining rope down the hole. The diver looked at Mason and nodded; he apparently had a plan of attack.
“Alright,” said Marty. “I’ll go first, with the explosives. You follow right after and cover us.” He turned to Eaver. “Then, when we are safely on the ground, we’ll call up and you push the gas cans down the line. One at a time.”
Eaver drew a deep breath to calm her nerves. “Okay, I’ll be ready.”
“Weapons check,” Mason advised. He made sure the 9mm Smith & Wesson was loaded, the safety was off, and that he had his extra fifteen-round clip of hollow points. “I’m good.”
Marty pumped the twelve-gauge, loading one of the eight shells from the magazine tube. “Me too.” He tugged on his gloves to tighten them around his hands. After slinging the shotgun and duffel bag around his elbows, he gripped the rope and stepped to the rocky opening.
“Don’t forget,” Marty warned, “stay clear of those tentacles. Their claws are poisonous.”
“I’ll remember.”
Marty lowered himself into the hole.
This was it. Mason hurried to stay right behind him. He sat down at the opening and placed the top of the gun barrel in his teeth to temporarily free both hands. He locked eyes with Eaver for a bittersweet second, each seeing true affection in the eyes of the other. Then he reached down, grabbed the taut rope, and descended.
Clamping the rope with his feet, Mason took one hand off the line to remove the gun from his teeth. He rested a finger on the trigger and continued down, his eyes following Marty’s flashlight beam as it illuminated the cavern.
The hollow was breathtaking. About forty feet in height, it was a glorious haven adorned with massive calcium stalactites, sparkling walls, and white stalagmites reaching up from the floor. It would be soothing if not for the lingering stench of sulfur reminding the m
en of the danger lurking therein.
The air was stagnant. No breezes could effectively enter the hole to cycle fresh air through the chamber. As a result it was uncomfortably warm, muggy, and pungent in the cavern.
Marty’s hand was beginning to cramp. He would maintain his cautious rate of descent, however, to make sure he did not rush to the bottom before knowing the coast was clear. Seeing no forms of life in the flashlight beam, he continued dropping until his feet were on the rocky floor.
He stepped aside to let Mason finish his descent, pulling the shotgun into a ready position. His eyes were already adjusting to the dark environment. But he kept the flashlight on to see as well as they possibly could. Mason got his feet on the ground and readied his weapon as well.
They heard water moving, like something slipping in or out of the pool. Marty whipped his flashlight toward the sound and saw what he knew they would. Two of the cavern’s inhabitants appeared from the water to fend off the intruders. They charged from the pool with a frenzy of splashing.
Marty pulled the trigger, blasting one of them in the midsection with double-aught buckshot. The lead balls destroyed the target, which flew backwards into the water. Mason, fighting to control his shaking, squeezed off several rounds at the second beast. One of the hollow-point bullets found a sweet spot in the head. The creature fell dead.
All was calm again. The men’s ears were ringing, loud enough to drown the sound of their hearts pounding.
“Are you okay?” Eaver called down nervously.
“Yeah!” Mason announced, keeping his eyes on the water. “We’re good!”
They continued to watch the surface of the pool to make sure no other sentries were coming. After a few minutes, they deemed themselves safe for the moment.
“Alright,” said Marty, “send down the first gas can!”
Eaver dragged the plastic container along the rope and to the hole. Then she pushed it in, and the container slid rapidly down the line.
Marty caught the gas and pulled it free from the rope. “Now the other one!” He watched the second container drop down the rope, and he corralled it as well. He turned to Mason. “Okay, cover me while I get started with the explosive.”
Mason nodded, relieving his partner of the shotgun. He was quite aware that there were many of the monsters in the cavern with them, at least as many as he had seen last night. They would show themselves at some point. He needed to keep a keen eye on their surroundings.
Marty wasted no time. He pulled a handful of dynamite from the duffel bag and walked across the flowstone floor to start placing the explosives in the walls. He set four-stick bundles into rocky crevices at each location, crimping the bundled safety fuses to the blasting caps. Within minutes he had covered the cavern with four blast zones.
A splash in the water sent a jolt through Mason. He locked in on that spot in the pool, but saw nothing but ripples.
Marty saved the last bundle of dynamite for the egg pool. He approached the six-foot-wide hollow in the rock and looked down. Sure enough, there were the objects he remembered seeing. Dozens of greenish-yellow orbs, the size of footballs, submerged in the crater. Reaching over the crater, he wedged the explosive into a perfectly-sized gorge in the rock wall.
“Explosives placed,” the diver confirmed. “Now gimme the gas.”
Mason picked up one of the gas containers and handed it to Marty, all the while maintaining his eye and gun hand on the dark water.
Marty started pouring gasoline in strategic areas, away from where the burning fuses would be. He soaked the corners, splashed parts of the wall, then emptied the container into the egg pool.
“That’s good enough,” Marty stated. “Otherwise we risk the gas catching before we get out.”
“What about the other gas can?”
“Hand it over, I’ll set it by one of the explosives. For extra oomph.”
Mason handed his partner the second container. Marty set it on the lip of the egg pool crater, just below the dynamite. Next he began laying the fuse out, walking backwards while straightening it. Then he looked at Mason.
“Alright, now. Ready to go? As soon as I light these we go back up the rope.”
Mason nodded. “Ready. How much time will we have to get out of here?”
Marty studied the five fuses, each boasting a length of ten feet. “Plenty. About five minutes.”
Another splash was heard, and again Mason’s flashlight darted to the source to see only ripples. He was sure they were being watched from underwater. He could imagine a dozen creatures hiding beneath the surface, just waiting for the men to try to leave. It gave him chills.
“Here we go,” said Marty. He pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit the first fuse. As soon as it started to crackle, he hurried to the next fuse. He lit them in succession, made sure they were all burning, and then joined Mason’s side.
Mason handed Marty his shotgun back. “Let’s go, chief,” the young deputy said.
Just then the water erupted. Five slithering monsters surfaced, their appendages flailing wildly as they attacked. The men took aim and began shooting to hold them back.
One of the thrashing tentacles sliced Marty’s hand. The cut was deep, painful. His fingers instinctively flew open, causing him to drop the shotgun.
“Fuck!” the diver exclaimed. He knew immediately that he had been poisoned by the creature’s toxic claw.
“Marty!” shouted Mason. He continued firing at the beasts to allow Marty time to retrieve his weapon. Marty’s hand darted down and picked the shotgun up.
Two of the beasts had fallen, succumbing to Mason’s lethal gunshots. But before Mason could kill any more, one of the monsters struck Mason’s gun hand with the side of its tentacle. It did not scratch him, but the blow knocked his pistol away. Mason heard the gut-wrenching splash as the gun disappeared into the pool.
Marty blew another beast away with the shotgun. “Get up the rope!” he yelled, pushing his partner away.
Mason had no weapon, so he could no longer fight. He went for the rope, almost tripping over the calcium stumps on the floor.
Marty kept shooting at the remaining attackers. Another claw landed, digging into Marty’s calf. It yanked him off his feet. He kept the shotgun in his grasp, and continued blasting away at the monsters. One of them got awfully close just before a shell turned its head into mist.
Within seconds the beasts surrounding Marty were dead. He was extremely thankful for that, since he knew he was about out of ammo.
Then another four surfaced from the pool.
“Come on!” said Mason.
Marty shook his head. “Go up! I’ve gotta keep ‘em off you.”
“You have to come with me!”
“I can’t,” Marty declared. “If we both go, they’ll take us down before we get high enough!” He glanced down at his bleeding hand, the wound already itching. “Besides,” he added, “I’ve been stung – I’m gonna die no matter what. Now hurry!”
“Marty…”
“Go!”
Mason obeyed, knowing the diver was right. He took one last look at his partner, then at the fizzling fuses. Taking a focusing breath, Mason grabbed the rope and began climbing.
The next wave of creatures rose from the water and charged toward the men. Marty pumped the shotgun and fired his remaining two shells. Gritting his teeth, he flung his empty weapon angrily at the remaining attackers. Then he roared a battle cry and lunged at one of the creatures. He tackled it, pushing it backward. The rest of them converged, pulling the huddle into the water.
The rope felt slick through Mason’s gloves. He had only made it up several feet, and was already having trouble keeping his grip. He took a quick look to the thrashing water, seeing the creatures tear into Marty. The diver’s maddened screams ended.
The beasts now turned their attention to Mason, spotting him on the rope. They emitted loud, hostile hisses that curdled his blood. Then they rushed from the water and toward the dangling prey.
>
A jolt of adrenaline surged through Mason, and his body tensed. He squeezed the rope as hard as he could and climbed desperately. By the time the monsters arrived below him, he was ten feet off the ground. He continued to ascend until he had to stop for a breather. Looking up, he could see Eaver looking down through the opening above.
“C’mon, Mason!” she urged.
The rope began moving beneath him. His eyes darted down to see the creatures wrapping their appendages around the rope and yanking on it. He prayed they did not figure out how to climb.
It was now or never. Mason pulled with all his might. He had to ignore the numbing of his muscles – all that mattered was getting out of there. Twenty-five feet off the ground. Then thirty.
He wondered how much time was left before the fuses ignited the dynamite. The concept of time had vanished when the creatures began their attack. Did he still have enough time to make it? His heart raced at the thought of the explosives going off any second.
“C’mon!” Eaver repeated, more urgently.
Mason kept pulling, his strength ebbing. Thirty-five feet. Thirty-seven. Thirty-nine.
Then, when he had nothing left, Eaver reached down and grabbed his arms. She pulled hard. The assistance was enough to help Mason get to the top of the opening. His feet finally able to make contact with the ceiling rock, he used his legs to push himself the rest of the way through the opening.
Eaver pulled him out of the hole, falling backwards with him. Mason was grateful to finally be above ground again. But they were not out of danger yet.
“Move it, Eaver, it’s gonna blow!”
The couple scampered to their feet and ran like hell. They were not twenty feet away from the hole when they heard and felt the explosives detonate.
The blasts were thunderous, deafening. Mason and Eaver almost fell to the ground, but stayed on their feet. They kept running as the earth rumbled beneath their feet. As they ran, they turned to look at the site behind them.
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