“I’m no sir,” Randy said.
“Technically you are,” Tanner said.
“What do you mean? He outranks you?” Jefferson said.
She’d been nice to him, and he thought they were developing a relationship, but what he saw in Jefferson’s face told Tanner she didn’t trust him at all. “A technicality. Randy is kind of filling in, but he doesn’t really do the job, so, you know, duty and all that.”
“Didn’t have anything to do with an obnoxious ass grab, now did it?” Jefferson said.
“Not true,” Tanner said.
“Really? You didn’t get in trouble for grabbing a woman’s ass?”
“Where do you get your information? I’m offended.”
“I got my file from the FBI. Heard of them?” Jefferson adjusted the communication levels and called to Sharkey. “How you doing, cowboy? We got a deep bench if you need to come up.”
“That’s a 10-4, but let me finish up the breach, and Danny can go trolling through the mud.”
“That’s a 10-4. Out.”
“Now wait a minute,” Tanner said. “I don’t get to explain myself?”
“Why do you care what I think?” Jefferson didn’t even try to hide her smirk anymore.
“I don’t know. I just do.”
“I read your statement. Either way, you’re kind of a pig.”
“Maybe, but I don’t put my hands on a woman who doesn’t want me to, so excuse me if I’m getting a little pissy about the distinction.”
“Fair enough,” Jefferson said.
“Look, there’s a New Week party tonight at Randy’s house. Why don’t you come by and I can explain myself.”
“What’s a New Week party?” she asked.
“It’s a tradition in these parts to have a party one week after a major hurricane. It goes back to the storm of 1938. People were living in tents, and many had died, but they stopped to celebrate living through the week and starting a new week.”
She said nothing, and Tanner thought he heard one helmsman snicker.
The aft camera was obscured by bubbles as Sharkey engaged the maneuvering thrusters. The breach was clear, but Tanner knew that meant nothing. Whatever they were hunting was at home in mud, burrowed beneath the slime, and if it didn’t want to be found, it wouldn’t be.
Two whirlybirds skated across the sky, coming at them from opposite directions. One was from the cutter and the other from aerial division, and the sound of their rotors echoed like approaching thunder. Both crafts flew low, and as they got closer, bubbles obscured both of the sub’s exterior views.
Sharkey’s voice crackled from the comm, “What’s happening up there?”
Jefferson’s eyebrows knitted and Tanner shrugged.
A deep humming sound competed with the pounding of the helicopter rotors, rising in pitch and resonance until the sound filled Tanner’s head. A deep swirl of water developed off the port bow, a giant eddying mass that looked as though it might become a cyclone.
“Get the sub out,” Tanner said. “Now!”
“What? Why?” Jefferson said.
“It’s coming!”
“What are—?”
“You’re wasting time,” Tanner said. “If Sharkey dies, it’s on you.”
Jefferson stared at Tanner for a moment and then pressed the comm button. “Sharkey, bring baby home to momma. Double time.”
“We got something, chief,” said the coastie monitoring the sonar and radar.
Helicopters roared across the bay, kicking up spray. They were almost upon them. The chop picked up, and the boat listed to port, bobbing back and forth, slowly settling. Wind swirled and pushed the bay in random patterns, and waves broke on the boat from every direction.
“What is it, ensign?” Jefferson said.
“Something big, ma’am, coming up behind the sub.” The sonar screen darkened further, a deep blue blob slowly filling the screen.
Two hundred yards off the port bow, the sub’s round glass top emerged from the water as its jets drove toward the surface. The Triton 3300 needed deeper water to travel fast, and in the shallow water of the bay, the sub was fighting to pick up speed. Both exterior cameras were white with bubbles, and Sharkey’s face looked pale, his eyes dark. Now Tanner really saw the resemblance.
A massive wave rose from the bay, a wall of water twice the size of the one that had chased him off the golf course. Patches of seaweed and tiny water sprouts surged from the bay, their spray falling across the surface with a hiss.
The sound of the copters faded, and Sharkey said, “Oh shit. You seeing this, Houston?”
Bubbles and swirling green water filled the sub’s view, and Jefferson ran out on deck with Tanner on her heels. A rotten breeze wafted across the boat and Tanner gagged as he ran to the gunnel. The rank smell got stronger, and Tanner dry heaved and was thankful he’d only had a bagel for breakfast.
A huge water spout surged over the bay and an arced black spike knifed from the water and stabbed at the submersible, just missing it. The black nail jerked back, and struck again as the sub dove and rolled to starboard. The spike missed again. The bay continued to rise and come at them, and Tanner drew his weapon. Randy stood by his side, gun drawn, eyes bulging from his head.
“Yeah,” said Jefferson. “Let’s go. Lock and load.”
Coasties spilled onto the bow, MK18s at the ready. Jefferson fell in behind the mounted machine gun. Water sprayed across the deck as the huge wave crested and the monster dove after the sub.
“Hold your fire!” Jefferson yelled. “We’ll hit the sub.”
A claw twice the size of a man shot from the bay and fell on top of the sub as it struggled to dig into the water. The giant pincer snapped and bit at air, catching nothing as its weight drove the sub under. The claw pulled back as a dark carapace crested on the mountain of whitewater and landed on the submersible. The sound of crunching metal joined the cacophony of surging water and the hum of the beast.
“Fire!” Jefferson yelled.
Tanner opened up, and the clatter and snap of gunpowder igniting and the whiz of bullets was barely audible amidst the pandemonium. Shots struck the creature’s black shell as it fell back into the bay, leaving a frothing jumble of whitewater behind. The sub was nowhere to be seen.
“Sharkey,” Jefferson said.
They ran back into the pilothouse just in time to see Sharkey’s final moments. The sub’s aft camera showed static, but the forward camera revealed a mouth of teeth that rivaled any megalodon. Two fangs pierced what was left of the glass canopy covering Sharkey, and it cracked and popped like a bubble. Sharkey screamed as water poured into the sub, and the jaws opened and a pincer claw reached into the cockpit and yanked him free.
Sharkey’s head and shoulders were severed by the pincer and blood filled the water and obscured the forward-view camera. Then the cockpit camera went to static, followed by the aft camera. Through the front window, Tanner saw debris from the sub floating to the surface. Large bubbles popped and whitewater rolled over the monster as mud boiled from the bottom of the bay.
The helicopters were back and the sound of pounding rotors and gunshots echoed across the water. Gunsmoke filled the air, the water flattened, and the natural roll and pitch of the bay returned.
“Tell the copters to leave. I think they’re spooking the thing,” Tanner said.
“You might be right.” Jefferson called off the copters and gave the order to retrieve the remains of the submersible. A smear of blood on the rear bulkhead of the destroyed sub was all they found of Sharkey, and there was no sign of the monster.
8
Randy lived in Stone’s Throw, but in a much nicer section than he could afford on his police salary. It was his childhood home, and he had inherited it from his parents. The house sat atop a small rise that sloped down to a canal, with a path that ran south to a community bay beach. Randy’s place stood in stark contrast to where Tanner was banished in a trailer park off Montauk Highway, a place most people
didn’t know existed.
The night was muggy and wet, and with the holiday coming and the beaches closed, Tanner felt a little sweatier than most. He wished he could search twenty-four hours a day, but in the darkness, it wasn’t worth the effort and money. Moon glow only helped so much, and often made it worse with its tricky shadows and inconsistent luminescence.
His Jeep rattled as he drove over a pile of sawdust and small sticks. Most of the major impediments had been removed from the roads, but branches, leaves, and tree crumbs still littered the ground, and most likely would for weeks. As he drove, Tanner ran the day’s events over and over in his mind, and he was afraid of what the pictures of the beast would show. Jefferson was having the sub video analyzed and enhanced, and Tanner hoped they’d get a good shot of the creature that everyone had dubbed the sea scorpion.
Lucky-shit sat on the bucket seat beside Tanner, mouth hanging open, tongue flapping in the breeze. Fully rested and feed, the animal had shaken off his near-death experience and forgotten his past as only a dog can. LS was ready to be a police dog, and tonight he would be Tanner’s babe magnet. He frowned as he thought of his conversation with Jefferson that morning. Was he a pig for loving women as much as he did? Or was he lustful, as one girlfriend had called him?
Tanner pulled in front of Randy’s house and killed the Jeep’s engine. He sat there a few minutes, finishing his beer and running his hand through his windblown hair. Tanner hated cop parties, and the way they all looked at him because of what had happened. He never felt comfortable. For him, the party was work even though it was at Randy’s place, which he spent more time at than his trailer.
LS jumped from the Jeep and Tanner followed. They were both greeted by Randy’s wife, Tina, who proved on a daily basis she’d married well below her paygrade when she’d settled for Randy. She whisked LS away to meet the children, and the dog didn’t even look back as he disappeared into an adoring crowd.
***
Her name was Tristin, and she was taking quite a ribbing when Tanner rescued her. Do you do everything at a Category 4 level? You seem smaller than I thought you would be. You don’t look like a killer bitch to me, were but a small sampling of the comics’ work.
“That’s enough, dipshits,” Tanner said.
All the men turned in his direction, ready to protest. When they saw Tanner, the crowd dispersed, leaving him alone with the woman whose name was now associated with the most devastating hurricane ever to hit her home.
“Thanks,” she said. Her face screwed up, and she rolled her eyes and walked away.
“You’re welcome.” Tanner watched her go, realizing she hadn’t needed or wanted to be rescued. He had to stop trying to be the world’s white knight. He wasn’t strong or smart enough.
Tanner saw the captain across the room; to avoid him, he detoured outside, where he got blocked by two ex-girlfriends. So he grabbed a couple of beers from the cooler and escaped down to the bay. The dock that ran along the back of Randy’s property was underwater, but a footpath led across his neighbor’s yards to the south, where it turned into a sand path that emptied onto a flooded beach. Signs of the receding water were everywhere: garbage, wood, and pieces of deck furniture were intertwined in large mounds of seaweed that covered the inland beach and wove through the water reeds that lined the shoreline.
Tanner cleared a spot and plopped down onto a pile of seaweed. He opened a beer and took a long pull, staring into the moonlight as it shimmered over the bay’s placid sea.
Low tide had sucked out some floodwater, and the smell of rot and shit mixed with salt filled the air. The bay lapped gently against a shore that until two days ago had been covered by floodwaters. Some sections of the coast were lower than others, and would remain flooded for weeks, while higher ground had seen some relief, though the damage left behind was no less significant. With summer ending, people worried that there wasn’t enough time to dry out before winter came.
“Hey, cowboy,” Jefferson said. She came down the path onto the beach, a glass of wine in her hand.
“Hey, yourself,” Tanner said. “The guys with you? They’re welcome.”
“They hung back, but thanks,” she said.
“Didn’t expect to see you after…”
“It’s OK. Sitting on the cutter crying over it wouldn’t do any good. Believe it or not, I’ve seen some pretty bad stuff.”
“I can imagine. What I don’t get is why a…” Tanner caught himself. Call me a pig will you. “I just don’t get why someone as smart and skilled as you would settle for making no money and sacrifice a more stable life. Adventure?”
“A beautiful girl like me would do this because,” she said, letting him know she knew what he’d intended to say. “I was lost. I did good in school, but had no passion, no drive. I thought the military would give me that, and I love the water, so I chose the Coast Guard. It took me a few years to learn that the military couldn’t do all that for me. I had to do it for myself.”
“You are beautiful,” Tanner said.
“So what happened with that woman? Why did she lie?”
Tanner smiled. She’d just cut him some major slack. “I was at the casino over at Davis Park when I met two young women from the city. Ms. Layborn was all over me in minutes, but it was her friend who I wanted to pursue. A beautiful woman named Sherry. All three of us were flirting, and both of them put their hands on me, and I had my arms around them. Ms. Layborn goes to the bathroom, and when she comes back Sherry and I are in a need of a room. We were kissing, embracing, and Ms. Layborn freaked. Starts yelling and getting upset that she thought I was with her. So I, in a very respectful and loving tone, suggested that the three of us adjourn to my friend’s house for the rest of the evening where we could have use of a bedroom. Then she slaps me, stalks off trailed by Sherry, and two days later, my captain calls and tells me she accused me of grabbing her ass. Which I might have done, but it would have been when the three of us were hanging all over each other. That is the total truth, exactly how it happened.”
“Your statement says she kicked you in the balls,” Jefferson said, but she smiled at him.
“A small dramatic embellishment I felt she not only deserved, but sent the message I wasn’t above lying if it meant exposing her untruth.”
“I’m out of wine. Can we head back to the house and grab more? I have pictures to show you.”
“Really? And you’re allowed to show them to me? A local?”
She chuckled. “No, I’m not allowed to show them to you.” As they headed back to the house, she went on, “The higher-ups had the big heads analyze the sub footage and they think the creature is a Jaekelopterus, a prehistoric sea scorpion, mixed with modern Maine lobster or horseshoe crab, most likely both. It has a long, segmented armored carapace that tapers down to a rear attack spike similar to a horseshoe crab’s, which we saw today. The Jaekelopterus’ closest living relative is the horseshoe crab, which as you know is a common crab in the Great South Bay, and that might have something to do with how it ended up here, though the scientists had very little speculation on how the thing could even exist.”
“The water is deep out at the canyons,” Tanner said. “Who the hell knows what Tristin dug up.”
Jefferson nodded. “The Hudson and Block Canyons are about 80 miles off the island, and the water goes from two hundred feet deep to a thousand feet deep in a matter of a mile.”
They reached the house, and the party was in full swing. Randy played beer pong, and Tanner and Jefferson made their way through the crowd like sharks, moving and shifting with the crowd as it eddied in its drunken flow. Music blared through the deck speakers, and the night air felt heavy and wet. They plopped down on deck chairs and Jefferson tossed an envelope onto his lap. Tanner opened it and his worst fears were realized.
“The big brains went through the footage frame by frame,” Jefferson explained, “but were only able to get the few clear shots you see there. I think the more interesting picture is the satellite
image taken yesterday morning.”
The top picture was a printout of a satellite photo that showed the shadow of the creature on a sandbar. It was a scorpion-shaped goliath with large front claws and was at least thirty feet long. The other pictures were close-ups that showed a huge mouth of teeth and fangs set in a jaw twice the size of the submersible. There was one clear picture of the creature’s underbelly that showed a series of secondary pincer claws, which looked designed to drag prey toward the razor-sharp fangs sticking from immense mandibles.
“Holy shit,” Tanner said.
“Fugazi,” Jefferson said.
9
The golf course was still flooded, but no longer navigable by dingy. Grass peeked above the water in places, and most of the tee boxes were visible. The road around the golf course was still underwater, so that meant a half-mile walk for Tanner and LS across the wet golf course via a meandering path that led across the semi-dry parts. The smell of rot and decay had subsided, but gnats and flies swarmed them as they walked through shallow puddles and thickening mud. Tanner didn’t mind. He’d closed the temporary office and reopened the station, and since it was hard to get to, there’d be no drop-ins by command. If there was a chance their shoes might get dirty, the brass stayed home.
He passed the ninth tee box where only two nights prior he’d had his first experience with the creature. The memory was obscured in a whiskey fog, but the terror he’d felt still sat in his stomach like a bad taco. Tanner pulled free his flask and took a sip of vodka. He was ashamed of being afraid and not completing the hunt, and angry that some prehistoric scorpion had inflicted more damage on his home, which didn’t need any more destruction.
The station house was getting back to normal, and the small marina west of the building was back in service; all the functional police boats were moored there. Floating docks were stacked next to the building and several boats damaged by the storm sat in a row before them. The large bay door stood open, revealing the garage filled with supplies of all kinds. The water hadn’t reached Tanner’s second-floor office, but the moisture made everything damp, destroying files and anything else that absorbed water, so he couldn’t use it until it dried out.
The Breach Page 4