The water settled as Tanner floated on his back beneath the fallen floor. Wood creaked and the hum of the monster faded. Tanner’s breathing and the pounding of his heart echoed in his ears. He lay there motionless for several minutes, staring up at the chunk of wood two feet from his face. He inched over and worked his way into the rubble like a worm and slowly climbed out of the wreckage.
He emerged onto a section of collapsed roof where he sat to collect himself. His entire right side was badly bruised, but nothing appeared broken and everything functioned. His right leg hurt, but with the adrenaline running through his veins, Tanner was ready to move. He got up and sat right back down. He felt dizzy and sweat streaked down his forehead. He stiffened, and reached for his flask. He sighed when he found it, pulling it free and taking a long pull. The alcohol felt good as it burned his throat and warmed his stomach. His nerves settled. Tanner slipped the flask into his pocket and took inventory.
The rocket launcher was gone, as was the MK18. The Glock was still on his hip, and he pulled it from its holster and snapped out the clip. Glocks would fire after being submerged in water, and the version issued to the military and law enforcement functioned normally even while fully submerged. Despite this, Tanner shook the weapon out and blew down the barrel, then snapped the clip back into place and returned it to its holster. He pulled the radio free, twisted the ON knob to maximum, and pressed the comm button.
“Anybody there? Mayday! This is Lt. Nate Tanner. I’m down and in need of assistance! Over.”
No response. No static. No nothing.
Tanner turned the radio off and clipped it on his shirt collar. If he had the opportunity, he’d open it up and see if he could dry it out a little and maybe it would work. The way his luck had been going, the odds of that were somewhere between zero and negative one.
Large pieces of the destroyed house floated burning in the floodwater, and Tanner saw nothing stable or big enough to hold him. He’d have to walk through the water until he found a better way. His hip waders were back on Big Boy, and he cursed himself for not having them on, but he wasn’t worried. The water was calm and most of the wildlife hid or had fled and he’d know if the scorpion was coming his way.
Tanner stared at the desolation around him and considered which way to go. He could head south toward the bay, which would mean a mile trek through flooded neighborhoods, or north into the woods and eventually he’d hit dry land. West made no sense; Big Boy was to the east. After the explosion, his guys would be out looking for him and they’d be coming from that direction, so he headed for Big Boy.
Tanner edged off the broken section of roof into the floodwater, carrying his Glock above his head. He knew all about how it worked wet, but he also knew bullets and water didn’t like each other and the last thing he needed was a misfire in a critical situation. The turf beneath his feet was soggy and his boots sunk into the saturated earth.
The sun started its descent to the horizon, but there was still plenty of light, though Tanner couldn’t see what was beneath the water before him. His hands shook and his neck ached. Somewhere in these waters was a pissed-off thirty-foot sea scorpion, and he was traipsing about like a bird rinsing itself in a puddle. He sent waves rolling across the desolation, and garbage bobbed and shifted with each movement.
Tanner reached the road, and the water reached his belly button. The slick still covered the surface of the water and the rank stench hadn’t faded. The oily sheen formed a ring around his waist, and flies and water bugs danced on the slick, taking in whatever nourishment it provided. Tanner crossed the road and cut between two houses that didn’t appear to have fences blocking off their backyards, but when he reached the nearest house, he saw a three-foot chain-link fence marking the properties boundaries just below the surface.
Tanner mounted the fence and slipped over, his feet landing on the muddy bottom. Green grass and brown dirt floated to the surface, clouding the water further. The area had been flooded for eleven days and most things below the waterline were deteriorating. The last rays of the setting sun cut across the desolation, and for the first time, Tanner was struck with a sense of uselessness. What did it matter if he killed the creature? The home he’d known was gone, and the new Long Island that would emerge wouldn’t be the place he knew and loved.
The faint sound of an outboard cutting through the stillness brought hope, but the sound faded as it headed away from him. A jet inched across the sky, and its thunderous roar made Tanner smile. The airport was running a full schedule, and people were coming home to find what was left of their lives, and start the process of rebuilding. Many had fled before Tristin, and FEMA had given the OK to return only three days ago. Most water services had been restored, though the Water Authority was providing free testing kits so people would have confidence in what came from the tap.
Tanner smelled the creature’s shit before he saw it. He came to a backyard boxed in by a six-foot wooden fence that stood three feet above the water. Several sections were gone on the southern and northern sides where the force of the tide had pulled them down, and through these openings Tanner saw a pileup of debris in a corner. Two large piles of brown waste that resembled chocolate mousse rested atop seaweed, along with pieces of wood and plastic, and an aluminum lawn chair that was somehow still floating.
Tanner put his back to the fence and worked his way to the next street, where he cut across the flooded road and swam to the roof of a shed and scrambled onto it. There he rested and surveyed his progress. He’d gone three blocks. He was already exhausted and his entire right side screamed with pain. His wet socks had chafed his feet, and his underwear rode up his ass. He had to take a piss, but held it in for fear of leaving a scent the monster could follow.
A low hum began to build, and Tanner lay on his stomach, trying to hide atop the shed. He couldn’t determine if the hum was coming his way, or if it was just in the general vicinity. He pulled the radio from his belt and tried it again. No luck. He drew the Glock and held it out before him and chuckled at his futility. So far, the 9mm rounds hadn’t done much more than annoy the scorpion, but he had nothing else.
Tanner slid off the roof and followed the humming sound. If he found the creature, what would he do? He went on anyway, the realization of his obsession clear in his mind, though still not fully in control. Tanner would hunt this animal until he killed it or it killed him, but for now he’d stalk it, track it, and wait for his opportunity to…do what? He didn’t know, but he sloshed through the floodwaters anyway.
“Don’t call me Ismael,” he said to himself. “Call me Ahab.”
20
Tanner hadn’t gone far when he heard the tone of the creature’s hum change and become more of a sharp click-buzzing sound. Large ripples in the floodwater rushed over debris, cars, and around houses as the beast came his way. The house to his right had no front door and Tanner waded into it. Directly in front of him was a set of stairs that lead to a second story and he mounted them and headed up. Water dripped on damp carpet as he made his way down a narrow hall to a bedroom at the corner of the house. There he looked out a window.
The sea scorpion worked its way up the street from the south, its black shell and tail gliding above the surface. The water wasn’t deep enough for the huge creature to swim and the blacktop street below provided no mud to nestle into. The scorpion’s spike glistened, its black carapace blending into the fading light. It occurred to Tanner that this moment might be the perfect time and place to attack the beast where it couldn’t dive and hide beneath the surface.
Tanner checked the Glock and rested it on a nearby table. Then, he undid his pants. He had to take a leak and couldn’t hold it any longer. He sighed as a steady stream of urine drenched the green wall-to-wall carpet before him. When he was finished, a smoking stain was all that remained as the hot pee met the cool damp carpet. The room instantly smelled of urine, and Tanner thought again about the creature’s ability to sense his scent.
They knew litt
le about the sea scorpion other than what they’d witnessed, so Tanner had no idea what the beast could do. Did a horseshoe crab smell stuff? Did it even have a nose? He’d seen so many of the odd creatures over the years and he’d never given them a second thought. Who knew they were direct descendants of dinosaurs and had been prowling the bays of Earth for four hundred and fifty million years? If the sea scorpion had a sense of smell, it didn’t detect him because the creature swam past his position and disappeared around a bend in the road. The beast’s shrill cry faded and then stopped. Tanner grabbed the Glock and headed downstairs, back into the water.
Despite having had a sandwich only two hours ago, he was starving and thirsty. He had no water or food, so he turned around and went back into the house. The kitchen was half underwater, but he searched and found nothing of use in the fridge. A cabinet had a package of stale crackers, some condiments, and a loaf of bread with green mold around the edges. He peeled off as much of the mold as he could and ate the bread quickly, not looking at it. He’d had worse when he was in the military. Some field rations are inferior to what they feed the canines on base.
Once back in the floodwater, Tanner pushed through the wreckage. He swung out onto the main canal; in the distance, Big Boy sat right where he’d left her. The water was a little deeper in this spot because the road dipped into a hollow, so he headed north a few blocks to where the water was a more manageable depth. The tide was coming in, and soon the sun would be down and he’d lose all light. He had no flashlight or illumination of any kind and he didn’t relish walking through water in the dark with the scorpion swimming around.
The sound of an outboard motor and the hum of the beast echoed above the sloshing water. Both sounded subdued, but were coming his way. A hundred yards off, a large oak tree stuck from the water in front of a half-submerged brick ranch house. Pushing through the water as fast as he was able, Tanner made his way to the tree and wasted no time climbing into it. From his perch, hidden in within a cluster of leaves, he had an unobstructed view in every direction.
The sea scorpion came around a corner and surprised him. Its spike tail passed beneath him as the beast roamed the area. Had it sensed him somehow? Or was it wandering about looking for food? Either way, he was a sitting duck. If the creature saw him, it was game over. Tanner exhaled as the creature disappeared around a bend and stillness settled over the devastation.
A bird landed on a branch next to him and Tanner flinched and almost fell. The small thrush preened itself, paying no attention to him. Tanner smiled, watching the bird like an infant who’d never seen one before. He’d been out on the water all day, and this was the first bird he’d seen. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a bird. Suddenly, the thrush froze, its head jerking to the east. Then it leapt into the air and flew away. Tanner heard the beast coming his way again a few seconds later.
Floodwater lapped against the tree trunk and the beast’s scent added another rank layer to the odor of the slick. The creature slowly passed beneath Tanner again and he held his breath. It took a six count for the entirety of the beast to pass by, and the stink it left in its wake was unbearable. Tanner’s meal of green bread fought to come up.
The sea scorpion stopped and floodwater washed over its back as its antenna flailed about, searching. The big heads figured the antennas provided the same function to the scorpion that they did for a lobster, and served as sensors that helped the beast navigate. The creature turned around, moved side to side, but appeared to give up and continue on. Then it abruptly breached from the water and headed for Tanner’s tree.
The sound of the whining outboard was music to Tanner’s ears. Coming up the road was Randy in Little Boy. He had it full open, and the Zodiac sliced across the still water, a ten-foot rooster tail shooting out behind it. With the boat in motion, Randy stood, sighted his rifle and fired twice. Then he sat and jerked the motor control arm toward him. The Zodiac made a tight turn and disappeared behind a house.
The sea scorpion took up chase.
When the beast was out of sight, Tanner climbed down and headed for a small cluster of willow trees three houses down. The willow’s leaf-covered branches hung to the surface of the water and he hid within. The sound of the outboard and the buzz of the creature were fading, but then Randy backtracked his way. Tanner heard the outboard getting louder and waves rolled in the floodwater.
When Randy rounded a corner up the street, Tanner leapt from his cover beneath the trees, yelled his friend’s name and waved, jumping up and down in the water like a drowning cat. Randy saw him and brought the Zodiac to a partial stop in front of him.
“Fancy meeting you here,” Randy said.
“How did you know where I was?” Tanner grabbed the boat and hoisted himself onto the gunnel.
“I saw you hiding in the tree and when the thing came for you, I figured it was time for a diversion. Hurry up, it’s on my tail.”
Behind the Zodiac, the creature’s tooth-filled mouth cut through the water and came at them. Tanner fell over the gunnel into the boat. Randy flicked the throttle switch to maximum and the inflatable jumped from the water. Tanner pressed his back into the bow, Glock held out before him and trained on the beast. It was chirping and wailing as it came, pushing the debris and vegetation in its path aside.
Randy spun the boat around and headed for Big Boy.
For no other reason than the anger growing in him like a fungus, Tanner fired at the scorpion, first aiming at the mouth, and then the eyes. Twelve shots rang out in the fading light, and none of them even slowed the beast. If anything, it seemed to come on faster, and only five hundred yards separated the creature from Little Boy. When his Glock was empty, Tanner holstered the weapon and wedged himself into the bow of the Zodiac again, trying to limit wind resistance. Big Boy waited in the distance. They were closing fast and would reach the patrol boat in seconds.
The sea scorpion roared, as if it understood what Randy and Tanner were trying to do, and it would have none of it. Water surged around the creature as its sixteen legs pushed and pulled at the floodwater, pushing the scorpion forward with amazing speed.
“It’s gaining,” Tanner said. “You got any more in that motor?”
Randy laughed and shook his head. “Told you to buy the fifty horse. What was it you said? Why would we ever need that much power, you said. Why should we spend the extra two thousand clams, you said. The boat’s not for our pleasure, you said.”
“Next time make sure I listen to you, will you?”
“I’ll do my best, but you’re not always the most receptive person,” Randy said.
They had twenty yards to go and Randy backed-down the throttle. Tanner took up position in the bow and prepared to jump off. Kim Jansen stood on the deck above, watching the scene unfold with horror etched on her face.
Tanner yelled up to her. “Get things ready to go. Fast!”
Jansen disappeared from deck as the Zodiac made its final sprint to Big Boy. Randy cut the motor, and the boat smacked against Big Boy’s dive platform as both men jumped out. Randy tied the boat off and headed for the bridge and Tanner headed for the bow and the newly installed machine gun. In the distance, the monster was on a line to attack them; its tail raised to strike, mouth open wide, and all its claws, big and small, chomping and biting at air in anticipation of grinding aluminum.
Tanner got in behind the Browning M1919 and pulled back the slide, loading a .50 caliber round into the chamber. Big Boy’s engines rumbled to life and Randy eased the boat forward, bringing it quickly up to speed.
The game of chicken was on, and the winner would live and the loser would die.
21
The machine gun shook Tanner’s body violently as it fired. Empty shells fell to the deck and rang like tiny bells and Tanner released a primal scream of fury. He concentrated fire on the creature’s forward flank and the beast dove beneath the water of Fireplace Neck’s inner marina. He kept firing; the shots hit the water and threw up sm
all columns of seawater.
Big Boy listed to port as the sea scorpion rammed the boat. Water surged over the gunnel and the deck flooded for a few seconds before draining. Tanner spun the machine gun to port, but the weapon wouldn’t allow an angle that sharp and Tanner was forced to abandon the Browning. He ran along the gunnel, pulled his Glock, and fired, but only got the dull click of an empty chamber. He hadn’t had time to load the weapon.
The beast passed them, but couldn’t find the outgoing canal. It pivoted when it reached the end of the marina and had nowhere else to go except back or up on land. Two antennas searched for a way out, but were unable to locate one. A mountain of water emerged in the center of the marina, off Big Boy’s starboard side, but the beast didn’t appear to be coming their way.
Tanner ran to the bridge and found Randy and Jansen waiting for him. The SAFE boat Randy had come in on was docked to the north. Tanner briefly considered fetching the vessel so he could draw the animal away from Big Boy, but then thought better of it. Jefferson was positioned at the creek mouth awaiting instructions. The water settled and the creature’s hum lessened as it swam wide circles around Big Boy.
“What the hell happened out there?” Randy asked. His eyes never left the mound of water that circled them like a shark waiting to strike.
“Thing almost got me,” Tanner said. “Saw me, or sensed me somehow.”
“Saw you?”
“Remember this thing is like a horseshoe crab. They have two sets of eyes, and several in their shells, and they can sense light in a spectrum beyond human abilities, so who the hell knows how the thing sensed Tanner, but it did,” Jansen said.
“Looks like its confused now,” Randy said.
“Yeah. Randy, call everyone in and we’ll finish this.”
The Breach Page 10