The silurids suddenly veered course and headed toward land.
“Where’re they going?” Devon yelled over the din of the engine.
Vernon followed the silurids with the binoculars and focused the lens on the cove up ahead. “They’re heading for Big Break.”
He scanned the shoreline and saw a houseboat down near the bend. Adjusting the magnification, he could just make out the three figures standing by the stern railing. “Ah, Jesus.”
Vernon quickly inserted a cartridge into the chamber of the anti-tank rifle.
He looked back at Devon and yelled, “GUN IT!”
***
Sean stood waist-deep in the murky water. He adjusted his diving mask and dove under the houseboat while Kate, Kelly, and Nell watched from the rear deck.
Baby Jonathan could be seen through the sliding glass door, snacking as usual in his highchair while Max sat patiently at his side.
After about thirty seconds, Sean surfaced.
“Well, how bad is it?” Kate asked.
“The prop is stuck in the mud, but I can’t tell if it’s bent,” Sean said, slipping off his mask.
“I guess we have no choice but to wait until the tide comes in,” Kate said.
“Yeah, if we try and start the engine, we’ll damage it for sure.”
Kate turned her head. “Wait a minute, I think I hear a boat. Maybe they can give us a tow out to deeper water.” She gazed up the shoreline, spotting the powerboat. “There it is!”
And then she saw the two monstrous shapes in the shallows.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
The two silurids swam into the four-foot deep shoal, their bodies no longer submerged, bellies skirting the rocky bottom. They quickly turned and rose up on their pectoral fins to face their pursuer.
Devon steered the powerboat directly at the gigantic fish. “Take your shot!”
Vernon targeted the already-wounded silurid and pulled the trigger. The big gun bucked making a loud boom. This time, the bullet struck the fish above the right eye, shearing off a plate of armor and gouging out a chunk of white flesh. Blood streamed out of the ragged hole. Even though it should have been a serious injury, the fish didn’t seem fazed.
Vernon started to reload when Devon suddenly cut the wheel. The other silurid was charging at them, skimming across the water. The massive fish struck the starboard side of the boat like a battering ram and flipped the craft over on its side. Vernon and Devon flew out of the boat, crashing down a few feet from the shore.
“Get out of the water,” Vernon yelled, wading hurriedly to shore. He spotted the M-1 Garand lying on the sand and picked it up.
Devon scrambled to the rocky bank. He flipped the strap around and aimed the M-16, firing off a quick burst at the closest silurid. The bullets were useless; it was like expecting BB pellets to punch through steel.
The injured silurid attacked the capsized boat like it was a live adversary while the other humongous fish steadily advanced on the men.
***
Kate heard gunfire off in the distance.
“What was that?” Nell asked.
“Hey, we’re not near a military firing range, are we?” Kelly asked.
“Everyone, get inside,” Kate said. “Quick.”
Sean climbed up the short ladder onto the deck and grabbed a towel.
Kate opened the sliding glass door, but before they could enter, Max bolted out of the kitchen and ran pass them. The dog dashed across the deck and vaulted over the railing into the water.
“Max! Come back here!” Kate yelled.
“What’s gotten into him?” Kelly asked.
“Where the heck’s he going?” Sean rushed over to the railing. He watched Max splash through the shallow water then run up onto the bank, disappearing around the rocks.
***
Devon heard a dog barking and looked down the shoreline. He couldn’t believe it.
“Max!” he shouted. “Get away!”
The golden retriever saw Devon and barked a greeting.
Devon glanced across the water in the direction Max had come from and spotted the houseboat less than a half a mile away down the shore.
Max stepped toward the tail of the silurid closest to the men. The dog yelped and jumped back, feeling electric current radiating off the fish. He ran up on the rocks and began barking, taunting the monstrous fish.
The fifty-foot silurid turned on its pectoral fins and glared down at the dog. It opened its mouth, and let out a guttural groan.
“Max, get out of there!”
The silurid thrust its tail and lunged for the dog.
Max spun around and bounded through the water in the direction of the houseboat.
The fish was incredibly fast, gliding over the shallow water.
Devon glanced back at Vernon.
Vernon waved him on. “Go! Save your family!”
Devon dashed after the silurid chasing Max.
***
Sean was looking through a pair of binoculars, watching the ordeal unfold further up the shore from atop the houseboat. “Mom, you’re not going to believe this. It’s…oh shit!”
Kate looked up from the aft deck. “Sean, haven’t I told you never—?”
“You don’t understand!” Sean shouted, still staring through the binoculars. “I can see Max and he’s running this way! And there’s this giant…holy shit! It’s chasing Max! They’re heading for the houseboat!”
Kate gazed up the shoreline. “My God, you’re right. You kids get back!” Kate ushered Nell and Kelly inside and partially closed the sliding glass door.
Inside the kitchen, baby Jonathan was sitting in his highchair, enjoying the show, enthralled by the images on the other side of the sliding glass door like watching an exciting TV episode on a big screen.
Max was galloping through the shallow water and being chased by a scary fish the size of a school bus.
Baby Jonathan laughed and squealed, “Feeech…feech.” He clapped his tiny hands, associating what he believed to be Max’s newfound playmate.
Max clawed his way up onto the transom, scampered across the deck. He used his nose to nudge open the sliding glass door enough for him to squeeze through.
Soaking wet, he immediately shook, spraying the baby.
Then Max turned in a protective stance and stood in front of the highchair.
The silurid leapt out of the water, sailing straight for the sliding glass door.
“Max, run!” Kate shouted, snatching baby Jonathan out of his highchair. She tucked him under her arm like a running back would a football and dashed back through the houseboat.
The silurid plowed headfirst into the kitchen like a wrecking ball.
The dining room set and surrounding furniture were crushed under the enormous weight. The houseboat keeled to one side from the impact.
Sean was lifted off his feet and sent rolling across the gravel and tar roof.
He managed to cling onto the air-conditioner housing or else he would have fallen overboard.
He scampered across the rooftop and looked over the edge.
Below, the giant fish was squirming to free itself, shaking the entire houseboat like a fierce bull trying to dislodge its head out of a fence.
Sean couldn’t believe his eyes. This was just like the fish that had chased him and Nell on Grizzly Island—only twice as big!
Even with its head and shoulders shoved inside the houseboat, there was still more than forty feet of body and tail protruding out over the transom onto the water.
The houseboat rocked under his feet like shifting seismic plates. It was like trying to keep his balance at the epicenter during a reeling earthquake.
The fish was gradually backing its way out of the houseboat. It was only a matter of time before it would break free and attack again.
Sean heard someone shout his name.
He looked beyond the fish’s thrashing tail and saw Devon running along the shore toward the houseboat.
Befo
re the boy could reply back, he heard a truck roaring down the frontage road.
As it approached, Sean realized it was the Suburban with Jess behind the wheel.
Sean was about to raise his arm to wave when Jess suddenly veered the truck off the road and went airborne over the embankment.
The Suburban smashed into the silurid’s shoulder blades, driving the front grill and most of the hood deep into the creature’s armored flesh.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Sean climbed down from the roof and ran forward. Devon jumped up on the deck.
“I smell gas,” Sean said, grabbing the handle but the door wouldn’t budge. The hood and fenders had buckled rearward, crushing the door panels, and wedging the doors in tight so that it was impossible to get them open.
Devon was on the other side of the vehicle. He could see Jess pressed back against the seat and appeared to be unconscious.
Luckily, she had been saved by the airbag. The inflated canvas was already slowly losing shape.
“Jess, can you hear me?”
“We have to get her out of there,” Sean said.
Devon knelt and stole a peek under the truck.
Gas was leaking from the tank. A small trail of petroleum was running down a crease in the silurid’s armor and forming a puddle under the hot engine block, ticking like a time bomb about to go off.
The creature’s enormous bulk shifted.
“It’s still alive.” Devon stood. He made a fist with his left hand and held it with his right for power and drove his left elbow like a piston into the glass of the driver’s door. The safety glass crumbled into the interior of the SUV.
Devon reached in and pushed the deflated airbag against the steering wheel.
He fumbled around and found the release to Jess’s seatbelt buckle. Jess was beginning to come around.
“Sean! Make sure everyone gets off the houseboat.”
“Sure you don’t need me to help?”
“Go before it blows.”
Sean jumped down and ran along the side of the houseboat.
Devon grabbed Jess under the arms and hoisted her out through the smashed out window frame.
Flames shot up from under the truck.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Vernon could hear the water crackling as the silurid shoved against the damaged powerboat. The monster fish was only twenty feet away. He raised the M-1 Garand, aimed for the head, and shot three times. One of the bullets struck it in the left eye. A white, milky goop spurted out. The silurid shook its head as if doing so would ease the pain.
He was about to take another shot when he noticed the five-gallon gas cans strapped to the boat. He thought if he could puncture one of the cans, the boat would explode and blow the fish to pieces.
Vernon targeted one of the cans and fired. When the bullet punched a hole in the container, Vernon ducked expecting the boat to blow up. Gas leaked out and flowed in the water, creating an oily film on the surface.
He tried firing four more times, each shot hitting a different gas can, but still the result was the same; just more gas funneling out.
He glanced around the water. There were some dead fish floating on the surface, a couple life vests, an orange case…
Vernon rushed over and snatched up the marine distress kit. He opened it up. Inside was a flare gun, along with four aerial signal flares.
The silurid charged.
Vernon stuffed a flare into the gun, fired at the gas cans, and dove behind a large rock.
A wave of heat rolled over him with a loud concussion; fiery flames rose fifty feet into the air. Burning chunks rained down. Fragmented boat pieces and bloody fish gore splattered the water and shore.
***
As Devon struggled to help Jess down to the deck, he heard the distant explosion and saw the cloud of smoke up the shoreline.
They jumped into the shallow water and scrambled ashore to the embankment.
Kate was standing on the frontage road with baby Jonathan in her arms. Sean had gathered up Kelly and Nell. They watched anxiously as Devon and Jess made their way up.
A scorching hot blast seared the air.
Everyone ducked when the gas tank on the Suburban blew up in a fiery plume of smoke, igniting the silurid in a roaring ball of flames. The fire swept through the houseboat and ignited both the fuel tank and the propane canisters.
The houseboat erupted in a hail of zinging shards like a grand fireworks show.
Everyone stayed flat on the ground until the last piece finally settled to earth, before getting up.
“How am I going to explain the houseboat?” Kate asked, passing baby Jonathan over to Jess.
“You could always say you had an accident in the kitchen,” Jess said.
“Yeah, say we were having a big fish fry,” Sean said, and everyone broke out laughing.
Jess turned and gazed down the frontage road.
A lone figure was walking toward them.
Jess raised her arm and waved.
Vernon waved back.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
San Francisco Bay—A Few Days Later
“I can’t believe I let you bring me out here again,” Cindy said, shivering on the tailgate of Peter’s truck.
“What, don’t tell me you’d rather be sitting in some stuffy theater watching a crappy movie?” Peter said, his attention on his surf pole staked twenty feet away on the rocky shore.
“Duh yeah,” Cindy replied. “Some guys actually take their girlfriends out on a proper date.”
“Well, I’m not like some guys, now am I?”
“You’re telling me.”
The wind had picked up forming white caps on the bay.
A faint clang sounded in the night.
Peter was scooting off the tailgate when Cindy grabbed his arm.
“It’s a buoy, silly.”
“Oh, yeah, you’re right,” Peter said, realizing that the sound was coming from somewhere out on the bay and not the bell attached to the tip of his fishing pole.
“I wish you’d get as excited about me as you do with your fishing,” Cindy said.
“What…?” Peter said.
“I said—”
“No, what’s that?”
“What’s what?”
“That,” Peter said and pointed. “Out there, in the water.”
“I don’t know,” Cindy said, squinting.
“Look, there’s more.” Peter grabbed the flashlight out of his tackle box and jumped down off the tailgate. “Come on, let’s get a closer look.”
Cindy slid off the tailgate.
They held hands and carefully stepped across the rocks, following the beam of the flashlight. Small waves lapped onto the rocks.
Peter and Cindy climbed up on a large boulder and stared down. Peter shined the light on the water.
“Holy shit!” Peter shouted. Cindy clenched his arm.
“Why is the water all red? Is that blood?” she asked.
“Nah, it’s a red tide. Some kind of plankton.”
“So what are those things floating on the water?” Cindy gasped.
“Jellyfish.”
***
Galapagos Islands—San Cristobal Island—Six Months Later
Steve McKay strolled along the sand to the base of the boulders then scaled the rocks up to a ledge that overlooked the ocean.
A sea turtle was on the beach, laying her eggs in an indentation in the sand.
She scooped sand over her eggs with her back flippers, burying them for protection against predators.
The name NINA was painted on her shell along with a series of numbers. A black GPS transmitter was affixed to her shell.
Slowly but determined, she pulled her way through the sand.
Gorge was waiting for her at the water’s edge.
Together, they emerged into the curling surf.
Steve watched the twosome paddling out into the waves.
He gazed at the horizon long after the sea turtles ha
d submerged, marveling at the spectacular splendor of the setting sun sinking into the sea like a fiery ingot.
END
Read on for a free sample of Agrushell: A Deep Sea Thriller
Chapter 1 — Dawn
The merchant ship Evectoria, chartered by Flomax PLC, a civil oil company, dropped its undersea seismic charges in grid reference 33445-55. This returned geological data of anti-syncline of a magnitude with a high chance of oil. The owners of the company were very pleased. The seabed where the seismic charges fell was made into a wilderness.
Neither the stillness of the sea, nor the mirror of its silver surface could hide the Atlantic Ocean’s immensity, nor conceal the knowledge of abundant life within its infinite and unseen depths.
The edges of retreating storm clouds glowed with honey and intricately bright straw yellows with the new day’s light. The dawn reflected across the ocean to point at silhouetted box shapes, a towering derrick, and the dark metal shapes of cranes.
The North Sea oil platform Danson, field3 was an alien construction of man in a world of ocean, crisscrossed metalwork that stood impervious to the battering white-tipped waves from which it sprang, on vast grey-painted steel columns.
The changing wonder of the dawn, however, escaped ‘Mud Engineer’ Steve Staples completely; he observed the growing light with a hangover-aggrieved squint.
He was leaning over the helipad railings and shivering. His black half-length coat and jeans were failing to keep out the dawn’s early chill. Long brown hair fell away from his face as he drank coffee from a polystyrene cup. Then, as he hung his head over the rails again, his hair fell to cover his red-rimmed eyes.
A tight knot of worry was clenched in his belly as he worked his thoughts around the events of last night, causing anxiety to creep like sickness up his throat.
He rubbed his eyes and cursed his aching head and roiling stomach, which had turned to bile at the taste of last night’s copiously, consumed lager.
He spat weakly over the side of the oil rig’s helipad railings and raised the cup of black bitter coffee that ‘Gerald the cook’ had pushed into his hands, probably just to escape his stale beer breath.
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