“Convenient?” asked Joe.
Captain Leven looked at Joe as if a stench was rolling off him. “Sea creatures have to eat, too.”
Joe leaned against the wall and stared at nothing again, “Well, that’s disappointing.”
The terminal beeped as it came back on, making Clara jump. “And speaking of disappointments other than Disney lying to us, it looks like I totally forgot to jot down the coordinates to my claim-to-fame before we drifted off.”
“That’s not funny, Clara,” said Hal. “But are you saying that we’re lost again?”
“Sorry, and yes,” said Clara. “Sadly, we are no longer at Brighton’s Kraken.”
“What about the Great Whites?” asked Catherine.
“For the love of God, Catherine,” said Hal. “Two people are dead.”
Catherine folded her arms over her chest. “I know. And I don’t feel like coming back out here on another expedition if I don’t have to. Do you?”
“I have them on radar,” interrupted Clara. “They’re, uh, right next to us.”
Catherine was the first out the door, pushing past Captain Leven, who barely acknowledged her. Clara and Joe fought to be next as Hal managed to get to his feet.
Captain Leven stopped him. Hal was captivated by the look in the old man’s eyes and his trembling bottom lip. “I know what you saw,” said the captain and let Hal by.
Hal finally broke eye contact when Clara screamed. The water was painted red. The tattered carcasses of four Great White Sharks bobbed in the waves. Some were torn into segments, others were barely recognizable as sharks. All looked as if they had been chewed upon by something vastly more imposing than themselves.
“What could do that to a shark?” said Joe meekly.
“A shark? Try four sharks,” said Clara. “I think there’s four,” she continued with a nauseous burp.
“Land!” yelled Edvin from the bow. He ran back to the researchers with a beaming smile. “There is an island not too far from here.”
“Oh thank God,” said Joe.
Clara hopped up and down, clapping her hands.
Captain Leven stared at the island and removed his stocking cap, holding it to his chest.
“Edvin,” said Hal. “Do you think everyone can fit in the life boat for one trip?”
Clara and Joe led the way to the bow to see the island with Edvin and Hal following close behind. The trip could be dangerous, thought Hal, but at least they wouldn’t be out in the open water to be eaten by sea monsters.
A tremendous thud against the hull rocked the Cape Hadel, tipping it sideways. Everyone held on the guardrail or one another.
With everyone fixated on the island, Captain Leven caught a fistful of Catherine’s hair and threw her into the cabin by her scalp. He slammed the door behind him and locked it.
It was her screams that caught Hal’s attention. He tried the latch but it wouldn’t budge. “Catherine!” he yelled and pounded on the door with his fist. She screamed again and it sounded like something crashed to the floor. Despite the searing pain, Hal braced himself and kicked the door open.
Captain Leven had Catherine pinned down, and a filet knife held to her throat. Blood trickled from her nose and there was a gash below her eye. “Stand back, Mr. Banks!” ordered the captain. “She must pay for what she’s done to us!”
Hal held up his arms. “Easy now. How would killing anyone make things better?”
Captain Leven let out a desperate laugh. “You know nothing of the sea, boy. She’s no more a woman than that is an island out there!”
“Hal, please,” sobbed Catherine.
Others were standing in the doorway behind Hal, who kept them at bay. “Captain, let’s think this through.”
“Aye,” said the captain. “Let’s do. Was it not her pretty words of fame and fortune that convinced us all to board this vessel? Was it not her pretty words that convinced us beyond our good judgement to venture too close to that storm? And even now she is trying to lure us into continuing onward to our deaths. I had my suspicions after losing my hearing aid during the storm and could no longer hear her song, but the Merfolk made me a believer. She’s a Siren, and you are all under her spell.”
“Hal,” said Catherine, her voice shaking.
“A Siren?” said Hal, trying not to upset the captain. “Like singing bird-women who sit on rocky coasts, drawing sailors to their death?”
“Aye,” said the captain.
“Listen. Once we get our bearings and find out what did that to those sharks we’ll all just go our merry ways. But we need to get to the island,” said Hal, inching closer to him.
“Do not think of me as a fool, Mr. Banks. You’ve seen the Merfolk. Now separate truth from legend,” said Captain Leven. Spittle hung from his lip. “She must die!”
The vessel swayed and bobbed, then shook to a halt as if they had landed on a sandbar in the open ocean. Everyone stood still, holding their breath.
“Must have drifted closer to the island,” said Clara.
The ocean bubbled and splashed around the boat. An enormous tentacle shot out of the deep and wrapped around Edvin, yanking him into the air. The crewman kicked and screamed until the life was squeezed out of him and he was plunged beneath the waves.
Another tentacle crashed through the hull and guardrail, snatching Clara from Joe’s arms. “Clara!” he yelled, but she was gone.
Hal turned back to Catherine. She was smiling up at Captain Leven, who still held the knife to her throat. “Too little, too late, old man,” she said and inhumanly screeched like a bird of prey. Hal slapped his hands over his ears.
Captain Leven pushed down, turned her screeching into gurgles as he cut through her esophagus with a single, powerful slice.
The hull groaned and splintered under their feet, spraying ocean water and fiberglass up into the cabin. A tentacle ripped up and thrashed around the room, smashing Captain Leven against the ceiling. Catherine’s body sank from sight into the frothing water.
Hal staggered backward out the door. The cabin windows exploded as the tentacle slapped against the inside wall, sending Joe overboard in a rain of glass. The bow of the Cape Hadel submerged, pulled down by the massive tentacles wrapped around it. The island rose up from the depths.
The eyes of the Kraken crested the waves. Hal stood petrified, an insignificant man in the presence of a god. The freezing waters of the Atlantic flooded in around him as the Cape Hadel was claimed by the terrible deep.
SEASTRUCK
John Everson
Be careful what you look for…it might find you first.
The hair rose on the back of his neck, and Andy suddenly had that creepy feeling that he was being watched. He did a slow 360-degree turn, staring down the empty, rock-strewn beach, and up the winding path of dozens of crooked stone steps that had led him down from the tiny French village to here. There was nobody around…and no place for anyone to be hiding. The sea moved and moaned ahead of him as a gull screeched somewhere just off shore, long and plaintive. Then again. The bird sounded anxious, but there was no reply. Although the sun still hung strong at the edge of the horizon, the place was grey, foreboding and lonely.
It was a familiar feeling for Andy. He’d been feeling that way since the night he left Cassie lying lifeless beneath the waves near an empty beach in California.
But that was years ago, and he was far from there. And that hadn’t been his fault! He told himself that same thing every time he thought of her, but it didn’t make a difference.
He felt as if he stood at the edge of the world. There was something different about this place; he had walked the beaches north of San Francisco a thousand times, and while it had always felt isolated…he’d never felt this remote.
But he had flown halfway around the world to be here because…well…this was where the map had led him.
He pulled the photocopy of the ancient parchment out of his pants pocket and unfolded it. The edges were so creased the thing was in
danger of falling into four separate pieces. Evidence of his attention; he’d stared at it a lot. In his apartment. On the plane across the ocean. In the cab on the way to his hotel.
The map had been very specific. It plotted coordinates using old school sailor methods that, with a little work, Andy had been able to match up with Google maps. The Internet was a wonderful thing. And the old rum-runner captain who’d stuffed that map into a bottle and kept it corked and stowed in his cabin trunk had probably seen a very similar scene when he’d been on this beach a hundred years ago to what Andy was seeing now. The tiny village at the top of the stone steps most likely had fewer people living in it now than then. When he had passed through it to find the steps to the sea, he had barely seen a soul… most of the buildings seem to have fallen into disrepair.
Andy walked down the beach and traversed the arc of a long rocky finger that jutted out into the ocean. While, in the scheme of things, this was a small inlet, it still took him 10 minutes to reach the tip of the finger once he’d rounded the corner.
When he did, Andy stopped, and stared out at the ocean. The waves were moving slow, and steady. According to the old map, the reason he was here was just beneath his feet. But the white crash of saltwater on the rocks three feet away didn’t lend confidence to that. It felt as if this bank was a solid wall of stone and sand leading steadily down to the ocean floor.
Andy set down his backpack, kicked off his sandals and stripped off his shirt.
He wasn’t going to wait another minute to find out if the map he had studied—literally for years now—was true.
This was the moment of truth.
As he set his shirt, sandals, and pack in a pile, Andy again had the feeling that he was being watched. But when he looked up the hill towards the dying village...he saw nothing but browning grass…and old rocks.
Andy turned and dove into the ocean.
The water was cold…enervating…and quickly dark.
Andy swam down into the surf, struggling to keep from being slammed against the wall or pulled out to sea. The old pirate’s map had basically said the thing he was looking for… was here. At the apex of the apex.
He slipped through the waves and a pang of uncertainty overtook him. More than uncertainty…pure, depressive panic.
He had been fingering and dreaming of the treasure at the end of this rainbow for years. All based simply on just a map that he’d found in an old wreck at the bottom of the ocean. A jot from a rum-runner stuffed in a bottle. Who was to say that it hadn’t been false from the start? And if not…who was to say anything was left of the treasure stowed at the red X a hundred years ago?
A hard slosh of waves pushed him forward, and then sucked him back from the edge of the rocks…
And then Andy saw it.
The dark hole in the rock that said…there was no rock there. It was too black.
He struggled to keep his aim and kicked to move forward. His head slipped through the gap, and he grinned.
The map had not lied. There was a buried passage here, a cave-like opening, meters beneath the waves. Andy kicked to push through. He had a flashlight clipped to his belt for just this reason. The undertow threatened to drag him back, but he pushed forward, grabbing at the slick rocky edge of the wall with his hands. His fingers scraped and slipped.
And then, Andy got a push from the current as the water slid back. It allowed him just a small grip on the rocky edge, but it was enough. He pulled himself through.
The world grew strangely silent. Not that he could hear in the water before he’d entered the divide but…still…things seemed to get even quieter. The rush of the waves behind him was gone…he was hanging in a wall of dark water. It was like floating in limbo; he wasn’t moving forward or back. He swept his hands out and pushed ahead.
Andy’s head moved past the lip of the entry, and just beyond, he saw the slope of the ground moving up and away. He already felt his breath getting thin and he kicked to launch himself towards what he hoped was an internal opening where there would be a pocket of air above the waterline…otherwise, he had to double back quickly.
Something brushed against his back…something soft and cool. Andy shivered. Probably a fish…or seaweed. His head broke the top of the water, and he inhaled sharply, gasping for air. His eyes couldn’t see anything at first, but he could breathe. The air smelled fishy and stale…but there was air. The cavern vented to somewhere.
But he couldn’t see any light indicating where.
Andy swam until his knees cracked the silt. And then, he stopped swimming and climbed up on the sloping shore. When he crawled up into the darkness, he took a breath, and closed his eyes. Something brushed against his back again, and Andy jumped. He looked around sharply…but his eyes couldn’t make out anything in the blackness. He reached down and felt for the flashlight he’d stashed in his belt on a loop. Found it and flicked it on.
As the room flashed painfully into view, a white explosion on his pupils, he could have sworn he saw a gray form slip off to his right.
Andy flashed the light back and forth, exposing a deep cavern of hanging stuff (seaweed?) and distant walls. He didn’t see anything that might have brushed against him.
Again, at the edge of the cavern…something almost grey…not quite white…something like a flash.
It was gone.
In its wake, Andy spied the wood of ancient chests. Seven of them, lodged against the back rock wall of the deep underground cave.
This was the place. He had really found the end of the rainbow. The X on a pirate’s treasure map. How unlikely—and amazing—was that?
Andy crawled over to one—the ceiling was too low to stand—and after setting the flashlight on the ground, put both hands on the edges of the wooden trunk.
Ever since he had found the map while diving off the shore near Gull’s Point in the wreck of an old rumrunner, Andy had wondered if its description was real…or if it remained still undiscovered.
And now…
He knew the map was true. There were chests from ages ago, still sitting here, in a hidden cave near a tiny shoreline town. But what did the chests actually contain?
He pushed against the lid to try to find out.
The wood creaked, and he strained to break the seal of decades of salt and warping and decay. Andy swore as his hands slipped up the side of the wood, and a sharp pain jabbed his palm. Splinter. He held his hand in the middle of the light and could see the dark spot in the skin of his hand. He grimaced as he pried it out with two fingernails.
“Damn it,” he murmured again. The hand stung.
The light of the flash lying on the ground next to the chest was faint, but he could see the lid clear enough to know that it hadn’t budged. Andy picked up a rock lying nearby and took aim. He slammed the rock against the corner of the chest. His shoulder stung with the impact; the chest was solid. He put his hands on the corners and shoved upward again, and this time, there was a sharp squeal as the lid lifted; the rock had loosened the seal.
Andy grinned as the heavy top rose. But as his eyes rose with the old wood, he saw that there were two legs on the other side of the chest. And attached to those was the pale V of a female crotch, the fish-white pucker of a bellybutton, and, above that, a pair of small but clearly feminine breasts, tipped by dark, coin-sized nipples. And above that…a face that made Andy gasp.
She was beautiful.
Her eyes were a piercing sea-green; her mouth small, lips a cupid’s bow of bees-stung pink. Her nose rose thin and proud; her cheekbones high. Ringlets of glossy black hair swooped across her cheeks and down her shoulders.
Andy fell back from the chest to land on his butt. His heart was pounding a hundred beats a minute from shock at seeing her…and from excitement at seeing her.
But who was she?
Before he could ask, she cocked her head, opened her mouth and let out a high ululating scream. Andy put his hands to his ears as the sound pierced his head; there was a pain in the back of
his eyes, but then it faded, and instead of pain, he suddenly yearned for the sound. It wasn’t a scream at all, he realized. It was a song. A high-pitched trembling note of sadness that began to change as she moved. His hands dropped from his ears, and he stared at the beautiful naked woman in front of him. She stepped around the chest to stand over him, as he still sat clumsily on the damp stone. Her mouth remained open now in a perfect O, as she sang in a weird operatic soprano. The notes shivered and shifted, sounding both exotic and ancient, moving down a scale as their effect moved down his spine. He could feel his body relaxing, his groin warming. She pushed against his chest with two hands and somehow suddenly she was straddling him, her mouth inches from his own as she ran gentle fingers across his cheeks and neck. Her nails were long and dangerous. Her eyes looked into his, and he felt pinned, a butterfly on a board.
She sang a strange, entrancing melody that had no words.
He could do nothing but listen.
Andy looked into her eyes and saw the flecks of brown and amber that shifted as her pupils grew wider. He was drawn into her gaze, and as she sang, he saw nothing but green… her eyes were inches from his; somehow, she had laid him down and he couldn’t remember his head touching the stone, but he didn’t really care. Her lips were centimeters from his own, and her breath blew across his mouth as she still sang to him, a sensual, ululating melody that played him like a harp; each note touched a nerve of pleasure; his body moved of its own accord now, he had no will, his waist shifting with her song. He thought he saw her lips curl upwards in a smile, but that couldn’t have been right because her mouth was open, and her song did not stop, she never took a breath, she just kept singing, and her eyes kept staring and…
Andy was naked and engulfed by a strange naked woman in a foreign cavern and that thought came and went as quickly as his own orgasm; he wanted to ask her for her name but then everything was black.
* * *
The sky here was full of stars. So many stars you could drown in their light. Endless constellations of faint and brilliant light. A myriad milky way of endless eloquent glamour, glimmer, grandeur…
Fearful Fathoms: Collected Tales of Aquatic Terror (Vol. I - Seas & Oceans) Page 26