Shadow Of The Abyss

by Edward J. McFadden III

  “Off South Beach Park. Oh, only a search grid of a hundred square miles,” Lenah said.

  “What’s the range on your fancy sonar and radar?” Splinter said.

  “Less than that, but we’ll cover it. Start close to shore and work our way out. From the inlet all the way south to Surfside,” Lenah said.

  “We can drift most of it? Otherwise, we’ll need gas,” Splinter said.

  Lenah nodded. Yet another complication of their exile. “I’ll gas up over at Lenny’s at night. Bring a bone for Buster.”

  Plans laid, and business settled, Splinter got up and brushed himself off. He and Lenah needed to anchor-up and cook some fish and get to sleep. “Thanks for everything, Will. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  Will put his hand on Splinter’s shoulder. “Don’t be seen on shore unless you’re going to the coasties, my friend. There’s some nasty shit going around about you, and people saw the news. The cops really want to talk to you, and you should consider going in. You’ve broken no laws, and you’re being painted as a criminal.”

  “A criminal?” Splinter said. Homeless dirtbag. Yeah. Inconsiderate asshole to those he cared about most. Yeah. But a criminal?

  “They don’t say that,” Will said. “But it’s clear they weren’t surprised you were out on a boat with a known mobster.”

  “Sal. A pox on that asshole.” Splinter bit his lip. If he ever saw the Pacino wannabe again he didn’t know if he’d be able to keep the fog away. “Lenah, can you give Will and I a few minutes? I need to fill Will in.”

  “Sure thing,” she said. “Oh, can you watch Splinter’s menagerie? Having them out at sea is difficult.”

  Daggers shot from Splinter’s eyes.

  “No problem,” Will said.

  “Thanks.”

  When she was gone, Splinter said, “You ready to listen?”

  Will nodded.

  11

  At dusk on the third day of scouring the Atlantic off South Beach Park, the creature showed itself.

  The sun had set, leaving a rainbow sherbet sky, and the inky sea pitched and heaved against the boat. Two eight-foot whaling harpoons leaned against the gunnel, and each had a lead line running from it connected to a sealed plastic twenty-gallon drum. Splinter had his sixty-inch and pistol spearguns at the ready, and Lenah had her rifle. They were prepared, or at least they thought they were.

  Poseidon had refused to leave the Evenstar with the other animals and hid below deck in the cabin. Splinter was happy for it, but the cat pissed Lenah off. She didn’t like when her orders were disobeyed.

  A wake approached the Parker through the dusk, like a sub rising from the depths, rolling white water carving the ocean like a boat propeller. Lenah tried to take pictures, but in the poor light the animal blended into the surge of whitewater.

  Then the beast was gone, leaving only a swirling vortex that reminded Splinter of the whirlpools made by whales as they feed. Lenah went to the SONAR and whistled. “See that there,” she said as she pointed at the screen. “That purple blob? It’s right under us.”

  “How much water we got?” Splinter asked.

  “We’re at forty-two feet. The thing is running along the bottom.”

  “Let’s drop some chum and see if we can get it to come up.”

  Lenah turned up the gain and volume on the SONAR and followed Splinter from the pilothouse. She ladled some of her secret sauce into the water while Splinter hefted a harpoon and checked its lead line.

  “You sure about going after it with that? Might piss the thing off,” Lenah said.

  “Let it come,” Splinter said. He was wedged into the crux of the bow, legs braced against the gunnel, staring out at the ocean with harpoon at the ready.

  Waves lapped against the hull, wind gusted and pulled, and the salty air tickled Splinter’s nose. He stood in the bow for several minutes, the rank stench of the chum slick spreading out around the boat. “If that shit don’t bring it I don’t know what will.”

  The boat rocked hard and Lenah fell, slamming into the pilothouse. Splinter stayed on his feet, but dropped the harpoon, and it slid across the deck away from him. “We taking on water?” Splinter asked.

  Lenah got to her knees and pulled up the access hatch, revealing the bilge. A thin river of water sloshed around, but it wasn’t enough to kick on the bilge pump. Lenah closed the hatch, and said, “Look’s good so far. You think it nudged us?”

  “I think it rammed us,” Splinter said.

  The two companions searched the ocean with spotlights, but saw nothing.

  The radio crackled, then a man’s voice, but Splinter couldn’t hear what it said. “You hear that?”

  “Yeah. Thunderstorm’s rolling in from the south. Won’t be here for an hour or so,” she said.

  It was full dark, and the sea looked like oil in the moonlight. Off the port bow, water splashed as something large broke the surface. Splinter panned his light in that direction.

  A fist of whitewater with a long narrow mouth full of teeth sticking from it torpedoed toward the boat. A low humming sound like deformed whale song rose to a buzz, and the scent of rot and decay filled the air. The creature was white, its gray eyes the size of baseballs. Jaws snapped closed as the whitewater dispersed and the beast slammed into the Parker.

  The boat rocked backward, the transom momentarily submerged. Fiberglass cracked and Lenah squealed. “Splinter, we have to do something, or this thing is gonna take us down.” Water spat from the bilge pump exit, hitting the water like a giant peeing.

  “Get to the helm. Start the motors and come about.”

  Lenah started for the pilothouse, but stopped. “Why?”

  “Bring us lateral so I can prick this bastard.”

  The deck drained, and Splinter sloshed through the seawater and retrieved his harpoon, checked its lead line to ensure it wasn’t tangled, and propped the spear on his shoulder.

  “There!” Lenah said.

  The creature’s caudal fin snaked through the water, the top of the leviathan’s head skimming the surface like a gator. It was moving fast, side flippers pushing the water aside like it weighed nothing, its sleek body cutting through the Atlantic like a dolphin.

  Splinter lifted the harpoon from his shoulder and drew it back. Lenah shined her light on the beast as it charged. It was twenty feet away. Ten.

  “Splinter!”

  Splinter was gone, frozen in the fog, fear and anger taking control, his mind spinning to that irrational place where nothing mattered. He stood still as stone, Lenah screaming at him, the wind tearing at his shirt, spear poised and ready to throw.

  The beast hit the Parker, but it was a glancing blow and there was no sound of fiberglass cracking. Lenah brought her rifle to her shoulder and fired at the knot of water that was dissipating off the port side as the creature dove.

  Lenah went back into the pilothouse and scanned the SONAR. A large purple oval ran along the bottom and started to rise. Poseidon peeked her head into the pilothouse.

  Lenah cranked the motors and dropped the boat in gear. “Scat,” she yelled at the cat, and Poseidon disappeared.

  Splinter still hadn’t moved. He watched the scene play out as if encased in ice, heart pounding in his chest, the burn of worry stinging his stomach.

  “Splinter!”

  The beast surfaced and came on fast, flippers pounding the water, its long crocodilian mouth opening as it prepared to take a bite of the Evenstar.

  Lenah put the Parker on auto, ran from the pilothouse and got in Splinter’s face, yelling and punching him on the arm, but he refused to hear her. Splinter was in Kabul, gun smoke filling his nostrils, screams of pain and death paralyzing him.

  Lenah grabbed the harpoon and pulled Splinter toward her. “Listen up, soldier. What’s wrong with you, wimp? You a fighter or a little baby?”

  Splinter heard soldier, wimp, baby, but said nothing. There was a break in the fog and he saw himself there, staring through a gap in his reality.<
br />
  “You gutless piece of shit. Coward. You’re a cow…”

  Splinter’s hand shot out and he grabbed Lenah’s neck. Her hands came up, clawing at his fingers. “Sp..l…int..er.” Anger rose in him. Frustration. Hatred. Then the comfortable embrace of fear. “Just tr…ng to shake y..o o...”

  Lenah kicked Splinter in the balls and he released her as he doubled-over and hit the deck, whimpering like Nereus.

  The creature was back. It was alongside the Parker, its tail thrumming the side of the boat and causing vibration.

  Lenah knelt, and tried to help Splinter as he got to his feet.

  “Lenah, I—”

  The creature breached, its head and torso spearing from the water in a geyser of whitewater. Its massive body fell backward into the sea, just missing the boat. A surge of seawater rocked the Evenstar and the harpoons and spear guns slid across the deck.

  Another blast of static streaked from the radio, and this time Splinter heard it perfectly. He was back. For now.

  “Lenah, I’m so sorry. I don’t know—”

  “Not now Splinter,” she headed for the pilothouse. “We need to get the hell out of here before this thing sinks us.”

  Back at the helm she dropped the hammer and spun the wheel, pointing the bow toward shore.

  “It’s on us,” Splinter said. Just beyond their rooster tail the beast’s head glided within the whitewater. The Parker bowled over the building swell, and the shoreline appeared and disappeared with the roll of the ocean.

  Splinter retrieved his sixty-inch and sighted the beast’s head. The rubber band twanged as the spear shot from its holding channel and whistled through the air. Splinter didn’t hear the thump of an impact, and the beast didn’t let up. The Parker was doing thirty knots and the monster was keeping pace.

  The creature was out of harpoon range, so Splinter went to the pilothouse. “Lenah, what if you go full stop and I try and put a barrel on the bitch as it comes at us?”

  “You nuts? That thing hits us again and we might go down. The bilge has been running full tilt. We’re taking on water. Not critical at this point, but we’re two miles out and if we end up in the water…”

  Splinter rubbed his eyes and rolled his shoulders. “I only need a second. As soon as I loose the spear you can gun it. The thing won’t have enough time to reach us.”

  Lenah looked back over her shoulder at the mound of water trailing after them, then back at Splinter. “If you think you can do it, I’ll try. To be safe I’ll turn sharply to port as soon as I gun the engines.”

  “10-4. Wait for my signal,” he said.

  Back on deck, Splinter positioned himself against the transom, harpoon at the ready. He breathed deep. In, out.

  He pressed against the gunnel and raised his hand. The boat eased to an awkward stop, their wake almost bubbling over the transom. Splinter threw the harpoon, aiming for the beast’s head. Line snaked off the boat and the keg leapt over the gunnel and smacked on the surface, but didn’t move. The barrel sat there like a bobber floating on a windblown pond.

  Lenah gunned the engines and the Parker arced to port.

  Splinter almost fell. “The hell with this,” he said. All thought of getting a picture, proof for the coasties, fled from his mind. He wanted to kill.

  Splinter slid open the pilothouse door and got two of the depth charges he’d made. They were comprised of gunpowder and round shot sealed in coffee cans. The short fuse was wax coated twine, and when lit he’d have seconds to seal the devices and drop them in the water. He had to wait until the fish was close to the surface, otherwise the explosion and underwater soundwave would have little effect.

  The beast came at them, its huge torpedo-shaped body bearing down on the Evenstar.

  Splinter ran back out on deck and then realized he had no way to light the devices. “Lenah, there a lighter on board?”

  “The drawer on the command consol. I keep one there for cigar smokers. Always gets me an extra tip.”

  Splinter headed back into the pilothouse to retrieve the lighter. The deck was slippery with mist, and the boat rolled as the monster brushed past on the port side. Splinter slid across the deck but managed to keep his footing.

  The beast circled the boat, then turned, coming in on the port side for another attack run. Lighter in hand, Splinter opened the charges and braced himself against the gunnel. He flicked the lighter and it sparked, then blew out. The wind wasn’t strong, but it was enough to make lighting the fuses difficult.

  The leviathan rose from the sea twenty yards out.

  There was no way he’d be able to light and drop both charges, so he put one on deck and held the other in a trembling hand. He tilted the charge away from the wind and dipped the lighter inside, holding it against the wick.

  The creature was ten yards away.

  He flicked the lighter and it sparked. The charge didn’t light.

  The beast was on them.

  He thumbed the lighter again and the fuse sparked and lit. Splinter sealed the can, threw the charge in the water, and dove behind the gunnel.

  A deafening explosion blew a surge of water at the Parker.

  Splinter got up. The beast was gone, but there was no blood in the water. There was no sign of the creature at all.

  “Time to go break that lock off my footlocker,” Splinter said.

  Lenah smiled. “You’re gonna need a bigger boat,” she said.

  “Too easy. Don’t insult me,” Splinter said.

  12

  The skyline in the east was gray, and soon the sun would be up. The late thunderstorms of the prior night had blown through, and thin mist hung over Indian River, but it would bake-off within an hour of sunrise. They’d raced back to Splinter’s half-sunken home and pounded the lock off the gun chest with the Parker’s anchor.

  They now had a 90’s era M16, with two clips of ammo, single and double barreled shotguns with four boxes of shells, and the prize of the bunch, a Marlin high-powered rifle with two boxes of thirty-five caliber hollow point bullets. The no frills depth charges he’d made had done nothing but scare the beast off. There’d been no blood in the water, or any sign the bombs had harmed the animal. He’d have to get his hands on something better.

  Splinter felt like shit. Lenah had been quiet and reserved since their encounter with the leviathan, and he didn’t blame her. She said he choked her, though he didn’t remember doing it. The fog had been thick, the abyss deep and dark, and the last thing he remembered before snapping out of his panic attack was rows of needle sharp teeth coming at him in the darkness.

  Will’s advice to go to the cops rattled around in his head. They’d put him in Southport VA psych ward, but maybe that’s what he needed. What he’d done to Lenah, despite what she described as a major provocation as she attempted to snap him from his trance, was inexcusable, and now he trusted himself even less.

  “Any ideas?” Lenah said. She had dark bags beneath her eyes, which were bloodshot, and her hair was greasy and matted to her head.

  They needed to beach the boat and see how bad the damage was before they went back out into the ocean—if they went back out on the ocean. The debate wasn’t over, only tabled. Lenah said if the boat can’t go out there was no point arguing if it should.

  “There’s a maze of tight channels over in Avalon State Park. There’s several fine silt beaches along them. I think we could beach the Evenstar there,” Splinter said.

  “I know where you mean. Good idea,” Lenah said.

  Sea spray blew across the windshield, an odd east wind pushing the mist over their path. They were cruising at thirty-three knots, the Parker skimming over the top of the six-inch ripples. Boats of all shapes and sizes dotted the bay, but they hadn’t encountered any coastie or harbor patrol vessels.

  Poseidon lay on the pilothouse floor, staring into oblivion and curled in a ball.

  The womp womp of an approaching helicopter echoed over the water, and Poseidon lifted her head and started to cry. Le
nah pulled up on the throttle and brought the Evenstar to a stop under a mangrove tree that hung over the water.

  Splinter pet the cat, and said, “Go down below.” Splinter wanted the animal out of the way. As if she understood English, the cat looked sheepishly at Splinter, then disappeared into the back of the pilothouse.

  The HH65 Dolphin flew low, and the window in the Parker’s pilothouse door rattled in its frame. The Coast Guard helicopter moved slowly along the Indian River, and it glided by overhead, wind tearing the mangrove leaves, small branches bending and cracking.

  “Good to see the patrols,” Lenah said. “Maybe they’ll handle this for us. Save us the trouble of getting proof.”

  “Sure. You keep telling yourself that,” Splinter said.

  The coasties ran drills and did patrols all along the sea shore, but fuel was expensive, so they only did a run or two a day unless there was an emergency. Splinter said, “We need to find out what this thing’s habits are. Does it feed at night? Is there a pattern for day and night?”

  “And how do you propose we do that?”

  “We need to be less conspicuous. Whatever this thing is, it’s an alpha, and most likely it can sense vibrations in the water from far off.”

  “You’re suggesting we get a row boat?”

  The copter had become a spec on the northern horizon, and Lenah pushed the throttle down and maneuvered out from under the tree. She brought the twin Yamahas back up to speed, slowing only to make turns. As the channel narrowed, a small cove opened up to starboard.

  Two fifteen-foot crocodiles lounged on a sandy beach, their dark eyes staring across the cove as they sunned themselves. As the Parker approached, the crocs slipped into the estuary, which was almost fresh water this far in.

  Lenah drew back on the throttle and angled up the motors with the level controls. The whine of the outboards increased, and water exploded from the propellers. The boat slipped onto the beach with a faint scraping sound, and Lenah dropped the anchor and killed the engines.

  Splinter grabbed some line and he and Lenah jumped into the knee-deep water. Poseidon allowed herself to be lifted from the bow and placed on the sand, where she proceeded to trot off into the mangroves to take care of her business.