by Michael Cole
“Hey, it’s not a short trip for this scientist guy, and we’ve got more of these guys to pick up. We’re paid by the job, and unfortunately fuel costs aren’t included in the price.” There was a thanks to you vibe in his voice, as Majewski was the one who negotiated the job with Dr. Kane, the biologist tracking the pod.
“With the added strain on the engine, you’re using up that fuel either way,” she said.
“Hey!” Cuervo said. Majewski noticed the shit-eating grin on his face, knowing he was up to no good. “If we deliver more whales, that means we get more shares, right?!” An obnoxious smile filled Hurd’s face and he nodded while looking at Majewski.
“Nice try, boys,” she said. “Doesn’t work that way.”
“Awe…Moooom!” the two jerks exclaimed. Majewski shook her head.
“Hopeless,” she said. “Anyhow, we have two other trips to make after this, so let’s go, we’re burning daylight.”
“We’ll be behind you shortly,” Hurd said. Majewski gave a thumbs up and started throttling the Ocean Creed. The two thirty-foot orcas trailed the boat. Kenneth stood at the stern, again looking at the injuries. Tiny bits of flesh broke away as the water washed over the bodies, which would likely interfere with the biologist’s intended autopsy.
“Why are we the ones doing this, and not the Coast Guard?” he asked his Captain. Majewski looked down at him from the structure.
“You’re complaining?” she said.
“No, not at all,” he said. “I just thought its weird that they’re not doing this. Don’t they normally dispose of deceased wildlife?”
“Usually, and I think the doc tried to get in touch with them,” Majewski said. “But to my understanding, he couldn’t get in touch with them for some reason. Who cares anyway? He’s paying us top dollar.”
“Yeah, I know,” Kenneth said. He took another look at the orcas and finally decided to put the questions out of his mind. It was more fun to think of what to do with the upcoming paycheck. He took a seat and enjoyed another luxury that most people don’t get to enjoy on the job; he reached into a cooler and cracked open a beer.
“Toss me one,” Majewski said. Kenneth was way ahead of her. By the time she turned around, he already had it airborne. She snatched it and turned back to the wheel. Kenneth switched on the portable television. It was over an hour’s trip to the port, and then back to repeat at least twice more. It would likely be dark by the time they finished.
********
Their prediction proved true, as the sun dipped beneath the horizon as the Ocean Creed made its way back to Pariso Marino for the final haul. Kenneth yawned uncontrollably, as the seemingly endless hours of waiting made him drowsy. Spotlights illuminated the path before the vessel, and Majewski kept her eyes on the horizon. Traveling in the dark was always more difficult, even with a GPS. It didn’t help that the day was long and slow. Jobs like this that required long hauls brought along long periods of quiet travel. After a while, even the television didn’t help much to alleviate the boredom. Like Kenneth, she found herself struggling to stay awake.
The much needed second wind came to her after she spotted lights on the horizon. Each one was small, but unmistakable. They were property lights from houses that lined the west shore. She adjusted their route slightly as they neared the island. She traveled a half mile off the shore, eventually seeing the southwest port. It served as a landmark, meaning the orcas’ position was roughly a half mile southeast. After moving past it, she noticed another set of lights in the distance, this time further out in the water. Boat lights, for sure. The vessel was still in the water. As she drew her boat nearer, Majewski knew it was Hurd and Cuervo. The question in mind was ‘why are they anchored?’ She pulled up alongside them, seeing both men on deck. They huddled around the winch, looking over at her nervously as the Ocean Creed slowly crept up.
“Oh, hey, boss,” Hurd said, sporting a nervous smile. Majewski shined a flashlight to their deck, instantly seeing the smoke rising from the winch.
“What did you do?!” she said. Hurd tried hard to think of an excuse. Majewski already knew the answer, confirming it by panning the light to their stern, where five orcas floated behind the boat, three of which were hooked to a single line. They tried hooking more in at a time using a single winch, and the weight proved too much. “You’ve got to be fricking kidding me,” she said.
“Oh, this?” Hurd said. “Uh, it’s nothing, I’m sure!”
“Don’t even utter another word,” Majewski said. “Just…ugh!” She put a palm to her forehead. “You guys realize what this does to your share…” both fishermen looked forlorn, as if they didn’t think she’d actually penalize them. But as she instructed, they didn’t utter a word. Majewski could barely contain her anger. “Goddamn, you two…just…how many orcas are left?” Hurd and Cuervo both cringed. “How many?!”
“Maybe one…” Cuervo said, just above a whisper.
“Oh my… you two are so…” Majewski stopped herself. “Just wait here.” She throttled the boat, splashing water onto the upper hull as the Ocean Creed nearly soared away. She eased on the throttle, realizing she was on the verge of putting a strain on the engine by accelerating too quickly.
After moving around a small rocky peninsula, she scanned the water with the spotlight to look for the remaining carcass. Each jerk of the spotlight was fast and violent, representing her frustration to her employees. Kenneth noticed the fury in his captain as she pounded the water with the light.
“I see it over there,” he said, pointing to the starboard quarter. Having been distracted, Majewski had driven past it. She geared the boat in reverse and turned to back it to the carcass. Kenneth got onto the ramp as they approached it. “Alright, that’s good,” he said. Getting his arms and legs wet, he got the line around the fluke.
“You done yet?” Majewski asked.
Don’t be pissed at me. Kenneth tightened the final knot on the noose and secured the line.
“Yep,” he said, and stepped off the ramp. He barely had both feet planted on the deck when Majewski started moving the boat back. The frustration radiated from the cockpit. Kenneth initially thought it was best not to say anything, but as they moved back around the rocky peninsula, he found the awkward silence unbearable. “So…how much is it going to cost to fix the winch?”
“To fix it; I have no fucking idea,” she said. “If it needs to be completely replaced…thousands!”
“Oh!” Kenneth had no understanding of mechanics, nor the economics of them. “So, that really is going to come out of their share, I guess.”
“You’re damn right,” Majewski said. The boat cleared the peninsula and she turned northward toward Hurd and Cuervo’s location. “You hear that, you idiots?” she called into the night. Her shout was followed by a gasp, which instantly drew Kenneth’s attention.
“What?” he asked. Majewski’s expression was an answer in itself. Her face was completely covered in shock. Kenneth climbed his way to the cockpit and realized what she was looking at. The waters ahead were illuminated by the Ocean Creed’s spotlights, and Kenneth saw the thrashing waters. It was as if a storm surge had swept through. Spreading out from a common point of origin were hundreds of pieces of what was the Warhammer. The bow pointed directly upward, like a tent in the water, broken away midway through the bow deck. Kenneth recognized parts of the port and stern quarters as they drifted in opposite directions. Everything else was just a jumbled mess. Majewski throttled the boat to the wreckage as she and Kenneth called out for Hurd and Cuervo.
There was no sign of them. Kenneth couldn’t help but realize that the carcasses had disappeared as well. The waters had calmed down to normal at this point.
“What in the hell?” he said. He climbed down to the deck to use the lower level spotlight. His captain snatched up the radio.
“This is the trawler Ocean Creed. Mayday, mayday! Anyone listening, we have a wreckage at…” her eyes went to the west, and what she saw put her to silence.
What she saw would be the last for her eyes, and the sounds of Kenneth’s terrified scream would be the last for her ears.
A mountain of water took up their entire view. Like a massive tsunami, it swept over the vessel, as it had the one before them. As the water swept over the boat and its occupants, a solid impact struck the portside. While capsizing, the Ocean Creed split in two, sending both Kenneth and Majewski into the thrashing waves.
Kenneth felt himself being tossed around under the waves. Finally, he opened his eyes, while struggling to hold his air. All he could see initially through the stinging water was darkness. Then there was a beam of light from the spotlights, rotating like a bowling ball in the water. He saw half of the vessel as it broke apart into many smaller pieces.
Then there was something else. Something submarine shaped among the wreckage. He could not recognize it, as the churning waters bashed him like a rag doll. He did not see Majewski anywhere, and for a moment, he lost track of the shape.
The waters started to calm, and with the help of his life vest, he made his way to the surface. He drew in a breath as his face hit the cool night air.
He had only begun to collect his thoughts when another swell emerged. He looked to the sound of churning water, just in time to see the immense shape break the surface. And in his final moment, the boat’s spotlight rotated in his direction. All he saw was a world of red, which opened up into a cave like mouth. Jagged white shapes lined the mouth. That mouth closed around him, and in the same instant, Kenneth felt his last sensation…as his body was sliced in two by one of the huge shapes.
CHAPTER
27
For the past twenty-four hours, Rick Napier tried to live his normal life, struggling to not even think of anything that would remind him of his recent phone conversation. Sadly, he had to rely solely on hobbies for that to happen. Unemployment left him a very bored, and somewhat bitter individual. Previously living the life of a poor fisherman, he had a brief window in life where things were going well after the incident. He found new love, got married, wrote a dissertation which achieved his doctorate, and found himself with a job teaching Oceanography at the University of Florida.
When the ‘truth’ came out about the hybrid and the Warren Project, the University was quick to let him go, claiming they didn’t want the bad press that he brought. For a while, he resumed fishing, but even the people in his residential island of Mako’s Center seemed bitter towards him. None of the markets wanted to do business with him. He resorted to sending out applications to several colleges and universities, even high schools, but he didn’t hear back from any.
Luckily, he wasn’t lonely. His wife, Lisa Napier, formerly known as Lisa Thompson, had recently retired from her twenty-year commitment to the United States Coast Guard. To be retired at age forty was no small thing, and she cherished it. However, after a few months, she needed something to do as well, so she started teaching flying lessons. It was a nice additional income to her retirement.
Lisa had spent the entire morning teaching at the airfield, leaving Rick home alone. He had gone to the gym, keeping his body in fairly decent shape. After that, he’d usually spend his mornings reading and enjoying the view of Razortooth Cove. Ever since he came to the island, the view never grew old to him. It was a great thing to wake up to every morning.
However, starting yesterday, the view of the water made his stomach hurt. The phone call, which he tried so hard not to think of, haunted his mind. He constantly told himself it was just a joke, that it wasn’t real. He thought of Colonel Salkil, whom he had words with on more than one occasion. If any other hybrids escaped, no way would that guy let any of them roam the waters freely. The one positive thing Napier could say about Salkil, he was determined to see the project shut down. Unfortunately, he also was in charge of keeping it covered up, and he was not afraid to use any means to achieve that objective.
It was the main reason Napier reminded himself to stay out of it. Don’t even read about it on the news, he would tell himself. However, it was the common mistake that many people succumbed to; the effort to avoid something is sometimes what brings you to it. For Napier, his attempts not to think of the hybrid and the phone call only put it right at the front of his mindset. There he was, sitting on the front porch while looking out into the Cove. His eyes would turn to the book, only to scan over the text without actually taking anything in. He found himself reading the same line of text over and over again, until finally he slapped the book down on the table. He stared out to the water and felt as if it was staring back.
Finally, he was inside. “Look up Felt’s Paradise,” he remembered. He snatched up a laptop and typed the name of the resort in the search bar, specifically looking for images. In no time, he saw the creature that Dr. Forster had described. By now, there were hundreds of photos from the journalists that had arrived there to conduct their articles on the mysterious find. For the next hour, Napier studied the stills of the creature. Like what he encountered three years ago, it was a perfect hybrid. A pure fifty-fifty gene split. In his mind, Napier cursed the people involved with the Warren Project, once again disgusted at the abominations they had created. He only could imagine what other ghastly creatures they stirred up in that lab; worse, what they were possibly planning on doing in the future.
Next, he clicked on a video one cameraman took when they went into the viewing room. Napier jumped in his seat as the hybrid came at the glass, determined to kill those on the other side. Being well versed in the world of Marine Science, he knew the typical behaviors of sea life, especially sharks. This thing he watched did not act like a hungry creature, rather it seemed like it wanted to kill anything that came near it.
The footage eventually led him to Dr. Julie Forster, who appeared to be tasked with leading the journalists. He couldn’t help but notice how flustered she was in the various interviews and tour. If Napier had to guess, he would assume she was slapped with the assignment unexpectedly, with no preparation. For the assault of questions about the creature, she had no choice but to give the same answer; “I’m looking into it.” It was clear to Napier that she didn’t know anything about it, and what she did suspect, she wanted to keep from the media.
“Smart kid,” he said out loud.
The front door opened. In came his wife, Lisa. A blonde haired, athletically built woman of forty, she always carried herself with the confidence she did when she was a Coast Guard Lieutenant. However, when Rick looked over to her, he noticed a sense of urgency the instant she let herself in.
“Hey!” she said. “Have you been watching the news?!”
“Huh? No, what…” Lisa grabbed the remote and switched on the television. The black powered off screen ignited to a newscast. The camera view was an overhead view from a chopper, looking down onto an oil rig. Flames roared from the northeast corner like a savage beast on a rampage, multiplying itself with every inch it gained. A tornado of black lifted from the fiery disaster, twisting into an ugly funnel as it ascended into the clouds. What was originally a bright and sunny day, was now darkened by the black fumes. Napier stood next to his wife, his eyes glued to the screen. As the camera panned out a bit further, he could see the various vessels surrounding the enormous rig. Some were moving in closer to provide an effort to control the fire, while others seemed to be assisting in getting workers off of the platform. As the news captured the event, the news anchors spoke over the audio, speaking with somebody on location who was likely on that chopper.
“…for everything down there. As you can see, the Coast Guard is deploying every possible resource to control this fire. Experts are currently underway to see if there is a spill, as we said before, we’re uncertain if there’s a leak.”
“Martin, I know you’re high in the air, but are you able to see any people still on the platform? We know that the Coast Guard has been active in getting everyone to safety…”
“It’s hard to see any of the major details because of the smoke. This huge cloud of smok
e, as you can see, seems to change direction with the wind. It’s been a struggle for our pilot to avoid it while maintaining this viewpoint.”
“Thanks Martin. For anyone just tuning in, you’re looking at a breaking news story. Around Eleven O’clock this morning, an explosion occurred at the Whitaker Drilling Rig, located roughly twenty miles off of Florida. Details are sketchy at this point. It is unclear whether or not this was an act of terrorism, if it is, we’ll keep you informed. Right now, experts are currently working to find out if there’s a spill. Currently, the priority is getting everybody to safety, and preventing further damage to make it safe for an investigation to take place and control any further disaster.”
The news switched their feed to the U.S. President making a press statement, explaining how all resources will be provided to provide assistance and relief. After a few minutes of the speech, the Florida Governor spoke, saying much of the same thing. Rick and Lisa stood silent as they listened to each word. Finally, the feed returned to the burning rig, and the news anchors continued talking in the background, starting with a male voice.
“You just heard the President and Governor, and I’d say it’s obvious they’re taking the matter very seriously. They’re actively looking for the cause, particularly to find out whether terrorism was involved. Uh…I don’t really know how they can possibly…”
“Oh, hang on Derrick,” the female voice interrupted. There was a moment of pause, as she was getting information on the spot. “We have a call coming in…we’re told that this individual witnessed the explosion. Here’s the caller, identifying himself as Jonas. Jonas, are you there?”