Behemoth 2

by Michael Cole

  “Let’s stop here,” he called up to the driver. The aides looked up, holding concerned expressions on their faces.

  “I thought we were gonna move them further out,” she said. “There aren’t many fish in this area, and they can’t…”

  “This’ll do just fine,” Tucker interrupted. The boat stopped and drifted in the calm water. The aides looked at him with disapproval, but unfortunately had to comply. One of them stepped down to the stern ledge and held the handles to the first stretcher. Tucker took the other side, and gently lowered the dolphin into the water. As its body touched the ocean, the dolphin wiggled with excitement. It flapped its tail and squirmed until it had splashed down. Having been stuck in a small pool for a week, the free space of the open ocean was truly paradise. It splashed in the water, looking back up to the aides. It clicked and whistled as they lowered the other dolphins into the water.

  They circled the boat, performing various jumps as they exercised their muscles. They toyed with each other, twisting about in the water. The aides watched them, happy that they were well again, but also worried about their future. Dr. Tucker took a moment to acknowledge this.

  “They’ll be fine,” he said. “The EPA’s pretty much got the spill cleared up. At least, that’s what I’ve heard.” He looked back up to the superstructure. “Okay, Steve, let’s head back.”

  “You got it,” Steve called back. He throttled the boat slowly, keeping track of the dolphins so he wouldn’t accidentally hit them. He turned the boat in a wide arc until the bow was pointed toward the island. From his view, the island almost resembled a large green and brown wall in the middle of the ocean. Between it and the boat was the speedboat guiding its skier, appearing like little bugs dancing on the water in the distance. They raced in tight circles, and the driver could just barely hear the motor and the enthusiastic yells, which never seemed to stop.

  My voice would be dry as hell by now. Guiding his white vessel forward, he kept a careful eye on them in order to make sure they wouldn’t attempt another foolish stunt. He hoped they would eventually move off either to the north or south, otherwise he would have to maneuver around. As he neared, it looked more likely that he would have to do so. The speedboat looped in an endless circle. Water sprayed into a mist from the skis angled up against the surface. Finally, the boater straightened the course to go in a straight line.

  A burst of water sprayed upward around the skier. Steve yelled out “whoa!” as he watched the skis fly straight from his feet, while the man himself seemed to splash down. Steve burst into a fit of laughter. It felt as if karma had finally struck. He could hear the metallic vibrations of the ladder as Dr. Tucker hurried up to the superstructure.

  “What’s going on?” he asked. Steve pointed out to the speedboat, which had only just begun to circle back.

  “Bastard could manage all these turns and loops, but going straight apparently was too much for him,” Steve said. Realizing what he meant, Dr. Tucker allowed a small chuckle. Steve accelerated the boat, hoping to make it past them before they proceeded with the next stunt.

  “Did he hit a swell?” Tucker asked.

  “Probably one from their own boat,” Steve said. The speedboat slowed near the floating skis, and they watched the driver stand up to look for his friend. The air filled with the echoes of his calls. Suddenly, both Steve and Tucker did away with their grins. The same thought went through their minds; How is it taking so long to find him?

  Steve altered their course slightly, figuring they were obligated to help.

  The calls were replaced by a horrid scream. From the distance, they watched the driver take his seat. The engine roared, and he suddenly started soaring away to the south. Water sprayed in large spouts from the twin propellers.

  “The...fuck?” Tucker mumbled in confusion. “Where does he think he’s going…HOLY SHIT!”

  The jets of water were miniscule compared to the wall of water that burst around the speedboat. Through the misty barrier, they watched the red boat twist in midair and crash down.

  “Holy…what the hell…” Steve couldn’t manage to get a full sentence out.

  “What happened?” one of the aides called out. They stood along the starboard guardrail, seeing the aftermath of the accident. The speedboat appeared to have broken in two pieces. The bow floated along the hull for a few seconds until enough water had seeped into the open segment, which weighed that side down. In seconds, the tip was facing upward at a ninety-degree angle. The remainder of the boat was completely capsized, surrounded by foaming water.

  “Good God, get us over there,” Tucker said to Steve, ignoring the girls. Steve cut the wheel and accelerated to top speed. Tucker snatched up the radio, placing the frequency at nine.

  “This is the vessel Raymond Young calling PMPD Dispatch. We have an emergency out here, please acknowledge.”

  ********

  The Neptune’s engine started up on the first turn of the key. Forster allowed it to run for several seconds, listening for any irregularities. To everyone’s surprise, it was working just fine.

  “Well, we’ll have no problem getting back,” she said. Lisa sat along the deck with Rick, tightly applying a bandage to his hand.

  “Ow!” Rick dramatically called out.

  “Oh, don’t be such a baby,” she said. She tore the tape away. Rick looked at the bandage, wrapped so tightly around his palm and thumb that it almost resembled a sprained wrist. He attempted to make a fist, but had limited motion. “Yeah, it’s that way on purpose,” Lisa said. “You’re going to need stitches, baby.”

  “Hey, I baked a friggin’ shark,” Rick said with a grin, which quickly turned into a wince after trying too hard to move his thumb. Lisa shook her head disapprovingly at her husband’s attempt at humor. Forster stepped around them to the back of the wheelhouse. She sorted through all of the supplies that had scattered all over the floor.

  “Ah, here it is,” she said, and grabbed a large red buoy. She took it outside and switched on the transmitter. She unraveled a line, not much thicker than a rope, and hooked it up to a small weight. “Should go deep enough,” she said to herself and tossed it overboard. The weight and line quickly descended, and the buoy danced in the water.

  “Alright,” Rick said. “Now that the location is marked, we can return and locate the body, and hopefully we can get a tooth sample.”

  “In the meantime, lunch is on me today,” Nelson said.

  “Well in that case,” Forster said, while stepping toward the helm, “let’s start heading back!” Just as she put her hand on the wheel, a blaring crackle boomed from Nelson’s radio.

  “Dispatch to Chief, come in please?” He snatched it off of his belt.

  “Nelson here,” he answered.

  “Hey, we just had someone report a speedboat accident, maybe half a click off West Peak.” Nelson looked to Rick, who shared the same concerned expression.

  “Alright, we’re not far from there. We’ll check it out.” He started to place the radio back on his belt when he raised it back to his face. “Dispatch? Did they mention what caused it?”

  “Negative, but he mentioned that it just happened and that there’s a lot of damage.”

  “I’m on it,” he said. “Rick, I know we’re on your boat now, but do you mind if we…”

  “Let’s go,” Rick answered. Forster nodded through the window, and accelerated the boat, turning it toward the north. Nelson grabbed a pair of binoculars and started to scan the distant horizon. After sweeping over the water a few times, he finally saw a small white speck in the distance. Definitely a boat. Judging by its distance from land, it was most likely the one who called it in.

  “Let’s head that way,” he called over to Forster.

  ********

  The ripples had just about disappeared as the Raymond Young pulled up near the wreck. The broken bow had drifted further from the main body, and both pieces had submerged to being barely above the waterline. Dr. Tucker scanned the area, not s
eeing the driver anywhere. He cupped his hands around his mouth.

  “Hello?” he called out.

  “Should we check where the skier went down?” Steve asked. Dr. Tucker suddenly felt a nauseous chill creep over him. He quickly became overwhelmed and unsure of what to do. He looked to the general area where the skier fell.

  “It was just over there, and I don’t see anything,” he said, pointing to the skis, which floated only two hundred feet away from the stern. He looked to the surrounding water.

  A ripple in the distance caught his eye. He looked ahead, several meters off the port bow. The ripple turned into chaotic splashing as the driver broke the surface. He slapped the water wildly in sheer panic.

  “There he is!” Tucker said. He cupped his hands to his mouth again. “Hang on! We’ll be right there…” his voice trailed off as he watched the water around him gradually turn red. Focusing on the driver himself, Tucker felt himself turn pale. The man was splashing the water with one arm, while the other had been completely torn from the socket. Tucker found himself completely caught off guard by the situation. He stuttered, unable to form words while falling into a state of panic himself. Steve managed to keep his composure and throttled the boat through the wreckage. He glanced back down toward the aides.

  “Girls, get ready to grab him!” he said. He looked up at Tucker, who appeared pale and sluggish. “Don’t you even think of passing out on me. Now, get down there and help him. There’s first aid supplies in the lower cabin.” Tucker inhaled a deep breath and forced himself to his senses. Control returned to him, and he hurried down the ladder.

  The boat cruised clear of the wreckage, coming near to the struggling boater. The water around him was almost entirely red, resembling a murky bullseye. He was only a few yards from the port bow, when Steve noticed another shade of red in the water. Only, it was several yards off, and appeared to be several feet under the surface. It had shape to it, like a missile aimed right at the driver. And like a missile, it shot forward with incredible speed. The driver lifted from the surface, first by the huge swell, and then higher, inside the jaws of a huge red shark. Over twenty feet in length, the beast breached the water with its prey impaled in its teeth.

  The aides shrieked in horror as shock and terror struck at once. A wave hooked over the side, throwing bloody water onto the deck. The creature wagged its head while munching its jaws. Teeth shredded the man’s chest, stomach, and back. The pressure crunched bone, softening the prey. The beast expanded its jaws and swam forward, bringing its newly minced prey into the back of its throat, where he was swallowed.

  Steve could see the creature moving over to the north, keeping between them and the island. He cut the wheel to the south and thrust into full throttle. The vessel turned in a crescent shaped path, and the engine roared as it kicked into top gear.

  Dr. Tucker stood by the port railing, looking back behind their racing vessel. He could see the fin cutting across the water. After a few seconds, he quickly realized it was moving parallel with them. He felt numb, replaying in his mind what he had just witnessed. There was no mistake; it was just like the creature at the aquarium. And he remembered the sheer ferocity, how it had attempted to come ashore to kill anything it could.

  “Oh my God,” he said.

  ********

  “What the hell’s going on?” Rick said. He stood next to Nelson, both watching the white vessel grow nearer. But it wasn’t just their approach, it was cruising in their direction at top speed.

  “I have no idea,” Nelson said. “Julie, we may want to slow it down.” The engines slowed, but the vessel still seemed to approach rapidly. Each feature came in to more definite view. Nelson waved his arms to signal the driver.

  ********

  Steve shook his head at the man in the silver Munson boat. No way am I stopping, man. In plain clothes, he had no way of knowing that man was the chief of police. The adrenaline was coursing through his veins so rapidly, he didn’t even realize the battered condition of the boat.

  He swung his gaze to the water trail. The fin was cutting the water, several yards from the port quarter. It moved in a path parallel to theirs, but the distance was gradually decreasing. No doubt it was chasing them.

  His conscience managed to pry a message into his racing mind. The shark could kill these guys too. With a hand still on the helm, he stood to his feet. He waved back to the man on the Munson boat.

  “GET OUT OF THE WATER! SHARK! SHARK!”

  In the moment after he took his eyes off the shark, it had altered its trajectory. Having closed the distance enough, it pointed its snout toward the stern. Just as it had done to the speedboat minutes prior, it swung its tail for a burst of speed. Its speed tripled, turning the shark into a six-thousand-pound projectile. In less than a second, its nose lifted above the waterline, smashing against the port quarter.

  The shaking of the vessel brought Steve to his knees. As if pounded by a massive fist, the Raymond Young rocked heavily to starboard. Tucker and the aides fell to the deck as the boat went into a tailspin like a truck on an icy highway. Bits of steel and fiberglass peppered the water like a white hailstorm.

  “Oh God, Rick, there’s another one!” Lisa said. The victorious feeling each of them had previously felt had quickly sunk into their stomachs. Now, it was a renewed sense of urgency, with a heightened dread, for their worst fear was realized.

  “This means the original gave birth at some point. No way did they lose more than two of these things,” Rick said.

  “Let’s worry about that later,” Nelson said. The Raymond Young had stopped its spin, seemingly dead in the water. The engine had quit, and they could see the operator working on the ignition. The hull was breached at the point of impact, but mostly above the waterline.

  Forster looked to the crowd on the deck. She suddenly recognized the blue and grey uniforms from the two females. They were the aides she worked with at the aquarium. The other was Dr. Tucker, the jerk whom she nearly had a physical confrontation with a day prior. Despite what she thought of him, she didn’t want to see him torn to bits by the hybrid. And especially not the aides, whom she had worked alongside for months.

  “They can’t take another hit,” she called out. “I’ll pull alongside them to pick them up!”

  “No!” Rick yelled back. “We can’t handle the extra weight, and plus, we’re in critical condition ourselves.” He switched on the generator and moved to the crane controls. Nearby was a tub, filled halfway to the top with chum. He didn’t bother with the scoop; he grabbed the bucket and tilted it over the side. Minced tuna splashed into the water, forming a brownish red blob beneath the crane. He looked back to the fin.

  The shark had lined up to finish off the vessel, until the smell of blood filled its nose. It had sensed the presence of the Neptune but was not immediately interested as it was focused on the Raymond Young. But the smell of blood and flesh created new interest, and it dipped down for a dive. Under the water, it moved in a u-shape upward toward the source of the smell.

  Rick lowered the arm of the crane, positioning the bait in the same position as before. Just as he did, the hybrid’s head rose from the water. Its jaws were opened wide, taking in the chum. The sight of the enormous head, equal to the size of a locomotive, caused Rick to jump back. The jaws clamped shut around the bloody water but took in no real sustenance. Its eyelid peeled back, exposing the black eye. For the briefest of moments, it gazed upon the four people on the vessel. The sight of them and the taste of blood boosted its craving to kill. After splashing back down, the creature allowed itself to sink several meters. Rick dared to look over the side. Through the murky water, he could barely see the pointed nose of the creature aiming right up at them.

  “Oh, shit,” he said. He grabbed the controls and quickly adjusted the arm of the crane, tilting it up at a higher angle. With the press of a lever, the cable quickly descended. With the added height of the crane, the bait now dangled only inches from the gunwale.

&n
bsp; The water splashed, and the creature emerged, teeth bared. Its underbelly crashed overtop of the side, crumpling metal. The mesh bumped against its chin, sending a staggering zap through its body. The hybrid heaved its body in a huge rolling motion, completely surprised by the unexpected shock. The quivering sensation in its muscles was completely alien to it, and the creature spasmed as it sank. Several seconds passed, and it regained control. With a wave of its tail, it moved to gain distance again. For the first time ever, it was hesitant to launch another attack.

  “Come on, you son of a bitch!” Steve yelled at the ignition. He twisted the key for what seemed like the thousandth time. With a roar, the engine came to life. The propellers did their jobs, and immediately they were off toward shore.

  “At least they’re out of harm’s way,” Nelson said. Forster took to the controls, leading the boat further to the south, intending to keep the creature’s interest on them. The fin emerged several meters off the starboard side. It moved at a similar pace with the Neptune, keeping a nearly identical speed. Lisa looked at the meter.

  “About halfway there,” she said. “You think it’ll go for it again?” Rick answered with a nervous smile.

  “Well, we’re facing a similar problem as before,” he said. “It just wants live bait.”

  “Oh no you’re not,” Lisa said, realizing what Rick was hinting at. “You’re not pulling that stunt again.”

  “I have no choice, hon!” He readjusted the crane until it was extended far outward, at a low enough slant in which he could climb and attract the creature. He put his hands on the metal surface, before looking back at his wife. As before, she was worried about him. They stared at each other, silently expressing their love.