Lenny sighed. What little patience he had for these men was gone. “Whether or not people realize it, the tunnels running between blue holes can be traced to every major body of water where these creatures are sighted.”
“And?” someone snapped.
“And all it will take to collapse them and completely ruin what I have proposed is one thick headed moron sending a bomb down there to deal with one of my aquatic boogeymen. I would much rather increase our nation’s military strength instead of blowing up a tunnel and forcing all of these creatures, who’s existence we evidently don’t acknowledge, out into open water creating an endless string of Sunset Island incidents.”
A wave of hushed conversations and mummers passed through the room. Lenny waited. He already knew the answer.
“We will authorize your research,” one of the men nodded. “Where is the first site you plan on investigating?”
“I have selected a site in the Bahamas,” Lenny pointed a red dot on the map.
“Aren’t you worried about the level of tourist traffic that passes through there?” one of the men asked.
“Quite the contrary, that is exactly why I selected this site,” Lenny answered. “If I were to go to one of the more remote or obscure sites, we would attract attention. My crew and I will blend in and no one will be any the wiser. We will just be another group of sun-hungry tourists. There isn’t the slightest thing to worry about.”
“For your sake, we certainly hope so, Dr. Borges.” The shadowy gathering of men closed their folders and stood in unison before shuffling out of the room.
Lenny paid no attention to their idle threat. It was all part of the game. They needed to appear to be in control. But a playground peeing contest was of no concern to Lenny. He had his funding – any other problems could be dealt with once he arrived in the Bahamas.
-4-
The plane ride to the Bahamas was blessedly short. Tyde tried and failed multiple times to strike up a conversation with Wendy, but she either pretended to be sleeping or interested in the grainy movie playing on the screen in the headrest in front of her. It looked like another one of those straight to video shit shows that always seemed to find their way on to an airplane.
“How does Nicholas Cage keep making movies?” Tyde smirked as he elbowed Wendy’s arm. She cast a sideways glance and half-hearted smile. “There has to be some bet those Hollywood ding dongs keep losing. Or maybe they play Truth or Cage?”
“Yeah, maybe,” Wendy nodded and returned to watching the cinematic travesty displayed before her.
There had been a time when Tyde’s sense of humor would have Wendy howling, laughing so hard that people would stop and look. Tyde missed that laugh. He missed Wendy.
It was odd how someone could still be there, could still sleep next to you every night, but be completely gone. It was like Wendy had shed her skin and that was all that was left for Tyde. Just a shell. And right now that shell was choosing Nick Cage over her husband of seven years. It wasn’t the first time Tyde felt like he was losing Wendy to someone else. It was just the first time that the guy was four inches tall and two-dimensional.
“Hey, look.” Tyde leaned across Wendy’s lap and pointed out the small window. A brilliant blue sea spread beneath the plane and shone like a sapphire in Neptune’s crown. “It’s beautiful.”
Wendy looked out the window and a real smile, the first Tyde had seen in a long time, curled the edges of her lips. “It is beautiful,” she agreed.
“You’re beautiful,” Tyde added before he could stop the cheesy words from spilling out of his mouth. But it was true. Seeing Wendy smile was beautiful. He didn’t care how trite it sounded – he meant every word.
Tyde reached for Wendy’s hand.
“Yeah, thanks,” Wendy answered and pulled her hand away from Tyde’s to push her headphones back in place.
“Do you want another drink?” the steward asked as he looked at the empty plastic cup on Tyde’s tray.
“Sure,” Tyde nodded, thankful for the distraction. “Could I please get another beer?”
“No problem,” the steward nodded and retrieved the can from the drink cart. “I don’t know how he does it,” he said, passing the can to Tyde.
“Excuse me?” Tyde asked, taking the can.
“Nicholas Cage,” the steward clarified. “I don’t know how he keeps getting work. It’s like someone lost a bet.”
“Yeah,” Tyde nodded, glancing at Wendy. “Someone is definitely losing.”
The problem was that it was Tyde.
-5-
“What do you mean it was the Lusca?” someone shouted from the crowd that gathered on the dock. “Everyone knows the Lusca isn’t real. That’s just some bunk fairytale.”
Milo could barely contain his anger. Sure, everyone knew the Lusca was a fairytale, everyone who moved to the island from somewhere else. Anyone who had half a brain and even a drop of true Bahamian blood knew the Lusca was real.
“So a giant octopus ate those kids?” someone else asked sarcastically.
“You didn’t see what Milo saw,” Jefferson protested. Milo noticed that he still stood in the boat. Maybe he was scared to get onto the dock or maybe it was so he could make a quick getaway. Either would have been a reasonable explanation. But Milo wasn’t about to take responsibility for something he didn’t do.
“Look, I didn’t see the Lusca, I’ll give you that, but you tell me what else could do that to those kids?” Milo pulled his gear up from the boat. He also wasn’t going to waste time sitting around on the docks arguing with drunks and tourists.
“Where do you think you’re going?” someone shouted.
“I’m not going to stand around here playing grab ass with a dock full of morons.” Milo marched towards the crowd. “Now unless you’re going to call the RBDF, then get the hell out of my way.”
Milo pushed a little deeper into the crowd before he ran into a wall of blue shirts and navy pants. A series of black berets dotted the heads set along the wall. Evidently, someone had called the Royal Bahamas Defense Force. With no real need for a huge military or police force, the RBDF was somewhat of a catch all, handling everything from patrolling the waters to working as local law enforcement to maintain order. Three tourists going missing, and possibly being eaten, would definitely fall under the broad umbrella of the RBDF’s duties.
Milo groaned as one of the largest officers broke rank with the others and addressed the crowd.
“We need everyone to vacate this area,” the officer bellowed. A small machine gun hung from a strap on his right shoulder. Milo seemed to recall being told that it was an H&K MP5, but wouldn’t have put money on it. The only kind of gun he felt comfortable with was a spear gun. “Unless you have information that may assist with locating these missing divers, we need you to leave immediately. Thank you for your cooperation.”
At the end of the officer’s final sentence, the other men sprang to life and began ushering people off the dock.
“Hi Milo,” the officer nodded.
“Officer Banks,” Milo said like it tasted foul.
“Come on, Milo,” Officer Banks winced. “You know all that officer crap isn’t necessary. Just call me Stan.”
“Stan?” Milo laughed. “Why not His Royal Highness, the Prince of Poopy Pants, like I used to?”
“Because we’re not six anymore,” Stan grinned. “And besides, it really pisses Mom off when you call me that. Besides, I have a gun.” He patted the machine gun that hung from his shoulder.
Milo shrugged. “Stan it is then.” Milo and his twin brother had never seen eye to eye. The fact that Stan was almost a good foot taller certainly didn’t help, but it went far deeper than that. A bitter divorce had divided the brothers, each loyal to a different parent. After their father died, they found a way to tolerate one another, but Milo never felt comfortable around his mother or twin brother. They were too much alike and he was far too different. If he was honest, there were days that Milo doubted they we
re even related.
Their parents told Milo and Stand that they were twins, and for the most part they accepted it as fact, but the two brothers could not have looked any more different. Stan was a wall of straight-laced muscle that was chomping at the bit to enlist in the RBDF and quickly became a ranking officer. Milo, on the other hand, barely finished school and started a diving business with Jefferson, largely because it allowed him to set his own hours and didn’t require doing something he wouldn’t already have been doing.
“Mom wants to know if you’re coming over for dinner tonight,” Stan continued. “She said you never returned her call.” Milo thought it was amazing that even with everything going on, Stan still found time to be a momma’s boy.
“Shouldn’t you be more worried about the fact that the fucking Lusca just ate three tourists?” Milo almost shouted.
“Stop yelling all that foolishness and getting the tourists worried.” Stan finally looked angry. “The last thing we need is your dumb ass turning this tragedy into an economic disaster.”
“Then you tell me Wonder Twin, what the hell did that to those kids?” Milo demeaned. “What could shred three grown men in under five minutes? One minute they were there – next minute chum. Sure sounds like the Lusca to me.”
“That’s enough,” Stan growled and removed his handcuffs from their leather holster.
“You’re arresting me?” Milo took a step towards his brother. “For what? Don’t you have more important things to go do?”
“I’m not arresting you,” Stan said as spun Milo around and cinched the cuffs around his wrists. “The RBDF is already out patrolling the wreck and dive site. If anything comes up, they’ll radio me. What I’m doing is protecting you from yourself…and I’m taking you to Mom’s for dinner.”
“To dinner? In handcuffs?” Milo strained against handcuffs. “What about Jefferson?”
“Jefferson?” Stan shouted. “You hungry?”
Jefferson looked at the cold vomit caked on the front of his shorts and t-shirt. It had begun to harden in the cool salty breeze that rolled in with the waves.
“I could eat,” Jefferson shrugged. “But I’m not wearing handcuffs.” He climbed out of the boat and onto the dock. The wind changed direction and blew towards Stan and Milo.
“You’re not wearing those clothes either,” Stan motioned towards the puke-laden outfit. “Go change. You smell disgusting.”
-6-
Flying to the Bahamas in the back of a government freighter was not exactly Lenny’s idea of a good time, but there was no way his equipment and crew would have gone unnoticed on a commercial flight. Once the plane touched down, Lenny watched his team load the large yellow plastic crates into the backs of four passenger vans. With a thriving tourist industry, the island had plenty of these vans and Lenny felt they would easily blend in.
The vans rolled into Clarence Town, the capital of Long Island. It was a cute town with about 350 residents, a grocery store, pub and a few other shops, but not much else. Lenny turned his attention to one of the two docks located in Clarence Town. A mail boat unloaded bundles of letters and packages from the other islands.
“Must be the government dock,” Lenny muttered to no one in particular. A few of his research assistants turned to look, but knew better than to answer. They would know if Lenny was talking to them.
Having been an employee of the US Government, Lenny was amazed at the lax security of the RBDF dock. A few officers milled around the dock and buildings, but none appeared to have the high strung intensity or purpose that Lenny observed in the soldiers assigned to protect his research. Four of these men were in plain clothes, disguised as research assistants, but cargo shorts or not, Lenny thought they were pretty easily identified as soldiers.
“Dr. Borges,” Cal Rodgers said from the driver’s seat of the van. Cal was Lenny’s longest standing assistant, which lead a few of the newer ones to guess he was also the favorite, but time had done little to endear one to the other.
“What is it, Cal?” Lenny asked. Cal had the annoying habit of pointing out problems, instead of fixing them.
Cal brought the van to a slow stop and pointed through the windshield. The three vans following behind rolled up close behind.
Lenny followed the direction of Cal’s finger to where two men were arguing in the middle of the street.
“Drive around them,” Lenny barked.
“Can’t.” Cal pointed towards a knot of people that slowly drifted from the dock and into the street to watch the altercation. They must have followed the men from the dock where this stupidity began.
“Then go through them.” Lenny turned his attention away from the fight. Some people found these types of displays entertaining, but Lenny could not have cared less. Examining those basest elements of the human psyche that evolution had forgotten to extinguish held not even the slightest bit of interest for Lenny. He knew these things dwelled within all people – himself included, but saw no reason in publicly celebrating them.
“Dr. Borges, I can’t get the van through there,” Cal protested.
“I see your mouth moving Cal, but not the van,” Lenny grunted. “Should I entertain even the slightest hope in seeing the opposite at some point today?”
“I can’t drive over people,” Cal continued.
“No,” Lenny shook his head. “You won’t. There is a difference.”
“You know you’re probably the biggest asshole I’ve ever met,” Cal smiled without an ounce of humor.
“From you, I’ll take that as a compliment,” Lenny answered without looking. “Besides, it’s not like they wouldn’t move. All I asked you to do was give them a little incentive to do it sooner, rather than later.”
“Well, I’m not going to,” Cal said.
“You’re lucky that your services as a research assistant far exceed your less useful qualities.” Lenny removed a radio from the side pocket of his short. “You’re also lucky that there are people in my employ who do not suffer from similar limitations.”
Lenny barked an order into the radio and four men slipped out of the third van. They walked towards the crowd, slipped through the onlookers and approached the two men fighting. The men paused, as if surprised to see these four tourists walking into the middle of their altercation. Within a matter of seconds, the four plain-clothes soldiers split into two equal groups and dropped both fighters to the ground.
“See,” Lenny smiled, rife with satisfaction.
“I see that your solution just made a bigger problem,” Cal chortled.
A large RBDF officer, flanked by two civilians stood between the soldiers shouting orders. More RBDF officers threaded through the tangled mess of onlookers.
The four soldiers stood up, holding their hands out in a show of submission. Two RBDF officers pulled the original fighters up from the street and sent them walking off in opposite directions. The crowd began to thin and disperse as the soldiers, accompanied by the large RBDF officer, made their way back to the vans.
Once the soldiers were back in the van, Lenny demanded that Cal start driving, but the officer signaled for them to stop.
“What?” Lenny snapped as he rolled down his window. “What is the damn problem?”
“Problem?” the officer grinned. “I’d say that those four men assaulting the other two could be a pretty big problem. We don’t stand for that kind of behavior around here.”
“Oh,” Lenny nodded, “I guess that would explain why those two men were beating the crap out of each other and delaying our progress in the first place.”
“They were having a disagreement,” the officer replied. His voice remained calm the entire conversation, but his presence and size were threat enough. “Locals have strong ideas…sometimes these ideas don’t agree.”
“They were fighting about a fucking fish or something.” One of the soldiers angrily reported via radio from one of the other vans.
“All that over a fish?” Lenny asked with comically arched eye
brows.
“Not a fish,” the officer clarified. “They were arguing about the Lusca. There was an accident earlier today and some of the more superstitious citizens believe the Lusca might be responsible. As you can see, these beliefs run pretty deep.”
“I’m going to guess that’s some sort of Bahamian folklore boogey man,” Lenny added, feigning ignorance of the creature.
“Something like that,” the officer answered as he peered into the van. The large yellow crates caught his attention.
“Stan, you and I both know the Lusca is no boogey man,” a smaller man with dreadlocks chimed in from behind the officer. He was handcuffed. “The Lusca is a giant octopus and it’s real.”
“Milo, you and Jefferson get back to the car,” the officer snapped.
“Going diving?” Milo asked, spying the crates. “Stan, those crates have diving equipment in them. With the Lusca out there, you can’t let these guys go in the water.”
“What kind of accident are you talking about?” Cal shouted across Lenny. “I’m not going anywhere near a giant octopus.”
“A diving one,” the officer said. He eyed Milo, silently demanding that he shut his mouth. “It was unfortunate, but had nothing to do with a giant octopus. It was an accident, that’s all.”
“You’re heading through town,” Milo said. “Probably heading for Dean’s, aren’t you?”
“The Blue Hole?” Cal asked. “Is that where the Lusca was? Is that where the accident happened?” He was clearly worried.
“No,” the officer snapped and pushed Milo away from the window.
“Well, that’s all the reassurance I need,” Lenny nodded and began rolling up the window.
The man with dreadlocks leapt forward and grabbed the edge of the window, the handcuffs rattling on the glass. “Whatever it is you’re planning, don’t do it. Don’t go in the water.” The officer grabbed the man and pried him from the window.
RIP Tyde Page 2