“You mean the Lusca?” Milo asked. “Come on, say it. Say that we’re going looking for the Lusca.”
“I don’t know,” Stan said. “I don’t know what is out there. Maybe it is the Lusca, but I want to find it and I need your help. Please.”
“Okay,” Milo answered. He could have made his brother beg or pretended that he was not going to help, but this was Milo’s island too. “Get down to the docks.”
-24-
The new diving equipment was exciting and Tyde could barely hide his enthusiasm as Lenny explained how the new liquid oxygen rigs would allow people to dive to new depths. The scientists had explained all of the new technology as best he could and Tyde and Wendy nodded with interest, but only took in the thinnest of understandings. Seeing their eyes glaze over, Lenny laughed and sent them on their way. He said a few of his divers would also be in the water, but that Tyde and Wendy should pay them no mind and enjoy the amazing sights hidden within the depths of Dean’s.
But all of that had little to do with Tyde’s racing pulse and the pounding of his heart in his ears. New dive equipment was cool, but it paled in comparison to seeing Wendy suit up and swim towards Dean’s Blue Hole.
It had been so long, too long, since Tyde and Wendy had dived together. Memories of past tragedy threatened to shake the foundation of Tyde’s happiness. He pushed these thoughts down and tried to remain focused on the image of Wendy gracefully gliding through the water. Diving had brought them together and it would do it again.
Wendy turned and pointed towards the gaping maw of Dean’s Blue Hole. The white sand disappeared into the craggy azure opening and the darkness it contained. Small fish darted around the edges like errant beams of rainbow. Wendy’s eyes widened as she stared back at Tyde. She was excited. She was having fun. Tyde felt a few of the jagged pieces of their broken life slip back into place.
Just like a puzzle, Tyde thought as he kicked towards Wendy and Jefferson. This is going to work. This is going to save our marriage.
Jefferson nodded and gave a thumbs up. Tyde and Wendy returned the gesture and the three tilted themselves towards massive underwater cave that yawned beneath them.
The interior chambers of Dean’s Blue Hole looked out of place on Earth. They were cold, almost devoid of life and completely alien. But they were beautiful. Wendy was beautiful. Tyde enjoyed watching her dive again more than the dive itself.
Wendy turned and snapped a quick picture of Tyde. He looked like he was enjoying himself and she suddenly found herself enjoying the dive as well. Maybe things could be fixed. Maybe the past could just be the past and cease to be a toxic cloud that hung over their marriage.
Jefferson waved and signaled for Tyde and Wendy to swim closer. He pointed to a tunnel that led out of the main chamber. Tyde glanced at Wendy. She nodded and the three swam deeper into the blue hole.
The tunnel narrowed and tooth-like formations jutted from the walls. Tyde couldn’t help but envision a giant mouth and thoughts of the kid who died drifted into his head. A strange, almost transparent fish darted past Wendy. She rushed to take a picture of the creature. All other thoughts were chased from Tyde’s mind.
Jefferson turned to see how the tourists were doing. As far as tourists went, they weren’t too bad. A shadow drifted into the tunnel. It wasn’t anything too large, no bigger than a person – probably just a shark or some other lost fish that would soon find its way back into open water. Jefferson motioned for Tyde and Wendy to follow.
Two more shadows joined the other and the three slowly drifted behind the divers.
-25-
Milo steered his boat around the edges of Long Island. It was strange to be on the water with few other boats. A couple of patrol boats passed, but once word was passed along that Stan was in the civilian craft, none bothered to stop them.
“You see anything?” Milo asked from the behind the steering wheel. Stan shook his head. After searching for most of the day, they still found nothing, especially not a giant sea monster. Stan was beginning to question if he had made a mistake. If maybe he had overreacted and gotten caught up in the hysterics of locals, locals who were probably drunk on more than folklore.
“There,” Milo shouted and pointed off to the right. A large shadowy outline bobbed in the water, slightly larger than the boat, but surely not big enough to be the Lusca.
The engines idled and chugged as Milo shifted the boat into neutral and let the motion of the water carry them closer to the object.
“What is it?” Milo asked as he climbed into the bow next to his brother. He noticed that Stan’s fingers delicately touched the clasp on his holster, as if debating the need for the weapon. He unclipped the snap, but left his gun in the holster. Stan was not ready to accept the existence of the Lusca, but did not seem quite ready to rule it out.
“It looks like a whale,” Milo said as the bow of his boat nudged the dark mass that bobbed in front of them.
“A killer whale,” Stan added. The large body of the creature gently rocked in the waves on its side. The one visible eye was gone, probably having been plucked from its orbit by some sea birds, birds that were now oddly absent. Circular red divots punctuated the sleek twenty-foot body of the whale. Each fleshy crater was roughly the size of a large grapefruit, the edges ringed with bits of stringy meat.
“What could do that?” Stan asked, pointing to the weeping wounds peppering the flank of the whale.
“I’m not sure,” Milo answered honestly. “It looks like something just tore chunks right out of it, but what could do that to a killer whale?”
“Do you think maybe the whale is what got those college kids and Wally?” Stan asked, the thin hope contained within his words snapped before the words had fully formed. “Maybe it was sick and attacking people. Isn’t that what they think happened with the shark that inspired Jaws?”
“Yeah,” Milo agreed. “That’s what happened to the shark, or at least what they think happened, but I don’t see how that helps us.”
“What do you mean?” Stan asked.
“Because if a sick killer whale is what ate those kids, we’re in even more trouble than we thought.” Milo started back towards the controls. He wanted to get the boat moving as soon as possible.
“Milo, don’t start with all that Lusca crap again,” Stan snapped. His logical mind wanted to answer the question of what killed those people and wanted even more to report that it was over. “It’s dead. What else is there?”
“Yeah, it’s dead,” Milo nodded. “But whatever killed it isn’t.”
“Those wounds have to be from scavengers,” Stan protested. “What could do that to a killer whale that size? Nothing around here could do that.”
The water behind Milo’s boat rippled as a sleek, serpentine tentacle broke the water and flicked the air. The molted black and red spire glistened in the sun. The tentacle’s underside, coal black and covered with rings of varying sizes, flexed and pulsated, revealing a wickedly curved translucent tooth that hid within each sucker. The chug of the boat’s engines hid the sound of three more tentacles slipping free of the water.
A wet slap left Milo’s ears ringing as the boat pitched backwards. The engines coughed, sputtered and died as they were pulled beneath the frothing water.
Milo saw his brother draw his gun and watched his forearm flex as he squeezed the trigger, but the sounds of the shots never registered in Milo’s mind. His ears rung and his mind scrambled to make sense of what it was seeing.
Four red blossoms bloomed on the tentacle as Stan’s shots found their mark. The tentacle recoiled and curled back on itself, retreating into the turbulent waters.
“Get the engines started,” Stan shouted as he sighted the other tentacles.
Milo twisted the key. Nothing. He pushed the choke and wrenched the key again. Still nothing.
“The engines are dead,” Milo said, immediately regretting his word choice.
-26-
A large, semi-circular lip of rock jutted into the water above
Tyde’s head. Jefferson had already climbed out of the water to ensure that it was safe. His hand broke the water and motioned for Tyde and Wendy to join him. Moments later, they climbed out of the water and shed their heavy diving gear.
“This is amazing,” Wendy gasped as she ran her hand over the smooth walls of the rocky alcove. The wet gray stone shone where the beam of flashlights passed over it.
“Pretty cool, right?” Jefferson nodded. “My business partner, Milo, and I found this on a dive. I figured you might like it.”
“How is there air in here?” Tyde asked. “Shouldn’t it be hard to breath down here?”
“Best we can figure is that there must be a connection between here and surface,” Jefferson paused, “My friend, Milo, mind you he’s crazy, said something about oxygen being brought in from how the water flowed through hidden caves. He thinks there’s a whole system of caves connected down here. But like I said, he’s kind of crazy and believes in a lot of the old folklore of this island.”
“You don’t?” Wendy asked. Her question was equal parts honest and sarcastic.
“Some of it, I guess,” Jefferson admitted. “But not all. Come on, I want to show you where this goes.” Jefferson waved towards the rear of the grotto. Tyde and Wendy followed close behind.
The small tunnel leading away from the grotto was narrow and low, but still accommodated an adult if they crouched.
“What’s back here?” Tyde asked.
“Just keep up,” Jefferson motioned.
Wendy reached for Tyde’s hand and interlocked their fingers. He couldn’t tell if it was for balance, because of fear or love or some strange mix of all three, but Tyde didn’t care. He squeezed Wendy’s hand and followed Jefferson.
The narrow passageway opened into darkness. Tyde swung his flashlight, illuminating a massive chamber. Jefferson stood near the middle, his own flashlight shining upwards, casting a wide yellow disk that faded into the darkness leaking from the roof of the chamber.
“Even cooler, right?” Jefferson grinned. He pointed towards a small pool that steamed in the center of the chamber. “It’s a natural hot spring. I’ll go back and wait near our gear. Say we’ll all meet back up in no more than twenty minutes?” Jefferson arched his eyebrows and grinned. “Unless of course you think you might need more time.”
“No,” Tyde laughed.
“Less?” Jefferson teased. “Hey, I’m not judging. Okay, how about three minutes?”
“See you in twenty,” Wendy grinned and pushed him away.
Jefferson’s laughing echoed off the slick walls of the tunnel as he made his way back to the equipment.
“So now what?” Tyde asked. “Are we really going to fool around in some underground hot tub that is probably a stew of tourist skin and STD’s? Who knows how many people have been in there or if Jefferson is watching?”
“Where’s your sense of adventure?” Wendy smiled and pulled Tyde closer.
***
Three shadows bobbed near the edge of the rocky outcropping as Jefferson emerged from the tunnel.
Milo would be pissed when he found out that Jefferson brought tourists down here, but once he realized how this dive would attract bored tourists looking to jumpstart their libidos and more than willing to pay good money to do so, well, he would get over it. A lot of things were easier to accept when they were rolling in hundred dollar bills.
Two tanks leaned against the rock wall. One was missing.
“Where the hell did that tank get off to?” Milo asked as he investigated the two that remained. It looked like Tyde’s was missing. “Probably left it close to the edge and the damn thing rolled into the water.”
Jefferson pulled on his gear and walked closer to the glassy surface of the water. He would have to dive down and find Tyde’s tank before they were done doing whatever they were doing in the hot spring.
Plunging into the water, Jefferson was swallowed in a roiling net of bubbles and blind. He looked down, hoping to see Tyde’s air tank, but it was missing.
Something jabbed Jefferson’s ribs and a hot pang of pain radiated through his chest. Turning in the direction of the attack, Jefferson found himself looking at three men in strange diving gear, gear that looked similar to what that crazy doctor had shown them back at his camp. One of the men lunged forward, thrusting a knife towards Jefferson’s stomach. The second man held Tyde’s air tank and the third swam towards the surface, no doubt going after the remaining tank.
A million thoughts rushed through Jefferson’s head, but none so strong as the need to avoid the blade of the knife plunging towards his unprotected gut. Jefferson rolled to the side and avoided most of the attack, but the man with the knife was trained and returned with a quick sideways slash that dug into Jefferson’s side.
Reaching for his ankle, Jefferson pulled his own dive knife. He had never hurt another living creature and certainly had never killed a human being, but none of that mattered. All that mattered was surviving. As the man thrust his knife a second time, Jefferson grabbed his forearm and drove his blade through the soft meat. The man screamed, his mouth filling with salt water and his respirator coming lose. Jefferson tore his blade free and wildly slashed at the man’s neck and face.
The man holding Tyde’s air tank dropped it and swam back towards the main chamber of Dean’s Blue Hole. Jefferson waited for the other man to attack, but nothing came. His head hung forward, a wide red gash in the side of his neck weeping blood.
Jefferson’s body hurt. He knew he had been cut and that it was bad, possibly fatal, but he brought Tyde and Wendy down here and wasn’t about to leave them.
The third man, holding Wendy’s air tank, jumped back into the water and almost landed on Jefferson. A look of surprise glowed behind the man’s diving mask as Jefferson plunged the blade of his knife into his gut.
Wendy’s air tank scrapped against the wet rock as Jefferson pushed it back onto the ledge and climbed out. His body screamed in protest as he pulled the third man, bleeding and near death, out of the water.
“Tyde,” Jefferson said weakly. He drummed up his remaining energy and screamed the tourist’s name once more before collapsing to the ground.
-27-
Smoke drifted from the swamped engines. The tentacles slipped beneath the water and had yet to reappear. Aside from their frantic breaths and light slapping of the whale carcass against the hull of the boat, the sea was silent.
“What the hell was that?” Stan asked. He scanned the water, his gun still held at ready. Milo noticed the index finger on Stan’s right hand flexing and relaxing as it rested in front of the trigger.
“Do you really need to ask?” Milo responded. “That was the damn Lusca, just like I have been saying from the get go.”
A loud hiss and spray of fetid salty air erupted just off the bow of the boat. The whale carcass, bloated from rot and the warm sun, split in two where a ropey tentacle wrapped around its middle. Two more tentacles sprang from the water and latched onto the bow of boat. The boat pitched forward, almost throwing Milo and Stan into the water.
“Get the engines working,” Stan shouted as he began firing at the tentacles. One lashed out, knocking him to the deck of the boat. Milo rushed forward, but Stan waved him away. “I’m fine. Take care of the engines.” Stan briefly thought about grabbing his cell phone or the boat’s radio to call for help, but pushed the thought out his head. If he ran out of bullets before Milo got the engines working, they would be dead. There was no time to call for help.
Steadying for his next shot, Stan remained blind to the tentacle that slithered over the side of the boat behind him. Pain bloomed in his leg as if to herald the advent of a deadly Spring. Curved, razor-like teeth slide from between the countless suction cups that lined the underside of the tentacle and buried themselves in the tough muscle of Stan’s leg. Before Stan had a chance to fully process the pain and what was happening, the world flipped and he found himself inverted, staring down at his brother’s boat.
A muffled growl, equal parts frustration and pain, leaked from between Stan’s gnashed teeth. He trained the barrel of his gun on the attacking tentacle and squeezed the trigger. Click. Click. Click. The sound of an empty clip. The sound of nails being driven into the lid of his coffin. Click.
Stan fumbled for another clip, dropping one into the water, before successfully sliding one into his gun.
Milo yanked the casings off of the dual engines on the rear of his boat. The engines were swamped, but he could fix it – all he needed was time. He only hoped that Stan could stall the Lusca long enough for him to get them working. Stan shouted something unintelligible. Milo continued to work on the engines as the boat tilted forward.
Grabbing the engines to steady himself, Milo threw a quick glance over his shoulder. His brother hung above the boat, a tentacle twisted around his ankle. Stan howled and fired rounds into the Lusca’s soft flesh, but it held strong. Milo imagined the viscous barbs hiding on the underside of each tentacle tearing into his brother’s leg.
“The gun. Throw me the gun,” Milo shouted as he rushed forward.
“Fix. The. Damn. Engines,” Stan yowled as he fumbled another clip into his weapon. Milo hesitated. “Fix the engines or the next shot will be at your head.”
The tentacle holding Stan shook, whipping him violently back and forth. Milo tried not to watch, tried to focus on the engines, but the entire scene was beyond comprehension and demanded his attention. The tentacle went rigid. Stan slammed onto the deck of the boat, the severed tentacle tangled around his legs. The severed appendage writhed and pulsed, but relaxed its grip on Stan’s leg. Blood streamed down his leg and soaked his sock, but Stan appeared not to notice the savage wounds dotting his flesh.
“Engines,” Stan screamed.
“What cut the tentacle?” Milo asked, unable to turn his attention back to the swamped engines.
“I don’t care,” Stan answered. “All I care is that I’m free.”
“But,” Milo argued.
“But nothing,” Stan snapped. “It doesn’t matter what did it.”
RIP Tyde Page 7