Menace From the Deep

by Michael P. Spradlin

  Emmet and Dr. Doyle looked at each other and nodded.

  “Of course. We won’t say anything to anyone,” Dr. Doyle said.

  “Pinky swear?” Dr. Geaux said, holding out her pinky finger.

  Emmet couldn’t help it, but she made him laugh.

  “Pinky swear,” Emmet said.

  “All right. Ben, I’ll see you at park HQ. Emmet, get your gear and let’s roll. I think you’re going to like your school. And Ben, you better bring that adorable mutt along with you today.”

  Apollo stood up from where he lay sprawled on the kitchen floor and wagged his tail. Sometimes Emmet was certain the dog could understand human speech.

  “Will do,” Dr. Doyle said. “Have a good day, son. Tell me all about it when I get home.” He knew enough not to embarrass Emmet by hugging him, so he held out his fist for a fist bump. Emmet silently groaned but bumped fists with his dad, anyway. He made a mental note to ask his dad later to please not try acting hip in front of other people. He was really bad at it.

  Leaving the house, he couldn’t help but think how Dr. Geaux and Calvin’s arrival already made his day feel routine. He wasn’t sure how it happened, but he found himself less stressed out about starting over in a new place. Even his dad had seemed more relaxed.

  As they climbed into the car, a bull alligator bugled from the canal behind their house. It reminded Emmet of the previous day, and a small bit of tension tightened along the muscles in his back and shoulders. He would leave it to his father and Dr. Geaux to deal with the weird alligator problem. As far as Emmet Doyle was concerned, he might have to live here for now, but he never had to go back into the Everglades.

  If only that had turned out to be true.

  HIDDEN AWAY IN HIS COMPOUND, THE MAN HAD stared at the computer screen for the last dozen hours, watching the data roll by. Given the strange behavior of Hammer and Nails on the island yesterday, his entire experiment was now called into question. He’d spent the last two days poring over his research, pausing only for a few hours of sleep.

  What had gone wrong? In his controlled experiments, the beasts always performed magnificently, even by-passing mammals or other easier prey and zeroing in directly on the snakes. But he had lost one to the Park Service, and Hammer and Nails had not acted as he’d anticipated. The intention of releasing them on the island had been to have them scare the two boys and create the false impression in Dr. Geaux’s mind that the swamp was now full of this new species. Knowing the danger to public safety, she would have no choice but to shut down the park, and this would allow his creatures to eradicate the snakes without human interference.

  But Hammer and Nails had turned aggressive. Instead of merely announcing their presence, they attacked. There was no doubt they would have overwhelmed the boys if the quick thinking of Calvin had not saved them. Something went wrong, but what? And why had the other specimen escaped and then died, its corpse falling into the hands of his enemy, allowing them to examine it?

  He stood and rubbed his eyes and stretched, massaging the sore muscles in his back. As he paced back and forth in front of his workstation, the data streams poured through his mind. No one understood how remarkable his achievement was. Using recombinant DNA, mixing the DNA of two distinct species into one organism, he had managed to create an animal that would be the salvation of the Everglades.

  He had played back the recording of Dr. Doyle and Dr. Geaux’s autopsy. It was impossible to believe how quickly Dr. Doyle zeroed in on what he had done. Perhaps he was much smarter than he appeared. While they worked and Doyle studied the lab results, he told Dr. Geaux that the DNA strands and tissue samples, as well as the morphology of the creature, pointed to a prehistoric pterosaur, or an offshoot of an archaeopteryx-type dinosaur. Perhaps this creature had been found in a more preserved state, much like the mastodons and wooly mammoths that had been found in parts of Russia, preserved in ice. If the preservation of the carcass was good enough to allow extraction of enough tissue to form a complete DNA strand, such a creature could easily be cloned.

  When the man heard Dr. Doyle’s explanation to Dr. Geaux, he sat there, dumbstruck. For he had described almost exactly how his Pterogators had come to life. It was a little more complicated than that; he was brilliant, after all. But Dr. Doyle had cut right to the heart of his work. This could be a problem.

  With the right amounts of money and knowledge, cloning was almost becoming commonplace. But cloning prehistoric creatures was the stuff of movies and comic books. Because finding a complete DNA sequence in a fossil or frozen remains had proved nearly impossible. But with enough money and luck, he had found everything he needed.

  The man did not expect anyone to comprehend the brilliance of his research. Yet Dr. Doyle made a leap of intuition right away. This could prove troublesome. Once Dr. Geaux and Dr. Doyle completed their study, they would begin following the trail backward. And though he had covered his tracks well, there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t be discovered.

  What he had done was a step beyond cloning. He had taken two distinct but evolutionarily distantly related species, the alligator and the great gray owl, and mapped their DNA. With a specimen of DNA from a prehistoric crocodilian, he had taken the best attributes of both species and combined them into his new crocodilians. And since both gators and owls were hatched from eggs, it was easier to keep experimenting until he created the exact specimen he was looking for.

  From there, as they grew, he trained them to hunt snakes. Birds of prey, such as falcons, could be trained to hunt, and his creatures were no different. Falcons were taught to hunt doves, for example. With proper training, they focused on doves at the exclusion of other food sources. After three years of work, he had achieved the same results. His creations were bred and trained to focus on pythons and boa constrictors.

  And he was now almost ready to let them loose and bring the ecosystem here back into balance.

  At least he’d thought so. Until yesterday, when the boys had somehow interfered.

  The boys.

  Could that be it? His trials in the lab had used many different mammals, birds, and reptiles to dissuade or distract his creatures from tracking and killing snakes. In every instance they bypassed these animals and focused solely on the snakes.

  But they had never encountered other humans. Could that be it? Had the presence of the two boys thrown off Hammer’s and Nails’s senses?

  An interesting hypothesis. It would need testing. And to test it properly he would need a subject. And he knew exactly whom he would use. But doing so would create pressure and heat if the person came up missing. He needed to clear the park of civilians at the very least. Then his experiment could proceed, hopefully before his subject’s disappearance was discovered.

  Sitting back down at his workstation, he typed out an email. It was time to put the South Florida area on notice. He was responsible for the alligators, birds, and other creatures that were migrating out of the park and causing havoc in the nearby cities and towns. When he was finished, he attached a file of the video of Hammer and Nails attacking and devouring a python. The email would be anonymous and untraceable, bounced around from a dozen different servers and IP addresses. A new day was about to dawn.

  He pushed send, and the email was on its way to every media outlet in South Florida. Then he pulled up the video and audio feeds of Park HQ. If he was lucky, he would have a subject for his test very soon. The man leaned back in his chair and smiled.

  He had signed the email “Dr. Catalyst.”

  THERE WAS NOTHING NEW IN EMMET’S FIRST DAY AT Tasker Middle School in Florida City. At least, nothing he hadn’t experienced what seemed like a thousand times before. Everyone stared at him. Some kids were friendly. A few made wisecracks about his appearance. There were unfriendly kids, but most were overwhelmingly ambivalent and ignored him.

  Dr. Geaux dropped them off at the front door in her Buick. She wished them well and drove away without making a big deal about it. Emmet decided that
, for another kid’s mother, she was pretty okay. His mom had always done the same thing, simply saying “Good-bye. Have a great day,” and driving off. Not “Don’t worry, Emmet, you’ll make friends easily.” Or “Why, you’ll be up to speed in no time,” or “Before long you’ll be the principal, Emmet!” and other such annoying phrases. His mom avoided all the “good parenting” and “esteem building” clichés that usually only made him feel worse.

  She just drove him up to the school, said “Have a good one,” and left. Eventually, Emmet came to realize that this was his mom’s way of telling him he could do it on his own. He didn’t need any false praise or supportive banter. It might be tough. Certainly not easy. But she believed in him. Dr. Geaux had essentially just done the same thing, and he couldn’t help himself, but he liked her even more for it.

  Everyone knows that middle school is an obstacle course of social hierarchies. Emmet never usually hung out with the cool kids. He was okay at sports but not a jock by any stretch. Nor did he fall in with the brainiacs or the music and drama geeks. Usually he landed in the middle somewhere, friendly enough to get along with most anyone.

  But after meeting Calvin this weekend, the boat-piloting, swamp-guiding, tree-house-loving, predagator-fighting, hip-hop-listening superkid, he was dying to know where Calvin stood in the social strata at Tasker Middle School.

  Emmet was surprised to find that Calvin was part of a small but interesting group of friends. They weren’t jocks, or what most observers would consider popular, but they were … normal. Mostly. And Emmet had to admit they were a fun group.

  Riley was a tall, slender strawberry blond who wore “smart girl” glasses with black frames. At lunchtime, it took Emmet about three minutes to realize Riley had a huge crush on Calvin. Calvin was, of course, completely oblivious to her feelings.

  There was a bigger, strong-looking kid everyone called Stuke. It was short for Stukaczowski, which Emmet didn’t think he would ever learn to pronounce. His red hair was buzz-cut, and a galaxy of freckles splashed across his nose and cheeks.

  Raeburn was medium height with long, shiny black hair reaching to the middle of her back. Calvin told Emmet later that she was a Seminole, and came to Tasker Middle School from the reservation because she was a math and science whiz.

  They all welcomed Emmet to their table at lunch. They laughed and joked with him, making him feel less like a fifth wheel. Surprisingly, Stuke did most of the talking, asking Emmet all kinds of questions about Montana. Did he ski? Snowboard? Had he ever seen a grizzly bear?

  Emmet liked them, but was dying to ask all of them if they knew that Calvin piloted airboats, fought mysterious ferocious beasts, and chilled out to hip-hop in his tree house.

  Of course, he couldn’t say anything about the strange creatures, and he found it harder to keep quiet about it than he’d thought. And he didn’t want to mention their airboat trip, because that would let the others know that he and Calvin were out in the swamp; it would lead to further discussion, and he was afraid something might slip out.

  “How come you moved to Florida all the way from Montana?” Riley asked.

  “My dad works for Fish and Wildlife. He’s a bird expert. He’s working with the Everglades Park HQ on something about the migratory and habitat analysis of the red-breasted something or other and how it blah, blah, blah, blah, snore …” Emmet said.

  This got a good laugh from the others at the table, even Calvin. Emmet was pretty sure this was the first time he’d seen him laugh. He really did. For at least 1.9 seconds. A chuckle at the very least.

  “Sounds exciting,” Raeburn said.

  “Oh yeah! Especially when … no. It’s never exciting,” Emmet said.

  Everyone laughed again, and Raeburn reached out and poked him on the arm. Emmet thought that was weird. Not bad weird. But she seemed to think he was funny. He’d never thought of himself that way. He would have to think on this “laughing at his jokes, poking him in the arm” thing later.

  “Since your dad works for Fish and Wildlife, have you heard about all the critters crawlin’ out of the Glades?” Stuke asked.

  “Yeah,” Calvin answered for Emmet. “Weird.”

  That Calvin, Emmet thought. What a conversationalist.

  “They found a big gator next to a day-care center the other day,” Stuke went on. “If it weren’t for the fence, it might have been snackin’ on some of the munchkins.”

  “Stuke!” Riley said.

  “What?” he said. “It’s true. My dad’s a cop, Emmet. He’s been getting all kinds of nuisance calls. Maybe your dad will figure out why all the birds and gators are leaving the swamp.”

  Emmet tried with every ounce of self-control he possessed not to look at Calvin, and failed. It was only a quick glance, and Calvin kept his stone face perfectly in place, but Emmet felt like everyone was watching him and thought the best tactic was to change the subject.

  “So, where exactly is the science lab?” he asked. “It’s next on my schedule.”

  “Oh, you got Dr. Newton,” Raeburn said.

  “You have a science teacher named Newton?” Emmet asked.

  They all looked at him blankly.

  “Is the English teacher Mr. Dickens?”

  Each of them smiled.

  “Okay, lame. Sorry. Sometimes I can’t help myself. I have Dr. Newton. Is that bad?” Emmet was suddenly concerned.

  “Oh, not bad, necessarily, just …” Raeburn said.

  “Just what?” Emmet insisted.

  “You’ll see!” She smiled and poked him in the arm again. This time Emmet noticed her piercing green eyes. The whole table was snickering now, even Calvin.

  “Dr. Newton,” Riley said, shaking her head.

  “Yeah,” said Stuke.

  “What? What about Dr. Newton?” Emmet pleaded. But the bell rang. Everyone stood and gathered up their lunch trash.

  “I’ll show you where the lab is,” Raeburn said to Emmet.

  Emmet glanced at Calvin.

  “Dudes. Come on. You have a science teacher named Newton? That’s at least mildly humorous. And why are you all acting like I’m going to get my pants set on fire or something?” Emmet was getting a little nervous.

  Calvin just shrugged. “Got to go. See you outside after school. My mom is picking us up.”

  Raeburn walked Emmet to the lab.

  “No one is going to let me in on the secret?” Emmet asked her.

  She smiled and poked him in the arm. Again.

  “You’ll see,” she said as she strolled down the hallway.

  DR. CATALYST STOOD INSIDE THE LABORATORY OF HIS compound, studying the new batch of hatchlings inside the tank. Only four weeks old, they were already approaching eighteen inches in length. While the embryos gestated inside their eggs, he’d injected them with a series of growth hormones. A normal alligator would take years to achieve a mature length of up to fifteen feet. His method advanced the process so that they would reach ten to twelve feet in a matter of months. At that size they would be more than capable of hunting and destroying a large snake.

  With a large pair of thick leather gloves, he lifted one of the hatchlings from the tank. Despite their size, their teeth and claws were razor-sharp. Carefully he placed the small creature inside a tank on the other side of the room. This one held half a dozen small boa constrictors, none more than two feet in length. The tank was one hundred and fifty gallons in capacity, and the snakes were curled in a ball at the end. Dr. Catalyst placed the hatchling at the opposite end of the tank.

  It lifted its neck. There was slight movement around its nostrils as it sniffed the air. Its eyes focused on the ball of snakes and it took a small leap; the folded wings between its legs stretched out, and it glided through the air, landing feetfirst on the pile of snakes. The boas were frantic to escape. Some tried to slither away, while others wrapped themselves around the hybrid, attempting to strangle it.

  The snakes were no match for even the smaller beast. With gruesome efficiency, it b
it down on the body of one of the boas, while its claws tore at another. The remaining snakes tried to flee the cage, but there was no escape. Within minutes the small hybrid killed them all, just as it’d been designed to.

  Dr. Catalyst finished his study of the data he collected on Hammer’s and Nails’s behavior on the island with the Geaux and Doyle boys. The collars they wore contained small chips, which recorded the creatures’ vital signs when they were out of the lab. Nothing in the data indicated a problem. He attributed it to an anomaly. There could be no other explanation. In the end, he decided not to be concerned about it. They had both been in the swamp several times since the incident and performed as expected.

  Returning to his control room, he turned one of his monitors to a local Miami TV station. Since his email was sent, the press, predictably, had worked itself into a frenzy of alarm. The video of Hammer and Nails destroying a python was replayed over and over again on television and hundreds of websites. A quick search showed that the video went viral, with millions of views. And Dr. Catalyst was now sending the news outlets regular email updates, warning the people of South Florida that he intended to take back and restore the Everglades. From now on, citizens were to enter the park at their own risk.

  One of the local channels was now showing an interview of Dr. Geaux at Park HQ. The reporters peppered her with questions. She did her best to remain calm and professional, but Dr. Catalyst was a master at reading people. He could see the lines of concern etched into her face as she struggled to reassure the public that the danger was minimal.

  “Any wild animal should automatically be given a wide berth. Here in Florida, we inhabit the homes of countless wild creatures. Contact between humans and animals is, at times, inevitable. If we remain calm, and call upon our local police, animal control, and first responders, we can help ensure that neither animal nor human is injured,” she patiently explained.

  Another reporter shouted a question about the tape of the two strange creatures and asked for her opinion on the statements of the so-called “Dr. Catalyst.”