Menace From the Deep

by Michael P. Spradlin

  Mrs. Clawson left them a Crock-Pot with beef stew and biscuits to warm up for dinner, and the three of them ate in relative silence. When they were finished, Calvin and Emmet did the dishes while Dr. Geaux went to her study. She came out a few minutes later. They avoided talking about the search for Emmet’s dad. It just hung there like a giant black cloud. So far, they weren’t able to find him.

  “Guys,” she said. “I’m beat. I’m going to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  After that, Emmet waited. And waited. Every once in a while, up in Montana, the snowfall came softly … the snow falling out of the sky in big puffy flakes that seemed to take hours before they landed on the ground. For Emmet, the minutes went by like one of those snowflakes. Each one taking its own sweet time to pass. He was so tense it felt like whatever he did was giving away everything. Even when he tried to act as normal as possible, he worried that Calvin would think he was acting too normal and would sniff out his plan.

  Finally, Calvin went to bed, and Emmet followed along. Just like the night before. He brushed his teeth and got ready to go to sleep. But he wouldn’t be sleeping tonight. From his spot in the guest room he stayed awake for a few more hours, reading, getting up and pacing the floor when he felt sleepy. All night long he kept it up, until it was almost four A.M.

  He opened the guest-room door, checking to see that Calvin’s and Dr. Geaux’s doors were still shut. Apollo looked up at him from his bed on the floor, but it was his sleep time and he dropped his head back down, not at all interested in what Emmet was up to.

  Still in his clothes, he crept downstairs to Dr. Geaux’s study. Her briefcase was open on the desk, a bunch of file folders inside it. Emmet flipped on the small desk lamp and looked through the files until he found the one he wanted. He pulled the map out of the file and spread it open on her desk, studying it carefully. Fifteen minutes later, he was pretty sure he found what he was looking for.

  Emmet took the file with him and quietly and cautiously crept to the front door. Hoping for no squeak or whining hinges, he carefully opened it. Then he slipped away into the darkness.

  THE FLORIDA CITY BUSES RAN THROUGH THE NIGHT. Though he had only been in town for a week, Emmet studied the routes on a map at school and knew the bus that would drop him off within walking distance of the park. He wasn’t sure exactly how he’d get inside. But he’d come this far. The rest of it … he would just have to figure it out when he got there.

  On their first day in Florida, when Emmet and his dad followed Dr. Geaux to the park, she drove them through a separate entrance, about a mile away from the main gate. There lay the facility storing the dead archosaur, and behind it, the path that led to the docks. That was Emmet’s destination. He didn’t want to run into any media, protestors, or other commotion at the main entrance, even though there was likely to be little going on this early in the morning. Besides, he was willing to bet Dr. Geaux’s entrance would be less guarded and easier to talk his way into.

  When he approached the gate from the road he couldn’t believe his luck. There was nobody stationed there. You needed a special card to raise the gate. Dr. Geaux probably figured it was better to put rangers out on search parties than keeping them back here at the gate, where no one was likely to get in, anyway. He started to feel good for the first time in a while, like maybe this was going to work.

  As he walked closer to the entrance, the realization that he hadn’t thought this all the way through smacked him in the head. The gate was at least ten feet high, and the surface was smooth. The walls rose up on either side of the gate, making them taller yet; at least twelve feet high. But he had come this far, and he wasn’t going to give up easily.

  Emmet was about five and a half feet tall. He wouldn’t be able to jump and reach the top. He tried not to let the sense of dejection take over, but it was hard not to. Then he spotted the trash can a few yards down the road. If he used it like a makeshift stepladder … it would still leave him a little short from the top … but it might give him just enough lift to reach the top. A few weeks ago he’d been snowboarding in Montana and his legs were still in pretty good shape. If he took a running start and used the can as a launching pad, he could probably grab the top and scramble over.

  Probably.

  He retrieved the trash can and turned it upside down up against the gate. If someone came along and saw it there, he hoped they wouldn’t put two and two together. Maybe they’d think the wind blew it off the road.

  Emmet backed up and took a deep breath. He ran as hard as he could toward the trash can, then jumped up and pushed off against the bottom of it. For a moment, it looked like it was going to work. Until all of a sudden the gate was swinging open while he was still in midair.

  Emmet had planned for almost everything. Just not Calvin.

  THEY ENDED UP NOT TAKING THE DRAGONFLY 1. CALVIN chose a canoe instead, one with an electric trolling motor that was almost silent.

  “Probably better to give up a little speed for noise,” he’d said when he’d finally agreed to Emmet’s plan. Now Emmet wasn’t so sure. The canoe was way slower than the airboat. But Calvin swore it was the right choice, and so they got in and off they went. Calvin made sure the battery was fully charged, and he even removed two spares from two of the other boats in case they needed them. Emmet was pretty sure Calvin thought over everything. He’d also brought Apollo along on his leash.

  A breeze was coming out of the west, and suddenly Emmet remembered Dr. Geaux telling him she must bring the boats back from the search efforts at night. It was too dangerous to be zipping around in an airboat in the dark, she’d said. Too many stumps and floating logs and other obstacles to collide with if you couldn’t see where you were going. The canoe was slower, sure. But Emmet was holding on extra tight. The morning light was brightening by the moment, but he was hoping like heck they didn’t crash headlong into a stump. He was pretty sure Calvin knew the swamp like Apollo knew pork chops, and could pilot a boat through blindfolded if necessary. He still held on, though.

  It took some convincing. As sure as Emmet was that Dr. Catalyst was running his entire operation out of the swamp, Calvin was equally convinced he wasn’t. But to Calvin’s credit, he’d listened to Emmet’s theory — really listened. Of course then he tried to poke holes in it. They discussed it back and forth by the gate, Emmet still aching from his crash into it.

  Calvin, with Apollo acting like a bloodhound, had followed him the whole way. Just as Emmet jumped, he used his mom’s card on the reader by the street to open the gate. Instead of grasping the top and climbing over, Emmet crashed into it with a thud. Calvin thought it was funny. What a comedian.

  Emmet confessed that his plan was to take the Dragonfly 1 out into the swamp to search, which sounded foolish in retrospect. Besides, he didn’t know how to pilot a boat, and he’d made one other pivotal mistake.

  “If you’re going to pilot an airboat, you need to know at least one thing,” Calvin said while they stood there, Emmet growing more nervous by the minute that someone would come along and spot them.

  “What’s that?” Emmet said.

  Calvin reached into his pocket and removed a key chain. “Where the keys are.”

  Emmet groaned. He hadn’t even thought of that. The day they went out in the boat he never paid attention to how it started. Maybe by pushing a button. It was a freaking boat, not a car.

  Emmet thought Calvin would turn him in, then. He’d have to go to Dr. Geaux and apologize for taking the documents he needed from her briefcase, tell them why, and wait while the giant bureaucracy considered his idea. In the meantime his dad would still be out there. Finally, he’d won Calvin over by asking him a question.

  “Calvin, if you were in my spot, if it was your mom out there, what would you do?”

  Calvin had considered it a moment, but not a long one. Then he said, “Let’s go. But we’re not taking the Dragonfly One.”

  Now they were almost to the first coordinates on the map Calvin had tak
en from Dr. Geaux’s study that evening. Emmet had shown Calvin the spot and he’d put the coordinates into the GPS unit he pulled from his backpack. It took them nearly an hour to get there. The first place Emmet thought Dr. Catalyst might be hiding his dad was a location about a mile deep in the swamp, but close to Plantation Row. Except for one problem.

  There was nothing there.

  A hillock of dry ground rose up out of the surrounding water, but it was covered in saw grass and shrubs and other bushes Emmet couldn’t identify. He had been so sure. Now he just felt like an idiot, and even worse, he thought his dad … No. No matter what, he would not allow himself to think it.

  “There’s nothing here,” Emmet said bitterly.

  “Look,” Calvin said suddenly, standing up and pointing to the … Emmet had no idea what he was pointing at.

  “At what?” Emmet said.

  “There’s something not right about those tufts of grass in the middle … of … They’re higher … Wait here,” he said. Using a boat hook, he grabbed a small sapling and pulled them close enough to the hillock for him to step out onto it. He crashed through the grass and stopped. Calvin took Apollo, still on his leash, with him. Emmet waited in the boat, feeling a little scared and a bit ashamed. His dad was missing and he should be helping Calvin search. But the swamp still scared him.

  “Emmet! Come here,” Calvin said.

  Emmet took a deep breath and stepped out of the canoe. He followed their path through the grass until they were standing next to each other. Calvin was still holding the boat hook. But Apollo was moving back and forth, sniffing the ground like crazy and digging at the grass and roots.

  “What?” Emmet said.

  Calvin poked the boat hook into the ground. There should have been either a loud squishing sound or no sound at all. Instead it made a thunking sound.

  “It’s concrete,” Emmet said.

  “Yep, and there’s got to be a way inside. Look around for a hatch or door,” Calvin said.

  They stomped around, pushing the grass back and forth. Emmet was nearly ready to give up when Apollo barked. Now the little mutt was digging furiously at the ground with his paws. Calvin yelled, “Over here!”

  Apollo uncovered a small electrical switch box. Opening the cover revealed a red-and-green button on a small panel inside.

  “Push it,” Emmet said.

  “What if it’s a tr —” Calvin didn’t get a chance to finish, because Emmet reached over and pushed the button. They heard a whirring sound like a motor, and six feet in front of them a hatch covered in grass and weeds slowly flipped open, revealing a damp, musty stairway leading down into darkness.

  Calvin looked at Emmet.

  “You first,” he said.

  THE KLAXON SOUND OF A PERIMETER ALARM WOKE DR. Catalyst from sleep. He came awake instantly, but was not immediately concerned. It was probably a deer or an alligator that had activated one of the motion sensors he placed around all of his compounds. It had happened plenty of times before. But when he ambled over to the monitor, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his heart nearly leapt from his chest.

  The alarm was tripped from the holding bunker where he kept Dr. Doyle. He’d installed wireless cameras to cover the area, and he pulled up a screen of images. What he saw made him feel weak. A canoe bobbed gently in the water next to the hillock where the bunker was built. Someone found it? Impossible.

  His mind raced. How could this have happened? Had Doyle come awake and somehow summoned help? This couldn’t be! It must have been a ranger who had stumbled across the bunker by blind luck. He was too careful. It was so well hidden.

  There was simply no time for self-recrimination. The bunker was now compromised, and it would soon be crawling with law enforcement. He took a deep breath to calm himself. This was unexpected and unfortunate, but nothing he hadn’t planned for.

  Furiously, he began implementing his evacuation. He could load his new round of hatchlings onto the boat, and the latest batch of eggs in the battery-powered incubator. He’d trained and rehearsed for this eventuality many times. Stick to the plan, he reminded himself. Calm is slow, slow is fast: a mantra he repeated to himself in tense situations.

  As he slipped into his jumpsuit, his eye caught the monitor again and he studied the boat more closely. It suddenly occurred to him that it was a canoe and not an airboat. Park rangers would not be using canoes; they were too slow. And if it wasn’t a park-service craft, whose could it be? One of the volunteer guides or … no … a poacher looking for gators?

  Just then, Calvin and the Doyle boy emerged from the stairway, and it appeared they were arguing over something. From their body language and gestures, he deduced that Calvin was trying to convince the Doyle lad to refrain from descending the stairs. He threw back his head and laughed.

  “Good advice, Calvin!” he shouted to the empty room. “He doesn’t have any idea what is waiting for him down there!”

  He watched a few more seconds as the Doyle boy held the leash of a small black dog and stayed by the entrance as Calvin retreated to the canoe. He returned with a large black Maglite and a first-aid kit.

  These two were clever. Maybe his plan to save the Everglades wasn’t going to go as smoothly as he thought. If they entered and somehow got past Hammer and Nails and saved Dr. Doyle, there was a chance his creations could escape. If they left the door open, Hammer and Nails might leave the bunker in search of snakes.

  Dr. Catalyst had not fitted them with their collars while they were inside the bunker. If they got away, he might not recover them. While he planned to release more of his hybrids to clear out the snake population, it was always his intention to do so in a carefully calculated way. He wanted to make sure they were monitored. Both for their own health and safety, and to document the decline of the snake population.

  Dr. Catalyst felt a strange feeling flowing over him. At first he only intended to hold Dr. Doyle hostage as a means to an end. He did not intend to harm the man. But now these two precocious boys were on the verge of undoing everything he’d devoted years to. Could he seriously allow that?

  He looked at the clock. It was 5:30 A.M. The search patrols would be starting in another hour or so. There wasn’t much time. What was he prepared to do? Come this close and lose? For several seconds he sat stock-still, considering his options.

  Then he came to a decision. Slipping on the hood that concealed his face, he grabbed the keys and raced to his airboat. Calvin and Emmet gave him no choice. It wasn’t his fault. As difficult as it might be for some to grasp, individuals were not as important as the preservation of nature.

  He would have to destroy them all.

  EMMET WAS THREE STEPS DOWN THE STAIRS WHEN HE felt Calvin’s hand on his collar pulling him back up. He jerked and tried to break loose, not understanding what Calvin was doing. It was too dark to see much, but he definitely heard something moving in the darkness below.

  “What? What are you doing? My dad is down there,” Emmet nearly shouted.

  “We don’t know that for sure,” Calvin said calmly. “But if he is, Emmet, you’ve seen the broadcast and you know what’s down there with him. Wait here.” Calvin trotted back in the direction of the boat.

  “Where are you going?” Emmet shouted. He looked down into the darkened bunker again, because he thought he’d heard a splash when he shouted.

  Calvin was back right away. He was carrying a big Maglite flashlight, which he handed to Emmet. He kept the boat hook and was now holding a first-aid kit. Emmet switched on the light and shined it down the stairway. He saw water at the bottom of the steps, and it only made him quicken his pace down the stairs. Calvin stayed one step behind him. The water was filled with grass from the swamp, but it was turning brown, starting to decay with the lack of sunlight, and it made for a powerful stench.

  The steps were wide, about four feet at least, and they could both stand on the bottom step. Calvin lowered the boat hook into the water and it hit bottom at about eighteen inches. It wou
ldn’t be over their heads, at least. They both heard a moan, and Emmet swung the light around. It came to rest on a steel cage, perched on a platform in the middle of the bunker. There was a man slumped in it.

  “Dad!” Emmet shouted. Without thinking, he gave Apollo’s leash to Calvin and plunged into the water, splashing his way toward the cage, determined to free his father. It didn’t register that Apollo was barking like mad, nor did he hear or have time to react to Calvin’s warning shout.

  “Emmet, wait!”

  Only a few feet separated him from the cage as he kicked through the grass and water, trying to reach it. “Dad!” he shouted again.

  His shout was answered by a certain noise he’d heard before. At first it didn’t register. Then it sounded again, drowning out Calvin’s shouts of warning.

  He heard something rise up out of the water behind him, and a leathery flapping sound. Surging forward, he tried to push it all out of his mind in order to reach his father.

  But his path to the cage was cut off. One of the Pterogators popped out of the water in front of him, its long, birdlike neck writhing upward until its head was almost even with his. Its eyes, so like an owl’s and looking out of place on the alligator-shaped head, stared at him with unadulterated menace. The mouth opened, revealing row upon row of razor-sharp teeth, and a chilling hiss came from somewhere deep in the creature’s throat.

  Emmet couldn’t help himself.

  He screamed. It felt like he was stuck in a tunnel of doom and the only thing in the noise and confusion surrounding him was Apollo’s incessant barking and growling. Calvin’s voice brought him back to reality.

  “Emmet! Behind you! Duck!” Calvin shouted.