Feeding Frenzy

by Michael P. Spradlin

  “Yeah. My grandfather died, and my dad was an only child. One of my great-uncles probably will. But it won’t be the same,” Calvin said.

  “No, it won’t,” Emmet said. “Not ever.”

  A few moments of silence passed, and then Calvin asked, “What did you want to rant about?”

  “What? Oh, that. It’s nothing, really,” Emmet said.

  “It’s okay. I don’t feel morose anymore. Actually, an Emmet rant would sound pretty good right about now.”

  “I might not stop, once I get started,” Emmet warned.

  “Do you ever?”

  “Hah! You should do stand-up. Like stand up and walk away,” Emmet said.

  “You’re going to tell me anyway, though, right?” Calvin asked.

  “Of course. It’s about Dr. Newton,” Emmet said.

  DR. NEWTON’S CONFRONTATION WITH EMMET DOYLE had rattled him. All day he watched the clock, let his classes essentially run wild, and kept willing the hours to move faster. When the last bell finally rang, he let out a huge sigh of relief. He herded the last student out the door to his classroom and shut it, leaving himself alone. Fishing his phone from his pocket, he placed a call. Someone picked up after two rings, but there was no greeting. This is how the calls always went.

  “There is a problem,” he said into the phone. “We need to meet. The usual place in ninety minutes.” The person on the other end never spoke, did not make a sound of any kind. The call was disconnected, and he stuffed the phone back into his pocket and grabbed his battered briefcase.

  “If they only knew,” he muttered. Dr. Newton burst out of the room and scurried down the hallway, making a beeline for his car in the faculty parking lot. It took him a little longer to open the doors and get seated inside with only one good arm. After the accident he had purchased a new Lexus. These displays of wealth were all part of the plan.

  His drive through the Florida City streets was cautious and deliberate. The traffic was light, but he drove just below the speed limit, checked his mirror carefully, and doubled back several times to be sure he wasn’t being followed. Dr. Newton was nothing if not careful.

  Finally, he maneuvered the car through a mostly empty industrial park and came to a stop at an underpass beneath the freeway. He removed a small pair of binoculars from his briefcase and quickly scanned the surrounding area. There was no sign of surveillance, or of anyone watching.

  Five minutes later a large black sedan pulled up next to the Lexus. The tinted windows obscured the driver. Dr. Newton lowered his window all the way, but the other driver only cracked theirs slightly. Just enough to hear what Dr. Newton had to say.

  “Emmet Doyle might be a problem,” Dr. Newton said.

  “Define problem,” the other driver replied.

  “He confronted me in school today. Asked about my arm. He was … angry,” Dr. Newton said.

  “And how is this a problem?” the mysterious driver asked.

  “You don’t understand. He’s smart and … determined. If he starts nosing around —”

  “If he starts nosing around,” the driver interrupted, “we will take action. Until then, keep an eye on him. If it seems like he’s putting his nose where it doesn’t belong … remove it.”

  “No. You aren’t hearing me. This could ruin everything. Taking his father changed the dynamic. It could lead to —”

  The driver interrupted. “We’re talking about a twelve-year-old. I don’t see why this is a problem, and I don’t understand why you felt the need to tell me this in person. That can ruin everything. Keep an eye on the kid. Remember how much time and effort we have invested here. Don’t mess this up.”

  The driver’s window rose into place with a click. In a few seconds the car was gone. Dr. Newton watched until it vanished from sight, then drove to his home. Along the way he was doubly cautious. Checking his rearview mirror, studying the side streets, and looking for anything suspicious. He saw nothing.

  When he arrived at his home, he pulled into the garage. This time he did not hit the door.

  CALVIN’S TREE HOUSE CAME EQUIPPED WITH A SMALL radio. The boys used it to listen to music while they were doing homework. Just as Emmet was about to launch into his rant, the music on the radio stopped, and a voice cut in with a news bulletin. At first Emmet was prepared to ignore it, but when the announcer mentioned Dr. Catalyst, he stopped. Calvin turned the radio up just in time to hear a recording of the world’s biggest lunatic playing over the airwaves.

  “… and all citizens of South Florida. Your misguided and guilty politicians have refused to close the beaches. As a result, you leave me no other choice. You have seen the video of what my creatures can do to a swimmer. As of tonight, several dozen more Muraecudas will be released at multiple locations all around the South Florida coast. I cannot guarantee the safety of anyone who enters the water. Do so at your own risk. This action demonstrates my seriousness in this matter. You have been warned.” His voice was disguised by one of those electronic voice synthesizers, which made him sound like a robot.

  “People of Earth …” Emmet muttered. “What a loon.”

  The announcer cut back in, saying that several media outlets had received the recording from the individual claiming to be Dr. Catalyst. They would have more details as soon as they became available. Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming.

  “Hmm,” Calvin said.

  “What? What’s ‘hmm’ mean?” Emmet asked.

  “It’s weird,” Calvin said.

  Emmet was sitting crisscross applesauce on the floor of the tree house, and he put his head in his hands. Having a conversation with Calvin was like waiting for paint to dry.

  “What’s weird? And please elaborate. Feel free to use more than one- or two-word answers in your responses.”

  “I just don’t get why he wants to make such a big show of it. If you’re going to open up a new critter-in-the-box to save the environment and stop invasive species like he claims, why go to the media? Wouldn’t it be better to release your creatures into the ecosystem on the sly and then have scientists and all the agencies running around, bumping into one another, trying to figure things out?”

  Emmet stared at Calvin in openmouthed wonder.

  “What?” Calvin asked

  “That was awesome,” Emmet said.

  “Quit it,” Calvin complained.

  “I just think Dr. Catalyst — who is Dr. Newton, by the way — wants the attention.”

  “He’s not Dr. Newton,” Calvin said. “We’ve already been through this.”

  “How do you explain the broken arm?”

  “How did he explain the broken arm?” Calvin asked.

  “What do you mean?” Emmet was squinting at Calvin now.

  Calvin snorted. “Emmet, everybody knows you got in Dr. Newton’s face. It was all over school in about ten minutes.”

  Emmet hadn’t considered that. Angry as he was, he barely remembered getting to his first-hour class. But he did remember angrily shouting at Dr. Newton.

  “His story about the car accident stinks,” said Emmet.

  “Maybe he did have one,” Calvin offered.

  “It’s too convenient. He’s my number-one suspect,” Emmet said.

  “He’s not a suspect,” Calvin said. “Remember, my mom had him questioned by the FBI. There was nothing there. Believe me, my mom likes Dr. Newton about as much as Apollo likes fleas. Nothing would give her greater satisfaction than slapping him in cuffs and dragging him off to jail. Especially after what happened to your dad. But it’s not him.”

  Emmet stared off into space. He still thought Dr. Newton was up to something. If Emmet had his chance, he’d like to give him a little interrogation of his own.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Dr. Geaux’s car pulling into the driveway, followed closely by his dad in the pickup. Dr. Newton’s interrogation would have to wait — at least until after dinner.

  THE BOAT SLICED THROUGH THE WATER OF MODEL LANDS Basin. Dus
k was approaching, and the coming darkness would help disguise his activities. Dr. Catalyst piloted the craft with precision, circling in a widening arc until most of the other boats had left. To an observer he looked like any other fisherman.

  He let the engines idle until the boat glided to a stop. For the last three nights a large pontoon boat had brought divers to this area, offering patrons a chance to snorkel the reef at night. Dr. Catalyst could hardly believe their stupidity. Apparently they didn’t know that most species of sharks fed at night. It never ceased to amaze him how casually some people behaved toward nature. Another reason why the environment was being ruined: careless behavior.

  The group there tonight was about to get a visit from creatures that were very hungry and would be attracted to the noise and lights of the divers. Not to mention the fact that the reef was crawling with lionfish.

  Dr. Catalyst opened the catch tank. With the flashlight app on his tablet he inspected his Muraecudas. There were six of them today. He watched as they slithered and splashed in the shallow water. It was feeding time.

  Pressing an icon on his tablet was all it took to release the creatures into the ocean. The mechanism whirred and the cover folded into place. The stern of the boat sank slightly as the tank took on water, but then righted itself as the bottom closed and the pump siphoned the now-empty tank. Even if he’d wanted to stop his creatures, he couldn’t.

  Now he waited. Though they were fast swimmers, it would take some time for his beasts to cover the distance. And unlike with his Pterogators, he was unable to attach a camera or tracking device to these creatures that would survive the extended exposure to salt water. He would know they’d reached their destination by the reaction of the swimmers.

  He waited at the stern, watching. As the minutes passed and nothing happened, his spirits flagged. Something must have gone wrong. The Muraecudas might have been distracted by a school of fish, or found something else edible between his boat and the divers. The resistance of this species to training had proven more problematic than —

  Shouts echoed across the water. First the voices sounded curious. As if someone aboard the pontoon boat was attempting to clarify something. Then came yells of alarm, rising in pitch and frequency. Apparently the divers had just been introduced to South Florida’s newest predator.

  Dr. Catalyst scanned the boat with his night-vision binoculars. People were clambering out of the water. Two of the divers were clearly injured and had to be dragged aboard by the others. Their screams were the loudest of all.

  There was a great deal of commotion on the deck. Dr. Catalyst couldn’t see the state of the injured divers, but the boat’s engines started up, and it accelerated quickly across the water. Even over the sound of the engines, he could still hear the agonized screams of grown men in horrific pain. Someone shouted, “More pressure! You need to apply more pressure!” followed by, “We’ve got to stop the bleeding!” and he smirked. They had learned a cruel, hard lesson.

  He watched until its running lights disappeared as it approached the shore.

  Dr. Catalyst set the night-vision goggles on the console of his boat and slid the throttle back. His vessel picked up speed, and he carefully navigated a return course to his base. Hopefully the divers would report their encounter to the authorities and the media would run with it. After that it was up to the governor, Dr. Geaux, and the rest of the government toadies.

  Until then, he would continue to escalate tensions. He would release more and more of his Muraecudas until someone blinked. In the meantime, he had one more thing to do that would really create attention for his cause.

  Turning the boat, he headed north. He had urgent business in Florida City.

  THE NEWS OF THE ATTACK ON THE DIVE BOAT WAS ALL over the school the next day. One diver had lost three fingers on his left hand, and another had his arm crushed by a thunderous bite from one of the Muraecudas. The man would need to undergo several operations to regain even limited use of his arm. Both had nearly bled to death before they reached the emergency room. Now the gossip and buzz in the media and throughout the entire South Florida area was whether or not the state or local government was going to close the beaches. Dr. Catalyst was not giving them much of a choice.

  At lunch, Riley and Raeburn were talking about nothing else. Stuke was still recovering at home and they all missed him. In fact, Calvin would still politely ask other kids not to sit in “Stuke’s spot” at their table, and all of the students honored his request. His seat would remain empty until Stuke returned to fill it.

  Emmet thought about how they’d seen these beasts up close. Reliving their experience was not fun, yet they did it. All of his friends had a theory on the true identity of Dr. Catalyst.

  Emmet wished he could tell them about Dr. Newton. Or his “Dr. Newton obsession,” as Calvin called it. No one knew about Dr. Catalyst’s arm injury. Dr. Geaux had told them they couldn’t say anything about it. Of course, you could dump a truckload of bricks on Calvin and he wouldn’t say anything. Emmet was nearly bursting with an intense need to spill his guts.

  As the group talked on, Emmet kept shooting Calvin looks. Calvin kept staring back at him like … Calvin. Emmet wondered what type of news would provoke him to do more than slightly raise his eyebrows. Believing — knowing — that Dr. Newton was Dr. Catalyst was killing him. Finally, Emmet couldn’t take it anymore. He had to do something.

  There was still a half hour of lunch left when he made an excuse about having to study for a history quiz. He told everyone he was headed for the library. After dumping his lunch remnants in the trash, he headed to his locker, wanting to grab his backpack to be ready for the first bell. When he closed his locker door, Calvin was suddenly standing there.

  “Dude!” Emmet yelped. “Quit sneaking up on me!” Emmet startled easily.

  “I’m not sneaking. I’m standing,” Calvin said.

  “What do you want?”

  “You don’t have a history quiz.”

  “I do…. You don’t have my … history … How do you know what quizzes I have?” Emmet stammered, though it wouldn’t surprise him if Calvin knew the schedule of every student in the school.

  “Raeburn is in your history class. She said you don’t have a quiz this week.”

  “Yeah, well, I still need to study. So, see ya. I’ll catch up after school.” He started down the hall.

  “Don’t do it, Emmet,” Calvin called after him.

  Emmet stopped in his tracks. A few other kids walked by, and he waited until they passed before answering.

  “Do what?” he asked.

  “I know what you’re up to, bro.”

  “Okay. Here’s a tip. Don’t say bro. It’s not you. And you know that I’m ‘up to’ what, exactly? Studying history?”

  “No. It’s lunch hour. The teachers are in the staff lounge. You’re going to go check if he’s there and if he is, you’re going to see if his room is open and search for clues.”

  “What? Pfft! That’s crazy talk. No, I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are, Emmet. And you’re going to get in trouble.” The way he said it made it sound like poking around a teacher’s empty classroom was a capital offense. Calvin walked up close to Emmet and lowered his voice.

  “Emmet, you’re wrong. But just for a minute, say you’re right. Dr. Newton is really Dr. Catalyst, evil genius. Okay, he’s got the money and resources, and a PhD in evolutionary biology. He’s all over the news and on all these boards and stuff, and is all about saving the environment.”

  “You see! Not so crazy now, is it?” Emmet said. Only the more Calvin talked, the crazier it sounded.

  “Yes, it is. But suppose all of this is true, and Dr. Newton really is Dr. Catalyst. Do you really think he’s going to leave clues lying around his classroom?”

  “Calvin, I don’t know. But Dr. Catalyst has to be caught. Your mom is working nonstop on the task force, and my dad is stuck in the swamp all day still trying to round up his CrazyGators, so they don’t have
time to look for clues. And no one else has any idea where to start. I’ve got to do something. You don’t have to be involved, but I’ve got to do something.”

  “How can I help?” Calvin said.

  “In fact, you can just pretend like you didn’t even … What did you say?”

  “What do you need me to do?”

  Emmet was unprepared for Calvin to give in. At best, he hoped Calvin would just agree not to get in his way or turn him in.

  “I’m sorry. I thought you said you’d help me.”

  “I did.”

  “Why?”

  Calvin shrugged.

  “And now we’re back to the shrug.” Emmet sighed. “Come on. Follow me.”

  Emmet’s locker was around the corner from the gym. They headed down the short hall, and Emmet slowed as they passed the staff lounge. Pausing for a few seconds, he heard Dr. Newton’s voice mixed in among the other teachers’. He sped up again until he was past the lounge and then stopped. Calvin was right behind him.

  “You have your phone?” Emmet asked him. Ever since Dr. Catalyst had taken his dad prisoner, Dr. Geaux had given them each a special park-service phone. Technically they weren’t allowed to have phones in school, but they did.

  “Yeah.”

  “Is it charged?”

  Calvin frowned. Emmet realized he’d said the wrong thing. Calvin kept everything neat and orderly. The president of the United States was more likely to accidently leave the nuclear launch codes in the restroom at McDonald’s than Calvin was to have his phone anything less than fully charged.

  “Of course you do. You wait here at the intersection of the hallway. If Dr. Newton comes out of the staff lounge, text me.”

  Emmet started down the hallway. He looked back to see Calvin standing there, his hands at his sides, stiff as a board. His very posture would tell any teacher or administrator who walked by that he was up to something.