by Weston Ochse
On the speakers, America’s Horse With No Name started up and the irony was so brutal that Dennis couldn’t even laugh. He looked at Sybil’s corpse, certain there was a slight smile at the corners of her mouth.
“I’m sorry,” he tried to say, but the best he could do was mouth the words. The dead weren’t interested in apologies.
He ran aft toward the life preservers, gasping when he found an empty rack where they had been. Memories of his blood rage thundered back. Breathing heavily over the stashed corpses of Frank and Barbie, thinking that nobody could leave the Cannon alive. Before he ruptured one of the engine lines with that fire axe, he had hurled all the life rafts overboard, ensuring this boat would become their collective tomb.
Oh Christ!
America seemed to mock him in mayday. His yacht mix had been a harbinger of better days, but this song suddenly felt like a betrayal. It crashed through the speakers, turning a soft rock classic into aural violence.
He wanted his songstress back. Her music had been like nothing else, and would take his pain away. But they all refused their gifts now, because he was already stuck at the center of their spider web.
Water lapped at the Cannon’s deck, ensuring his boat’s days were numbered.
The women surfaced and surrounded the bow. He headed up front to see them, to plead his case, his feet splashing through water that was suddenly ankle-high. They bobbed up and down in silence, hovering like expectant animals waiting to be fed. Their faces were barely human in the deck light’s glow: grey scaled flesh, eyelids that lifted and revealed button orbs and serpentine half-moon irises. Their mouths hung low, with drool dangling from fangs that seemed far too large, too erratic to fit naturally inside them.
Dennis was nearly submerged. “Please,” he cried, knowing it was too late to escape. “I did everything you asked.” The water rushed up to his hips and lifted Sybil off the railing. It looked like she had returned to life for revenge, her neck lifted and her arms pulled forward, but it was only the weight of the Atlantic rearranging her.
Her once flawless face was a pulpy mash of jagged gashes and dark blood. Her beauty destroyed. Stubbed out because their music had fooled him into thinking he deserved better. Music was dreams. And dreams were impossible things.
Two of the women shot forward, claws slashing into Sybil’s flesh, drawing pools of red wherever they dug. When they had her, their eyes bugged wide with a hiss of satisfaction, dragging her over the rail. They shredded Austrian flesh like kids tearing at giftwrap. Bladed teeth tore her apart. Then they slipped beneath the sea with their prey.
Dennis went from standing to floating as the Cannon’s deck disappeared with them. Mercifully, America shorted out like a smoldering cigar mashed against the sidewalk. He was thankful for small favors.
Two more creatures swam past, and Dennis didn’t have to look to know what they were after. Pieces of Frank and Barbie would be floating back there somewhere, a spilled chum bucket. His role in this was little more than glorified waiter, delivering a meal in exchange for a song.
His songstress lifted through the surface and hovered few inches from his face. Her monstrous visage prompted Dennis to scream as the water around them turned to blood. The sounds of tearing flesh and smacking lips were the worst in the world.
Dennis slipped willingly into her arms, embracing flesh that was colder than ice, his hands roving hardened body scales. Her snake’s tongue was like sandpaper dragging across his cheek as she lapped bloodstains off his face, grinning at the taste of Sybil’s blood.
“Sing to me,” Dennis said in fleeting breath.
Around them, the others were too ravenous to consider his request, but not her. She pulled back and cocked her head, granting him a moment of consideration. Then she took him close, her wet, sticky lips hovering over his ear.
Her talons sliced into his chest and glided upward, ripping bone as if it was tissue paper. But she sang. All for him. And Dennis was at peace as he spilled into the Atlantic, that serenade stirring him to dream one last time.
Lamprey Luau
Amber Fallon
Rebecca Marsh was absolutely giddy as she stared out the window of the airplane. The view of the Pacific Ocean was breathtaking. She was in love. She and her fiancé, Shelly Sanchez, were heading to Hawaii to get married. She sighed happily, watching the sun glint off her engagement ring. The effect was dazzling.
“This time tomorrow, we’re gonna be married!” Rebecca nearly squealed, drawing the attention of several of her fellow passengers. She took Shelly’s hand, squeezing it tightly.
“I know, silly!” Shelly smirked, “I’m the one that got us the island, remember?”
“The island! I almost forgot!” Rebecca exclaimed more loudly than she should have, this time earning herself glares and a few shhhs! from those around her.
Shelly couldn’t help but grin. She had fallen in love with the quirky freckled redhead because of her childish sense of wonder and enthusiasm. Every day with Becky was a new adventure and even normal, boring things like going grocery shopping and doing yardwork became epic quests. She had found a partner that made her laugh and smile almost daily. What could be better than that?
“How could you forget about the island?” Shelly asked, playfully swatting her fiancé, “How many people get to have a whole island to themselves to get married on? You must be pretty special!”
Rebecca giggled, “Or lucky! It’s your grandfather’s island, after all.”
“True,” Shelly said. “I haven’t been there since I was a little girl. I remember him taking me and my brothers fishing and swimming, running around on the beach and sticking my toes in the warm sand… I don’t want you to be disappointed, though… It’s a pretty small island.”
Rebecca took Shelly’s hand and kissed it gently, “It will be perfect. We’ll say our I do’s and party under the stars to celebrate! Roast pork and camping! I even brought a ukulele!”
Shelly’s eyes went momentarily wide. One less positive thing about Rebecca was that you could never be quite sure whether or not she was being serious when she said some completely ridiculous thing. Knowing her, a ukulele was completely plausible.
“Kidding!” Rebecca broke into a fit of giggles as the pilot announced that they were beginning their final decent into Hawaii’s Big Island.
***
Far below the plane, in a small underwater research station, a secret terror dwelled. The product of military science and genetic splicing, a huge insulated interior tank writhed with altered lampreys.
The fish weren’t especially dangerous in their natural state, at least not to humans, but when you added in growth hormones, DNA from half a dozen other species all selected for their most deadly traits, and brains manipulated to promote aggression, they could do some real damage if they ever escaped into the open ocean. Which is precisely why that should never be allowed to happen. At least, that was the direction of the program’s head overseer, General Benson Briggs.
Briggs called up the head research scientist, a man named Michaels Clausen. Clausen had given years of his life to the project, spent countless hours in the laboratory, building monsters that would be capable of taking out class 1 submarines, should the need arise. They were big, they were aggressive, they were the perfect killing machines; born and bred to do one thing: Destroy.
“We have to pull the plug on Project Tri Tooth.” Briggs was calm, detached almost, as he delivered the news.
“WHAT?!” Clausen spat, fists clenching in anger, “What do you mean pull the plug?!”
“I mean,” replied Briggs, “that the project has been terminated, effective immediately. You are to destroy all living specimens, ship any collected materials back to HQ, and vacate the premises by 0800 tomorrow morning.”
“But… but… but sir! This is absurd! We’re just on the brink of an advancement that will…”
Briggs cut Clausen off mid-sentence, “Clausen, I am done with your delays, your little side projects, and
most of all, I am done with you. Now clear out! That’s an order.”
The line went dead. Dr. Clausen ripped the Bluetooth earpiece off and threw it angrily to the ground. They couldn’t do this to him! Not after taking years – YEARS! – of his life away! He had worked so hard, done everything asked of him, even against impossible odds, and this was the gratitude they showed him for it? Tasking him with killing his finned children? The product of exhaustive amounts of work and tireless hours of effort? No. This was NOT how it was going to end. He’d see to that.
***
A troupe of pretty young island girls greeted the deplaning passengers at the airport, welcoming everyone with brightly colored leis and warm alohas. Rebecca smiled as she disembarked the plane, stepping in to a warm Hawaiian sunset that looked like something out of a movie or a painting. She gratefully accepted a lovely purple orchid lei that matched Shelly’s and together the women made their way into the airport proper.
“Everything is all set!” Shelly, the planner of the pair, smiled as she finished loading their luggage into the rental car. There’d been a little bit of friction with a stewardess who’d been unhappy about being asked to stow two wedding dresses in the captain’s closet, but other than that things had gone off without a hitch. Now all they needed to do was make their way to the dock at the end of the island before sunset, where a boat was waiting to take them to the island to meet the small group of family and close friends they’d invited.
According to texts sent while they were in transit, all of Rebecca and Shelly’s invited guests were already on the island and waiting eagerly for the girls to arrive so that the festivities could begin.
In lieu of bachelorette parties, the pair had decided to camp out on the beach the night before their nuptials, get married in the morning, and spend the day partying and having fun in the sand and sun before sharing a traditional luau feast of poi, poke, and roast pig with their guests.
Shelly, true to form, had ordered tents for everyone as wedding favors. It would be a weekend to remember, if all went according to plan.
“Do you think we can stop somewhere and pick up some marshmallows?” Rebecca asked. “I want s’mores for dinner!”
“Aren’t you worried about fitting in your dress?” Shelly joked. Rebecca pouted in response, tucking herself into the passenger seat of the couple’s rented Fiat before they hit the road.
***
“Are you sure this is the right place?” Rebecca asked, raising one eyebrow at her fiancé.
“That’s what the GPS says…” Shelly trailed off, clearly feeling the same way Rebecca did. The couple sat in the parked car staring out at a rickety dock with a pair of ancient canoes tied up to it. A ramshackle shed hunched a few feet away.
“I’m not sure I want to get out of the car here… let alone get into one of those boats…” Rebecca stuck out her tongue indicating her disgust.
“Fine, then you can stay here and watch our dresses. I’ll go see if there’s anyone around.” Shelly got out of the car as her fiancé watched warily.
Rebecca almost grabbed a 3 ounce bottle of body spray to use as mace when a tattoo-covered giant of a man emerged from the shack and grabbed Shelly. She relaxed, however, when the man swung her fiancé around in a circle and Rebecca could see Shelly’s smiling face over one broad shoulder.
The man set Shelly down before turning to grin at the car and its still somewhat terrified passenger. Shelly gestured for Rebecca to join them, and she did, hesitantly.
“Rebecca, this is my great uncle Makoa. Uncle, this is my wife to be, Rebecca.”
Rebecca extended a hand in greeting, though she had a sinking feeling that she was going to be pulled into a bear hug. She was right. The large older man smelled of the briny sea and his skin was warm to the touch.
“Uncle Mak, I didn’t know you still owned the place! No one said anything when I made the reservation.”
“Of course I do!” Makoa chuckled, “Who else would do this work? Pah. Not the same after your granddaddy died though.”
“Hey, come on. It’s a happy occasion. We’re getting married. Oh! You HAVE to stay for the wedding. Say you’ll stay? Pleaase?” Shelly begged.
“Of course! I wouldn’t miss it! I am honored to be part of your celebration. Now, let’s get out to the island before it gets too dark.”
Once they had everything loaded into the larger of the two boats, the trio made their way to an island that seemed a lot closer than Rebecca had been led to believe. There was a huge bonfire burning on the beach and half a dozen matching purple tents surrounded it. As they drew closer, Rebecca could see her sister, Rose, and Rose’s husband, Kyle, and her best friend, Tina. Shelly’s brother, Chris, was roasting fish of some kind on a stick. A few other guests were too cloaked in shadow to make out clearly.
***
Clausen stood on a metal catwalk spanning the two huge tanks inside the underwater lab. “I’ll show him,” he grinned maniacally, face lit greenish blue by the dancing waters in the tanks below him, “I’ll show them all! Think they can shut me down! HAH! We’ll see about that…”
Still cackling to himself, Clausen punched a big red button mounted on a stand between the tanks, opening the outer release hatches and freeing hundreds of his genetically altered lampreys. Then, he took a syringe from his pocket and plunged it into his arm. He was still laughing when his skin began to crack, just before he lost his balance and pitched over the side of the catwalk.
***
“This is GREAT!” Rebecca laughed, holding a stick with a roasted fish in one hand and another with a half dozen burnt marshmallows in the other. “Shelly, can we stay here forever? I LOVE HAWAII!”
Shelly smiled, watching her fiancé dance around the flames and take alternate bites of fish and gooey sugar from the sticks Chris had given her. She sat beside her uncle on a log near the fire. The two had never been very close, but she was glad to see him all the same. They’d fallen out of touch after his brother’s funeral, when Shelly couldn’t deal with the loss of the man who’d raised her and instead turned away from the islands and all she’d known to make a new life for herself in California, where she’d met Rebecca and fallen in love. After that, picking up the phone to call her relatives hadn’t seemed so important. So she just hadn’t.
But here they were, back together on the island where she’d spent her springs and summers, Christmases, most weekends… A place of safety and sanctity where in less than 12 hours, she’d pledge her life to the woman she loved. It seemed fitting.
“Hey, we’re going to go for a dip in the ocean. Wanna come?” Rose asked Shelly, interrupting her reverie. She glanced at her uncle as he stared into the flames.
“No, I’m spent. I think I’ll just rest up by the fire. You guys go have fun.”
“Suit yourself!” Rose laughed, already halfway to the water, neon pink bikini standing out in the dim light of the fire. There was a splash, followed by another, then laughter as Rose and Kyle played together in the warm, tropical waters. Rebecca sat down next to Shelly and Makoa and offered them some of the remaining morsels on her precious sticks. Both demurred.
After a few moments of peaceful quiet, Rebecca started belting out lines from her and Shelly’s song, before pulling her to her feet, fish and marshmallows all but forgotten. Shelly moved, reluctantly at first, but eventually she and Rebecca were joined by a chorus of their friends as they danced by the fire, singing to one another. Only Uncle Mak didn’t seem to know the words, but he clapped along anyway. It was a perfect prewedding moment. Until a scream shattered the romantic atmosphere.
Shelly turned towards the sound, sharp and alert. Makoa stood, clutching Rebecca’s discarded, marshmallow-covered stick in one hand; the closest weapon he could find.
“Rose?!” Rebecca cried, “Rose, are you OK? Kyle?” She darted out into the waves and was knee deep before Shelly even realized it.
“Rebecca. Becks, get out of there. Now.” Panic edged into Shelly’s voice as Rebecca
froze. Rose’s pink bikini top washed up on the shore, bloodstains evident even in the firelight.
Rebecca shrieked when she saw it and darted back onto the sand.
“Everyone, stay calm,” Shelly said. “Stay out of the water and stay calm.”
“Calm?!” Tina cried, “Where are Rose and Kyle?”
“I don’t know yet. But I don’t want anyone else getting hurt until we figure it out.”
“ROSE!” Shelly called, “KYLE!” but there was no answer.
“Does anyone have a cell phone?” Shelly asked. “We need to call the Coast Guard.”
“No good.” Makoa shook his head, “No reception out here.” Sure enough, everyone who’d pulled out their phones hung their heads in dismay.
Makoa pulled his keys from his pocket and turned on a small flashlight he had clipped to them. Aiming it at the waves, he knelt down to pick up the bloody scrap of fabric when something darted out from beneath it and bit his finger.
Makoa swore loudly and leapt backwards, blood running down his arm.
“What the hell was that?!” Rebecca gasped, staring out at the dark water.
“I don’t know,” he said, “But I think we’ll be safe if we stay on the land.” Rebecca stared at him wide-eyed and started to cry.
Shelly put her arm around her fiancé as tears streamed down her own face. What the hell was going on? The water off the island was supposed to be too shallow for big predators like sharks or barracuda, so what had happened to Rose and Kyle? And what had bitten Makoa? This was not how she envisioned their time on the island, she thought, as she stared out at the water.
Not far off shore, something broke the surface. Shelly pointed, straining her eyes to make out what it was in the near darkness. At first, she thought it was Kyle, but then why wasn’t he answering them?
Makoa picked up his makeshift spear again and shined his small flashlight in the direction of the thing that was approaching the island. As soon as the light hit it, Rebecca and Shelly screamed in unison.