Creature From The Crevasse

by Michael Cole

  “Here’s to my legacy,” Sydney said aloud to himself, lifting his coffee cup. As he nearly touched it to his lips, his office phone started ringing. He recognized the listed extension as being from the front desk. He placed his coffee down and picked up the phone.

  “Chief Sydney,” he answered.

  “Hi, Chief,” he recognized Abby’s voice from the dispatch desk, “are you available? I have someone up here who’s requesting a meeting with you.”

  “Yeah, I’m available,” Sydney said.

  “Okay. Do you want to meet her up here, or do you want one of us to escort her to your office?”

  “My office will be good. Thanks,” Sydney said.

  “Okay, just a moment,” Abby said and hung up. Sydney leaned back and stretched. Normally, he would meet people up front, but today he was feeling hardly any motivation. However, he had to get up and open the door. Hearing the footsteps coming down the hallway, Sydney pulled himself to his feet and opened the door.

  “Good morning, what can I do for—?” he paused, recognizing Meya standing in the hallway. “Oh…”

  “Good morning, Chief,” she said. Dressed in black slacks and a navy blue blouse, she stood there with her hands on her hips. Sydney felt himself grow tense and even more irritable.

  “Hi…uh, come on in,” he said. He stood aside to let her enter his office. This is just what I needed. What’s next, liver cancer? “Feel free to take a seat,” he said while faking a smile.

  “That’s alright, but thank you,” Meya said.

  “Okay…well, what can I do for you?” he asked. He made a particular point not to speak to her as if he’d known her for years.

  “Listen, I came by to give you this,” Meya said. She pulled out a folded sheet of paper from her shirt pocket and handed it to Sydney. He examined it. It was the information file on the victim; Don Baker. “It has his personal info on it, which I know you needed for your police report.”

  “How’d you get this?” Sydney asked.

  “We stabilized him, and he was coherent for a short bit,” she said. “He told us his info.”

  “He’s stable? Did he say what happened? Did he mention anyone else?”

  “He mentioned something about some friends, but didn’t give details. He started babbling about some big fish in the lake. Almost as soon as he started explaining, he slipped into another panic episode. I had to sedate him again. He’ll have to be transferred to another hospital, since we don’t do psych at ours.” Sydney wrote down her statement and looked over his notes.

  “I don’t think ‘sea monster’ will look good in the report,” he remarked. To his amazement, Meya cracked a smile. He figured it was unintentional, because she looked away for a brief moment.

  “Listen,” she now sounded slightly uncomfortable, “I also wanted to apologize. I was a bit…well, quite rude to you yesterday both times I saw you. It was uncalled for. And I’m particularly sorry about how I was at the ER. I didn’t realize you thought there might have been a second victim.”

  “Nah, don’t beat yourself up over it,” Sydney said. Behind his casual demeanor was a feeling of astonishment. He assumed she was going to be even more callous than before; he certainly didn’t expect an apology, and especially not a smile.

  “I must say, seeing you here was very unexpected,” she explained. “I guess I was caught a little off guard.” Sydney chuckled.

  “You and me both,” he said.

  “Yeah, but you handled it better,” Meya said. “At least you attempted to be polite. I wish I could chalk it up to working a long day, but I’m not one to make excuses.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it,” he said. “By the way, how come you were working the ER last night? Don’t you have doctors for that?”

  “The scheduled doctor caught the stomach flu, and I couldn’t get anyone to pick up the shift. Naturally, being the one in charge of the hospital, I had to cover,” she said with a sigh. “You remember those days.” Sydney nodded. Of course, she was referring to their years of marriage, when their time together was plagued with mandated overtime.

  “I do,” he said and then laughed. “That’s what I like about my job now. I get to mandate others instead.” Meya smiled again. He was still getting used to that sight.

  “You were working last night,” she pointed out. Sydney thought about it.

  “Yes…yes, I was,” he said. A quiet moment naturally occurred as they looked at each other smiling. Such a moment hadn’t happened in years, and at once, they both realized it and wanted to change the subject.

  “Well, uhh, I guess that’s it,” Meya said.

  “Okay. Off to work?”

  “No, home,” she said. “I stayed at the hospital all night to keep an eye on the patient.”

  “How did you get today off? You used to work several days in a row, back when we were…” Sydney started.

  “Dr. Masood is covering for me today, since I was there all night,” she cut in quickly. She then started toward the door. “Were you guys able to find anyone last night?”

  “No,” Sydney said, standing up to get the door. “Nobody found anything. Not even the divers. All I found was this weird shell floating in the water.”

  “A shell?” Meya asked.

  “Yeah, with what appears to be a strand of flesh attached to it. We took it in, but I’m not sure it’s connected to what happened. I’m more curious to know what it is at this point.” Meya appeared genuinely interested.

  “I’ve got time,” she said. “Mind if I take a look?” Sydney thought about it for a moment. He had plenty of time to kill.

  “Yeah, what the hell,” he said.

  He led her to the storage room. During their marriage, Meya had been in police stations before, but had never seen evidence storage. The room was a little more than two hundred square feet in size. Several shelves lined the walls, carrying containers for properly storing items. Most of these containers were empty. On the right was a large metal refrigeration unit, with an electric thermometer reading 35 degrees. Because of the internal pressure, Sydney had to pull on the large grey door. It opened with a slight hiss, revealing a white mostly empty compartment with a few metal shelves. Sydney stepped in and grabbed the item he found in the lake. After shutting the door, he took the thing out of the bag and handed it to Meya. It was cold, but not frozen.

  They stepped out of the room and went to another room with a large table. She eyeballed the meaty substance and touched it with her finger. Looking closer, she could see something in the substance resembling a red sewing thread. She looked closer.

  “Do you have a magnifying glass?” she asked. Sydney reached into a pocket on his duty belt and pulled one out. “Thank you.” She took it and examined the flesh. “I think what I’m looking at is a superficial blood vessel. Whatever this is, it was part of something living,” she said.

  “Really?” Sydney said. “I mean, what could it belong to?” Meya stared at the object and shook her head.

  “The closest thing I’d say is a turtle shell, but this doesn’t look like the right shape,” she said. “But I’m no expert in that department.” She handed the item back to Sydney, who placed it back into its storage bag.

  “I guess we’ll never know,” he said. He started to take it back to the storage area. Meya stood up from her chair.

  “I do know of someone who might know,” she said. Sydney stopped and looked back, waiting on her to clarify. “Have you ever been to Florence University? There’s a guy who works there named Dr. Nevers. He was one of my instructors during medical school. We’ve kept in touch, and I remember him mentioning some biologist that works there. They might know what it is.”

  “I don’t think it’s that important,” Sydney said. “It’s probably nothing anyway. There was probably no need for me to bring it in.”

  “Perhaps,” Meya said. “Although, I am curious what it is. I’d offer to take it, but I know it’s been logged and needs to remain in police custody.” Sydney th
ought about it for a moment. If he could determine what the item was, he could create a proper disposition for it.

  Suddenly, he realized he was committing to a trip with his ex-wife. He felt the butterflies starting to swirl in his stomach. He wasn’t sure if they were good or bad. His mind warned him of what he was about to do, but the words came out of his mouth instinctively. “Okay. Let’s go. On our way out, I’ll just need to step into my office real quick.”

  “Alright,” Meya said. As they proceeded into the hallway, she took new notice of his limp. She peeked inside as Sydney stepped into his office to grab his coffee mug. Near the computer was the orange prescription bottle. Instinctively, she felt the urge to give some medical advice, particularly to remind the chief to use his cane. She wasn’t sure if this coming from a medical standpoint, or somewhere deeper. She forced the thought from her mind.

  “All ready,” Sydney said. He had transferred his coffee into a travel mug. He led Meya out the front entrance and informed dispatch he’d be out. The sight of his Jeep brought memories back to Meya. Just like with Sydney, she hadn’t seen it in over two years. Strangely, she missed it. They boarded the vehicle and exited the lot. “You know the way, right?”

  “Yes, I’ll guide you there,” she said.

  CHAPTER

  9

  “YEEEAAAHHH GIRL! WORK THAT POLE!” Mike Wilkow shouted with his fist raised victoriously in the air. His shouts were followed by cheers from the twenty people gathered around them, most of whom were in their twenties. Standing near Wilkow in the center of the group was a twenty-year-old female student, dressed in cut-off jean shorts and a blue tank top, tugging on a fishing pole as she fought against the struggles of a largemouth bass.

  “You see that, everybody?” Wilkow turned to the group. “See how it hit while she was bringing the spinner in?” A couple of the students nodded yes, but most were fixated on the attractive female reeling in the bass. She pulled the pole back and quickly reeled in the slack, then held it firm as the fish attempted to run. “Don’t reel yet. Let it wear itself out,” Wilkow said to her.

  “I know how to do this, Doc,” she said.

  “You most certainly do!” he said, triumphantly. After a few moments, the fish turned in a more favorable direction, allowing the student to continue reeling. Finally, with only a little bit of line left, she lifted up on the pole. The fish was hoisted out of the water, flopping in mid-air as it dangled from the hook in its mouth. The students clapped in her honor. “Yeah!” Wilkow shouted. “BABY GOT BASS!” He took the sixteen-inch bass off the spinner and held it by its lower jaw. “You guys see how that worked?” Naturally, nobody spoke up. “Can anyone explain how this fish was able to detect this little thing?” He shook the spinner, which rattled a bit.

  “It smelled it?” one of the students said. As usual, it was an answer in the form of a question.

  “These guys can smell, but that’s not how he knew lunch was here. Anyone else?” Wilkow waited. “Oh come on! It’s easy!”

  “Water displacement,” the female student said.

  “We have a winner!” Wilkow called out. “You see, anything that moves into the water creates displacement. This guy uses his lateral line,” he ran his ringer along the upper side of the bass, “and some canals on his head to detect vibrations in the water.” He pointed to areas near the fish’s lower jaw and eyes. “When the spinner twisted around, the fish could hone in because of the displacement. Then it could see the flashes on the metal tab. But it wouldn’t have noticed if it didn’t feel the vibrations caused by the movement in the water.” He held up the fish with both hands and turned it toward his face. “Sir, I appreciate your help with today’s lesson.” He tossed the bass back into the water. As soon as it broke the surface, it shot deep into the weed beds. Wilkow took the pole from his student. “Please tell me one of you guys remembers what the lateral line is.” One nervous student raised his hand.

  “It’s a…uhh…organs that can sense things that, uhhh, vibrate,” he stuttered.

  “Luckily, the exam will be multiple-choice,” Wilkow commented. “He’s correct in the general sense. It’s a system of sense organs. Yeah, they detect vibrations, as well as pressure gradients and general movement. It can detect movement in the water, because movement creates…” he waited for one of the students to fill in the sentence. For a moment, it seemed hopeless, until one of them raised her hand from the back.

  “Water displacement,” she said.

  “YEEEAAAHH!” the animated Mike Wilkow called out and pointed at the student. “You get an ‘A’ for the day!” Many of the students laughed. Summer classes were usually very boring. Nevertheless, Wilkow contained such an oddball energy that the four-hour class went by quickly. As if out of pure joy, the instructor took the pole from the student and launched a cast into the water. He steadily reeled it in. “Look at that motion…that’s gotta be tempting for some big boy down there!” Finally, a big splash overtook the spinner, right before an eighteen-inch largemouth leapt out of the water with its catch.

  “WOOHOO!” Wilkow called out. The students cheered and applauded him. He fought the fish, allowing it to spend its energy tugging on the line. “Not today, my friend! I’m gonna get me some BASS!” The students laughed and cheered him on.

  ********

  As Sydney steered the Jeep onto the campus’s lot, he and Meya could hear the echoes coming from across the lot. They looked toward a crowd standing near a large pond. In the middle was a man in his mid-thirties, dressed in what appeared to be grey cargo pants and a black shirt, holding a fishing pole. They could hear his exultant shouts as he lifted a large fish from the water. He held it up to the people surrounding him. His shouts traveled far and long.

  “Yeah! Kiss my bass!” Laughter followed the quip.

  Meya and Sydney looked at each other, both finding the sight both amusing and odd at once.

  “Somebody’s got a little too much energy,” Meya said. On her lap was the item, stored in a container filled with a Transeau solution which she took from the hospital.

  “Yeah, I’ll say,” Sydney said. He drove along the service drive, looking at the large buildings which bridged together in the center of campus. “Okay, which building are we looking for?”

  “The Liberal Arts building,” Meya said. “The names are listed on the front of the buildings. The biology department is on the second floor.” The first building read Blake Webb Building. He drove past it and approached the next one. Liberal Arts Building. “Here it is,” Meya said. Sydney parked his Jeep into the nearest lot and they stepped out.

  After walking the long pathway to the building, they entered the lobby where a few students were studying in assorted tables. Naturally, their attention was drawn to the law enforcement officer entering the building. Sydney was used to this, and ignored the gazes as he and Meya walked to an elevator at the end of the room. It took them to the second floor.

  “Where would this guy be?” Sydney asked.

  “Either in his lab, or in his office,” Meya said. As they started to walk toward a hallway, she stopped and noticed a door entry to a large core area. She peeked through the window and saw various sorts of lab equipment. Vials, microscopes, measuring cups, and many types of solution were organized on the side tables, and a couple lab techs were moving about. “Here’s the lab,” she said.

  “Is he in it?” Sydney asked. Meya couldn’t open the door, as it was secured via electronic locking system. She knocked on it, getting the attention of one of the lab techs. The tech opened up the door, appearing almost nervous at the sight of Chief Sydney.

  “Hi,” she said. “Can I help you?”

  “Hi. We’re looking for Dean Nevers,” Meya said.

  “Oh,” the tech said. “He’s in his office. It’s right around the corner over that way.” She pointed to the bend in the hallway. “It’ll be the first door on the right when you head over that way.”

  “Thanks,” Meya said. They followed the tech’s direct
ions and found the door. The post read Dr. Richard Nevers, Dean of Biological Science. Before she knocked, the door swung open. A balding man of sixty-three opened the door, dressed in a grey blazer and pants. He looked to Meya and smiled from ear to ear.

  “Dr. Nasr!” he exclaimed, holding his arms out for a hug. Meya did the same, and they shared a friendly hug.

  “Dr. Nevers,” she said. “I’m sorry to just drop in like this.”

  “Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” Dr. Nevers said. He looked at Chief Sydney. “What can I do for you? Tracking down a suspect?” He chuckled at his own joke.

  “No, no,” Meya said. “This is Chief Sydney of Rodney Police Department. We were just hoping you could help us identify something we found.”

  “Sydney?” Dr. Nevers said, thinking for a moment. He recalled Meya’s married name. “Morgan Sydney?”

  “Yes, sir,” the chief said.

  “Oh wow,” Dr. Nevers said. He recalled some of the details of the divorce, and how Meya had seemed bitter. But now, she clearly seemed more at ease. “You guys back together?” The question slipped out.

  “No!” Sydney and Meya simultaneously answered at once. They both glanced to each other, as if surprised to hear the other’s reaction.

  “Forgive me,” Dr. Nevers said, barely concealing his amusement. “You said you wanted me to take a look at something?” Meya held up the container and Nevers took it. He looked through the glass at the shell. He placed it on his desk and put on some rubber gloves. After carefully removing the lid, he lifted the item and held it just a couple inches over the container.

  “I found it last night floating in Ridgeway Lake,” Sydney said. “It looks like it was part of something, but I don’t have the first clue.”