Creature From The Crevasse

by Michael Cole

  “Nice excuse,” Meya said.

  “Thanks.”

  Meya threw back a shot. The only expression to follow was a satisfying smile. The whiskey washed away the stress of the day. Sydney recognized the effect, and it made him wonder how overwhelmed the hospital really was.

  “How bad was it in the ER?” he asked. Meya moaned miserably and refilled her glass.

  “We didn’t have enough people to handle the overflow,” she said. “Most of the critical had to be transported to other hospitals.” She threw back the shot and immediately refilled the glass. “To make matters worse, our chopper pilot wouldn’t come in because he has that flu. So I had to spend the majority of the afternoon choppering people out myself, while giving instructions to my staff by phone.” Sydney refilled his glass while munching on a basket of pretzels.

  “Sounds almost as bad as pulling people out of the…” he stopped suddenly and looked at her, puzzled. “Wait…you flew them?”

  “Uh-huh?” Meya said while pouring down her glass.

  “When did you become a pilot?” Meya chuckled. Sydney wasn’t sure if the answer was funny, or it if was his expression, or just the booze taking effect.

  “A little over a year ago,” she said. “I was dating this helicopter pilot guy, who was an instructor. I figured, why not?” She started to chuckle, but stopped when she noticed Sydney. He was staring down at his glass, slowly twirling it in his fingers. He appeared forlorn, and didn’t say anything. Meya’s awareness peeked through the fog of the buzz, and she realized what she had said. Instantly conflicting feelings crowded over each other. Part of her felt guilty admitting she had been dating, while the other part wanted to justify it. After all, they were divorced; free to move on with their lives. “Haven’t you been seeing anyone?”

  “I got stood up once,” Sydney said. Meya burst out with laughter. The booze had reclaimed its hold on her inhibition. Sydney stared at her with contempt, but after a moment joined in. “I think she saw me and left.”

  “What makes you think that?” Meya asked through her laughter, while refilling her glass.

  “I had the cane with me,” he said. “I don’t think anyone wants to go out with a grouchy cripple.” Meya laughed harder, feeling herself turn red. Even as she laughed, she hated herself for finding such drunken amusement in her ex-husband’s misery.

  “Sorry,” she said. She exhaled sharply as she tried to regain control.

  “Nah, it’s alright,” Sydney said. He continued staring down at his glass, which was still full to the rim. He threw it back, and winced once again from the burn. Meya watched, and felt herself slipping into another fit of laughter.

  “Good lord, Morgan,” she cackled. “How long has it been, seriously?”

  “It’s been a while,” he said. “I guess too long.” Meya could judge from his tone that he was avoiding the answer.

  “Oh, come on,” she said. “It’s obvious you haven’t had a serious drink in forever. When was the last time?”

  “Since I was served those papers,” Sydney blurted. His eyes went big at the realization of his own admission. Great, now the booze is doing it to me. Meya’s smile disappeared, replaced with a saddened gaze. He hated that look as much as the thought of her seeing other people. “Oh, I know that look,” he said. “It’s not like I became a raging alcoholic. Actually, I avoided this stuff since then, because I could tell that’s where I was headed.” He immediately regretted saying that as well. “Damn,” he said to himself. Meya looked back at him.

  “You know I hated everything that happened between us,” she said.

  “Me too,” Sydney said. “But don’t be too hard on yourself. It wasn’t your fault. I’m the jerk who got paranoid and nearly started a fight with your co-worker, remember?”

  “I do remember that,” she said. “But I’m to blame too.” Sydney snickered.

  “I suppose we both had our faults, but come on,” he said. “I’m the one who pressed you when you were going through a hard time. I get it. It’s tough when you have a young kid die on your operating table.” Meya stared into her glass, as if judging her distorted reflection.

  “I never told you the whole story,” she said. Sydney perked his head up. She hated this sudden need to be honest, but she hated the secrecy even more. Even after these past two years apart, she never felt like she had true closure. And she was now devoted to telling the truth, as she could see Sydney’s expression in the corner of her eye. It was clear he was feeling antsy. It was time to reveal something she never told him, to revisit her worst memory.

  Yes?” he said. His voice was quiet and shaky, as if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer.

  “I was depressed and withdrawn during that time because…well, I lied about the child. There was no kid that died on the table.” She paused, and Sydney remained quiet. She took a quivering breath. “I never told you this, because…I guess there was too much tension already. I was pregnant.” Sydney leaned back slightly, and put his glass down. It was certainly not what he expected to hear.

  “What?”

  “I was ten weeks along,” she said. “I wanted to tell you, but we were too busy with our jobs. I thought a baby would bring us closer together. But I miscarried.” She wiped away a tear that ran down her cheek. “I didn’t know how to tell you, so I didn’t say anything. Of course, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. That’s why I was the way I was. When you thought I was screwing around, I knew I had to say something, but I was afraid telling you would create more problems. So I made up the story about the kid.” She poured half a shot and drank it. “So, I’m sorry I…” her voice trailed off. It was hard to say anything more.

  Meya couldn’t bring herself to look at Sydney. What could he think of her now, after never being informed of such a thing? Meya fought back the welling in her eyes, not wanting to make a fool of herself in a public place even though there was hardly anyone there.

  She felt his hand placed on her shoulder. Finally, she brought herself to look at him. There was no anger in Sydney’s eyes. It was nothing but compassion, which was also displayed in his touch. She rubbed his hand with hers. The first true affection in years. After several moments, Sydney refilled both their glasses. He lifted his high, as to make a toast.

  “Well, here’s to Tim…and Baby Boy Sydney,” he said. Meya smiled and lifted her glass in unison. They both drank. Naturally, Sydney coughed again. He noticed Meya grinning at him.

  “What makes you so sure it was a boy?” she said.

  “I…” Sydney tried to think of a clever line, “I’m just good at guessing these things.” That sucked. “You know, I’m chief. I know everything. I even know—” His words were halted by her lips on his. I didn’t know that.

  As they kissed, the rest of the world seemed to fade away. For the first time in years, the pain in Sydney’s leg lifted.

  CHAPTER

  22

  The air cooled as night set in over the town. Sheriff Logan gripped the rail as he stared out into the water. His patrol unit patrolled the east side of the lake, escorting another vessel that chummed several yards ahead of them. The fog had thickened, which created limited visibility. Their boats switched on their spotlights, but they did not improve range of sight.

  Along with the night came the bugs. Mosquitoes and flies started buzzing about. Every few seconds, Logan slapped something that landed on his neck. He removed his cap and thrashed it in the air around his head. For a moment, it seemed like the bugs had vacated, but they quickly returned.

  For the past two hours, hardly anybody had spoken. There was no sound other than the thrum of the many boats’ motors, and the nightly sounds of nature. Logan listened to the frogs croaking and the random splashing of fish and birds in the water as they snatched up hovering bugs. The other deputy stood at the cockpit, growing impatient with the search while he kept the boat slowly cruising forward.

  “How much longer are we gonna continue this?” he said to the sheriff. Logan didn
’t skip a beat with his answer.

  “Until we find and kill the son of a bitch,” he answered strongly. He could hear the frustrated sigh from his deputy, but didn’t care. Nothing would keep him from being the hero tonight.

  ********

  Nick felt the warm, sticky sensation of the chum as he accidentally dipped the scoop in too far into the tub. He cursed quietly and sent the scoopful of guts over the transom. He set the scoop down and walked to the cockpit. He was in need of two things; to clean his hand off from fish guts, and to get some coffee. He found a towel and scrubbed his hand. After rubbing in some sanitizer, he grabbed the coffee thermos and filled a cup. He tasted it, and spit it out. The coffee was cold.

  “That’s just what I need,” he said to Brannan. He figured his partner would offer some sarcastic response, but surprisingly there was nothing. Nick looked at Brannan, and noticed how he was leaning on the helm. Nick walked up to him and tilted to see his face. Brannan had dozed off. “Hey!” he called out. Brannon awoke as if struck by a bolt of lightning. He jumped in place and shuttered.

  “Sorry…uh…I was just shutting my eyes for a sec,” he stuttered.

  “Yeah, sure,” Nick said. “Need me to drive?” Brannan shook his head.

  “What? No! No, I’m good,” he said. Nick shook his head as he started to turn away. He could tell Brannan simply didn’t want to take over the task of chumming.

  Great. We’re traveling in fog, and now the boat driver is dozing off.

  He stopped midway to the stern. He heard something; like water bubbling up. The sound was off to the portside. Nick grabbed a spotlight and shined down. Though the fog made it hard to see, he was able to spot the ripples just before they settled. They were several meters away, and quickly dissipated into the flat surface. After a moment of silence, he figured it was nothing. He started to take a step back, when suddenly more bubbles boiled on the surface. The disturbance in the water was a few feet wide. He felt a chill run down his spine. His eyes then went to the fish-finder monitor. Static lines covered the screen. The thing had frozen again. Nick’s eyes darted back to the ripples.

  He decided not to waste any more time. He snatched his radio, which he had placed near the console, and depressed the transmitter.

  “Sheriff?” he questioned as he tried and failed to withhold the nervousness in his voice. Several moments of silence passed before Logan answered.

  “Logan here. Go ahead.”

  “Sheriff, this is Nick. I think we have something here. The fish finder is acting up, but I think I saw something. We’re near, uhh…” Nick shined the spotlight inland. It was hard to see through the fog, but he could barely manage to see the corner of a man-made drop-off. He recognized the location. “We’re by the Hampton Ledge.”

  “We’re right across the lake from there. Just hand on. We’re on our way.”

  Nick put the radio down. He could hear the commotion from the other boat. The officers on board had withdrawn from their ready stances earlier and took seating, enjoying some coffee in the meantime. But after hearing the radio traffic, they had snatched up their rifles and returned to the starboard rail.

  Nick put his radio down and went to the monitor. He tapped the monitor, but his attempt to get it to work was fruitless.

  More bubbling caught his attention. This time, it was closer. He stood up straight and drew his Glock. He slowly leaned over the rail, holding his pistol close. Brannan watched silently from the helm. He wasn’t sure what Nick had seen, but he was more than ready to put the boat into full throttle. Nick watched the ripples settle.

  “Hey guys,” he called out to the other boat. “I think it’s here!”

  “You sure?” one of the officers called back. Nick nearly jumped at another disturbance on the surface.

  “Yeah, I’m sure,” he said. “Get ready.” He took several deep breaths and watched the dark water beneath him. Suddenly, the water erupted into a frenzy. A pair of loons burst from the mayhem they had created, and hurriedly flew upward past Nick.

  “Shit!” he called out in alarm and fell backward, bumping the spotlight in the process. His finger leaned on the trigger, but he retained just enough control to avoid discharging. The birds flew off, echoing some panicked calls. Several moments passed, and Nick felt the rush in his veins slowly wind down. The air then filled with the sounds of laughter, from both Brannan and the officers on the escort vessel.

  “Watch out for those terrifying monsters there!” he heard one call out.

  “Yeah, they might carry you away!” another cackled. Nick bit his lip and stood up. He holstered his Glock and then extended his middle finger toward the boat, right into the path of the spotlight they shined upon him. The laughter grew more intense.

  The laughter suddenly turned into yells of “Oh shit” and “Jesus Christ” as a mass exodus of small lake birds suddenly took flight. Even in the dense fog, the flock seemed to form a white sheet over the boats as the birds took off in unison. Nick was no bird expert, but he recognized the alarm in the chirps and rapid flight. The birds ascended and disappeared into the night sky above the fog.

  Nick relaxed, despite the foreboding feeling that overtook him. He saw the crooked position of the spotlight. He grabbed it and straightened it out. That’s when he saw it.

  Something submerging. Something large. An immense bulk with a black, spiny sail-like appendage on top. Nick swallowed hard.

  “Oh, no.”

  ********

  Logan stood at the port rail, looking ahead for any spotlights from the other patrol boats. The fog that coated the lake impeded his vision. Judging by the speed of the patrol boat and the amount of time past, he knew they were nearing the other side of the lake. He snatched up the radio speaker.

  “Nick, this is Logan,” he said. “Any update?” He eased off the transmitter and waited for the response. There was none. Logan and his deputy looked to each other, each sharing the same puzzled expression. Logan picked up the speaker again.

  A loud booming echoed from up ahead that resembled the crushing, crunching sound of a car crash, followed by the sound of splashing water.

  “Nick, come in!” Logan spoke into the speaker. No response came through the radio. Then through the fog was a new sound. The hairs on the back of Logan’s neck stood on end. He could hear screams. “Nick? Ramirez?” The bang from several gunshots cracked through the air. Logan recognized the specific sound from the Bushmaster rifles. “What’s going on out there?”

  Another large crashing noise reverberated, followed immediately by thrashing water and more screams. The screaming and shouting came to a sudden stop. Logan looked at his deputy at the helm.

  “Can we go any faster?”

  “We are, sir,” he said. “We’re just about there.” Logan snatched up a rifle and aimed it outward, pointed slightly up to avoid pointing it at any of his deputies that might have been in the water. He held on to the weapon by the handle with one hand, using the other to adjust the spotlight. The fog began to thin up ahead, and he tilted the light that direction. First he saw rippling water reflecting his light. Then within those ripples he saw something else. Bits of decking floated about, along with small fiberglass fragments and other material. Empty life vests floated in the water. Beside one of them was something small and plastic. The sheriff focused the light on it. It was the scoop for the chum.

  “Oh, damn,” Logan mumbled. He looked back as two other patrol boats arrived from the north, with a third approaching from behind. The two other boats grouped at the wreckage site, with only a space of a couple dozen feet between them. He snatched up his radio. “Spread out! That thing is out here somewhere!” He then snatched up his bullhorn and called out into the darkness, “Is there anyone alive out there?” Unfortunately, he knew it was a wasted effort, but he was going to give the benefit of the doubt.

  “Hey, what the—?” one of the officers on the other boats called out. Logan looked their way, just in time to see the enormous swell of water rising up
. The spotlight reflection sparkled on the thick scales as the huge fish burst from that swell. It collided with the portside hull, indenting the whole section of the boat. The boat rolled over to the right, flipping over completely. The officers on board dove as their vessel flipped over overtop of them. All three quickly emerged several feet apart as the boat quickly took on water and submerged.

  “Get them out!” Logan yelled. It was mainly directed at his deputy at the helm, who quickly turned the wheel. Their boat turned toward the men overboard.

  All three started paddling towards the sheriff, forming a triangular formation. After a few quick paddles, the middle deputy froze in fear. It was as if a sixth sense had struck, and he felt a foreboding presence in the water beneath him. That sense proved correct as he noticed the white inside of the creature’s mouth directly beneath him. The deputy reached out with both arms as he was sucked downward, and the water that filled his throat immediately muffled his screams. The Carnobass shut its mouth on its prey and dove.

  Both deputies shrieked at the sight of their partner devoured. Both turned in opposite directions, kicking against the water in their attempt to escape. Logan’s vessel quickly closed in on the nearest deputy, while the other swam toward the other vessel.

  The patrol boat and its three deputies moved alongside the swimming officer. Two of the deputies quickly reached their hands down under the port rail for him. The swimming deputy reached up, his hand beginning to secure a hold on one of the arms.

  In the blink of an eye, the water beneath him expelled upward, and the deputy found himself moving up with it. While lifted up, he also felt himself simultaneously slipping down, right into the beast’s open mouth. The officers shrieked and jumped backward. The fish clamped its jaws down in midair as it fully breached the water. Gravity pulled it down from its massive jump, right down on the middle of the police boat. The two deputies on deck dashed for the stern, but the third one stood at the helm, paralyzed at the sight of the monster. It crashed down across the boat, crushing the helm and the officer who operated it.