by Michael Cole
Logan pulled his deputy onto his boat when he saw the creature jump and land on the other vessel. He shoved the driver out of the way and quickly throttled the boat in their direction.
The structure of the patrol boat crumbled under the creature’s weight. Cracks and indentations formed in the side of the hull, and the engine groaned, as if giving a last breath before death. The Carnobass rested momentarily, flapping its gills. As they peeled open, the muffled screams of the officer inside reverberated, followed by a crushing groan and the sound of bones mashing. The remaining officers snatched up their Bushmaster rifles, shouldered them, and emptied their magazines into the creature’s hide. Scales splintered and cracked, but the armored exterior stopped each bullet from entering the flesh.
Standing on the left, one of the deputies dropped his rifle after its mag ran dry. He quickly drew his Glock and squeezed the trigger. The first two bullets were crushed against the scales. The creature wiggled to drag itself back into the water. The third bullet hit its scales, now tilted at a slanted angle. The bullet ricocheted off the armored plating, and hit the other deputy in the thigh. His leg gave out, and the officer quickly collapsed. Confusion mixed with adrenaline, and as water flooded the deck as it sank below the waterline, terror had set in.
With a single flap of its gills, the Carnobass pumped in several gallons of water, and its lamellae took in the dissolved oxygen. With a burst of energy, it whipped its body in a counterclockwise motion. As it turned, its tailed thrashed the standing officer. Nearly every bone in his body broke as the strike launched him into the stern railings. The fish, and the boat, submerged just as Logan’s vessel arrived. The two deputies with him quickly hauled out the injured officer from the water and began wrapping his bullet wound. Logan throttled the boat at full speed toward shore, while picking up the radio transmitter.
“Sheriff Logan to all units…return to shore now! Wherever you are, just go for the nearest land. Everyone, get out of the water now!”
CHAPTER
23
Sydney awoke in bed to the sight of sunlight streaming through the open bedroom window. For the first time in what seemed like forever, he had slept through the entire night without getting up due to his leg pain. Feeling pleasantly rested, he laid on his back and enjoyed the morning breeze coming in.
He felt Meya’s hand planted on his chest. He looked over at her. She lay bare under the covers beside him and returned his gaze, having just woken up as well. It was a pleasant moment of relaxation and satisfaction that neither had felt in many years.
“You snore,” Sydney said.
“You talk in your sleep,” Meya replied. They both smiled and continued resting for a bit longer. Finally, Sydney looked at the clock near his bed. It was 10:12 a.m.
Damn! He could not remember the last time he slept in so late. He and Meya did not stay out very late either. He didn’t care, however. In fact, he felt happier than in a long time. His leg throbbed a bit, but not nearly as bad as it normally did. Meya felt her spirits lifted as well. She was back in a place that she had longed for, even during the proceedings years back. She never thought she’d be granted a second chance. The only regret she had was not trying harder to fix it back then. She wondered what would have happened had she been up front.
“I’m sorry I never told you the truth about what happened,” she said.
“Shhh,” Sydney said. “It’s okay. It’s behind us.” Meya smiled and rested her head on his chest.
“Oh, let’s just stay like this forever,” she said. Sydney smiled and stroked her hair romantically. Unfortunately, their cuddle was short lived when his body sent him signals of a full bladder.
“Unfortunately,” he gently pushed her off and stood up, “under the circumstance, that might not be such a good idea.” He threw on some sweatpants and went to the bathroom. He relieved himself and flushed. He took the opportunity to wash his hands and brush his teeth. Not since their first few months together had he been so conscious of his hygiene around another specific person. He returned to the bedroom to Meya getting dressed.
“Want to catch a brunch?” she asked.
“Not a bad idea,” Sydney said. After all, he was off duty. He dug through some fresh clothes and dressed himself in some jeans and a grey T-shirt.
“Any ideas where we should go?” Meya asked. Sydney thought for a moment.
“I guess, since you’re still new to town, you haven’t tried Kosakowski’s. It’s a nice breakfast joint.”
“No, I haven’t,” Meya said. “But it sounds like a good plan.” She looked down at her scrubs, the only clothes she had with her. “I suppose you wouldn’t mind if we stopped off at my place first so I could change?”
“Of course,” Sydney said. He slipped on his boots and tucked his shirt in. He looked up from his tidying after hearing the sound of a car door slamming just outside his house. More door slams followed, clearly coming from his driveway. He barely took two steps into his living room when someone started knocking at his door.
Sydney opened it, revealing a small group of people. Mayor Greene stood at the front, with Logan standing off to the side behind him. Behind them were a couple of RPD officers, one of them being Larabee. Behind them were two of Greene’s assistants, and at the back stood Joel, clearly struggling to keep his eyes open. Like everyone else, he had been up most of the night performing rescue operations. Logan looked more than tired; he looked defeated. His very body language lacked the authoritative, confident figure he always exuded. The sheriff looked more at the ground than he did at Sydney.
“You guys look like you could use some coffee,” Sydney said.
“Honestly, I wouldn’t say no if you offered,” Greene said. Sydney looked past the group at the vehicles. There was the sheriff’s vehicle, a RPD patrol car, and Joel’s raggedy van. There was no sign of Greene’s truck, or any other vehicles for his assistants.
“What’s with this?” Sydney pointed at the vehicles. Greene exhaled heavily.
“Joel was kind enough to transport us,” he said. “We had a press conference today. It didn’t go well. We had an angry crowd, and people started throwing things. One of those things was a beer bottle that went through my windshield.” Sydney winced, feeling the mayor’s mental anguish. That truck was new.
“Oh,” he said. “For a sec, I thought Joel was just here for the coffee.”
“I am,” Joel said, and started walking toward the door. Sydney gestured for them to come inside. Sydney started a fresh pot of coffee for everyone, and pointed out where the mugs were. Joel helped himself into the kitchen, and stopped suddenly when he saw Meya. Through his drowsiness, he did manage to notice a certain spark within the chief, and now he knew why. It was a pleasant surprise.
She was surprised too, but not for the same reason. She looked into the living room to see everyone piling in.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Sydney said. He looked to the mayor. “You mentioned there was a press conference that didn’t go well. May I presume you’re guy’s operation didn’t work out to kill the fish?” Everyone looked at him with stunned silence. The only one who did not stare at him was Joel, whose eyes were fixated on the brewing coffee.
“Did you not hear?” Greene asked.
“No,” Sydney replied. “What happened?” Greene took a breath, and Logan turned away, as if humiliated about what was about to be disclosed.
“Several deputies were killed last night,” Greene said. After a pause, he added, “By that thing out there.” There were several seconds of solemn silence, except for the brewing from the coffeepot.
“Nine,” Logan said.
“Nine?” Sydney digested the news. Meya put her hand over her mouth. Mayor Greene put his hands on his hips and looked down. He finally looked Sydney in the eye.
“That thing out there is out of control, Morgan. We HAVE to destroy it,” he said.
“I thought that’s what you h
ad Mr. Know-it-all over there for,” Sydney retorted and pointed to Sheriff Logan. Greene took a step forward and held up his hand.
“Good lord, Morgan, give him a break,” he said. His expression was strict, but quickly eased up when Sydney retaliated.
“A break?” Sydney nearly snapped. “I warned him. I warned YOU; don’t go out on that water! I warned you guys of what that thing could do, and you idiots wouldn’t listen. Now look what happened; nine police officers, all dead.” Neither Logan nor Greene did not argue. Finally, Logan looked Sydney in the eye.
“Yes, you’re right,” he said. “In fact, the whole damn town pointed that out. Hence the near riot we had at the press conference. I, uh, told Mayor Greene that we need your expertise to kill this thing.” Sydney stared at him, then at the mayor.
“Morgan, we need your help,” Greene said. Sydney paced around. He was enraged at them for proceeding with the operation, despite his warnings. The consequences he warned about were even worse than he feared.
Both his officers stepped forward. Larabee raised his hand, as if requesting permission to speak.
“If I may, sir,” he said. “Everyone in the department wants to get this thing. For Tim.” Sydney looked at him and listened. “But we don’t know how. We need your help.” It was something Sydney never expected; true respect from his officers.
“Obviously, I’ll help you guys,” Sydney said. Greene blew a sigh of relief. He noticed Joel pouring a cup of coffee, and moved to the pot to help himself to a mug.
“Do you have any ideas on what we should do?” he asked Sydney.
“First things first,” Sydney said. “I want to speak to that nut job professor guy: Professor…uhh…” He struggled to remember the name.
“Wilkow,” Meya reminded him.
“Him!” Sydney said. “We need to find him. He’s the only one who had any knowledge of this fish.”
“Where would he be?” Logan asked.
“We could check the university,” Meya said.
“Well, let’s not waste time,” Sydney said. He moved toward the door. “Let’s get moving.” He realized nobody was following him out the door. He looked back, and saw everyone lined up at the coffeepot. “Oh, for Christ sake…”
CHAPTER
24
The radio roared classic country music while Dr. Wilkow cast his line into the pond. The song on air was referring to it being a great day to be alive; a sentiment Wilkow was feeling. Dr. Nevers was not at the University today, so Wilkow was spared the likely endless verbal assault regarding stealing college finances and equipment. The dean’s absence allowed Wilkow to review the footage recorded on his laptop, and update his thesis.
With the news of a giant new species of fish being in the lake, scientists from all over were undoubtedly on their way to Rodney. Some had already arrived in town, but with the lake off limits, they were unable to conduct any research. This meant Wilkow was the only one with any data collected. That, plus the new evidence supporting his theory, meant that he was going to be in high demand for any research facility intent on studying the creature.
“Yeah, baby!” he yelled excitedly as he hooked a fish.
********
Meya rode shotgun in Sydney’s Jeep, admiring the summer breeze that came through the passenger window. As they drove to the University, she watched Logan’s car and Joel’s van through the rearview mirror. Her thoughts were on Sydney, and her hopes that he would not place himself in harm’s way when hunting the creature. The fact that one creature had killed so many people gave her a nervous ache in her stomach, and the thought of Sydney going out there to kill it only made it worse. She glanced several times at him, but forced herself to look away to not draw his attention. She figured he was deep in thought regarding the situation. However, her eyes were drawn to him like a magnet. In the corner of his eye, Sydney could see her looking at him. He grinned.
“Don’t worry. We’ll have that brunch another time,” he said.
“I wasn’t concerned about it,” Meya said. They pulled into the university lot. Sydney looked at the buildings and tried to remember the correct one.
“How are we gonna find this guy? You think he’ll be in the same place we saw him the other day?”
“I hope so. Otherwise, I don’t know how we’ll find him,” Meya said. Just as she finished speaking, a loud call rang through the air.
“HEEELLLL TO THE YEEEAAHHH!”
They both looked across the lot. There he stood at the pond with a fishing pole in hand and a cigar in mouth. Just as when they first saw him, he was busy reeling in a largemouth from the pond. Sydney and Meya looked at each other, equally amused and relieved.
“Well, that was surprisingly easy,” Sydney said. He turned his Jeep and drove along the service drive up to the pond, followed by the other vehicles.
Wilkow held the bass by the lower jaw as he watched the vehicles come to a stop by the curve. Sydney and Meya were the first to step out. Wilkow quickly recalled Sydney’s aggressive advance toward him during the previous day at the beach. He naturally took a step back.
“Oh hell,” Wilkow said. He held up the bass. “Not the same chap you’re looking for, just in case you’re wondering!”
“Relax,” Sydney said. “You’re not in trouble.” Wilkow eased his tension.
“I appreciate that,” he said. “What do I owe this lovely visit?”
“I was hoping you’d be interested in helping us catch a different fish,” Sydney said.
Wilkow’s eyes went to Joel’s van. The sight of the old white van with cherry lights on it was amusing enough, but it was seeing the mayor stepping out of it that nearly dropped Wilkow to the ground in laughter. “What’s the matter, Mr. Mayor? Doesn’t the town pay enough for decent transport?”
“It’s a long story…” Mayor Greene started to say.
“Nah, don’t worry. I watched the whole conference on TV,” Wilkow said. “That was a heck of a start to my day.” The assistants stepped out of the van, pushing aside the assorted tools and junk that was piled in there. He snickered once again and looked at Logan. The sheriff’s defeated demeanor hadn’t left him, and Wilkow knew the reason. “This guy warned you,” he pointed at Sydney. “He warned you, and I warned you.”
“I’m well aware,” Logan said. Everyone was aware. Even the families of some of his fallen deputies were aware. His humiliation had been well broadcast.
“Listen, you’re the only one who seems to know anything about this thing,” Sydney said. “We just need you to help us kill the bastard.” Wilkow unhooked his bass and tossed it back into the lake. He picked up his fishing rod to secure the hook.
“You know, this would probably be a good time to offer me a bribe,” he joked. He started collecting his fishing gear. “A new sports car, set of golf clubs, season tickets to the Detroit Pistons…”
“We can make that work,” Greene said. Wilkow stopped what he was doing. Another grin creased his face. He debated in his mind whether to accept the mayor’s offer, or admit he was just kidding.
“What are your ideas, Chiefy?” he said to Sydney.
“First thing; no boats in the water unless absolutely necessary,” Sydney answered. “We all know what that thing can do.”
“That’s a good start,” Wilkow said. “I’m also assuming you’ve realized firearms are useless against it. Unless you have a bazooka.” He leaned down to pick up his tackle box, then stopped to look at Sydney and Logan. “Do you guys have bazookas?”
“No,” they both said.
“Damn,” Wilkow said. “The movies are always wrong.” Meya glanced up at the Liberal Arts Building, remembering that they had all sorts of lab and chemistry equipment.
“Could we try poisoning it?” she asked.
“Poison could kill it,” Wilkow said. “The problem would be getting the solution into its system. You can’t really inject it through its exterior. Same problem as the bullets; the scales are too tough. And good luck getting some in its m
outh.”
“What about coating a lake with some sort of poison mixture?” Logan asked.
“Yeah, and kill the entire lake in the process?” Wilkow remarked. “Aren’t you trying to make it a place people can go fishing again? Oh, and swimming?”
“He’s right,” Greene said. “We can’t do that. Forget the vacationers. The EPA would string us all on a cross and leave us to bake in the sun.”
“Wouldn’t do well for my Nobel Prize candidacy,” Wilkow said. He closed his tackle box and picked up his pole. From the van, Joel stared at the reel, and then eyeballed the hook.
“Why don’t we just suffocate it?” he said. All eyes turned toward him.
“The plumber has an interesting idea,” Wilkow said. “Of course, you’d need a way to get the Carnobass out of the water, and keep it out long enough to die of oxygen deprivation.” Joel looked at himself, in his EMT uniform, and then shot Wilkow a scolding look.
Do I look like a plumber?
“Hang on a sec,” Sydney said. “That gives me an idea.”
“What? The plumber?” Wilkow said. “You want to drain the lake?” Everyone stared dumbly at Wilkow.
We’re asking advice from this guy? Mayor Greene thought to himself. Joel thought something quite similar.
“No,” Sydney said after a pause, “I was thinking we’d do what you were just doing.” He pointed at the fishing pole. “We could commandeer one of the cranes from the Corey Mine. We could set up a makeshift net, or a hook, or something to hold the fish and hoist it out of the water. If it works, we can keep it lifted long enough for it to suffocate.”
“That…” Wilkow was about to bash the idea, but thought about it further, “…might actually work.”
“Can we hire someone to operate the crane?” Meya asked.