Mount Misery

by Angelo Peluso

  Rick motioned for Katie to move closer to him. He put his lips to her ear and, over the roar of the engines, said, “Let’s run into Smith’s Bay and over to the mouth of the Squeteague River. We might see something there as the tide runs out of the river and dumps into the Sound.”

  Rick pulled back but Katie held his face with both hands and kissed him, first on the cheek and then squarely on the lips. Rick backed off the throttle and the Contender settled back like a horse responding to the command whoa. The boat sat about three hundred yards off White’s Pond, a tidal pond outlet popular with local fisherman. Rick and Katie made quick but passionate love. A pod of the killer fish swam beneath the boat and sensed every vibration made by the two lovers.

  “Holy smokes there. That was as intense as it gets. Best dessert a guy could get. Mind if I jump in the water to cool myself down?”

  “Don’t start that again. Do you have to ruin the moment?”

  “One quick dip. Down and up.”

  “That’s what you said on the beach, in and out, and look at what it almost got you—killed!”

  The alpha male was fast becoming agitated. He sensed the presence of food; the vibrations transmitted through the boat’s hull communicated with his lateral line and he locked in on the signals. The alpha male knew there were living things above him . . . living things he could eat. His frustration fueled the ferociousness of the entire pack as his body produced and released aggression pheromones. The pack followed his lead; they too sensed another meal. The pod of killer fish had been moving east from Eagle’s Neck, where they began the evening hunt. Having broken away from the larger school, this band of about a dozen fish moved in a defined pattern, covering grids of territory until they found food. Unlike their normal and smaller relatives, these mutants had evolved with a higher degree of intellect. Their hunting methods were in part instinctive and in part learned behaviors.

  Holding onto the starboard gunwale as one would hold on to the edge of a swimming pool, Rick lowered himself into the water. Despite being at peak seasonal temperature, the water was refreshingly cool. Rick’s body was still in overdrive, the effects of the quickie still lingering within. His body wanted sleep after the intense lovemaking, yet he knew Katie would have none of that.

  The alpha male now had a visual sighting of its prey. It looked strangely familiar, as if it had seen this one before. It had eaten that type of prey recently but it needed to be sure before it would attack. The big fish didn’t want to risk an encounter that might cause him harm. The pack circled directly beneath Rick, no more than thirty feet down. Each time Rick moved his legs or kicked his feet, the pack became more aroused and more focused. Their bodies tensed, their fins became rigid, their jaws snapped and clicked . . . and their eyes glowed a ghastly and piercing yellow.

  “Rick, please put your clothes back on and let’s get going. Don’t let me regret my affectionate overture. Keep this up and you will ruin the evening. We have work to do. Let’s get going.”

  “There’s still plenty of light left and the tide is just beginning to run strong. And my boat is fast. Give me a minute and we’ll be on our way.”

  The killer fish swimming below had reached the height of agitation and were ready to strike. The pack had been stimulated to a frenzied state by the continual discharge of bodily hormonal chemicals that triggered violent behavior. Pheromones released by these altered fish were especially potent as a result of the genetic mutations they had undergone. Each fish reacted to the scents and body language of the others. They waited for the cue from the pack leader. The one-hundred-pound alpha male was in a crazed state, his glowing eyes locked on to Rick’s feet. The fish knew from previous attacks that when he bit off the feet, his prey would be incapable of mobility. Once unable to move, his subordinates would advance for the lethal assault. The pack was ready, wound like a coiled spring. They would circle beneath the Maya one final time before ascending the water column to strike.

  Rick’s VHF cracked to life. “Captain Rick, vessel Maya, do you read me? Come in Rick. Any chance you are out here this evening?” It was Jack.

  “Katie, please answer that,” Rick said, as he quickly and forcefully pulled himself up and over a shallow part of the gunnel and onto the deck. He owed Jack a big debt of gratitude.

  The alpha male was as pissed off as an animal could get at missing another opportunity to kill Rick. The fish was so filled with rage that he lashed out at one of his lesser pack mates and severed its tail. The rest of the pack fed as their fallen kin bled out and descended toward the bottom.

  CHAPTER 31

  “Captain Jack, come back, Jack. This is Katie. Over”

  “Ah, a name that is music to my ears. Where are you, Katie? Over.”

  “With Rick, on the Maya. We’re slightly to the east of Sandhill Point. Where are you? We’ve been worried. Carole too. Over.”

  “I’m about half a mile off the southwest edge of Stratford Shoal. Got myself into a bit of a mess. Long story. I’m sorta okay but could use some company.” Jack was still too dazed and physically exhausted to say much more.

  Rick took the microphone from Katie and spoke, “Jack, it’s Rick. Hang on, buddy. We’ll be there shortly.”

  “Ten-four, good buddy. Tell Carole I’m okay. Thanks. Over and out.”

  Rick turned the ignition key and the two Yamaha engines roared to life.

  “I don’t like the sound of Jack,” Rick said. He aimed Maya’s bow north toward Connecticut. With more than an hour of daylight left and unimpeded visibility, Rick was able to discern the shape of the Stratford Shoal Lighthouse, his visual point of reference. Although Rick had all the latest radar technology aboard Maya, he would need only rely on that one visual structure to reach Jack, whose boat would be but a short distance south and west of the lighthouse. It would take about fifteen minutes to reach the light. The location of Jack’s boat would be apparent from there. If Rick had any problems locating Jack’s position, he would hail him on the VHF and get exact GPS coordinates. Rick didn’t anticipate having to do that. There weren’t many other boats on the water and he’d immediately recognize the profile of Jack’s boat.

  Rick manned the helm and thought it a bit ironic that he was aiming for a sea marker that for years others had tried to avoid. The shoal was a dangerous piece of real estate that got its name by being positioned equidistant between Old Field Point on Long Island and Stratford Point, Connecticut. Even though it was closer to Old Field Point by half a mile, the lighthouse was tagged a with name representative of the Connecticut point of land. Some say that came about as a result of the lighthouse being positioned approximately one thousand feet onto the Connecticut side of the Sound. The Stratford lighthouse had functioned as a beacon of warning for sailors since its activation in December 1877. Its primary purpose was to mark the perilous Middle Ground Shoal, a three-quarters of a mile long piece of very shallow water and rocks. When the area was first charted in the early 1600s, what is now the shoal were then two small islands in the middle of the Sound. Time, tide, and effects of severe weather worked in concert to erode the islands and leave behind treacherous shallow rocks and boulders. It was those shallow rocks and the surrounding deep water that attracted all varieties of baitfish and game fish to this area. At times, it could be one of the most productive fishing area in the Sound. At other times, it could be the most dangerous. As one of Jack’s favorite places to fish, especially for big bass and bluefish, Rick was not at all surprised to find him there.

  Katie had grabbed the binoculars and scanned the water for Jack’s boat. Rick’s Contender was fast and it ate up those nautical miles in short order. The lighthouse was now just a quarter of a mile away.

  Rick backed down on the throttle and trimmed up the engines slightly as the boat approached close to the lighthouse. He didn’t want to take any chance of hitting an unseen rock.

  “Why so close, Rick? Jack is off to the southwest somewhere.”

  “Let me have the glasses, Katie. I need t
o do something first.”

  Oddly, Rick put the glasses to his eyes and focused not on where Jack’s boat might be but rather on the windows of the lighthouse and then the light tower.

  “What are you doing?” Katie said.

  “Looking for a sign of the long-departed keeper. I do it all the time I’m out here in the evening or at night.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “A ghost, Katie. The ghost of a lighthouse keeper gone mad. The isolation got to him and he killed himself. His restless spirit is believed to still reside in the building.”

  “Rick, we are out here to find Jack and you are looking for apparitions. Sometimes I really wonder about you and your priorities in life.”

  “One night I was out here fishing for bass and I saw a shadow in the tower. It was a man-like silhouette that lingered as the Fresnel lens broadcast its alternating signal. I would have sworn at that time that it looked straight at me and pointed a finger.”

  “Intriguing, Rick, but I’m more concerned about Jack right now than some dead lighthouse keeper giving you the finger.”

  “Okay, let’s go. No one’s home.”

  The sun was low in the sky and shone brilliant red, orange, and yellow hues. It looked like a giant hybrid orange and grapefruit, collared by the intensity of it its corona. Katie snatched the binoculars from Rick and searched an arc of an area due south of their location. She slowly moved the glasses west and along the horizon. The boat moved slowly off the shoal on a heading due southwest.

  “Damn!” Katie had moved the binoculars too far above the horizon and caught the full force of the sun’s brilliance. She was momentarily blinded by the light; blinking and floating spots appeared before her eyes. “That was pretty stupid,” she said. “I could have fried my retinas.”

  “Nah, you’re way hotter than the sun and your patented stare is like a laser beam.” Rick was ever in a playful mood, regardless of the circumstances. “We’ll give this a few more minutes and then I will call up Jack to get coordinates.”

  Katie’s vision slowly returned to normal and the spots had totally vanished. She refocused her sight on the horizon but this time without the aid of binoculars. Katie formed a visor-shaped arch with her hands that filtered out the direct rays of the sun. Visualizing quadrants on the water, she resumed scanning, up and down, back and forth, thoroughly covering each mental square of water. Her eyes moved on a horizontal plane until they made contact with the bottom edge of the corona. That is when Katie saw the reflection.

  “Rick, give me the glasses. I think I see something.” With the aid of the binoculars, Katie confirmed the shape of a boat.

  She handed the glasses back to Rick. “Take a look. What do you think? It’s in line with the North Harbor power stacks.”

  Rick took one quick look and knew immediately from the hull’s silhouette that it was Jack’s boat.

  “It’s him,” Rick said. He brought Maya up on plane.

  Jack was sitting on the bench seat behind the center console. He was slouched over, head in his hands, looking like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. He looked up at the sound of the oncoming boat and instantly recognized Rick’s boat. He always liked the sea foam green hull. It was his favorite color. Jack waved. Both Katie and Rick acknowledged.

  Jack braced himself on the backrest of the bench seat and tried standing up. He was fatigued, weak, and had trouble steadying himself. Jack’s ankles bore deep cuts from the line that had entangled him; they had bled but the blood had clotted. Although the bleeding had stopped, the pain was intense. Jack was unable to place much weight upon his feet. His hands too were badly cut from when he tried to break the strong braided line. He had pulled so hard that the line cut right down to the bone on both index fingers. Somehow Jack had also dislocated his right shoulder. He was torn up pretty good.

  Rick placed rubber bumpers on each of three starboard side cleats so he could tie up directly to port side of Jack’s boats without risk of any damage to either hull. As Rick tied off both boats, Katie jumped from the Maya and into the Sea Craft. She was visibly shaken at the sight of Jack’s condition.

  “Jack, what happened to you? How did this happen?”

  Jack still had a distant stare in his eyes but he smiled at Katie and then shocked her.

  “It was them, Katie, the killer fish. They did this, almost killed me. But the bastards lost the fight. The mermaid saved me.”

  “Okay there, old buddy,” Rick said. “And what mermaid might that be?”

  Katie thought Jack might be hallucinating. She also saw the blood and Jack’s wounds and knew he might be in shock. Jack needed immediate medical attention.

  “There really was a mermaid. Those fuckers had me surrounded and were about to make the kill, and when I opened my eyes, there she was . . . a mermaid. I thought it was an angel but I’m not dead. I’m here, still alive.”

  Rick had never seen his friend in such a state of ill being. He turned on his VHF and tuned it to Channel 16, the emergency channel. He gave the county marine police their exact coordinates and told them of the medical emergency. The Coast Guard at Eagle’s Neck also responded but Rick told them he felt local authorities could handle the situation. They’d have an ambulance back at the launch ramp that would rush Jack up the hill to Saint Dominick’s Hospital. He’d be in good hands within minutes.

  Katie found a windbreaker that Jack has stowed on board and slipped it over his arms. He winced in pain as his right shoulder flexed.

  Katie knew Jack was traumatized and she did not feel at ease asking him questions, but she had to know. “Did you seem them, Jack? Did you see the killer fish?”

  Jack’s response was labored and measured but he replied. “Yes I did, Katie. They were huge. Grotesque. Vicious.”

  “Jack, did they look to you like any fish we know of? Did you recognize them, Jack?”

  Rick broke in to the conversation. “Katie, I can see the rescue boat making way. They should be here in a few minutes. We need to get Jack ready for the transfer.”

  Jack responded to Katie’s question. “They were monsters, Katie, like no fish I’ve ever seen. And there were lots of them, but the mermaid saved me.”

  The rescue boat arrived and tied off on the starboard side of the Sea Craft.

  An EMT jumped aboard and took control of Jack. She introduced herself as Rosemary and asked Jack how he was doing. Jack nodded okay, a strained smile formed on his face.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up here. You are going to be fine,” she said. Rosemary worked to clean Jack’s wounds and got an IV started. She motioned for one of the police officers to assist her and hold the IV bag. Then she immobilized Jack’s shoulder.

  Rick knew one of the two police officers that remained on the rescue boat. He and some friends had chartered him in the past. He asked Rick what had happened. Rick’s reply was that they had only arrived on scene a short while ago and were trying to figure out the same thing, and that Jack was a friend.

  When the EMT had Jack stabilized, she covered him with a high-tech blanket and helped him onto the rescue boat. Jack went willingly but he turned back to Rick.

  “Let Carole know that I’m was okay and please take care of my boat.”

  “Will do, Jack, don’t worry.”

  The officers untied their boat. Within minutes, they were cruising at a moderate speed back to Port Roosevelt. The sun had begun to set and the Sound remained flat, calm. They couldn’t run the boat at full throttle since the bouncing would surely have caused Jack more discomfort and pain. The unhurried pace would have to suffice.

  Rick jumped aboard Jack’s boat and tidied her up. He put all Jack’s gear back in its place and scrubbed down the deck. He had fished on this boat in the past and knew two of Jack’s favorite rod and reel combinations were missing. He thought that odd. Rick also knew Jack to be a neat freak when it came to the Sea Craft so he couldn’t understand the mess strewn about the aft deck. It appeared as if chum bags had exploded wi
th fish guts and body parts blown all over the place. That was not at all typical of how Jack fished. Rick would have to wait to get answers when Jack was in shape to talk about what had happened.

  “Rick, I’m going to call Carole and tell her about Jack.”

  “That’s fine. We need to get this boat back to port.”

  Rick fired up the Sea Craft. Katie would pilot the Contender back to Port Rosey. She was a very capable boat handler. Rick motioned for Katie to follow him in. It was a nice evening for a cruise but this was now just all business. The wind was slight out of the southwest and the Sound remained calm as a small pond. Katie thought about what Jack had said about his encounter with the fish and she wondered about the possibilities. What she could not get her mind around was Jacks’ reference to a mermaid. He had to be hallucinating.

  With favorable sea conditions, both boats entered the mouth of the harbor and were back at the docks by 9:10 p.m. Rick tied up Maya in his slip and then walked over to the public launch ramp where Jack had put in. Luckily Jack had a spare key to his truck on the boat key ring. Rick watched Katie maneuver the boat alongside the dock. She expertly reversed the engines and allowed Maya to come up gently against the cushioned dock rails. He had taught her that maneuver and was proud to see her execute the technique with precision.

  “Nice going. Let me get Jack’s trailer and we’ll get the boat loaded.”

  Rick was excellent at maneuvering boats efficiently onto trailers, not like some of the neophytes who put on a show each day at the ramp. Within minutes, Jack’s boat was sitting on the rollers of the trailer and securely strapped down.

  Rick told Katie he would leave the boat inside the Caris boatyard for safe keeping overnight. He had a key to the gate since he fished at night and would often avail himself of the ice machine after shop hours so that he could preserve his catch. He’d deal with getting the boat back to Jack’s house the next day.