Mount Misery

by Angelo Peluso

  “What did you see?”

  “Fish like I have never seen before, Rick. Big, ugly, and vicious. Tore through everything like buzz saws. We sustained a few minor injuries to passengers who had those things hooked.”

  “Is it still happening, Sully?”

  “There’s an enormous slick but the fish seem to have moved off toward shore. A few of my fares videoed the whole event so there may be some useful visual evidence.”

  “That’s great, Sully. I’m sure Katie can use that.”

  “Let’s just hope they don’t sell it to News 21 after you get back to port.”

  The killers had indeed moved south and east. Many hunting pods had met and merged, forming the most lethal school of fish ever to swim the waters of the Long Island Sound. The mutant fish headed straight in the direction of crowded private and public beaches along the central north shore.

  Katie’s cell phone rang. It was Nick.

  “Katie, dearest, they’re back!”

  “Nick, you saw them?”

  “Yes, they came up around the boat several times and then sounded. We’re anchored up in the rocks off the Old Colonial Lighthouse. And I got water samples. Running a few quick tests now.”

  “Nick, were they aggressive?”

  “They surfaced, circled the boat few times, one charged the engine and bit the propeller, and then the entire bunch sounded. Guess we weren’t appetizing enough.”

  “Did you get a good look at them?”

  “I did. The one that hit the motor gave me a good profile. Katie, the fish had deformed features: a body like a huge bluefish, the maw of an African tigerfish, replete with massive teeth, and large armor-like scales of a tarpon. Pretty impressive package that looked to be about one hundred pounds. These are certainly formidable adversaries.”

  “Any idea which way they headed?”

  “Beats me, Katie. They were up, around, and down and we haven’t seen a trace since.”

  “Okay, Nick, but be careful. There is one big freakin’ school of those things swimming around now, and a couple of guys in the tournament just went missing and are presumed dead. Sully had them in huge numbers. Created havoc with his party boat fares. There may be more of them headed your way. If you see them again, let me know ASAP.”

  “Roger that, Katie. Will do.”

  Katie and Rick compared notes. It was obvious their killers had begun to turn up the heat and were on a roll. Based on the reports, Katie was confident this recent feeding behavior would continue throughout the day. But she lacked confidence that any eradication plan would be effective. She had no clue how to rid the Sound or all of Long Island of these creatures.

  “Rick, I think we should just zigzag our way back west. With all this activity, we have a good chance at bumping into these fish somewhere along the way.”

  Rick nodded his approval and steered Maya in a serpentine pattern toward the beach and then veered offshore about a half mile. As Rick rounded navigation buoy 9 offshore of Plover Dunes, his cell phone rang again. To his surprise, it was Jack Connors.

  “Hey, Rick. They released me from the hospital. I’m at the fueling dock in front of Charlie’s Bait and Tackle. Come pick me up.”

  “Jack, are you sure you are up for this?”

  “Just come get me. I’m fine.”

  “Okay, Jack. See you in a few.”

  CHAPTER 41

  Two thirteen-year-old twin brothers and their younger sister maneuvered standup paddleboards through Mount Misery Inlet and out into the open Sound. The trio paddled east parallel to the shoreline about two hundred yards off the beach. The eight-year old girl trailed her big brothers and kept yelling at them to wait up, but as older siblings often do, they ignored her. The brothers figured since she had on a life vest, they didn’t need to babysit her. Every once in a while, they would turn around to make sure their sister was still there. She was a strong little kid, an up-and-coming soccer and field hockey player, but the boys constantly competed against one another in every sport they played. It was no different with paddleboarding. They paddled feverishly to see who was faster and who could reach an ever-expanding finish line. They just never stopped with their competitive games. The young girl paddled slow and steady and was somewhat like the turtle that expected to beat the hare. While far behind her brothers, she implored them to slow down. They never did and the distance between them grew.

  “Look at those kids on the paddleboards.” Katie said as the boat approached Mount Misery Inlet. “Do you think we should head over and warn them?” Katie didn’t see the little girl.

  The boys had reached a point off Pavilion Dunes, a concession stand and food court set back from Pine Beach. This popular stretch of municipal sand and water had attracted a throng of beachgoers on this picture perfect, late summer day. The boys needed a cold drink and were lured onto the beach by some similarly-aged girls frolicking in the surf. One of the brothers turned back to his sister off in the distance and whistled. He pointed to the beach and gestured for her to follow them in. She was too far away to clearly see him.

  Jack waited on the dock. He was still feeling the effects of his ordeal but hospitals don’t like keeping folks in bed longer than need be. The insurance companies frown upon that and Lord knows, insurance companies do control health care in this country. Once Jack’s vitals were back to normal, he was shown the door, and there was no better way for Jack to begin his recuperation than to get back on the water.

  “Ahoy, Jack,” Katie shouted.

  “About time. Been waiting here all of five minutes.” Jack smiled.

  “Grab a line, Jack, and tie her off. Gotta top off this tank. Been doing a lot of running around today.”

  Katie jumped onto the deck and hugged Jack. “I’m so glad you’re okay. You had us scared. How are you feeling?”

  “I’m good, Katie. Been through a lot worse. Thanks for the concern.”

  “Well then, I guess I will go pee. Rick, need anything from the shop?”

  “Yeah, a second mortgage on my house to pay for this fuel bill. But a few more orange Gatorades will do.”

  Rick moved to Jack and gave him a firm hug.

  “Glad you are okay, Jack. We were all worried. Now, what the hell were you talking about with those mermaids?”

  “Rick, I wish I knew. I fell overboard. I saw those horrible fish creatures. Closed my eyes and when I opened them, I saw the mermaid. That’s all there is to it. Probably delirious at the time too. Don’t know if it was real or imagined, but whether in the water or in my mind, she was real to me at the time.”

  “Those creature are out there now, Jack. Sully, Valerie, and Nick all saw them today. When we head back out, we will continue to search for them.”

  Rick’s cell phone rang. It was Captain Sandy Bassonet.

  “Rick, Sandy here. I’m in Port Rosey Harbor. I think we just eyed your monster fish. One of my fares landed an eighteen-and-three-quarter-pound bluefish off the sand flat and something came up behind the fish as we netted it. Tried to eat it. That fish was one badass. Big as a tarpon and a mouth full of teeth.”

  “Were there others?”

  “Saw just the one. But we did watch some nervous and turbulent water move out the harbor and though the inlet. Could have been a bunch of these things on the prowl.”

  “That’s very possible, Sandy. At least you got your big bluefish. That one could end up in the tournament money. Thanks for the heads up. If you see more, give me another call. And stay safe.”

  “Who are you talking to now?” Katie had returned from the bait shop.

  “Sandy. He had an encounter with the fish in Port Roosevelt Harbor.”

  “That’s right next door, Rick. These fish are definitely on the prowl today.”

  “Jack, untie us and let’s get a move on.”

  Maya inched away from the dock and toward the inlet. The pod of killer fish that had been in Port Roosevelt Harbor moved out from that inlet and in the direction of Mount Misery Ledge. The fish hea
ded toward a fleet of recreational fishing boats gathered along a deep drop-off on the northeast corner of the ledge. Other fish of their kind also moved toward that location. The stage had been set for a congregation of demons. The fish were attracted to a large collection of bait and to the vibrations emitted by all the fishing activity, their lateral lines bombarded by the sensory signals of vulnerable and struggling prey.

  The alpha male with the mangled eye played the leadership role in organizing the assemblage of killers. Despite his disabled vision, he was still the strongest pack leader; his other senses had sharpened to offset the damage to his eye. Other males deferred to his cues and followed his direction. It seemed as if the encounter with the dog made him more resolute in his killing ambitions. The fish never forgot the dark silhouette of the canine framed against a bright sky. And it never forgot the missed opportunity to kill and feed. Now it needed to even the score for the damage to its eye.

  No one yet realized the aquatic apocalypse that was building. Rafts upon rafts of bait moved onto Mount Misery Ledge as gulls and terns dived among the smorgasbord of small fish. The actions of the birds were a signal for all anglers in the area to move their boats to the vicinity of the ledge. No one wanted to miss a rare opportunity to cash in on this special bounty of predatory game fish that zeroed in on the area to feed. Their numbers grew to hundreds as all pods joined into one massive community of assassins, plotting their next major assault.

  On the way out from the harbor, Rick spotted Captain Joey Marrone. He had moved outside the inlet following a school of little tunny, locally known as albies. His husband and wife charter wanted to catch tunny fish on fly rods, rounding out their “slam” of bass, bluefish, and albies. Joey was one of the best at this game and his reputation had his boat booked on days when most other light-tackle guides stayed tied to the docks and drank beer. Both fares were fast to fish. Rick idled up alongside his boat. “I see it’s going well today, Joey?”

  “Yeah, Rick. Been a good one. A ton of fish around. But neither hide nor hair of the things you are after.”

  “They have been spotted, Joey, so be careful.”

  “Be careful of what?” the husband angler on board asked. “Can I catch it on a fly rod?”

  Jack turned and replied, “Buddy, you don’t want to know, and no, not if you value your life.”

  Katie’s phone rang. It was Nick again. Katie, “I ran those water samples. Not good.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Highest levels of concentrated aggression pheromones I have ever recorded in samples. For me to get these kinds of readings, the stuff must be pouring out of them. These fish are stoked for a big fight. The only other thing I can compare these results to is what I have read of bull elephants in musth, whose hormones and testosterone get so elevated they start attacking and killing everything in sight.”

  “Nick, call Ted and tell him to contact authorities to close the beaches. Tell him it is imperative to prevent further injury and loss of life. I have a feeling all hell is about to break loose. And tell him we have video from the party boats.”

  “Ten four, Katie, will do. We’ll head your way.”

  The enormous oily slick now extended for miles from Smith’s Bay east to Mount Misery Inlet. Frenzied feeding and fishing activity on and around the offshore ledge kept the killer fish feeding deep in the water column. The edge of an adjoining shoal dropped to a depth of about one hundred feet. That’s where the dominant alpha male and his pod prowled and fed. That is, until the beast sensed the little tunny farther east from the ledge. Tunas of all sizes were a preferred food source of the mutant killers. Other than sharks, they were the only other fish in the ocean fast enough to catch them. As minute traces of molecular tuna scent aroused the alpha male, his body language signaled the others to follow. It headed toward Mount Misery Inlet. Although the killers began to move from the ledge, the inviting slick had attracted another marine predator whose presence had surprisingly gone unnoticed.

  The school of little tunas had dispersed into several dozen groupings that corralled small baitfish on the surface and slashed through them with speed and accuracy. Their surface feeding actions were plainly visible to the trained human eye and captain Joey Marrone moved his boat to where he thought the fish might surface next, giving his husband and wife team a better shot at hooking up. Rick had also noticed the feeding activity and moved Maya over for a better look. He shut down the engines and he and Katie and Jack just watched the fracas.

  “Rick, do you smell that?”

  “Yep. There must be quite the slaughter going on under the water.”

  Jack also replied, “That’s the smell of fear and carnage. Those little tunas are very effective hunters.”

  The trio watched as water boiled all around the boat and little tunny tore through peanut bunker and anchovies.

  “This never ceases to amaze me,” Rick said.

  “Look,” Katie answered, “Joey’s two clients are both hooked up to albies.”

  The husband and wife were indeed hooked solid to two little tunny. The fish moved off with blazing speed, trying to regain contact with their school. The couple’s fly rods were bent in parabolic splendor as line poured from the reels. The fish were determined to escape, but the skill and patience of the anglers overcame the tunnys’ fight for freedom.

  The short but intense fight was now in the end game. Both fish swam beneath the boat in ever-tightening circles, a sure sign of submission. The anglers had no intention of killing their catch. The fish would be released, but Captain Joey would have to act fast. All tunas, regardless of size, battle so aggressively they can actually fight themselves to exhaustion, then death.

  The husband was first to get his fish to the boat. Joey grabbed the leader and the fish’s tale slapped water in repetitive syncopation. With timing honed from many such landings, Joey thrust his hand at the fish, grabbed it by the tail and deftly hoisted it into the boat. After a quick photo for the scrapbook, the fish was tossed back into the water head first to give it a jolt of rejuvenating oxygen through its gills.

  The wife now had her fish close to the boat. The drill was repeated once again. The hooked fish made tight circling motions close to the boat as Joey grabbed hold of the leader. The young captain kneeled down and readied himself for the grab. His hand was inches from the fish’s tail when the woman screamed. Instinctively, Joey recoiled and released the leader. And then he saw the reason for the angler’s scream. The ghastly monster had swallowed her prize fish whole and just laid suspended alongside the boat, its freakish yellow eyes locked onto hers. Killing her would have been easy; the shallow draft vessel had low gunwales and the creature could have jumped into the boat deck and seized the woman. Fortunately, the fish was distracted by more of its kind ravaging other fish. The creature turned and disappeared.

  Katie heard the scream, but before Rick could call Joey Marrone, the water thirty yards east of his boat erupted with flying tunny swimming for their lives. Killer fish were everywhere, catapulting form the water with whole or half-bitten fish in their mouths. There were hundreds of them The water began to ran an eerie red from the blood of their victims. The entire scene was made even more chilling by the blast of a warning siren coming from the beach.

  “I guess Nick got through to Ted and he listened,” Katie said.

  “And not a moment too soon,” Jack added.

  All eyes focused on the chaos building along the beach: lifeguards ushered bathers from the water; parents collected their kids; police vehicles cruised up and down the beach. The National Guard also showed up and two rescue helicopters flew east to west along the beaches. Katie was beyond relieved that the officials finally heeded her advice. She now knew there was no way to stop these fish from killing.

  CHAPTER 42

  Rick’s eyes were glued to the binoculars. He searched the surf line for any sign the killers had moved close to the beach. He scanned the area immediately in front of the concession stand and noticed the
two young male paddleboarders jumping up and down, waving their arms wildly and pointing out into the Sound. And then he remembered the girl.

  Killer fish boiled on the surface in every direction. The water had turned a turbulent and frothy white with patches of pink and red where the mutants had fed. Their violent attacks transformed an otherwise tranquil Sound into a tumultuous maelstrom, sucking down anything that crossed the path of the killing machine. Nothing in the water could possibly survive the onslaught. It was as if all the aberrant creatures in the Sound had turned on at the same time to feed in the most frenzied and violent way.

  “Jack, Katie, we have to find the girl on the paddleboard. I can’t see her. The two boys are on the beach but she’s not with them. She’s got to be out here somewhere.”

  “Oh my God, Rick, she wouldn’t stand a chance against these things.”

  “Katie, take the binoculars while I steer. Jack, there’s another set of glasses in the port side, forward gear compartment. We need all eyes on the water.”

  By now, several of the other captains had motored into the area. Sandy Bassonet, Al Robinetti, and Joey Marrone had moved east following the fish. Rick called each one and told them to do a grid search of the area for the girl. Katie spotted Nick and Valerie out by the shoal marker. She called Nick and told him to move closer inshore. Five boats searched for the small paddle boarder.

  The situation instantly went from bad to dire; Rick spotted the girl’s two brothers paddling out from the beach. They too seemed intent on joining the urgent search for their sister. The boys paddled north and east. Rick focused his attention in the direction of their paddling but his concentration was broken by killer fish crashing into the boat as they pursued little tunny. One maddened fish was so attracted to the electrical impulses of the motors, it latched on to a propeller. Rick gunned the engine and teeth flew in all directions.

  “That’s one way to deal with the bastards,” Jack said.

  “Yeah, Jack, until my props blow up or they chew off the lower units.”