by R L Wagner
A sudden loud thud sounded behind me followed by a flap flap flapping. I spun around with my heart in my throat. Mama Duck flew up from under the pier and waddled boldly up looking right at me. “You’ve been listening, Mama? I guess I’m not talking to myself after all, huh, sweetie?” Mama shook her head, craned her neck over her back and preened her feathers. I felt instantly better with her company.
“It’s a sucker’s bet, Mama,” I explained. “The monster will be here and probably pretty soon!” Mama kept at her grooming. “This is where and when the fist-sized, kind of sharp, mystery mammal tooth will arrive.”
She tilted her head at me and stared. I stared back.
“And come on now, knowing the future before it happens isn’t cheating, right Mama? We’re Busters! If things don’t work out so well, maybe we might tweak things a bit into a happier ending because we can. And nobody would ever have to know!” I explained as I waved my hand. Mama shook her head at my explanation. I laid back and looked up watching the clouds trying to melt.
“Benny, Uncle Scott, and Mr. McCurdy are over at the barn making lunch for the Loch Ness monster. The monster might be late, or on time, but they’re fixing lunch for IT, and nobody knows what IT even looks like, let alone even if IT is in a good mood, or even if IT is on a special diet. But I guess that isn’t so weird, you eat fish too, right Mama?”
Mama Duck waddled nearer, nodding to left and right, and inching her beak closer to the lunch fixings. I sat up, grabbed a loaf, ripped off a piece of bread, and tossed it to her.
“It’s all in the way you look at it, Mama. Eat lunch, don’t become lunch. I’m sure you can relate.” Never taking her eyes off me, Mama Duck did a walking backward, walking forward, rumba-like dance. Quickly she glided closer, snatched the bread, pecked at it, and gobbled it down. I ripped off another couple of pieces, one for her one for me.
“Kitty really knows her picnic fixings, huh, Mama? There’s enough for all of your cute little monsters and a hundred more.” Mama Duck had left our conversation and completely focused on the food. I couldn’t blame her. I love food too. I threw out more bread as she scampered faster to snatch every piece. In the middle of the lake, a fish jumped high to catch its late-morning insect meal, and slammed back into the water causing a loud, fish splash. Mama Duck and I jumped, startled.
I reached back into the basket for crackers. “Clearly, Mama if you knew I was holding out on you, you would peck me until I bled, huh?
The boards of the pier suddenly shook. Benny walked up behind me.
“Who are you talking to?” he asked.
“This is Mama Duck and please tell me you washed your hands,” I said, clutching the basket. Benny plopped down on the corner of the picnic blanket that stretched invitingly over the pier.
“Nice spread! And yeah, there’s a hand- pump water faucet next to the barn. I haven’t been in the house yet.” Benny’s face turned sour. “And boy, I’m telling you, chum is naaaaaasty fish chunks! I almost threw up in my mouth after seeing it,” Benny said, as he picked up a plate and a sandwich. “I’m not sure I feel so much like eating. Just saying.” Benny’s tone sounded just like Uncle Scott.
Uncle Scott and McCurdy climbed aboard the wagon. Lavern continued to chew her brunch while pulling them across the wide drive.
“McCurdy said you and I will be in the row boat, dumping the buckets of ‘gag me’ into the lake.” Benny took a big bite of his sandwich and spit it out. “Auggah, what’s on this!?”
“That one has Kitty’s killer mustard on it. I think there’s horseradish, garlic, and curry in it,” I said showing Benny the big brown mustard crock.
“You can say killer again. I don’t want to be near it.” Benny put down the sandwich as his eyes watered. “I’ll eat later.”
Lavern clomped up and stopped the wagon beside the pier.
“Want something to eat Mr. McCurdy, Uncle Scott?”
“Yes. Thanks Sally.” Uncle Scott unloaded four chum buckets and carried them to the rowboat. “Help me please, Benny.”
Benny made a big-eyed dead fish face at me and joined Uncle Scott at the shore to help flip the rowboat on its side to dump out the storm’s rainwater. Mr. McCurdy turned in his seat. His face was extremely red again, like the night before when the men were laughing at him. He was nervously out of sorts.
“Well, Sally,” Mr. McCurdy wheezed, “there is still time, I believe. The sun has not yet broken through. It’s like the morning when my father shouted, calling for me. His boat was overturned there,” he said with pain in his voice and on his face. He pointed to about where Uncle Scott threw the stone.
“You said his nets were fouled,” I said, “out there?” I pointed across the lagoon to the two piers. Another fish jumped out of the water, eating more bugs and splashing hard. Again it startled me. I wished they wouldn’t do that.
“Between those far piers is the fishery net that separates the lagoon from the outer cove. In winter I stock the water with carr. That net keeps the new fish in the lagoon. I’ve added chains to the hemp to strengthen the net from… possible damage.”
Uncle Scott and Benny loaded the four chum buckets in the boat and rested the bow in the water.
“And we are returning to the scene of the crime, so to speak, kids.” Uncle Scott tied a rope to the front boat ring and tossed the line onto the pier. “Neal says this is the day after the nineyear storm, 18 years to the day in fact, when his father disappeared. Neal has agreed to reenact, so to speak, the events of that fateful morning,” Uncle Scott said as he poured water from the wagon jug to rinse his hands.
And here comes the ‘sucker’s bet’ I thought to myself.
“Children, you will cast the chum from the dingy and return to the pier. Scott will stand by his camera to capture the monster’s image. I will lower the fishery net from the northern pier. She’s out there, be sure of that. The net will be down for the monster to pass over.” The Harpooner’s words punched like a feeble fist. The McCurdy Curse gripped him. Only his belief and dread sustained him. He cleared his throat, “From the piers, we will wait.”
We all stopped, considering the situation. I looked at Uncle Scott. He watched Mr. McCurdy carefully. Uncle Scott looked solemn. I think this was one of his moments where everything is possible, and he relied on suspending disbelief. Uncle Scott caught me watching him and shot me a wink.
“That pier looks like a boat. Is that a big ship’s steering wheel set up on the dock, Mr. McCurdy?” Benny asked.
“It is a captain’s wheel from an old, beached, three-mast whaler Benjamin. My father and uncle set it there as part of a cranking wench that lowers and raises the fishery net when it’s turned left or right,” Mr. McCurdy said, handing a spyglass to Benny.
I handed the Harpooner some chicken and a sandwich wrapped in a red cloth napkin along with a jar of tea. He looked at me, not knowing what to do.
“It’s an early lunch Mr. McCurdy, it’s good!” I said, smiling.
He reached down from his seat,
completely red-faced, and took the lunch. “Thank you, Sally.” He snapped the reins and Lavern headed off to the second pier. Over his shoulder, he shouted, “Good hunting to us all!”
“He looks awful – like he did last night at the tavern,” Benny said, watching him leave.
I agreed.
“Neal tends to relive his memories. Given this anniversary, this is a hard day for him.” Uncle Scott teetered into the rowboat. “Come on, launch me and let’s get this done.”
“Hold up there, Uncle Scott! That’s our job! Don’t hog all the fun!” I joked, trying to shake off the moment’s tension.
“Have either of you ever rowed a boat?” Uncle Scott asked.
“Sure, at Stoll Lake in the Park,” I said.
“Yeah once, and Dad rowed,” Benny whispered to me.
Benny traded places with Uncle Scott. “Bring the satchel sis, I want my flip camera.”
“Okay. Uncle Scott, I’m leaving you the traveli
ng camera,” I said. I grabbed the satchel, took out the traveling camera and stopped. I just stared for a moment. It’s all about this camera, I thought. I shook off my anxiety and put the camera under Uncle Scott’s tripod. It was hard to let it go.
“I feel very nervous leaving you here, camera. It just feels wrong especially when there’s a monster coming!” I whispered.
I grabbed the satchel, ran back, and got into the boat. Now I almost threw up in my mouth! I puckered my face fixed on the gross buckets of chum. “Oh ugh!” I blurted.
“Told you,” Benny managed to say through a mouth full of crackers. “But hey, we’ll be back here for lunch, right?” he teased.
“OK careful! Stay seated, there are no life jackets,” Uncle Scott said, giving us a big push. “Bon voyage! I’ll pull you back with the rope.”
Mama’s nearby ducklings scattered. Benny and I rowed from both sides of the dinghy like it was a canoe, but we weren’t going straight so much. We just couldn’t get the timing right. We nervously laughed at our clumsiness, and I gave him a kick. We heard Uncle Scott’s chuckling as he watched us. It took a few minutes to get there and then suddenly the end of the rope tugged us to a stop.
“Right here is where Uncle Scott threw the rock,” I said. “Dump the chum, Benny. Let’s get out of here.”
“Oh, be my guest, Sis,” Benny said with a grin, as he tilted his head and handed me a bucket of ‘gag me’.
“Okay, you dump two and I’ll dump two!” I said.
I grabbed the rope handle of the wide bucket filled with dead, chopped fish. I lifted it daintily trying to keep the bucket steady and myself from smelling like fish guts. I rested ‘the lunch’ on the side of the boat, and tipped the clumps of chum into the lake. The fish bits spilled over the bucket’s edge sliding easily out in their own juices. Eyeballs, small pieces of fish parts, and kernels of dry corn floated on the water in rings of oil and blood bubbles.
“Monster lunch!” I said, nearly barfing.
Benny didn’t say anything. I heard his second bucket spill over the side, and I finished my second bucket just as fast as I could.
“The net’s fouled. The net’s already been lowered! It’s too soon!” the Harpooner yelled frantically.
“What’s he saying?” I asked.
“What happened?” Uncle Scott yelled.
“The storm! Something has snapped the net’s chain cable!” Mr. McCurdy yelled back.
Another fish jumped out of the water with a startling loud splash. Two big fish swam into the chum and started tearing and chewing. Benny looked at Mr. McCurdy through the spyglass.
“He fell!” Benny gasped.
“What?!” I asked urgently.
“Oh no, he’s bending over. False alarm.”
“Benny! I’m gonna…”
“Sis, he’s got a shotgun, maybe! Uh yeah, he’s got a rifle. It’s old, and…” Benny paused, “Oh no! Sis, McCurdy has the three harpoons,” Benny said, shaking nervously as he looked through the spyglass.
“What? Let me see,” I snapped, hoping it wasn’t true. He passed me the glass. I looked at the Harpooner. Benny was right. Mr. McCurdy brought the three harpoons and set them next to him at the boat wheel pier. I turned looking to Uncle Scott. He was looking at us through his camera.
“Most of it sank, but this chum is really attracting fish,” Benny said.
“What?” I looked at the water. About a dozen fish were now ripping and feeding. I quickly looked again at the Harpooner through the spyglass. He was looking at us through a larger telescope.
I felt a chill when Benny spoke.
“Sis, are there seals in the lake?” Benny whispered.
“What?” I whispered back. I turned my ear to Benny, but kept my eyes locked on Mr. McCurdy.
“The fish are gone. Look right there,” Benny whispered, pointing.
“Where?” I whispered back and looked.
On Benny’s side of the boat, in the middle of the chum, two big eyes were staring at us and a long-whiskered mouth was chewing.
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s an otter,” I whispered, covered in serious goose bumps.
“That’s a really big otter,” Benny answered, trembling with doubt in his voice.
The face was cute, but as it turned slowly, watching us and chewing, something about eight feet away from the boat moved. Benny and I turned our head in the direction of the
movement.
“Sis, I think the thing out there that’s moving is attached to those eyes,” Benny whispered, trying to control the fear in his voice. Slowly, the eyes circled around to the front of the boat. The long-whiskered mouth still kept chewing. It raised its head about two feet out of the water and leaned toward us.
“That’s a long head with a ridge thing on top, and that’s a really long neck,” Benny still whispered.
There wasn’t a sound except water dripping from ITs whiskers.
Benny and I didn’t take our eyes off of ITs eyes. IT stared very cautiously back at us. Slowly, Benny reached for his flip camera and knocked the satchel off the seat, spilling out most of the bag’s contents. The tooth hit the deck with a startling sharp thud. The animal pulled back suddenly, exposing two, large, pointed paddle-like flippers. Abruptly, it dove down and glided swiftly beneath the boat. “Out of the water! Get out of the water NOW!” the Harpooner yelled.
Without the glass, I saw him lift his rifle high in the air. Mr. McCurdy turned yelling directly to us.
“Out of the water! She’s coming for you!”
Uncle Scott tugged hard on the line, flipping us around into a fast 180 spin. Benny and I fell back and heard a loud thump from under our feet.
Benny sat up quickly.
“I think we hit IT,” Benny said loudly, and shaking with terror.
On my back I realized I had landed on something hard. I sat up fast and pushed the sharp tooth from my back. My back stung. I couldn’t see but I bet I was b leeding. It was my first battle scar, not cool at all.
“Stay down, kids! I’ve got you!” Uncle Scott yelled, and pulled the rope furiously.
“Out of the water. NOW! She’s on you!” the Harpooner shrieked. Benny and I rolled over onto our hands and knees looking over the boat’s stern. My right hand hurt suddenly. Now I was bleeding. My hand was sliced open on the tip of the mystery tooth. I grabbed it. I could hear a gush and lot of screaming. A 30-foot long wave was coming at us fast. The water exploded. IT came at us over the back of the boat. A tremendous serpent slammed out of the water, rising like a speeding demolition crane. Benny and I screamed for each other.
These were not the eyes from before. This was a much larger creature with an open mouth, bearing enormous teeth that were descending rapidly and lunging toward us. Benny grabbed me fast, rolling us to the side, suddenly tipping boat. The monster snapped and bit the boat’s end just where our heads had been the second before. IT coiled back. Blood spilled from the creature’s mouth. The monster shook its head high in the air blaring a loud ear-splitting almost elephantlike sound. Clearly IT screamed out in pain.
My fist twitched suddenly. The tooth in my hand shockingly vanished. In front of us, lodged on the boat’s splintered back wall and metal trim, another exact tooth appeared where the monster bit. The sucker’s bet was delivered! A new tooth had arrived.
But if Curator O’Malley was right this wasn’t 1883 at all and we traveled back some ten years earlier to find Uncle Scott. Of course, the Inverness stationary smelled of vanilla.
The monster’s tremendous bite had pushed the boat rapidly forward, slamming us hard into the front of the pier. The creature sped at us again for another strike. Benny stood, standing over me holding an oar high above his head. Like a tremendous cobra, the creature momentarily recoiled. Then IT struck the oar, flinging it out of Benny hands, over the pier where it crashed into Uncle Scott. Uncle Scott fell hard, smashing into his tripod camera. Blood was pouring from his head.
“Uncle Scott!!!” I screamed, terrified.
The Harpooner’s gunshot cracked. The creature, nearly upon us, spun around and looked toward McCurdy. I grabbed Benny. He coughed and spit up water, but he wasn’t hurt.
“Uncle Scott!” he screamed coughing. We scrambled up the bank. A second shot fired. The creature dove toward the sound and headed straight for the Harpooner.
We reached Uncle Scott. He was lying on his back on top of his splintered tripod camera holding his head. He looked at us,
uncomprehending. The hard blow had clearly done some serious damage. He tried to speak but all that came out was a strangled choking sound. I looked behind him. The traveling camera hadn’t been damaged. I grabbed it.
“Benny!” I screamed, “Get me your sandwich, fast!” Benny was on his knees staring directly at me confused, his face inches from my face. He spit out another mouthful of water. “Your sandwich, Ben, NOW! It’s our artifact!”
Benny struggled to find his land legs. I grabbed the traveling camera and set the red stone to There. Benny sprinted back to us, clutching the mustard sandwich against his chest. We squeezed tight together to hold Uncle Scott up as we posed for the camera.
“Kids?” Uncle Scott asked in a dazed weak voice.
“We’ve got this, Uncle Scott. Hold on,” I said, and stretched out the camera for a hurried wide group shot.
In the distance, the Harpooner pulled back and set a harpoon. The monster reeled tall out of the water and recoiled to strike. I pushed the camera’s button.
“Expect the unexpected,” Uncle Scott whispered.
Just then, a sudden explosion slammed into our ears.
“The red stone takes you to the place of an artifact’s origin,” Uncle Scott had explained. I knew exactly to ‘when’ we had traveled!
19 The Nightmare Curse