Sligger Island

by Michael Yowell

  Denise was impressed. “You know your subs.”

  The captain smirked. “I do. Meatball’s my favorite.” He winked at her, and she smiled at the handsome man.

  “I think we should call the Coast Guard to help,” the mayor proposed. “This is the kind of thing they should be involved in.”

  Captain Moody shook his head. “We’ve got this,” he claimed, looking the mayor squarely in the eye, and then Mason. “We should’ve been here to help you last year, and now that I have a chance to make it up to you, we’re gonna make sure we take care of this ourselves.”

  The mayor seemed uncertain. “Are you sure?”

  “Without a doubt,” said the trooper. “We have the personnel, and we have the weapons.” His voice was rich with confidence.

  “Alright,” the mayor conceded.

  “We need to come up with a game plan,” said Mason. “Obviously, we’re gonna have to boat out there. Then, once we get to the beach, how do we proceed?”

  “Why even bother?” said Vince. “Why not just shoot a couple of bunker busters at the island from a distance and totally obliterate it?”

  Denise grasped her hands together. “No no no,” she said urgently. “These creatures are the genetic result of whatever was on that Nazi sub. Blowing them up would only scatter mutated DNA all over the ocean, where other animals would feed on the tissue and start a whole new problem.”

  Mason agreed. “We have to contain them. However we kill them, we can’t allow anything to spread.”

  Denise nodded. “And when they’re dead, we’ll need to collect the carcasses so they can be properly disposed of.”

  “What if we just trap them inside?” Josh mused. “Can’t we just blow up the entrances so nothing escapes the cavern?”

  “We could try that,” said Mason, “but who’s to say they wouldn’t find another way out? We made that mistake last time.”

  “And even if they couldn’t get out,” Denise added, “the contaminated water could still seep out and create more mutations. They need to be removed, and then an environmental team can go in to take care of the toxin in the water.”

  Captain Moody crossed his arms and sat rigid. “So we go in and do this commando style.”

  “I think so,” Mason seconded. “So that brings us back to the details of how we proceed.”

  “We’ve got you covered there,” the captain announced. “We brought down enough AR-15s and ammo to take down a small country. Plus some explosives; I’ve got grenades and incendiary bombs.”

  Denise held up a cautioning finger. “No explosives, just bullets. Remember, we need to keep their bodies as intact as possible for collection.”

  “Agreed.” Josh turned to Mason. “How much space is in that cavern for us to move around in?”

  “It’s a huge cavern,” said Mason, “but there’s only a narrow walkway along the water. We’d have to go in single file.”

  “Single file then,” Josh affirmed. “I’ll take point.”

  “I want to go with you all,” the marine biologist declared. “I need to get samples from the source to bring back and analyze.”

  The mayor looked at Mason, who simply shrugged. Then he eyed the troopers around the room. “Is that alright with the team?” he asked.

  Captain Moody answered. “Fine with us, but she’d be putting herself at risk.”

  “I understand that, Captain,” said Denise. “Believe me, I’ll stay behind you, out of the way, and let y’all do your thing.”

  “About the eggs,” Mason mentioned. “We’ll need to be sure to destroy them as well. Would burning them be okay? Like with gasoline?”

  “I don’t see why not,” stated Denise. “As long as they’d be confined to the burning area.”

  “Alright,” said Mason, “we have a plan. How are we all getting over there?”

  “I’m gonna call down a couple of boats from Charleston,” said Josh. “I’ll have two more men bring them down this evening. Then we’ll have enough boats to get all of us – and our gear – to the island.”

  Mason approved. “That should do it.” The rest of the team nodded in concurrence.

  Captain Moody clapped his hands together and stood up. “Well, I’ll get right on that. Then my troopers and I will get some hotel rooms and some dinner. We’ll meet you and your men at the dock first thing in the morning, then?”

  The sheriff nodded. “First thing.”

  CHAPTER 25

  There was an electric vibe around town. Not one of excitement, but rather one of edginess and anxiety. Mason felt it when he stepped outside the town hall building and looked up and down the sidewalks. He watched the townspeople, noting their tense, brisk gaits and worried, darting eyes.

  One of the pedestrians noticed Mason standing there and altered her course to join him. It was Rosie Miller, owner of the ice cream shop on Main Street.

  “Afternoon, Rosie,” Mason greeted.

  The elderly woman forced a smile on her troubled face. “Hello, Sheriff,” she said. “So is it true about the sliggers?”

  Mason had grown up in this small, Southern town, but it still amazed him how quickly word circulated through the grapevine. “Which part?” he said lightheartedly.

  “Any of it, I suppose.”

  Mason’s grin dissolved as he prepared to be straightforward. “Well, a group of us boated out to Wrecker Island, we found an underground nest containing their eggs, the boat sank when we were trying to leave, so we were marooned there until we found an abandoned boat with a working radio. By then, unfortunately, our friends Danny Young, Mitch Haverson, and Jesse Reed were killed by some of the sliggers.”

  Rosie’s eyes were wide with shock. “Danny Young? From the grocery store?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Are the monsters coming back here? Is that why all the state police are in town?”

  Mason rested a hand on her shoulder. “No, they are not. The troopers are here because we’re going to exterminate all of them on the island. That way those monsters’ll never have a chance to make it to town again.”

  The creamery owner breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh thank God,” she said with her hand on her chest. She looked up at the young man she had served ice cream to for so many years, and was impressed seeing the loyal protector he had become. “Bless you, Mason. You take care.”

  “You too, Rosie. Have a good day, now.”

  Mason returned to the police station to give his deputies an update. He spotted Deputy Johnson at the desk, right where Mason had left him. The rookie stood up when he saw Mason.

  “So how’d it go?”

  “Went well, Demarcus,” said Mason. “We’re boating out there in the morning to gun them all down. Lots of able bodies and a shitload of guns.”

  “Sweet! Are we coming along?”

  “No, I’d feel better if you, Doug, and Lewis all stayed back to take care of the town. Just in case.”

  The deputy frowned. “In case what?”

  “Well, just in case any of the sliggers happen to make it to Sweetboro while we’re away.” He shifted his feet, curling his own toes. “And… in case it goes bad and we don’t make it back here.”

  Deputy Johnson rejected the thought. “Don’t even talk like that. It’ll be like shooting fish in a barrel.”

  Mason chuckled. “A really big ‘barrel’, with God knows how many ‘fish’!”

  “Whatever,” the deputy shooed, “you’ll be fine. Just stay frosty and alert.”

  “Damn straight.” Mason then took a seat behind his desk. “Hey Demarcus, do me a favor. Get me the phone numbers for Doug and Lewis, will ya? Since I don’t have my phone anymore, I need their numbers again. I’ll need yours too.”

  “Sure.” Deputy Johnson opened the list of contacts on his phone. He wrote the numbers for the other deputies on a piece of paper, and then added his own. He brought the paper to Mason and set it on the desk. “Here you go, boss.”

  “Thanks.” Mason proceeded to call the rest o
f his men to inform them of what was happening and where they would be needed.

  By six o’clock, Mason was finished for the day. He left the station and drove down Main Street. When it ended at the dock, Mason paused for a moment to gaze at the pier and the lulling ocean beyond. Then he turned left, and continued on to Sherrie’s Shack.

  Like the night before, no patrons were inside the restaurant. The nerves of the townspeople were apparently keeping them at home. The dining room was silent except for the evening news coming from the TV mounted in the corner. Mason walked up to the counter, where Sherrie and Eaver were standing. He leaned across the tiles and gave Eaver a kiss.

  “Hey, my boy!” hailed Cinch, spotting Mason from the kitchen. “I hope you want a gumbo tonight, I made a good one. And dere’s plenty of it.”

  The thought of Cinch’s classic Louisiana gumbo made Mason’s mouth water. “Sold, my friend. All I can eat?”

  The old cook grinned wide. “All you can eat.”

  “Think I’ll join you for some,” said Eaver, removing her apron and stowing it below the cash register. “Two orders, Momma, if you please.”

  Sherrie gave a compliant salute. “Yes ma’am.”

  Eaver took her boyfriend to one of the closer tables, where they sat and waited for their zesty meal. “So, how did everything go today?” Eaver asked, touching his hands.

  “Went well,” Mason said proudly. “Captain Moody is actually a cool guy. I could tell he feels terrible for not believing us in the very beginning. He really wants to make up for it.”

  “Good. A bunch of ‘em were in here for dinner about an hour ago, but they weren’t very talkative.”

  “The captain brought down twelve other troopers, plus he’s calling in two more tonight to bring boats from Charleston. We’ve got plenty of manpower and weapons. Heading out to the island tomorrow.”

  “That’s awesome! Oh baby, you did it. I had no doubt you would be able to take care of the problem.”

  Sherrie emerged from the kitchen with two large bowls of steaming gumbo. Cinch used his Creole grandmother’s recipe to create the best mix of andouille sausage, shrimp, crabmeat, bacon, vegetables, sauces, and seasonings that any good Cajun would love. Sherrie placed the food in front of her diners, then pulled out a chair to join them at the table.

  “Good news, Momma,” said Eaver. “The state police are heading out to the island tomorrow to wipe out the sliggers. Fifteen of ‘em goin’.”

  “Sixteen,” Mason corrected, blowing on a spoonful of gumbo.

  Eaver knew what that meant. “Oh no, you’re planning on going with them.”

  “Of course I am. This whole party is my responsibility.”

  Sherrie objected. “No, Mason! Let the troopers handle it! Sweet Jesus, you can’t go back out there.”

  “I’ll be fine,” he promised.

  Sherrie reached inside her apron and grabbed the remote for the TV so she could turn off the distracting background chatter. She aimed the remote and pressed the power button just as the TV screen was showing a news reporter in Florida pointing to mysterious, egg-shaped objects on a beach. The screen went black, and Sherrie looked Mason in the eye to make sure she had his complete attention.

  “Now you listen to me, young man,” she said with conviction. “I helped raise you since you were knee high so your mother – may she rest in peace – could work and provide for you. I’m like your second momma, you know. And you’re a son to me. I cannot let you go someplace where you could get killed.”

  Mason smiled at the protective mother. “I love you, Sherrie, you know that. But I have to do this. Just look at it like this: if I had enlisted in the Army, you’d be supportive and proud. Even knowing I would eventually be deployed to dangerous areas.”

  Sherrie could not dispute that logic. After a moment of trying to produce a response, she finally replied with, “You’ve got a point there. But that doesn’t mean I want you to do it.”

  “I understand. Hell, I don’t want to do it. But I have to be there to make sure it gets done. I know the layout of the island, where the nest is, and I’m definitely familiar with the sliggers themselves.”

  “Maybe I should go with you,” said Eaver, wanting to be at his side.

  Sherrie gripped Eaver’s hand and held on. “No! Absolutely not! You promised me, you’re never going out on the ocean again!”

  Mason intervened. “Sorry, Eave, you have to stay here with Momma. This is a police operation.”

  Eaver understood. But that did not make accepting the situation any easier. She was reluctant to let the man she loved put himself in harm’s way. “Fine,” she submitted, “I’ll stay with Momma.” She watched the relief flow over her mother’s face.

  “I wish you’d change your mind, Mason,” said Sherrie, sulking.

  Mason was adamant about eliminating the threat to his town. “I can’t let the safety of the town be jeopardized again. I have to be sure this is finished once and for all. Remember,” he added, reminding Sherrie of her own inspirational words, “I’m the town protector. I am the sheriff, and it’s my duty to ensure the safety of the townspeople.”

  “I know, but I think you should stay behind and protect us from here.”

  Mason chuckled. “I’ll have my deputies here for that. Come on now, it’ll be alright. I’m gonna have a mini-army with me.”

  Sherrie stood up and moved next to Mason. She gave him a soft but solid hug. “You just make sure to be extra careful there.”

  “I will, Momma,” Mason swore. He continued to eat while Sherrie kissed his cheek and disappeared into the kitchen before she started crying.

  When they had finished their dinner, Sherrie sent Mason and Eaver home so they could have some quiet time together. The couple said goodnight to Sherrie and Cinch, gave parting hugs, and went home.

  It took a while for them to get to sleep that night. Naturally their minds were racing with thoughts of the perilous job. After hours of tossing and turning, they finally fell asleep.

  Eaver dreamed she was in that cold cavern. It was dark all around her, except for the ray of light coming from a small opening above her. She heard slithering all around her. It got louder as it drew nearer, closing in on her.

  Then she saw them. She could only see the tops of their heads reflecting the light, but she knew what they were. They were sliggers. The creatures were everywhere, perhaps a hundred of them now in view. They piled on top of each other as they converged on her. Within seconds they were all she could see. They blocked out the light from above, leaving Eaver sightless.

  They were smothering her. There were so many of them that they had choked out the air. Eaver gasped, unable to breathe. Utterly powerless, she felt the weight of them all crushing her.

  She woke with a jolt.

  Taking a moment to collect herself and normalize her breathing, she glanced over at Mason. He was still sleeping next to her. She suddenly felt dread, as if she was going to lose him tomorrow. She tried to tell herself it was only because of her nightmare, but that did little to ease her mind.

  Careful not to wake him, Eaver rolled over and held Mason tightly.

  CHAPTER 26

  Morning came all too soon. The alarm clock yanked the couple from their slumber, and Eaver rubbed her eyes. She watched Mason slowly get out of bed and shuffle to the bathroom. Then she got up to make coffee downstairs.

  Mason turned the shower on and let the water get hot while he removed his pajama bottoms. Then he stepped inside the shower stall and let the steam and water awaken him. While he was reaching for his towel afterward, he saw Eaver set a cup of fresh coffee on the sinktop.

  “Thanks, sweetie,” he murmured. He took hold of her and kissed her.

  “Hey now,” she squirmed, “you’re all wet.”

  “You’re not sugar, you won’t melt.”

  Grinning, Eaver exited the bathroom so Mason would focus on getting ready for the day.

  Mason dried himself and moved out to the bedroom to dress.
He would not wear his uniform today. There was no need; this was a hunt, not a public relations event. He needed to put some thought into what he was going to wear instead.

  The weather would be warm, but shorts were not practical. He was going to spend most of his time in that cool cavern. In a rough, rocky environment such as that, jeans would be the smarter move. Then he figured a loose, short-sleeve shirt would be wise as well. Something that would not hinder his movement.

  Mason knew he was probably overanalyzing his apparel for the day. But contemplating every little detail about the day might make a difference. It certainly would not hurt his chances for success.

  When he went downstairs, Eaver directed him to the table for a quick breakfast of eggs and toast. Mason was happy to fill his belly before embarking on the long day ahead. He ate a full serving, drank another cup of coffee, and then got up to fetch his backpack.

  Mason unzipped the musty denim backpack and propped it open. He loaded it with bottled water and a pair of flashlights. Then he pulled the sunscreen from the pantry, sprayed his face, neck, and arms, and tossed the can into the backpack. Before zipping it shut, Eaver planted a couple of sandwiches she had prepared for him.

  It was time to go. Mason embraced Eaver and held her close. “I love you, sweetie,” he said.

  Eaver’s eyes began to moisten. “Oh, baby, I love you too.”

  He sensed the weight of her worry. “I’ll be okay.”

  “You come back to me. You hear me, Mason Parker? You come back to me.”

  “I will, Eave.” The sheriff heaved the backpack over his shoulder, clipped his sidearm to his belt, and kissed Eaver goodbye.

  Driving along his street, he took note of the morning tranquility. The houses stood quiet, peaceful, basking in the rays of the orange sun. It was a soothing feeling driving through his neighborhood. A feeling of normalcy.

  On a day that was going to be anything but normal.

  By the time Mason arrived at the dock, a multitude of personnel was there. He saw Captain Moody and the crew of troopers from yesterday, Denise Baddington with her field kit, and two visiting boats tied to the moorings. Two new officers were there, presumably the ones that brought the vessels in last night. One of them was standing on the pier, leaning against his boat. Mason parked the squad car, grabbed his shotgun and backpack, and walked onto the pier to join the gathering.