The Origin (The Sighting #2)

by Christopher Coleman

  He took a deep breath and swallowed as he viewed the depiction again, nodding reflexively at the accuracy of the drawing.

  “That is unbelievable, Danny,” Tracy announced. “That’s it, isn’t it? That’s the sea god.”

  “But how can it be?” Samantha asked, “What Tracy just said is true: how could it still be alive after all this time? Are there more of these things out there? Is this some species that just hasn’t been discovered yet? Except that we have discovered it, just not in the universal, scientific way?”

  Danny flipped a hand up and gave a weary shake of his head. “I don’t know. All I know is that’s it. That’s the same animal that killed my wife.”

  Samantha popped her eyes up toward Danny, a follow up question to this admission puckered on the edge of her lips. But she refrained, seeming to understand that, at this point, she had no real claim to any of Danny’s secrets, no matter how shadowy.

  “The same creature that killed a boy on the bay only hours ago, and God knows how many other innocent people. Including your father. And I agree, maybe it isn’t the exact one from this picture, that seems unlikely, but it is the same animal. I have no doubt about that. And I have a feeling this book can show us how to fish it out.”

  “I thought you already knew how to do that,” Tracy reminded. “The whale sounds or whatever.”

  Danny took a deep breath and frowned, shaking his head as he closed his eyes. “I don’t think those are doing anything at this point. I’m not sure they ever did. Or maybe they did at one time, but now it’s some other sound that has its attention. The whale sounds were what Lynn did, so I copied her.” He paused. “Or maybe it’s to do with the migration patterns of the whales and this thing, and now they’re no longer in sync. With the sea god moving this far up the coast, it may have moved outside the range of the minke whales. But that’s just a guess, I don’t really know anymore.”

  “So then we just have to wait it out?”

  “No, I don’t think so. It’s coming to shore for a reason. It’s looking to kill. To eat. And I do think it’s drawn there by sound. It could be the sounds of people on the beach, or...I don’t really know. But something. And from what I’ve read in this book so far, I think the answer could be inside.”

  The three stood staring at the book for several minutes, Danny flipping to the next page at erratic intervals, depending on how much text was written on the page. Most of the pages contained faded pictures of the beast or the surrounding habitat, and few were easy to decipher, other than the one Danny had shown first.

  What text the book contained was either of translated Croatoan poems, which the author claimed were about the sea god and gave sound analysis as support; or it was speculative theories by the author about who killed the colonists, always coming back to the thesis that the three monster hunters in the kitchen now agreed to be true.

  It was the Croatoan that wiped out the first English colony at Roanoke.

  Danny flipped back to the page with the rising Croatoan, allowing his companions to take in the picture one last time.

  “What is this?” Samantha asked, pointing at the page. Her finger hovered just above the image of the creature and slightly to the right.

  Danny leaned in closer, squinting at the object of Samantha’s focus. “Yeah, I noticed that too. It looks like a person, maybe out on a pier or a rock formation.”

  “What is she doing?”

  “It looks like she’s...calling someone. Calling out to the sea.”

  “Yes, it does. That is wild. It definitely looks like she’s calling out, and the beast is rising from the water at the same time.”

  “But what is in his hand?” Tracy asked.

  “What?” Danny put his face closer, seeing for the first time what Tracy was noting. “You’re right. I hadn’t noticed that before. What is that?”

  Samantha leaned in closer now and then said, “It looks like a horn. A goat’s horn or something.”

  Danny stared at the picture for another moment, and then, as if he’d been hit in the back of his legs with a baseball bat, he collapsed onto the stool beside him. He looked back to the book for another couple seconds, and then stared toward the wall of the kitchen, gathering the final components of what he now knew was the answer to the underlying question.

  “What’s wrong, Danny?” Tracy asked. “What did you see?”

  “I know what to do,” he answered. “I know how to bring it to shore.”

  Chapter 31

  Samuel stood at the shoreline and gripped the large conch shell with his left hand as he stared out over the endless gray waves of the Yapam.

  Samuel had instructed Sokwa to position herself on the bank of the eastern sound, with the canoe secured and prepared to launch on his command. When the creature finally emerged, he would take in its magnificence for only a moment, and then he would concentrate on luring it to the sound.

  Samuel looked back in the direction of where Sokwa was waiting, but the dunes were too high to spot the sound shore from where he stood, so he focused again on the bigger waters in front of him. She would be there when he came back. She wouldn’t betray him at this point. If she had wanted him dead, her opportunity was back at the cave. She trusted him now, or if it wasn’t trust, it was at least a belief in Samuel’s sincerity about the Croatoan. She knew it was real, and once its glory was revealed to her, she would know then it was a sight more splendid than all the stars of heaven.

  Samuel was almost melancholy now as he stood poised to trumpet the call from the stone shell, knowing that after today, after the village and colony were devoured by his new savior, he had no ideas about where his next victims would come from. Or even if he, himself, would survive the feast.

  But those were questions for another day. Or perhaps not. All that mattered now was the summoning.

  He placed his hand in the wide opening of the shell and barely touched his lips to the bored-out end of the conch where the spiral tip had been removed. He then inhaled to his lungs capacity, closed his eyes, and then pressed his mouth hard against the small hole.

  And he blew.

  The sound rang in Samuel’s ears like Gabriel’s horn, catching the still air of the beach unprepared, penetrating it like a knife as the low bellow exploded out toward the water. Samuel imagined his father being awakened by the sound, sitting up in his quarters somewhere out on the sea. Or perhaps the sound had extended even further, detectable by his cousins and uncles and friends whom Samuel had left behind as he was whisked away unconsulted, abducted by Morris and Elyoner Cook who were beckoned to this New World just as Samuel was beckoning his sea god this very moment.

  He blew the conch again, one last blare for the earth to enjoy, and then he sat on the sand and began to cry, thinking of all he had lost and gained over the past few months. His father. The love of his mother. His best friend. It was all gone now, as was his chance at existence in this place of brown enemies and monstrous beasts of the sea.

  But on this last note, this was a gain. He had found his calling in life, to serve the Croatoan. He would serve it well today, in fact, giving to it all that Samuel had in his life. All there was now to do was wait.

  And he didn’t have to wait long.

  Chapter 32

  “What did you see, Danny? What do we do?”

  Danny almost had the plan fully organized, but he hadn’t yet decided whether to bring Calazzo into the fold yet. The sheriff seemed earnest in his plea for help, but Danny also knew that accepting his theory would not come without questions, and any resistance from the sheriff could be a critical failure in luring the Croatoan from the bay. He didn’t have time for bureaucracy, so he decided to keep the man in the dark for the time being.

  “Samantha, you said you have a friend with a store on the boardwalk, right? ‘Knickknacks,’ you said.” Danny was calm now, measured, but his speech was quick and focused.

  Samantha nodded. “I do.”

  “Does she sell beach items, shells and stuf
f?”

  “You mean does she sell seashells by the seashore?”

  Tracy chuckled at Samantha’s joke, but Danny missed it and just nodded, indicating ‘yes, that was indeed the question he was asking.’

  Samantha frowned. “Yes, of course. All sorts of crap like that.”

  “I need you to go there and find the biggest conch shell you can find. And if she doesn’t have one, ask her if she knows another place that would. Meet me at Tippin’s Point as soon as you find one. I’ll be there when you get there.”

  Samantha put a hand to her chin and nodded, beginning to understand the theory. “A conch shell. Of course that’s what it is.”

  Danny looked at Tracy. “Listen, what I need from you is going to be a bit more difficult. I need you to get Sheriff Calazzo away from the bay somehow. And keep him there for a while.”

  “How am I supposed to do that? The sheriff? I don’t even know who that is. And wasn’t a boy just killed there last night? I think there might be a little bit of action down there today.”

  “I don’t know how, Tracy. That’s why it’s difficult. Can you just try to do this for me?”

  Tracy gave a gentle smirk that was not reflected in her eyes.

  “Look, there isn’t much of a police force in this town, so maybe if you can invent some emergency that will lure him away from the bay or something. Just enough time for me to test my theory. Just put in a call, something serious. Say it’s at the beach here, in front of this house. Maybe another body part or something. Just make it considerable, something that he’ll respond to.”

  “And what if he doesn’t respond? What if he sends a deputy?”

  “Just do your best. Please.” Danny was growing exasperated with Tracy’s resistance, but each of her questions was more poignant than the last.

  “And what happens when he gets here and there’s no severed head?”

  “I don’t know, Tracy, I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

  Tracy stared at Danny for a few seconds and then finally nodded, giving him a playful, squinty stare. “Fine, Mr. Lynch, but only because you’ve been so cool about me living in your house for free. I guess I owe you this much.”

  Danny sighed. “Thank you. You do this, and we’ll call it square.”

  He looked at both women one last time and nodded, feeling as if he may have a handle on things, and then he grabbed his keys and phone and headed for the door.

  “So are you going to tell us your part in the plan?” Samantha asked.

  “I’m going to the bay,” he answered. “Unfortunately—at least in this moment—I’ve always been kind of a gun-control guy. So I need a weapon, and the only person I think I can get one from in a moment’s notice is already at the beach.”

  “Who is that? What do you mean?”

  “I don’t have time to get into it. I’ve got a little convincing to do.” He pointed at Samantha. “Get the shell.” And then at Tracy, “Make the call. We finish this today.”

  Chapter 33

  The booming sound of the splash came not from the ocean, but from behind Samuel, in the direction of the sound, and it was immediately followed by Sokwa’s screams.

  “Samuel!” Her cry could barely be heard on the wind. “Samuel, hurry!”

  Samuel stood and stared back toward the dunes rising above the sound, just high enough to guard the beach from his sightline. Samuel’s face was a sheet of disbelief, his mouth hanging like a harvest wreath, and he was paralyzed for several moments as he shifted his gaze back and forth between the two bodies of water, trying to understand the current vista and the sounds coming from beyond it.

  Finally, Samuel made his decision and turned his body toward the sound, moving slowly at first, lifting his first foot from the heavy sand, and then more quickly as he broke into a clumsy run toward the dunes.

  The dunes were fairly close, but Samuel was wheezing by the time he reached the bottom, and the pain in his foot from the cave woman’s stick still throbbed. He stopped to gaze up the slope before climbing, and then he took two deep breaths, willing his lungs and legs to carry him just a bit further. The short ascent was grueling, but Samuel finally reached the top before collapsing into a sitting position, his legs splayed out in front of him.

  Samuel rested for only a moment before a thought made his heart skip a beat. He stood and frantically began clutching his hands, instinctively searching for his most valuable possession. But his hands were empty, and Samuel began to scramble, spinning and looking toward the ground around him, suddenly in a panic. He had left the conch back at the beach. The source of the signal that could control his god was no longer with him.

  He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing. It was fine. The conch would be back at the beach, he was confident, and he would simply go back for it.

  He looked down to the bank of the sound expecting—hoping even—to see Sokwa writhing in the grips of the beast’s arms, her eyes unprepared for the pain that now accompanied the tearing apart of her body.

  But Sokwa was simply standing and staring out across the water, her arms by her sides, her body as still as if it had been encased in ice.

  “Sokwa!” Samuel called down, still winded from the climb. “What is it?”

  She turned her head slowly in Samuel’s direction, the terror in her eyes noticeable even from a distance, and she stared at him and swallowed. She looked as if she wanted to speak, but she said nothing, instead turning back toward the water. And then she pointed.

  Samuel had a panoramic view of the sound from this vantage, but he hadn’t yet looked out to the waters, and when he finally lifted his eyes and scanned the surface, he saw it immediately.

  He put his hand to his mouth and gasped, taking one step backward. And then, slowly, as if suddenly drawn by some giant, planetary magnet, he began to march forward down the far side of the dune toward Sokwa, his legs like wet reeds as he hiked, never taking his eyes from the still waters in front of him.

  The Croatoan was there, knee-deep in the water, nearly all the way across to the far side of the sound. It was approaching the eastern bank of the island, just beginning its rise up the gradual slope leading to the shoreline.

  It was already in the sound, Samuel thought; it had been there this whole time. And now it was so far ahead of Samuel and Sokwa, already making its way up to the village, that even if they left at that moment, they would never reach it in time to witness its destruction.

  Samuel was rattled and confused when he finally reached the shore and stood next to Sokwa, watching.

  “Oh god, Samuel,” Sokwa said, still recovering from her own dazed state. “What are we going to do?”

  Samuel was unable to speak. It was as if he were watching a scene from his wickedest nightmare being played out in the distance. The only reason he had to continue living was now walking away from him, perhaps forever, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

  Another frightening thought arrived: What if they killed it? The creature would surely bring ruin to the village and the colony by the time it had finished its rampage, but eventually the arrows of the natives and axes of the colonists would slay it.

  Samuel quickly came back to the moment. “We have to go!” he cried toward Sokwa. “We have to get back before...It’s going to destroy it and we’ll never see it.”

  Sokwa remained motionless, but soon the realization of what Samuel was saying triggered her consciousness. She turned to Samuel. “See it? But my family. My people. You said we could call it back.” She looked to his hands. “Where is the shell, Samuel? You must sound it again. You said you could call it back!”

  “I left it by the ocean,” Samuel pled, still slightly confused by the ruination of his plan. “I couldn’t have known it was in the sound. How could it be in—”

  “It will kill them all! It will kill them all if you don’t sound it!”

  Samuel’s tears were ready to fall now, hearing Sokwa announce the massacre that he would no longer be allowed to witness.
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  Unless he left now. Perhaps there was a chance that if he cast out the sound again, he could bring the Croatoan back, or stall it at least. just until he had positioned himself to watch the slaughter.

  “Get the boat ready,” Samuel instructed. “Row it out to waist-deep water and keep the oars ready. I’m going back for the shell. There is still a chance.”

  Samuel used what was left of his stamina and plodded up the dune and back down the other side, and then he jogged flailingly back to the shoreline, where he instantly saw the Woman of the Western Shores’ conch sitting impotently in the sand, just as he’d left it. It looked simple lying on the flat brown silt, just another piece of the ocean’s discarded waste. Samuel grabbed the shell and turned back to the dunes, and as he took his first step toward them, he heard another roaring splash, this time from behind him, oceanside.

  He knew at once what the splash signified, though rationally it was an impossibility. The Croatoan had already emerged from the sound; by now, it was inside the tree line of the woods, and soon it would be breaching the perimeter of the colony.

  And yet, as Samuel turned toward the Great Western Ocean, there it was, the Croatoan, its head blossoming from the green waves like a desecrated rose.

  It emerged rapidly now, its straight, wide shoulders rising high as its chest lunged forward. It stood fixed for just a beat, and then it came at Samuel in giant, eager steps.

  Samuel was bewitched by the creature again, immobilized but for his irises and pupils. He saw the Croatoan’s face clearly for the first time, noting it was nearly expressionless save for some dormant hunger that showed only in the curl of its mouth.

  The creature was faster than Samuel remembered as it continued to move forward, but perhaps it only seemed so because Samuel was now its target. He backpedaled three or four steps as he basked in the miracle of the sea for one last time.

  And then he turned and ran.

  Samuel’s steps were arduous, the sand like thick mud beneath his feet, and after twenty paces or so he turned to measure the Croatoan’s distance from him. It had gained slightly, though not as much as Samuel had feared. But it was coming, quickly, in large, lumbering steps, and though it was only walking, Samuel was unable to create any significant gap. And he was nearly exhausted.