by Matt Musson
By midnight, we were returning to the heavens aboard the Marine Corps new all purpose workhorse.
Ten minutes later we landed beside the Coast Guard pier where we found our night vision gear, our air cannon and the net cutting missiles exactly where we left them. We loaded up quickly and the hunt was on.
Now, speaking from experience, if you ever have to hunt down a whale in the middle of the night in the Graveyard of the Atlantic, be sure you get yourself an MV-22 Osprey. They are the ideal tool for the job. In fact, if Captain Ahab had one of these babies, the entire novel Moby Dick would have been 10 pages long.
The speedy aircraft caught up with Levi about 6 miles up Core Banks. Bogdon was strapped into a jump seat in the cockpit using our radio tracking device. With the little beeping unit, he was able to guide the pilots into a perfect approach coming in low and slow behind the laboring creature.
The Osprey comes with Forward Looking Infra Red (FLIR) screens for flying in blacked out conditions at night. Against the background waters of the cold Atlantic Ocean, Levi showed up like a nuclear submarine covered in day glow paint.
Meanwhile, Thor was positioned at the open door on the right side of the aircraft. Wearing a harness attached to a cable and a winch, he crept onto the edge of the landing gear well that protrudes from the bottom of the aircraft. It was a perfect gun platform.
Captain Presby was harnessed in right behind Thor. With a night vision camera, she filmed the entire hunt.
SSHHWWISSH!
Reload.
SSHHWWISSH!
The air cannon launched our two mechanical cutting bugs into the netting on either side of the whale. And, just like we planned, they began crawling up the deadly nylon harness.
Levi swam down and up and down and up, porpoising along in the water. And, each time he resurfaced, the infra red lights in the bugs showed that they were traveling closer and closer to the whale's mouth.
Finally, after about 45 seconds, both bugs were in position. Toby used a handheld radio transmitter to send a signal that caused the bugs to begin cutting. And, we watched as the contraptions grabbed and cut and grabbed and cut. Finally, like a lumberjack who saws off the limb that he is sitting on, the bugs cut through the last of the tangles. And, they sloughed off the 40 ton creature – taking the ropes and netting with them.
Levi was FREE!
Inside the Osprey we were jumping up and down and screaming our fool heads off. Hugging and slapping and shaking hands, we celebrated the big creature's freedom, like we were the ones who had been dragging the deadly harness for months.
The Osprey continued following the whale. We gained a little altitude and dropped back to watch Levi traveling sleek and uninhibited across the dark water.
That's when an amazing thing happened.
Levi disappeared for a few seconds and then suddenly he rushed to the surface and jumped halfway out of the water!
The whale fell over on his side splashing with a huge splash.
He knew he was free. He knew his ordeal was over and the embrace of death was gone. He jumped and splashed and jumped and splashed. You never saw a happier whale in your entire life.
After a few minutes, Levi submerged and did not come back to the surface. We figured he was probably off catching up on all the things he missed while in the net’s deadly grip. We hoped he was off hunting up a long overdue feast or maybe the attention of some attractive female whale.
With some regret, our pilots turned the Osprey around. Minutes later they set us down on Cape Lookout, next to the Eco Camp’s main building.
It did not take us long to carry our equipment down the loading ramp. And, then Captain Rand used her camera to get some footage of us lined up against the Osprey.
After promising to email us copies of the video, our Marine Corps allies packed into their aircraft. Then, the ramp came up and the engines went to full throttle. And, once again, the Osprey arched off into the darkness. And, even though we knew there weren’t many windows, we waved anyway, as our new friends flew off into the night.
*************
It was barely one o’clock in the morning. But, we badly needed to get out of our wetsuits, shower and go to bed. And, that’s exactly what we did.
However, I should mention that as we lined up in the bathroom that night to brush our teeth, I definitely saw Charlie Sinclair washing lipstick off the side of his cheek.
Charlie Sinclair, you sly old dog!
**************
Chapter 23 – Unfinished Business
It had been a late night. But, we were up early that next morning anyway. We had one final task for our last full day at the Cape.
Might as well get it over with. It's not like I slept much anyway.
Of course, Pam was still in the hospital, and I am sure Donnie was in a chair beside her, just in case she needed anything – like maybe a hand to hold.
We were relieved that Pam was okay and happy that Levi was finally free. But, this final chore had me feeling grim and sober.
I was not sure what Shad told Ms. Mynah. I did not ask him. I wasn't talking much.
Before we left a couple of Rangers nibbled cereal bars and sipped bottled water and Coke. Then, without discussion, we headed down the gravel pathway to the pier. As, the rocks crunched beneath our flip flops, I wished over and over this was just another whale hunt.
But, it wasn't.
It was another breathtaking sunrise on the Cape. The birds flew and the clouds blew and the fish jumped.
Yadi, yadi, yada.
I did not notice this incredible beauty because I was trying to keep from puking, while a pool of battery acid burned through the lining of my stomach.
I carried a bottle of Ginger Ale left over from Shad's bout with the stomach flu. When things got really bad, I twisted off the cap and took a small sip. We had not reached our boat yet, and it was almost gone.
We finally arrived at the weathered old pier and moved precisely down the ladder, one by one. Thor and Charlie held on to the dock and tried to steady the boat for Ms. Mynah.
Of course, she smiled when they offered her a hand. She did not need our help. She'd been sailing these waters long before any of us were born.
Soon everyone had a seat. Except, I was standing behind Charlie at the wheel.
Without fanfare, Charlie started up the engines. We cast off the bow and stern lines and headed away from the dock and into the dark waters of the Sound.
Charlie looked at me for a direction.
I reached down and took Ms. Mynah by the hand. And, I shut my eyes just to be sure.
“Out the inlet,” I said. ”Head East, down Shackleford Banks.”
Charlie gave the engines some gas, and we were making about half speed ten minutes later when we cleared the channel between the islands and curved around Shackleford. Small waves were breaking along the shore, but we stayed out beyond them in fairly calm waters.
Charlie started to power the engines up some more. But, I caught his hand. He looked up, and I shook my head.
He powered down instead.
It's a wonder that Ms. Mynah did not cry out, with the way I squeezed her hand. Of course, I did not mean to. It just happened.
“Head into shore,” I ordered.
We'd come less than a mile from the inlet. And, I was sure that Nonnie Mynah had covered this ground a thousand times. She must have wondered at my direction. But, I did not look over at her.
I felt Charlie make a straight and steady approach to the beach. Then, at the last moment, he powered up the engines, and we rode a small wave into the shallows.
Nonnie was now was squeezing my hand as hard as I was squeezing hers.
As straight as an arrow, the boat moved through the thin water and knifed onto the sand.
“Out guys!” Charlie ordered.
He shut off the motors and hit the switch that raised them out of the water.
“We
have to get out of the wave zone before we broach or capsize. Push or pull. Just get us onto the beach!”
Six Rangers jumped out into the knee deep Atlantic. I guess it was cold, but I did not notice.
The other five grabbed onto the boat and maneuvered her up onto the sand where she beached like a fish out of water.
I just walked away.
Charlie's orders were being drowned out now by distant shouts and screams. A lot of ships had smashed ashore on Shackleford Banks over the last five centuries. Echoes of those sailors were still here.
This would be much worse than last time.
Behind me, the guys were grunting and shoving. But, I stumbled forward. The Ginger Ale was long gone. Suddenly, my vision evaporated. It was like a crisp television picture that breaks down into pixels. The world collapsed into swirling gray dots, floating in a sea of red.
I staggered forward, my eyes closed. At least, I think they were closed. And, as the wet sand dried under my feet, I doubled over as a searing pain knifed through my side. I yelled as the muscles in my right leg cramped like a painful vice.
I did not know if anyone was following, but about 30 feet farther, I fell to the sand. From there, I crawled another few feet and collapsed.
My ears were ringing and my hands were shaking. I could not see a damn thing. From the dunes, it probably looked like I was having a seizure. It finally sunk in that someone was standing over me. I reached out and caught an ankle. It was Thor.
I don't know how many times he yelled, “Is this the spot?”
I closed my eyes tighter and nodded. I tried to speak but all that came out was a sobbing sound. I curled up in a ball with both hands holding my stomach. Then, I felt arms around me. Toby and Freddie pulled me off to the side.
“He's burning up,” Toby shouted. ”Let's get him over to the dunes. Maybe there's some shade up there!”
They half carried and half dragged me up to the grass line. I was deposited beneath a small bush with soft pointed leaves that rustled in the ocean breeze. It provided enough shade to get my head out of the early morning sun.
I was delirious, but I felt cold water pouring across my scalp.
“There are more bottles in the boat,” I heard Toby yell. ”Run. Get all you can. And, hurry!”
Time passed slowly. But, eventually there was more cold water. And for a second, I was mostly conscious again.
I shook my head and ran my hand over my face. I brushed water out of my eyes.
When I finally felt good enough, I sat up, rolled over…
and vomited Ginger Ale into the dry white sand of Shackleford Banks.
I was not aware of much at this point. But, I knew that somewhere a woman was crying.
*************
The sea keeps her secrets.
The Glory Bee was forty-six feet long and fully rigged with more than a mile of cable and winches and rope. There is no telling how much netting, she carried. And, of course, there were two people aboard the day she disappeared forever.
Charlie and Thor and Shad dug a hole ten feet across in the sands of Shackleford banks. They dug down below the water table. And, all they ever found was a simple brass bell with the inscription: Glory Bee, Atlantic, NC. 1976.
Of course, I did not see it until later. Until after the guys carried me home and put me to bed. Bogdon and Freddie jury-rigged a stretcher from boat paddles and rain ponchos. Otherwise, I would not have made it.
By noon, I was back at the center passed out in my own bunk. After hours of fitful sleep and dreams I would like to forget, I staggered into the shower and washed off sand, vomit and tears.
Nonnie Mynah spotted me as I dragged my wet and brittle body into the living room. She hurried over, put her arms around me and helped me into a large recliner.
Once I was seated, Nonnie put her arms around me again. She thanked me over and over. And, I felt warm tears falling onto my arm.
They were mostly hers.
After a few minutes, she left my side. But, only for a moment.
She returned with a cold wet washcloth for my head, two ibuprofen – and fresh bottle of Ginger Ale.
*************
Chapter 24 – Finishing Touches
In the middle of the afternoon we got a call that the hospital was releasing Pam. She would be hobbling for some time, but there was no permanent damage from her run in with Mr. Ray.
Just after 3 o'clock, we loaded up into the rental boat and made the trip across to Harkers Island. At Pamlico Jack's, we switched to the big white van and Ms. Mynah captained us down the back roads to Beaufort. And, from Beaufort we crossed the old draw bridge to Radio Island and then the massive intercoastal bridge to Morehead City and the mainland.
About five o'clock, we pulled up out front of Carteret County General. Donnie was waiting under the drive through cover as we pulled in. Two pretty young candy strippers rolled Pam out of the Hospital in a wheelchair. I wisely kept my seat effectively blocking Charlie from jumping out of the van for a flirt fest. That way Donnie was able to load Pam up with a minimum of fuss and bother.
But before we left town, Shad pointed out that it was almost dinner time, and we did not have any food waiting for us back at the camp. So, Charlie made a proposal, ratified with a quick club vote, to treat everyone to a celebration dinner at the “Sanitary Fish Market”. So, Donnie pulled of the main highway and headed towards the Morehead city waterfront where the Sanitary is a local institution.
Dinner that night was excellent. We ate as much fried and broiled seafood as possible, saving up culinary memories to tide us through our upcoming return to mountain fare. And, afterwards we fed leftover hush puppies to the seagulls from the dock beside the restaurant.
But, Pam was still a little tired. So, rather than stay and explore the waterfront, we headed back down the road to Harkers Island. And, for an hour and a half, we were eyewitnesses to blood orange streaked sunset skies that stole our breath, and capped off our unforgettable week at the beach.
*************
The next morning we awakened to a spectacular going away breakfast. Ms. Mynah prepared bacon, eggs, biscuits, fresh fruit and some homemade breakfast pastries that were like manna from heaven.
After we ate, we cleaned up, packed up and took one last walk down to the Cape. The cold morning water foamed over our bare feet. Small fish jumped in the surf and an enormous Vee of brown Pelicans (close to a hundred) came gliding down the beach, like they were gliding in to say good bye.
And, Freddie Dunkleberger found the most sought after treasure on the island: a beautifully intact Scotch Bonnet seashell. He could not wait to take it home to his Mom.
But, time was short.
We barefooted back to the Eco Center, where Donnie came walking out to meet us. He seemed a little tentative. He had something on his mind.
“Guys,” he finally said. “I hate to be a problem. But, Pam has a whole group of ninth graders from Fayetteville coming in this afternoon. And, I don’t think she can handle them with her bum foot. I was thinking that if you don’t mind, I could stay and help her out.”
There was a pained look on his face. He did not want to let us down.
“Unfortunately, you guys will have to find someone else to drive you back to Granite Falls.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Charlie assured him. “We talked it over last night and we thought you might want to stay around for a while. In fact, we’ve already made arrangements for an alternate way home.”
“Who did you find to drive you home? Is Miss Mynah going to do it?”, Donnie asked.
“No,” replied Charlie. “She has some personal stuff she needs to deal with.”
He slapped Donnie on the back. “But it’s okay, we’ll get home anyway. You just take care of each other. And, enjoy the rest of the summer.”
We all shook hands with Donnie so he knew there were no hard feelings. Then, we hurried
back inside to finish packing so we would be ready when our ride arrived.
*************
THE END
It was a sleepy Sunday afternoon in the little mountain community of Granite Falls, North Carolina. It had been a quiet week in this shady little outpost. And, the people of Granite Falls luxuriated in the simple pleasures of small town living. And, they enjoyed their unhurried, uncomplicated and predictable seven day respite.
Nothing unusual or out of the ordinary had taken place for the last week. There were no science fair explosions, no high flying UFO’s and no reports of rocket powered bicycles outrunning sheriff’s deputies.
It had been like a vacation in this serene mountain town and Sunday afternoon was starting out the same way. Comfortable clothes replaced church clothes. Sunday dinners became leftovers and dishes in the sink. Recliners all over town were in their full setback positions as drowsy eyes chose between television and napping.
But, the quiet stillness of the weeklong vacation was coming to an end. And, excitement was back on the horizon for this little enclave. The peaceful Sunday afternoon in Granite Falls was interrupted by a growing rumble in the distance. And, the stillness of the day gave way to trembling.
From out of the East, vibrating up the Catawba valley came the unmistakable sound of a VM-22 Osprey’s huge growling engines echoing in the distance.
The vacation was over.
The Granite Falls Rangers were coming home from the beach.
************
About the Author
Matt Musson was born in Austin, TX and grew up in San Antonio. He earned two degrees at the University of Texas and moved east to work for Ross Perot as a Systems Analyst. He has developed systems for Planters Peanuts, LifeSavers Candies, Sara Lee, and Bank of America.
Matt is currently in North Carolina developing banking software and working part-time for the Charlotte Bobcats. He has four incredible children: Skye, McClain, Granath, and Chandler. Matt collects vintage rodeo belt buckles and Indian jewelry when he is not prospecting for Carolina gold and emeralds.
He is a contributing author to the non-fiction anthology Sports in the Carolinas: From Death Valley to Tobacco Road. He has two baseball novels available online: The ’51 Rocks and Batboy on the Worst Team Ever. Other Jeep Muldoon adventures include The Mystery of Merlin’s Magic and The Arrow That Would Not Miss. And, he is currently working his first full length fantasy story: The Lone Star Wizard.