Cone: A Deep Sea Thriller
Author: Michael Cole
Date: 2025-06-01 07:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Horror
Description: At first, it was hailed as a miracle of science. In reality, it was a catastrophic mistake. Dr. Elliot Alere never imagined his greatest achievement would become his greatest regret. Driven by ambition and the promise of medical breakthroughs, he accomplished the resurrecting an extinct marine predator—the cameroceras. He believed the ancient cephalopod could unlock new frontiers in science. Instead, he unleashed a monster. When the creature escapes mid-transport, it vanishes into the waters surrounding Green Pastures, a quiet island off the West Coast. Over forty feet long, armed with ten mus
Publisher: SEVERED Press

CONE

A NOVEL BY MICHAEL COLE

www.severedpress.com

Copyright 2025 by MICHAEL COLE

CHAPTER 1

“We’ve checked, sir. We’ve swept the entire area. There’s nothing here.”

Up until the operator of Submersible Two spoke through the radio, Dr. Elliot Alere had foolishly assumed this day could not get any worse. Standing at the forecastle of the eight-hundred-foot cargo ship White Horse, he stared at the pool of wreckage that spread across the Pacific.

Seven hours ago, these fragments made up a Boeing C-17 Globemaster III. One-hundred-seventy-four feet in length, with a wingspan of one-hundred-sixty-nine, it could deliver eighty-five tons for over a two-thousand-mile range.

Now, it was junk. Its four-man crew was claimed by the ocean—so Elliot had assumed, at least.

“Keep searching,” he replied.

“Sir, we’ve combed this area thoroughly.”

“Do it again. Expand your search radius. It’s got to be here.”

After a pause, the sub commander reluctantly turned his Triton around and submerged. He relayed the orders to the other two minisubs in the area. Down they went for the tenth time in desperate search of the only cargo this plane had been carrying.

The boat captain stepped beside him. His hands were in his pockets, his beard smelling of whiskey and ham. This was his retirement job. Whether the doctor found his prize mattered none to him.

“You seem nervous,” he said. “I mean, I get being pissed off. I reckon something like this… thing… was not easy to create. But if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re antsy, as though the end of the world was near.”

Elliot placed his hands on the guardrail, praying for positive word from one of the sub operators.

“I told them not to transport it by plane.”

The captain smirked and shook his head. “No way an animal brought down that plane.”
“This is no ordinary animal.”

“Was. Not is,” the captain said. “And even if it somehow escaped its confinements and brought the plane down, there’s no way it survived the crash.”

“If we don’t find it, we have to assume it did.” The laugh from the captain sparked a new headache that squeezed Elliot’s brow, worsening his mood. He shot a glare at the disgraced mariner. Elliot was aware of the allegations of drug smuggling which cost him his position with Matson Inc. In his years of working for the Boettiger Corporation, Elliot couldn’t help but notice the number of staff with questionable backgrounds. There was usually one common denominator: they had no market value to the general public, and because of this, they were easily controlled.

He was in no place to judge.

After waiting for several minutes, he lifted his radio. “Alere to search teams. Any updates?”

“Negative, sir. Expanding our search like you asked.”

“Copy that.” He pressed his forehead to the guardrail. The metal was cold, the Alaska air brisk even in the summertime. For now, there was nothing to do except wait and stare at the floating wreckage.

“You know, you could have gone down yourself,” the captain said. “I’m aware you know how to operate those minisubs.”

“Looking at all of this is bad enough,” Elliot said. “The main body is at the bottom, and if I’m being honest, I can’t stomach looking at it.” The captain chuckled, shaking his head while taking a drink from his flask. Elliot’s brow furrowed. “There’s nothing funny about this. People are dead.”

“Who said I’m laughing at their demise? It’s your paranoia that’s making this trip remotely entertaining.”

Elliot considered the usual insults. ‘You’re an asshole. A piece of shit. A washed-up sea captain who turned to illegal activities for a quick buck.’ Instead, he held back. After all, he was in no place to judge. At least this asshole captain did not cause the death of ten people.

This plane crash was only the latest stage.

“We have to find it.”

“Plane crashes happen,” the captain said. “Faulty mechanics are a thing.”

“I heard the recording,” Elliot said. “The crew were panicking. The pilots had no clue what was happening until it was too late. That’s not what occurs during mechanical failure.”

“Captain. To the bridge immediately.”

“What’s the matter?”

“We’re receiving a distress call from a fishing trawler.”

“On my way.”

Recognizing the distressed voice of the first mate, Elliot followed the captain to the bridge.

Into the structure, through a small passageway, then up a flight of stairs they went. The bridge stood sixty feet over the main deck, giving a sense of superiority to those inside.

The radio operator had one hand pressed to his headset, the other on the frequency knob.

“What’s the situation?” Elliot asked.

The radioman raised a finger, asking for silence. “This is the shipping vessel White Horse, responding to a Mayday signal. Please repeat your transmission.”

In that moment, Elliot noticed the captain and everyone else at the console was wearing headphones. Eager to hear what was going on, he stepped to the first mate who was listening alongside the captain. His hand was like a striking cobra, snatching the headphones from the officer.

“Hey, what the hell?!”

“I need to hear this,” Elliot said. He placed the headphones on and listened. Right away, he was greeted with static, with broken dialogue slipping through. The words were muddled, but the tone was clear. Whoever was sending this Mayday signal was in a panic.

The radio operator continued. “I repeat. This is the shipping vessel White Horse. Please respond.”

Several moments passed.

“Did they give a location?” the captain asked. The radio operator handed him the written coordinates. “Roughly twelve miles south of here.”

“We need to go investigate,” Elliot said.

“We need to get a call to the Coast Guard and let them handle it.”

“If they’re being attacked…”

“Doctor… your experiment died in the crash.” The Captain squared up with him, his eyes shifting to the headset that the first mate should have been wearing. “Take that off and give it back to…”

“Mayday! White Horse, are you still there?”

“Affirmative. State your problem,” the radio operator said.

“Help! This is the fishing vessel Trace Peterson. We’re being attacked. There’s something in the water. It pulled our nets down, destroyed the outriggers, and now it’s attacking our boat.”

“Copy that, we’ll relay your position to the proper authorities immediately,” the radio operator said.

“The hull is breached. The antennae is damaged…” As though to demonstrate that fact, the signal filled with static. When it returned, they were greeted with the sound of fishermen screaming in the background. “My God! It’s got the captain. We’re taking on water. We’re… … to starboard… it’s ripped the transom… …. … AHHH!”

Shattering glass filled their ears. There was a slithering sound, accompanied by the snapping of planks and the smashing of mechanical equipment.

“Hello? Hello? White Horse to Trace Peterson. Please come in.” Repeated attempts to get in contact proved to be futile.

Elliot noticed the captain’s eyes point in his direction. The cynical attitude was gone, and all that remained was the same feeling of anxiety that had tortured the doctor throughout this entire voyage.

The signal was dead. And, after listening to that last transmission, likely was the crew of the Trace Peterson.

CHAPTER 2

“You’re absolutely sure the specimen is responsible for the attack on the fishing boat?”

Elliot’s jaw clenched, his teeth grinding. He should have expected nothing less than typical speculation from a corporate overlord. The only facts that mattered were those that directly affected the bottom line. In this case, the only ‘fact’ that Ralf Briggs cared about was the lack of public knowledge of this disaster.

“Yes, I’m afraid so.” It took everything in Elliot’s soul not to chastise the fat balding prick on the screen. Ralf loosened his tie and tugged at his shirt collar. One of the secretaries came into view, delivering a glass of wine. She was the second one to briefly appear. In both cases, Elliot could not help but notice that each had an extra button undone on their blouse.

Such a thing was not by design. These young ladies, both somewhere in their mid-twenties, suffered the same fate as everyone else in this company. Somewhere down the line, they screwed up, and as a result, they had a hard time finding decent work. Now, they had a steady income which they could get nowhere else, putting them completely at the mercy of Ralf Briggs. Sure, he probably paid well, and knowing him, proudly dangled whatever skeletons they had in their closets as leverage should they think twice about their employment.

Elliot knew firsthand that both were effective means of keeping one silent.

Ralf took the glass, not denying himself the chance to sneak a peek at his secretary’s goods. Even with a hundred-million-dollar project on the loose, he couldn’t resist the basic pleasures of biology and power.

“Alright, this is obviously a bad setback.” He sipped on his wine, then flipped through a paper calendar on his desk.

Elliot’s brow furrowed. “More than bad, Mr. Briggs. Four people died on that plane.”

“Their families will be compensated.”

“And the men on that boat…”

“A very unfortunate turn of events. Shame the Coast Guard can’t figure out what happened.”

“Wait…” Elliot’s heart jumped into his throat. He leaned forward, palms at the edge of the table. “You didn’t tell them about the creature?”

Ralf perked up. “Hell no! Why the hell would I open myself and my company up for that kind of scrutiny?” He sipped on his wine, then belched. His behavior made Elliot think of him as a fat hillbilly rather than the CEO of a billion-dollar company.

Once again, he had to rein in his thoughts before they were verbalized. A feeling of foolishness mixed with the cocktail of frustration and angst. He had judged the ship captain earlier for just taking the money and doing the job, no questions asked. Yet, here he was doing the exact same thing.

Elliot cleared his throat. Like a good employee, he did not convey agitation to his boss.

“If I may, sir?”

“Yes?”

“I understand your dilemma, but the fact of the matter is we have a dangerous organism on the loose. An organism that was bred in our lab. If it is discovered, and worse—connected with the deaths of anyone it may come across—then your company could face serious investigations.”

Ralf scrolled through some notes on a tablet. He held it to the screen, allowing Elliot to see. The biotechnologist recognized his own report which he had submitted to Ralf when they chose to replicate the orthocone species.

“You said here that, during its existence in the Ordovatican Period, it preferred the colder Siberian waters.”

“Ordovician Period,” Elliot said. “And yes. That’s what studies have found.”

“Then it’ll probably head that way,” Ralf said. He slapped the tablet down in a case-closed manner. “It’ll probably swim out to open sea. Maybe chase some manatees or beluga whales on its way to Russia.”

Elliot looked away, annoyed by his urge to correct the fat suit’s assumption that manatees liked Arctic waters, when in fact they prefer warmer Caribbean climates. Even worse was the assumption that the creature would simply move out to sea, away from Western populations.

“Um, no… sir.”

Ralf looked at the tablet, then at Elliot again. “Is this report not accurate?”

“It’s an accurate study of the original species, through years of theory and research. Our specimen, on the other hand, is an animal that has been raised in captivity. It has been kept in temperatures that are above Arctic levels. It prefers shallow waters, meaning it will travel to the nearest area that’ll suit its physical needs.” Elliot brushed his thumb over his unshaven chin, a tendency that emerged in periods of angst. “Then there’s the issue of its diet.”

“The creature’s likely to chase sharks, dolphins, and small whales. Correct?” Ralf said, again looking at the tablet.

“Possibly, but here’s the problem: It has tasted human flesh. First, there was the incident in the lab involving Gwen Roberts, then the February accident with Fred Cheatham, among others. We know it fed on the people on the C-17…”

“No, we don’t know that,” Ralf said.

“…And its attack on the Trace Peterson only confirms that it is going OUT OF ITS WAY to attack humans.” Elliot took a breath. “It sees humans as a food source. If it finds a fishing village or a busy coastal town teeming with tourists, you can rest assured that it will stop by to take advantage of the human buffet. The boat was twelve miles southeast of our location. Judging by the creature’s trajectory from the crash site, I’m predicting it’ll show up near Vancouver Island, probably in the Winter Harbor.”

By the look on Ralf’s face, Elliot could tell he was not too concerned. His complexion had returned. His collar and tie were fixed and straightened. The urgency of the setback had subsided.

And that’s all he viewed it as: a setback.

Elliot could already hear the guy’s inner voice. ‘The hard part is over. The gene-splicing sequence has been perfected, the technology has been field tested and proven to be successful, and having learned from the mistakes of previous years, bio-engineering a whole new organism would only require eight months. No, six. Hell, maybe five.’

He closed his eyes. The voices of the panicked fishermen pounded his mind. There had to have been six men on that boat. Six additional lives lost because of his bastardization of nature. It made him wonder if God had specific intentions when wiping out a species into extinction. Maybe some creatures were just too evil.

The beast had no qualms about going after people. Elliot had seen those tentacles come after him on several occasions. Only distance and bulletproof glass kept him out of its grasp. Barely.

Now, it was free to kill at its leisure. Every death from here on would be on his head. It did not matter if the rest of the world was unaware of his involvement. He was guilty. The only path to redemption was to stop further bloodshed.

The first step was to speak in Ralf’s language.

“Okay… say if the beast is found, it’s probable there’ll be no connection to us.”

“Right,” Ralf said, proudly.

“In the event that it’s discovered, though, the authorities won’t suspect us… but you can bet Pryce Genetics will. And they’ll be the first ones to use this to smear you in the press and get their competition shut down.”

Ralf stared past the camera, deep in thought. Realization hit him. Pryce Genetics had been attempting for years to push the envelope in genetic engineering. The companies were neck-and-neck in their research and development, designing vaccines, antibodies, food shortage solutions, and other medical breakthroughs such as organ growth.

Three years ago, a patent from the Boettiger Corporation was suspected to be in connection with two strokes in patients who were taking a new blood pressure medication. The incidents were originally believed to be isolated medical issues until the press secretary at Pryce made headlines blaming Boettiger’s new drug. The result was a dip in the stock and a lot of public speculation.

Enough so, that United States Senator Arthur Loyd withdrew from negotiations with Boettiger to head a new federal Institute of Public Health. Like the NIH, this new department would work on conducting and supporting medical research. It had not come to pass as of yet, but word through the grapevine was Senator Loyd was currently speaking to the head of Pryce Genetics.

If Pryce was capable of that much damage with an accusation…

“Holy shit,” Ralf said.

“Uh-huh.” Elliot had his hands clasped in prayer. Come on, dude. Let me go after this thing.

After a few moments of pondering, Ralf nodded. “Alright, Doctor, you have a point. I’m going to get you a chopper and fly you to Seattle. I’m going to give Kai a phone call, and he’ll meet you at his penthouse. He owes me a favor.”

“You want me to go with Kai?!” Elliot said. “Why not send the White Horse after it?”

“I’m not sending a freighter on what could be an endless wild goose chase. Just meet with Kai and his crew. They’re professional—for the most part.” Ralf was already scrolling through the contacts on his phone. “Do you have any guess where the animal might be going? Because we don’t have a tracking device on it.”

Elliot snorted. Another thing I suggested, which you ignored.

“We know for sure it’s heading southeast, likely towards the Washington Coast. It will probably settle on a location with shallow waters and terrain that can hide its presence. Probably somewhere with kelp forests.”

“Hmm…” Ralf pulled up a coastal map on his tablet. “Anywhere like that near the Washington Coast?”

CHAPTER 3

Green Pastures was appropriately named in the eyes of Dr. Kristen McCauley. A seven-mile stretch of land a few short miles southeast of San Juan Island, it resembled a red mulberry leaf from a bird’s eye view. Its beauty was heightened by the thick kelp forests that populated the surrounding waters. Thousands of stipes, growing as tall as forty feet, stretched for the surface with their leaf blades. Though naturally brown in color, the reflection of sunlight often made them appear yellowish green. Either way was equally beautiful in Kristen’s opinion.

Diving within these forests was pure joy. Hundreds of different species of fish, invertebrates, and crustaceans used the kelp as shelter. The roots and stipes attracted sea urchins, which served as food for sea otters, cod, and lobsters. The tops of the stipes were periodically harvested by contractors, to be turned into a variety of products.

Most of the general population had no idea that salad dressings, puddings, dairy ingredients, and various frozen products were made from kelp. Non-edible products also included kelp as an ingredient. Many types of toothpaste, shampoo, even certain pharmaceuticals came from this unique seaweed.

Dr. Kristen McCauley believed there was more to kelp than its use in everyday products. Research indicated that these massive plants alleviated acidification caused by absorption of atmospheric carbon into the ocean. In her studies, she would find patterns of pH climb at night and reduced acidity in the water due to kelp respiration.

It was Kristen’s hope that studying these underwater forests would provide an answer to solving the larger issue of carbon absorption by the ocean. With one-fourth of the CO2 produced by human fossil fuels being absorbed by the ocean, acidification levels have been steadily increasing. The long-term consequences likely could be a disruption in marine food chains, thus a decrease in food supply for humans. The death of reefs was another issue, not just environmentally, but for the protection they provide to coastal areas from storms.

The answer may lie with the kelp forests. Perhaps they held the secret to alleviating the pH levels across the world’s oceans.

This was where research came into play.

Fully equipped in her diving gear, she was thirty feet down, taking samples of seawater from various locations in and around the kelp forest. The next samples would be taken at the bottom, which was at forty-five feet, then at the surface. Her research vessel, the Scarlett Neptune, was anchored at the edge of the West Chain, a stretch of kelp forest that stretched the length of Green Pastures. She was on her own, her assistant having to return to the mainland for the premature birth of his child.

Kristen enjoyed receiving the photos of the little peanut. The institute had offered a replacement assistant, which she refused. No way was she going to cut Billy out of a job due to circumstances he could not control. Besides, she knew these waters like the back of her hand. The chemistry process was fairly simple, and the boat was easy to handle, despite its age. If anything needed replaced, or rather repaired, it was the Scarlett Neptune. Its engine had seen more than two-thousand hours of use and was in need of a tune-up.

All she could do was treat the boat well and hope the institute would keep their promise of maintenance.

Kristen moved her flippers back and forth, hovering at thirty feet. She watched a kelp fish make its home under a large leaf. Only its eye gave away its presence. The rest of it blended perfectly with the swaying golden-brown pillars. On the bottom, she found crabs munching on severed leaves. Lobsters took shelter under the canopy, usually among rock beds. A few sharks idled about, uninterested in the land-dwelling organism that visited their territory.

Hi, fellas.

She waved at the sharks. Her gestures were wasted on the forest’s inhabitants, but she didn’t care. It was fun to pretend they appreciated her company. She certainly appreciated theirs.

After making her way to the north end of the forest, she took more samples at the thirty-foot depth. With the bottom and mid-level samples obtained, it was time to get two from the surface level.

She swam up, pausing for safety stops along the way. She surfaced with a splash, immediately filling a plastic tube marked ‘0-ft, north’ with water. She closed the cap and swam east toward her boat. The last sample would be taken a hundred feet from the bow, which was at the eastern edge of the forest. She completed the short task, then swam behind the large machine.

Kristen sometimes resented being topside, especially after a great dive near a reef or underwater forest. There was something about the water that drew her in. It was a lover whose touch was intoxicating. Already, she felt the urge to return.

“Sorry, ocean. Gotta do my part in saving you.”

She wiped her face off with a towel, then placed her samples in a container. The next stop was the lab. Afterwards, she would be back on the water, for part of her duties were tracking pods of dolphins and a few blue sharks that frequently returned to this particular forest. The plan was to lower a cage, lure the fish close, and get a blood sample with a needle. She would then test the blood sample and compare the results with those taken at a location far away from any kelp forest. If the pH levels were higher, that would indicate that the CO2 levels in the shark’s blood was affected by the kelp.

“Time for lab work,” she said with a sigh. Kristen did not deny the value in the indoor aspect of the job. She just found it boring.

She started the engine, brought the anchor in, then headed for the bay.

Crank. Clatter. Clank-clank-clank-clank-clank!

“Shit! Shit! Shit!”

She killed the engine and looked at the black exhaust fumes coming out of the boat.

Two realities made her kick the instrument console. The first was the recognition of her own contribution to the pollution of the Pacific Ocean. C02 largely came from machines, and the Scarlett Neptune was no exception.

The second issue had more of a direct impact on Kristen’s immediate future. Her boat was dead, and she was stuck a half-mile out from shore.

“Great. Just great.” She picked up her radio. First, she would call a tugboat, then the institute to tell them ‘I told you so.’

CHAPTER 4

Yellow gold whiskey entered the glass, only to immediately exit. Down the organic drain it went, right into the mixture of beer and Scotch that preceded it.

Colin Carver tapped the glass against the bar. “Another!” Even though the bartender’s back was turned, Colin managed to spot the tiny folds in his cheeks as he scowled. “Got a problem with that?” He tapped the glass again. “Fill ‘er up.”

The bartender turned around, still wiping down the bar on the opposite end. His eyes shifted to the two empty beer bottles and Scotch glass in front of the filthy vulture.

“You even have the coin?”

Colin sat up, giving the appearance of a man whose ego had been bruised. He watched the bartender with fighting eyes, nibbling at his lip as he considered his response.

Those seated around him watched intently. Some of them knew Colin to be quite the brawler. His rugged face was decorated with the scars of ringed fingers, beer bottles, and pocketknives.

A few onlookers backed away. There were no bouncers in here. This was a simple, lowkey place with fifteen tables, and three servers in addition to the bartender, cook, and owner.

The bartender, a six-foot-three biker type wearing a sleeveless vest, leaned on Colin’s side of the bar. “Well?”

Colin leaned forward in a challenging manner. “You think I don’t?”

“No.” The bartender swiped the shot glass and looked at the remnants of Colin’s previous orders. “Your total is twenty-two-fifty.”

“Twenty—” Colin looked at the Scotch glass and beer. “Going a little steep, aren’t ya?”

“Only as steep as basic math allows,” the bartender said. “You’ve had three fills of Scotch, a shot of bourbon, and two beers. I’m cutting you off.”

“Ah.” Colin waved him off. “That’s just my warmup act.”

“Like I give a shit about you. I’m cutting you off because I’m done bleeding money.” The bartender tilted his head in the direction of Colin’s pocket. There was the outline of a wallet down there. It was barely visible, meaning it was thin.

“Give me a break. I opened a tab.”

The bartender scoffed. “No. You’re on Willy’s tab, but only to a certain extent.”

“I’m sure that extent goes beyond twenty-two bucks.”

“It did. Fifty cents past it. You’re lucky he’s letting you have that much. Now, beat it.”

Colin scooted off the bar stool. “Next time Willy’s wife needs a ride to the ER, I might have to consider my neighborly duty.”

“Not sure he’d want you driving her anywhere nowadays,” the bartender said.

“Considering they’re done having kids, I think the risk of an early labor is pretty low,” another patron said.

Colin waved him off. It was a motion that had become automatic in recent weeks. “Who asked you?”

“Goodbye, Colin.”

Waving off the bartender, Colin stumbled out the door. He breathed in the afternoon air that flowed through Green Pastures. ‘Brown’ Pastures was always his name for it. Kelp forests were not green, and in his opinion, it was stupid for the island founders to name the place after a bunch of overgrown seaweed.

He licked his lips and felt his light wallet. He felt its weight drop ever so gradually during the last two months. As his wealth shrank, his beard grew, the prickly hairs itchy and annoying, but not enough to take a razor to. Especially not after his water heater broke. Shaving with cold water was not conducive to maintaining a healthy appearance, especially when he held no regard for said appearance. As far as Colin was concerned, who the hell was he trying to impress anyway?

There was no point in going home. The fridge was empty, the pantry full of crackers and pasta, with no luxury of sauce. More importantly, there was no beer. His mind was not numb enough yet to stumble home and pass out. All he had left was a little bit of air conditioning until the power was cut off, and a boat which sat alongside his dock. At this point, it may as well be a popsicle stick model, for it would have been just as useful these days.

The involuntary reminiscence of his issues fueled the need for booze. The decision was made: Next stop, Foghorn Pub.

Down the street he went. The nice thing about this island was that the town part could easily be traveled by foot. The beaches and tourist attractions were mostly on the northern part of the island, the residential parts on the southern half. Most of everyone here knew each other. There was the grocery store, the automotive shop, the Island Government Center, police station, a movie theater, a couple of hotels, a bait shop, and of course, a few bars divided on a few closely grouped streets.

He walked the quarter-mile of distance, finding Foghorn Pub on the righthand side.

Inside was a floor holding seventeen tables. A little bigger than Willy’s Bar, though still pretty low key. A few residents were at the counter, a few others at various tables. A couple stood near a saltwater fish tank at the back. He recognized their faces. They were commercial fishermen, back from a three-week voyage. They made eye contact with him as he stepped inside, but said nothing.

Colin went to the counter, sat on a stool, then waited for the bartender to step over.

He was not off to a good start—the look on her face was no different than the bartender at Willy’s.

“How’s it going?” he asked, hoping to stall long enough to remember her name. He lived in a town where everyone knew each other, except on his part. He simply remembered faces and, depending on the person, certain body features.

“What do you want, Colin?”

“Just here for a drink, Tracy.”

“It’s Tasha.”

“At least I got the first letter right.”

“Bravo.” She narrowed her gaze, studying his angled posture. “You’ve already been drinking today, haven’t you?”

“Just a little.”

“A little, my ass.” She picked up the phone, dialed a number, then waited for the receiver to pick up. “Yeah, Frank. It’s Tasha, over at Foghorn Pub…” She looked at Colin and chuckled, listening to the bartender named Frank. “You already knew who I was going to ask about, didn’t you?... Yep, he’s here… No, he’s just acting innocent, stating he’s just here for a quiet drink… Alright, Frank, thanks a lot. Bye.” She hung up the phone. “Yeah, Colin, you’re not getting any.”

Colin leaned back, hands clapping his knees. “Are you for real?”

“Yes, I’m for real. You’ve got no money, and to be honest, I think you’re already past your threshold.” Tasha waved to the door. “No service. Go home, sleep it off, and when you wake up, maybe try and get your life in order. Not being judgmental, just offering friendly advice.”

Colin remained on his stool. “How does he know I have no money? I was on Willy’s tab.”

“I’m not gonna argue with you, dude.”

“Just say’n.”

Tasha stepped to his part of the bar. “Alright. Tell you what: we’ll meet in the middle. You show me you have the cash, then I’ll serve you a couple small drinks, and that’ll be it.” She crossed her arms, waiting. Colin just sat there, his inaction confirming her suspicions. “That’s what I thought. Go home, and take my advice.”

Colin was left with no choice but to concede defeat. There was no point in arguing. Besides, what was there to gain from attempting to intimidate a twenty-eight-year-old bartender trying to feed two kids? She may have been living paycheck-to-paycheck, but at least she kept her chin up.

He stepped away from the bar and went to the door.

“Hey, Carver!”

Colin stopped, anticipating a snide remark from one of the fishermen.

“Guys, behave,” Tasha said.

“No, no,” one of them said. “I’m offering a little charity, should Mr. Carver be interested.”

Colin turned around. “What charity?”

The bearded fisherman extended a beer. “Untouched, I promise.”

Colin looked at it, then at the bearded fisherman. Douglas Farrow was his name. He was one of those guys who dressed as though he wanted to be in a biker gang, but somehow ended up being a fisherman instead.

The need for alcohol was like a gravitational pull. Still, even with his senses partly hindered, Colin felt a sixth sense warning him that Douglas was up to no good.

“You piss in it?”

Douglas chuckled. “No. Honest. We had a few rough weeks out at sea, and frankly, I know your situation and I figure why not help a fellow crabber out?” He lifted the beer again. “I just opened it, but I haven’t drank from it yet. Overheard you over here. I mean, if you don’t want it, I’ll just go back with the guys and leave you alone.” He started turning around.

Colin stepped forward. “Fine.” The fisherman faced him again and handed over the beer. Colin reluctantly accepted it. Accepting charity was something usually thought to be beneath him.

Usually.

No longer caring about the circumstances of how he got his booze, Colin took a slug.

I should’ve known…

He spat it out, sparking laughter from the fisherman and his fellow deckhands. Colin spat again to rid himself of the seawater taste, and looked at the fish where they had filled the previously-empty bottle while his back was turned.

Douglas Farrow was arched back, laughing.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Tasha said.

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry,” he said, holding his stomach to nurse the pains of laughter. “I just couldn’t help myself—”

The next pain he nursed was the inflammation on his jaw where Colin uppercut him. The other fishermen ceased their laughter, watching their fellow crewmate crash onto a table.

Next, the half-drunken man-beast was coming at them. A chair was lifted and brought down on one of their members, putting him on the floor among pieces of cheap lumber.

Fists flew. Glass bottles shattered. Bodies crashed through tables. Customers departed without paying their tabs.

Finally, flashing lights appeared outside the door.

Colin was face-to-face with Douglas Farrow. The prankster fisherman was back on his feet, ready to get even. Colin moved in, only to feel a pair of arms pull him back.

“Police…” After identifying the suspect, Sheriff Grant Brookman decided there was no point in making formal announcements. “Damn it, Colin Carver. I’m sick of your bullshit.”

Colin pulled against him. “Then get out of here, Sheriff, and you won’t have to deal with it. Besides, ‘round here, we handle our own problems.”

“Says the walking, talking problem. Last chance. Come peacefully,” Brookman said. Like a canine eager to go after a critter in the woods, Colin lunged again for the fisherman. “Alright…” The sheriff whipped out the mace and sprayed it in Colin’s face, dropping him to his knees.

“Ah! Son of a bitch, Grant!”

“Oh, quit being such a baby.”

Handcuffs clicked into place, and Colin was dragged out of the bar and into the back of a squad car.

CHAPTER 5

It was his place of Zen.

Kai Zahn had a cigar in his left hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other. Seated on the appropriately named loveseat in his private room, he leaned his head back and cracked a smile while his female companions did their work. He had one on each arm, pressing their bare bodies against his, kissing his neck and taking turns Frenching him. Down below, a third woman was on her knees doing his bidding.

Every session in this private room was like a competition for who could please him the most. Kai was a man who not only provided wealth, but adventure. His trademark decorated the walls of his penthouse. Cartridges and knife blades were framed alongside a trophy taken from the creature they killed.

Directly in front of him was his most recent prize. They were the front teeth of a South American anaconda. He had heard scientists on the internet claim that these creatures were rather slow compared to their movie counterparts. If that was the case, then the one he hunted must have taken some drugs, because it moved as swiftly as a barracuda in open water. Directly below those jaws were three .300 Winchester Magnum cartridges.

Kai lived for the hunt. There was no thrill like hunting something that would take great pleasure in killing him as well. Kai did not believe in shooting elephants or rhinos. They were herbivores that wanted to be left alone. Asian crocodiles, giant snakes, bull sharks, and African lions were a different story.

Here at home, he resorted to other pleasures to occupy his mind until the next hunt. The thrill did not match what he experienced in the wild, but it would do for now.

He took a drink of his whiskey and a puff of his cigar, then turned his attention to the girl on his right.

A knock on the door broke their rhythm.

“Hey, boss. That scientist guy just paged us. He’s at the first floor. Should we let him up?”

Kai resented the timing. He had gotten a call that morning from Ralf Briggs, who wanted to cash in on a favor he owed. The corporate money grubber did not give specifics, but did indicate that the job involved hunting and killing a unique animal. Kai wasn’t ready to break out the champagne. Knowing Briggs and the company he worked for, it was probably another disease-carrying baboon. Whatever the target was, it was evident that his corporation sucked at containing their animal test subjects.

On the other hand, there were worse ways to pay off a debt.

“Yeah, let him up.” He looked down, seeing his middle companion leaning over his manhood, arms crossed, with a naughty smirk on her face. She was as wild as the beasts he hunted. Possibly even more voracious if given the opportunity.

“You have to go right now?” she asked.

The one to his right ran a finger over his chest. “We were just getting started.”

Kai gave a smile to each of his three conquests. He loved a good challenge.

“Who’s first?”

***

It was one of the few days in Seattle where it did not rain. From the upper floor of Kai’s penthouse, he was able to overlook the Pacific. It was the only view admirable from this fortress. The walls were adorned with the relics of Kai’s many kills. Animals who had done him no wrong had been given an unceremonious end, all for the sake of murderous pleasure. Everywhere he turned, he saw a tooth or a claw, the instrument of slaughter on display next to them.

Then there were the people he was forced to share this big lounge area with. Three women, all in their mid-twenties, moved about the room wearing nothing but skanky lace panties while they tended to the men. Currently, their activities were bringing beer and food to them, and sitting beside and serving as arm candy. Elliot knew it went beyond just that. The saddest part was that these females seemed perfectly happy to perform these duties. In the depths of his mind, he speculated whether it was finances, a poor childhood, or if they just liked the attention of these big masculine hunters.

Kai was still in his private room. The muffled moans and repeated gasps of ‘oh, baby’ from multiple female voices made it clear what was going on. Elliot had no choice but to wait for the conquest to finish.

He was stuck in this damn lounge, in the company of these young women and Kai’s crew.

Seated across from him was Felix, a former drug smuggler from the UK. Elliot had heard it was cocaine, snuck into the country during freight trips from Brazil. Muscled-out and wearing a tank top that was a size too short, he resembled the classic 80’s cinematic henchman. His constant stone-face scowl completed that image. He was usually in charge of operating the boat during nautical hunts. Though he had a hair trigger, he at least knew better to leave the kill to the alpha of this pack. But if there was a second-in-command in this pecking order, it was Felix.

If there was an omega, it was Llew, short for Llewellyn. He was smaller in height and build than Felix but had the same grizzled attitude. Seated by the west window, he had an arm around one of the ladies. A half-spent bottle of Scotch sat on the table next to him. He filled a glass and offered it to his companion, who accepted it with a gleeful smile and a pinch to his cheek.

Then there was Vance, the most talkative member of the pack, though that wasn’t saying much. He was the one who greeted Elliot at the front entrance and brought him up to the penthouse. To his credit, he was polite enough to offer refreshment and pleasantries while they waited, even if those pleasantries was female attention. Elliot did not consider himself a saint by any means, but he did hold some personal standards. One of those was to never pay, or have someone else pay, for a woman’s attention. At least, that was the standard he tried to hold himself to.

“Mila, why don’t you make sure Doctor Alere is comfortable,” Vance said. A finely shaped woman of Russian descent strutted toward him, one hip at a tip, chest out, showing off the goods.

“That’s all right,” Elliot said.

She ignored his refusal and took a seat next to him on the sofa. She turned to face him, leaning against the back cushion while she reached over to play with his tie.

“What’s the matter, Doctor? You shy?”

Elliot debated whether to push her hand away. He decided to let her be, fearing it would be in bad taste to refuse her companionship. The fact of the matter was he needed these guys. It was a fact he hated, but emotions did not change reality.

“Maybe a little.”

“I can help you loosen up.” The whore leaned in. “Might have to make you a little stiff first.”

Elliot hated male biology and the fact that it was responding so naturally to her charms.

“I appreciate it, but no.” He looked to Vance. “Where the hell is he?”

“What’s your rush?” Vance said.

“There’s a large animal on the loose. It’s killed a dozen people so far, and if we don’t act fast, it’ll kill more.”

“Ohhhh,” the woman said, twirling his tie around her finger. “You lose a pet?”

“Uh, no… well, yes. Not a pet, but…” The fact he was getting distracted by the stirrings in his loins angered him. He was better than that. He was an educated type. Disciplined.

Right. Disciplined. That’s why I’m working for the Boettiger Corporation.

Finally, the door on the left opened. Dressed in a white robe was Kai Zahn, a man who was a perfect blend of Caucasian and Chinese DNA. His build rivaled that of Felix’s, though he lacked the constant stern expression. His was rather indifferent, as if he was just passing the time.

Elliot could see one of the methods of killing time, grouped on the loveseat in Kai’s private room. The alpha left the door open as he walked across the room for a fresh bottle of whiskey. His jaw was clamped on a cigar, taking regular puffs while he filled a glass.

After taking a drink, he turned to greet his visitor. He cocked his head back, watching the interaction, or lack thereof, between Elliot and the woman next to him.

“What’s the matter? Too good for Mila?”

“Uh, no…”

“Why do you refuse her company? Here she is, just trying to make you feel at home, and you’re being rude.”

Elliot was at a loss. Why, Ralf? Why THESE guys of all people?

He relented and put his arm around Mila’s shoulder. She snuggled up next to him, pushing her breasts against his chest. The amount of time without female company quickly became apparent. Elliot did his best to ignore his body’s natural reactions and stayed on topic.

“What did Ralf Briggs tell you?”

Kai pulled the cigar from his mouth and took another drink of his whiskey, visibly disinterested in this favor. “Just that he lost an animal and needed me to track it and kill it. He also mentioned he’d leave the details to you.” He took a seat on the sofa opposite Elliot, then waited. “So?”

“You’ve hunted marine predators in the past, yes?”

Kai pointed at the walls. “I’m sure you’ve observed my exploits from all four oceans. Great whites, tiger sharks, bulls, a few large hammerheads. The best one was when I took a deep dive off the Coast of Japan. I am the only person to hunt and kill a giant squid.”

“Kai is an amazing hunter,” Mila said. “He had the submersible equipped with a net and a light for attracting prey. I saw the video. He snagged the monster and brought it to the surface, then killed it with a spear.”

Kai continued puffing on his cigar. “So, we’re hunting an ocean predator. What is it? A shark?”
“Funny you mention squids,” Elliot said.

Kai adjusted his posture, his interest elevated by that statement. “You’ve lost a squid?”

“Of sorts.”

“It seems silly to get your panties in a wad about it. Don’t they live in deep waters?”

“Not this one.”

“How dangerous?”

“Like I told your colleague, it’s killed a dozen people at least.” It made him sick to make that statement with the enthusiasm of stating a record score, but he knew it would snag Kai’s interest. Which it did. The hunter was leaning forward now, cigar dangling from his fingers.

“Sounds like your beast has quite a taste for man-flesh.”

“That it does.”

“And your company wants it taken care of before someone makes a connection between them and the casualties.”

“Correct.”

Kai looked to the wall behind Elliot, where the beak of the giant squid was propped, with the head of the spear he used to slay it.

“I suppose I wouldn’t mind another beak.”

“You’re the only person to kill a giant squid,” Elliot said. “How would you like to be the only person to kill a prehistoric squid?”

All four hunters took their attention off their booze and women, and looked at the doctor.

“The hell are you talking about? A prehistoric squid?” Vance said.

“That’s right,” Elliot said.

Kai chuckled. “That asshole Briggs has people working on all kinds of crazy shit. I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised he managed to resurrect a dinosaur squid. I’m sure he’s got somebody trying to genetically engineer a giant shark or whale. Or both.”

Elliot was taken aback by Kai’s general acceptance of this bombshell revelation, but then again, the guy had worked for Briggs before.

Mila rubbed his thigh. “Wow. You brought an animal back from the dead. You must be talented.”

He looked at her hand, failing to not get a glimpse of her breasts. “Uh, yeah.”

“So, it’s an ancient giant squid,” Kai said. “According to you, it likes the shallows. Sounds easy enough. We just need to figure out where it is, draw it up to the boat, and shoot it. Easy enough.”

Elliot raised his hand. “Uh, there’s one thing.”

Kai looked at him with interest. The tougher the hunt, the more violent the creature, the better in his eyes. “What?”

“This creature has an armored shell.” He reached for his phone, which required him to lean away from Mila. “Excuse me.” He pulled the device free and brought up a wide image of the creature, then presented it to Kai.

The hunter crossed the room and gave the photo a look. “The hell kind of squid is this?”

“Looks like it’s wearing a party hat,” Vance said.

“A party hat that can punch through the hull of a freighter,” Elliot said. “This species is from a genus called Orthoceras. It is called cameroceras. It lived during the Ordovician Period. It was believed to reach lengths of thirty-six feet long…”

“Let me guess,” Kai said. “Yours is bigger.”

“The shell alone is forty-feet,” the scientist replied. “The tentacles can stretch far beyond that. Its beak can make three-inch steel look like cardboard. As you mentioned before, it has developed a taste for human flesh. If you go out on a boat, you’ll be the bait.”

Kai handed the phone back. “And you’re planning to come with?”

Elliot nodded. “I have to see this through.”

“Figures. If you wanted a conscience, you should’ve picked better employment. Better yet, you shouldn’t have fucked with nature.” Kai strutted past him and opened up a safe in the back corner. He pulled out a long, brown hunting rifle. To a firearm-ignoramus like Elliot, it looked powerful enough to put a hole through a tank. At the very least, it was enough to reduce muscle tissue to cat food.

He downed his whiskey, staring at the ocean while pondering.

“Is there a tracker or something on this thing?”

Elliot shook his head.

Vance reacted with a deriding laugh.

Kai turned to look at the doctor, the look in his eyes mirroring his crewmate’s sentiment.

“You seriously expect us to search the open ocean for this thing?”

“I have a pretty good idea of where it is,” Elliot said. “The boat it attacked was southeast of the crash site. It’s headed toward the mainland, I’m thinking Vancouver Island. We can search around there and bait the thing. And I know exactly what it likes. Other than humans, that is.”

Another long minute of pondering took place. Instead of the window, Kai’s eyes were on the doctor, studying him thoroughly, as though scanning for any incompetence or dishonesty.

When the minute passed, Kai looked to his crew. “Felix, get the boat prepped and ready. Vance, go to the first-floor lobby and collect some groceries. Llew, go with Felix. Take this and the other rifles to the boat. Give the engine a good lookover. We leave tonight.”

Like trained soldiers, the men stood up and marched out the door without question.

Kai checked his watch, then started heading back to his room. “Doctor, we have a few hours before we leave. Mila will take you to the next room downstairs and keep you company. Rest of ya ladies are dismissed.”

“Uh…” Before Elliot could protest, the hunter slammed the door shut. Mila grabbed him by the shirt and led him to the stairway. They went down a floor to a room similar to the lounge. It was cleaner, untouched. Elliot took a seat on the sofa. Mila sat down next to him, putting an arm around his shoulders.

“I guess it’s just you and me.”

“Uh, yes. I’ve noticed.” He sat still, unsure of what to do.

Mila reached to the side table and filled two glasses with whiskey, handing one to the doctor. Resigned, he accepted it. It had been ten years since his last drink.

Considering what he and Kai were going after, he was going to need it.

CHAPTER 6

It was like waiting for a service repair on a car. After getting towed to the local boat maintenance center, Kristen had no other option than to wait in the lobby, while generic music blared from a speaker directly above her head. To the shop’s credit, they provided coffee and water, and had a couple of vending machines with better-than-average options. That did not take away from the fact that she was stuck there for five hours.

By the time the shop owner Donny Wishwell came in to give the bad news, she was practically braindead from boredom.

The look on his face said it all. Kristen stood up and mentally braced herself. At least the bill was going to the institute.

“Go ahead, Don. Spit it out. What kind of work are we looking at, here?”

He tightened his lips and flipped through the pages until he found a long list of columns, each one filled with text describing things they found wrong with the engine.

“I’d ask if you’d like me to sugarcoat this, but frankly, I couldn’t do that if my life depended on it.”

Kristen gave an anxious laugh, her hand fidgeting with her ponytail. “You make it sound like I might as well have run the boat into an iceberg and let it sink into the bottom of the ocean.”

“Well, that might’ve been a simpler way to ruin your boat.”

“Let me guess. Lack of maintenance. No oil, coolant?”

He gave her an inquisitive look. “So, you were aware of these issues?”

“I informed my superiors that the boat was in need of a tune-up,” Kristen said. “For an organization so concerned about the environment, they fail to realize that unmaintained boats tend to be, well, bad for the environment.”

“That they are,” Donny said. He held the paper toward her, then ran his finger down the list of issues. “The exhaust has been building up blockage over the course of a year, as far as I can ascertain. The engine had not been properly lubricated, leading to overheating of the pistons.” He flipped the page to an image of one of the pistons. “This is what happens when a piston overheats. See the rings? They’re stuck, or rather, frozen to the ring grooves. This causes blow-by into the crankcase. High exhaust emissions into the crankcase caused acid build-up in the lube oil, which resulted in bearing erosion, which in turn, led to bearing failure. Then there’s the issue of the gaskets…”

“Alright, I get it,” Kristen said. There was no point in getting the whole rundown. She would not understand most of it, anyway. Her expertise was marine research and water toxicity, not machine maintenance. “So, lay it out to me straight. Am I in need of an engine replacement?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Damn it. How long will this take?”

Donny shrugged. “I’m sorry to say, I don’t have the parts for such a boat. I have to have it towed to the mainland and have someone more familiar with that model see what they can do. As for how long that’ll take, probably a couple of weeks at best.”

Kristen turned and pretended to bang her head against the wall. “Great. Just great.”

“Hey, at least it’s the institute footing the bill, right?”

“Yeah, but I still have a crap ton of work to do. I’ve got more samples I need to take. I’ve got dolphins that have just migrated up here, who I need to get a look at. They’ve come all the way from Chile. I’ve got to see what’s changed with the pod.”

Donny rolled up the paper, unsure of what to tell her. There was no suggestion that would go over well. “Can’t the institute send you another boat?”

“They’re all in use.”

“Can’t they front the money for a rental, or to charter someone else’s boat for a while?”

Kristen scoffed. “Are you kidding?”

“Oh, right… Sorry.”

He wished he kept his trap shut. Most of the boat owners on this island were fishermen, and they were not particularly fond of Kristen after a run-in she had with Marcel Raimes. When one of the sharks she was tracking drowned after getting caught on an illegal drift net, Kristen took matters into her own hands. She knew that if she went to the sheriff’s office, her claim would get swept under the rug. The sheriff was a middle-of-the-road guy, not wanting to stir unnecessary tension between himself and the locals.

Taking matters into her own hands, she went on a private mission, pulling the net onto her boat, then shredding it with her tools. She then found several fish traps, which she happily destroyed.

A few days later, when she found another drift net, she ran into Marcel, who then warned the rest of the community that the lady scientist on the island was the girl-scout type. It did not matter whether the use of nets and traps was illegal. In their eyes, she screwed with the man’s livelihood. This led to a few altercations, which the sheriff had to deescalate. Since then, she avoided most of the locals at all costs.

“Ma’am?”

Kristen flinched, realizing she had gone down memory lane. “I’m sorry. Yes?”

“It’s nearing closing time,” Donny said. “You have a place to stay? I’m aware you’ve been staying on your boat all this time.”

“I’ll get a motel, then figure out what to do from there. Thanks.”

“Alright. You’ve got enough money?”

She chuckled. “Yes, Don. Abusing the institution’s credit card is something I have no problem doing.” She picked up her duffle bag and headed out the door. “Good night.”

“Night.”

Her smile disappeared as soon as she turned her back. There was so much work to be done, and only a limited window of opportunity to do it. While the institute would not hold the damages to the boat against her, they would not let her operate a brand new one. She was too low on the totem pole. Researchers like Dr. Jean Russo and Dr. Alan Foxworth, the two senior marine biologists, would be given access to the new vessel. In addition, the process would likely take a month at least, and there was no telling at this point if they would scrap the Scarlett Neptune or spend the money for repairs.

It appeared she was stuck with two options: stay on this island for a couple of weeks and waste time working on her tan, or head back to the mainland. Neither of which sounded preferable. She was a workaholic, dedicated to her career. Her drive was fueled by a genuine concern for the health of Mother Earth’s oceans, and there was evidence that the kelp forests held the answer to it all.

As she walked down the beach, she glanced at the water. A private charter was heading into port with a couple of amateur divers, who had just experienced one of the shipwrecks in the vicinity. Out of desperation, Kristen found herself considering Donny’s suggestion.

Would any of these guys charter their boat out to me? A revolting snivel came as a response. Who am I kidding? Of course they won’t. They’re a united front, dedicated to hating my guts.

“Yeah, I burnt that bridge,” she said to herself. “Seems I’m good at burning bridges around here. Marcel, the other fishermen, the sheriff, Colin…”

She stopped in her tracks. Colin Carver… “Last I heard, he hasn’t been working. He could probably use a little cash. Maybe I could rent out his boat.” She tensed at the thought. Seeing him again would be awkward as hell, considering how poorly their last encounter went.

Kristen turned her eyes to the ocean once more. She envisioned the beautiful kelp forests these waters contained, and the potential they had for ocean de-acidification.

The choice was simple. It was worth putting up with Colin again to do her part in saving the planet.

Barely.

CHAPTER 7

No two sunsets were ever the same on the West Coast. On the shores of Neah Bay, located right at the mouth of the Strait of Juan de Fuca, this was certainly the case.

Randy Hetbury found this to be one of many attractions of living his days on this oceanfront neighborhood. Sure, the winters were extra chilly, but the summers more than made up for it. Though, even with the snow, the view was gorgeous. Ever since he first visited this area at nineteen, he knew he would want to live here. One of the first hard lessons of life was the expense of oceanfront homes. If he wanted to reside here, he needed a heavy stack of coins.

Luckily for Randy, he was stubborn and persistent, something his mother used to gripe about when he was little. That trait which caused her so many headaches served to tightly pack Randy’s wallet.

At age nineteen, he got a job as a used car salesman. Right away, he learned he was blessed with the skill to bullshit people into purchasing anything in his lot, even the rattiest of machines. As far as he was concerned, there was always someone in need of a vehicle, and always someone on a miniscule budget.

As the years went by, he saved enough money to work at a larger dealership. There, his gift took him to new heights, making record profits for the company and earning him large bonuses in the process.

That drive which made him the number one salesman in two companies led to Randy opening up his very own dealership. For twenty-years, he surpassed every other dealership in net profits. Employees left rival companies in favor of his business, hoping to get a little piece of the pie.

Success led to marriage, and once the age of fifty drew near, retirement. It was an easy choice. Randy had worked nonstop eighteen-hour days for over twenty-years with the goal of eventually slowing down and settling in his dream home.

It was worth it.

Most summer nights, he stepped outside to admire the sunset. His wife, Amelia, was seated at the end of a long dock. She loved to dip her feet in the water and stare northwest into the Pacific. Like Randy, she had worked her fair share of long days over the course of twenty years. In her case, it was as a registered nurse in an assisted living facility. It was not a job for everybody, and the only reason she kept the job for so long was because she accepted a promotion after her first year on board. The earnings from that position surpassed anything offered at the regular hospitals, even if the workload was more desirable.

It didn’t matter now. She was retired from there, now working two days a week at a small clinic. They didn’t need the money, but it helped to keep her busy and to appreciate her time at home even more.

Randy took a moment to admire his wife. From afar, she easily passed for someone in her twenties. Hell, up close, she could be mistaken for someone in her mid-thirties at worst. Not bad for someone nearing fifty. His features had not aged quite as gracefully, probably a consequence of pursuing the almighty dollar. Looking at what that almighty dollar had bought him, however, he did not mind.

Amelia turned to look at him, her hair swaying gently with the breeze. She had watched a sailboat pass by. Often, she liked to guess where they were going. In most cases, it was the San Juan Islands. Some were tourist boats, taking sightseers from the countryside along the coastal areas.

“I think I’ve seen that one before,” she said. “Morgan Sydney. I think they’re heading to Port Angeles.”

“Wonder if that guy named that boat after himself,” Randy said. “Some of these guys are a little narcissistic.”

“Nah. I looked it up,” Amelia said. “Some guy in Michigan, I think. Not sure what’s so special about him.”

The sun began to sink into the horizon, its golden radiance gradually fading into black. The stars above were making themselves known, as was the moon. It was unobscured by clouds, promising the world below with a pale nightlight.

Randy shut his eyes and yawned. Being retired did not mean he didn’t keep busy. Currently, he was working on a series of nonfiction books, all of which were business related. He had turned down a job teaching business at the local community college. Grading papers and giving drawn-out lectures was not his forte. Plus, there was more money in books, so long as they were edited and marketed well.

The only downside was he spent hours on end staring into a computer screen.

“I’m beat,” he said. “I’m gonna turn in.”

“Alright,” Amelia said. “I’m gonna stay out a while. The fresh air is nice.”

“That it is. Unfortunately, it’s so nice that it’s relaxing me into a coma.” He yawned again. “I’d say ‘see ya when you come in’ but in all likelihood, I’ll be conked out.”

Amelia blew him a kiss. “Night, hon.”

“Night.”

She watched him vanish into the house and turn off the kitchen light. Swishing the water with her feet, she continued watching the sunset. It was nearing its conclusion, the water darkening with the approach of night.

There was something mesmerizing, yet fascinatingly haunting about the change in visibility. Often, her eyes tended to play tricks on her as the waters darkened. One time, she almost screamed because she thought she saw a shark closing in. She managed to spare herself the humiliation when she realized it was a kayaker traveling along the shallows. There was just something about the way the moonlight hit the hull which made it look like the snout of a great white or some other large shark.

Amelia quickly learned to control her reactions, as demonstrated by the way she watched a new mirage take place in front of her. Sometimes at night, the swells seemed larger than they really were. Sometimes a boat would pass by, concealed by the night, making it seem like the water was lapping ferociously on its own.

That’s what was happening now. The water splashed against the dock, pushed by some unseen force.

Amelia looked further out. It was strange that she didn’t spot any other boats in the bright moonlight. Not to mention there was still a fair amount of illumination coming from the horizon.

Even more odd was the fact that the water was continuing to lap, each swell heavier than the last.

She looked to her left and right. Were her eyes playing tricks on her again? The water was only lapping around the dock, not further down the shore.

Crashing waves drew her eyes straight ahead. The ocean seemed to part, unveiling what, underneath the pale moon’s glow, resembled a gigantic seashell. Protruding from its opening was a mass of red, leathery flesh with two bulging black eyes that stared directly at her. The center of that mass unveiled like a flower.

Ten slimy appendages invaded the dock.

Escape was impossible.

Amelia felt a wet, slimy python coil around her torso and lift her off the dock. The other arms seized the dock, attacking it as though it was a living entity, cracking the legs and boards as they tugged.

She screamed until the breath was driven from her lungs. Then she saw the destination where that horrible python was carrying her to.

At the center of the mass of tentacles was a curved, bony mouth. A beak. It parted, revealing a tooth-lined tongue.

She tried to scream again, but there was no breath to help her vocalize. Only when the tentacle loosened, was she able to draw breath. By then, all she could do was grunt and yelp as the tongue and beak churned her into a red soup that was slurped into the creature’s gullet.

The beast filled its body with seawater and expelled it, shooting it into the deeper waters like a torpedo, completely dragging the dock off of its roots in the process.

Randy had started drifting off the moment his head touched the pillow. The sound of screaming and crashing wood triggered an adrenaline rush the likes of which he never experienced before. He ran out the front door, stopping as he saw the remains of his twenty-foot dock spread out across the water. Everywhere he looked, he saw debris, and no Amelia.

CHAPTER 8

Irene Milton swiveled in the pilot chair, foot on the helm. It wasn’t hard to steer the small yacht. As long as they didn’t veer too closely to shore, those toes of hers were in perfect control.

It was a peaceful night. The sun had set, the light on the deck illuminating their path. She had cruised this journey a hundred times by now. Every summer, she and her friends happily took the boat up and down the Washington coast, and sometimes northwest along Vancouver Island. It was a nice way to get away for days on end, eat food, play games, get away from technology, and if guys came along, have another kind of good time.

This latest trip was rife with that. Jared Sanchrest was on the main deck behind her. He was wide awake, deep into his phone now that he could tap into the Wi-Fi. They had been going out for a month now, and it was still in the hot and heavy stage. They enjoyed each other’s company, did not annoy each other yet, and the sex still had that new, exciting feel to it.

It did not compare to the other couple, however. As soon as the sun went down, her friend Rebecca and her new fling were in their cabin. Their drunken exertion could be felt through the whole boat, sparking laughter from Jared.

Irene stomped her foot on the deck and leaned over the side. “Hey! Keep it down, will ya?” In direct defiance, their pleasured squealing grew louder, their motions twice as vigorous. She leaned back in her seat, hand on her forehead. “Good God, the animals.”

Jared climbed the ladder, peeking his head over the flybridge. “Aren’t you being a little hypocritical there?”

She smiled. “Maybe a little.” That smile faded, her attention going into the dark behind Jared. She stood up and put a hand to her ear. “You hear that?”

“How can I not?” Jared said. “You spurred them on.”

“No. Way back there,” she said, pointing to the west. “I think someone’s shouting?”

Jared turned around. The voice could barely be heard from this distance, but was there.

“Sounds like someone’s calling for somebody,” he said.

“I thought I heard something else from that direction,” Irene said. “Like… I don’t know… something breaking apart, I guess.”

Jared listened to the thumping from below. “Yeah. It’s probably the bunk.”

She slapped his hand. “I’m serious.”

“Ow.” He shook his hand while making a pouty face.

Irene cocked her head to the side. “You’re such a baby, you know that.”

“Hey, you’re the one who invited me out on this boat ride,” he said. He climbed the rest of the way up and put his hand on her thigh. “We’ll have to do it again.”

She gave him a kiss, then faced forward. There was still fifty miles to go before they reached Port Angeles. At this rate, it would take eight hours. It sucked to think tomorrow would be the last day of the trip, and it wouldn’t even be a whole day. Irene was both a nighthawk and an early bird, easily functioning on four-to-five hours of sleep. She would probably set out by seven-thirty the next morning, putting them on track to get home by three-thirty that afternoon.

First, she needed to reach Murray Anchorage. Unfortunately, it was against the law to just anchor anywhere, depending on what town she was nearby. She had gotten in trouble in the past, which caused her to only overnight in places that clearly allowed it.

Jared was watching the deck, amazed by the commotion underneath them. “Damn, they’re really going at it.”

“Thanks for reminding me, Jared.”

Thump!

Both of them jumped to their feet.

“The fuck was that?” Irene said.

“You hit something?” Jared said.

“No! We’re in thirty feet of water.”

“Well, you hit something,” he said. “Because I doubt that was caused by the wannabe porn stars down there.”

Right then, the lovebirds stepped out of the cabin, fixing their shirts and pants. Rebecca brushed her wavy hair behind her ears as she looked up at her companions.

“What was that?”

“I don’t know,” Irene said.

Clark, Rebecca’s boyfriend, kept to himself while the others debated on what happened. He was just grateful that it didn’t happen thirty seconds prior. His adrenaline was still flowing, his hands jittery. He watched the water, relaxing himself. The endless flow of ocean had a nice, swirling sound to it tonight. It was louder than usual, splattering on contact.

That adrenaline started rushing again when he realized that swishing noise was coming from inside the boat.

He rushed into the cabin and lifted a hatch which led into the engine room. Smoke erupted from the entrance. The splashing water was louder now, surging into the yacht through a rounded hole straight below.

“Oh SHIT! Guys?!”

Rebecca and Jared raced inside, both gasping at the sight of smoke. At that moment, the engine died.

“What’s going on?” Unable to throttle the boat, Irene joined the others down below. She pushed her way past Rebecca and Jared, then aimed a flashlight into the engine room. “Oh, Jesus!”

“Holy, crap,” Clark said. “It’s really filling up fast.”

“It fried the engine,” Rebecca cried. “We’re gonna sink.”

“I’ll get the raft inflated,” Jared said. He darted into the supply room and found the inflatable. He was outside in a heartbeat.

Irene kept her eyes on the damage, which was now invisible thanks to the steady inflow of water. Her heart pounded, her bladder suddenly alerting her to its fullness.

“I don’t get it. I didn’t hit anything.”

“You hit something,” Clark said. He held up his own flashlight which he used to inspect the damage. “There’s a breach. Perfectly round, like a big pencil got pushed into the boat.”

“Where did you say it was?” she asked.

He pointed down to the aft part of the room. “In the back.”

“That… makes even less sense,” she said. “That almost sounds like we got hit from behind.”

On the main deck, Jared held the inflatable in front of his face and read the instructions.

“Just pull the ripcord, huh?”

He gave it a tug, dropping the thing as it abruptly expanded with incredible force. Watching it inflate to its full size, he backed up to the guardrail. The intense hissing sound came to an end, making way for the surging of ocean water. The waterline was steadily climbing, the ocean coming alive all around the boat. The wind had not picked up, yet the water looked as though it was being stirred by an angry storm.

Jared looked over the transom, watching a single swell come at the boat. The deck lights illuminated a shade of grey under those waves. It was enormous, yet narrow in shape. Its end was pointed, the body widening further up its length.

Like a cone.

The vessel lurched with a loud cracking of hull and deck. Pieces of boat splintered all around him.

He spun and reached out with his hands, grabbing anything he could to stay upright. Falling against the transom, he turned his eyes to the cabin. It was splitting apart, the sides exploding outward. Through the starboard side, that cone tip emerged like the end of a spear.

The boat had literally been run through by this giant projectile.

Turbulence did the rest of the work. The thing shook, widening the breaches. Everyone inside was screaming as the overhead fell down on them. In that moment, his mind registered the fact that his girlfriend was in there.

Before he could do anything, the yacht split, the three friends seized by the swirling waves.

“Irene!”

The aft section of the boat began to spiral. His mind was lost in turmoil, the present chaos doing its worst on his psyche, abetted by the confusion of the large cone.

Jared heard a mass rising behind him. Reluctantly, he turned around, and immediately regretted it. His confusion and terror upon laying eyes on the numerous snake things dancing over the crashing waves.

With the speed of a striking cobra, one snatched him from the sinking wreckage.

Wiggling in the creature’s grasp, Jared screamed in horror, then in agony when he reached the beak.

Irene was turned around. Even after kicking her feet madly, she struggled to remain on the surface. Rebecca and Clark were somewhere straight ahead… whichever direction straight ahead was. No matter which direction she looked, she could not see the shore. For all she knew, she could be swimming toward the open Pacific.

Her attention was drawn to the left. Jared had screamed, then suddenly went silent. She turned to look, but struggled to see more than a few feet away thanks to the darkness and lapping water.

One thing did stand out from the night and wreckage. The big red raft was drifting toward her, spinning like a frisbee. She stroked her arms and kicked her feet, quickly closing the distance.

After hoisting herself aboard, she lay on her back, fully appreciating the sensation of the rubber hull. Never in her life did she ever believe she would have a real use for this thing. Now with her own safety assured, Irene needed to find the others.

She sat up and looked at the surrounding water. With her hands cupped to her mouth, she called out.

“Clark! Rebecca! Jared!”

“Over here!”

It was Rebecca’s voice, coming again from straight ahead. Irene squinted, finally spotting the lovers in the moonlight. They had miraculously found each other, and were now following the sound of her voice.

Their movements intensified when they spotted the raft.

“Oh, thank God!” Clark shouted, spitting water. They were twenty feet out now, and rapidly closing.

“Keep coming,” Irene said. “Come on. Just keep…” She stiffened upon seeing the rising swell behind them. The mountain parted, the waves soaring in opposite directions as if to flee the monstrosity that had risen. Its ten arms uncoiled, revealing its ugly mouth and black eyes.

They lashed out, seizing Clark and Rebecca simultaneously. The creature dangled its screaming victims in midair, admiring them for a moment. It had never seen such a display of terror before, and was intrigued by the unique human reactions.

Curiosity was not as imperative as satisfying its hunger. Rebecca was gifted to the beak first, her body reduced to minced meat after a few excruciating seconds.

Clark wriggled, desperately trying to summon the strength to escape. Like a rodent trying to escape a python, he only enticed his captor to squeeze tighter. And squeeze it did, snapping ribs and driving them into his internal organs. His arms snapped in numerous places, his spine herniating, his muscles contracting. The squid, not knowing its own strength, applied a little too much pressure.

Irene screamed as she watched the eyeballs literally pop out of his head. Stunned by the horror, she was unaware of the other tentacle stretching in her direction, until they sprang.

“NO!”

The tentacle lassoed her. Suction cups pulsed against her flesh, oozing ammonia. She failed to notice the stench and slime, as she was occupied with the horrible pain of bony hooks piercing her back, ribs, and stomach.

Kicking her legs, she was hoisted off the raft. The slimy arm angled her headfirst toward the mouth of the beast.

The creature extended its razor-lined tongue. In its teeth were ribbons of fabric, worn by each of her friends.

The hooks were yanked from her body, and in the blink of an eye, she was experiencing an all new pain. The beak clamped down, pinning her, while the tongue raked her flesh.

The beast swallowed, then licked its tongue, trying to shake off the four kinds of fabric that clung to it.

CHAPTER 9

When Colin Carver used to see movie characters squint when stepping into the sunlight after a night in jail, he believed it was dramatic exaggeration. Today, he realized it was an accurate representation.

The night had been long, boring, and in an odd sense, physically demanding, mostly due to the tossing and turning during his attempts to sleep. The bunk felt as though it was made of bricks, the toilet looking like it had not been cleaned in months, the wallpaper was practically coming off every corner of the cell.

Then there was the food. Going in, Colin had thought At least I’m getting a free meal out of this ordeal. As it turned out, he would have rather gone hungry. He could only describe his dinner as a ‘biscuit and gravy sandwitch thing’. It had to be a sandwitch, because only someone pure evil could create something so disastrous. It was up to code regarding the health code, but damn did it taste like garbage. Perhaps it was all intentional, a way of deterring people from getting arrested again.

Colin stepped through the lot, his head throbbing. Even now, he refused to acknowledge that he drank too much. In his hands were his possessions: a wallet, a set of keys, and a phone. A lot of good those would do. He had no money, his truck was still at home, and nobody liked him enough to take his call.

A month or two ago, he would have been bothered by this. Now, Colin was numb to it all.

He started walking. It wasn’t as though there was any rush to get home. Besides, he could use the exercise. There was a cost to his medicinal use of alcohol, not just for his liver, but for his midsection. He wasn’t quite fat yet, but he was on the pathway. His abs were gone now, covered by a new layer of insulation. It did not bother Colin too much—it wasn’t like he had anyone to impress.

“Hey!”

Colin stopped, recognizing that voice. His jaw tightened, his eyes squeezing shut. “Oh, great.”

“Well, that’s a funny way to thank the person who bailed your ass out.”

After sucking in a deep breath, Colin turned around and took in the sight of golden-brown hair, sunbathed skin, and a gaze from someone who was judging his appearance while maintaining a degree of professionalism. Dr. Kristen McCauley always looked as though she was in a courtroom setting. She was friendly and personable enough not to be displeasing, but also maintained a businesswoman tenor. There was hardly ever room for joke, or friendly banter in general. Today, she was no different.

Colin stuffed his items into his pockets, then scratched his now-five-day beard.

“Hi, Kristen. Or do you prefer Dr. Malarkey?”

“You mean McCauley?”

“Oh, right.”

Kristen closed her eyes, picking up on the insult. “Gosh, maybe I should’ve just let you rot in there.”

“They had nice air conditioning,” he said.

“Yeah? Yours not working at home?” she replied. Colin didn’t answer, as she predicted. “They turn the power off yet?”

“Give it time.”

“And now you’re wrecking business property,” she said.

Colin waved her off. “Nah, that’s a new hobby.”

“Well, let me tell ya: it wasn’t easy convincing the bar owner to not press charges,” she said.

“What do you want?” Colin said. He noted the slight tic in Kristen’s brow. “Yeah, I’m not as dumb as you believe. There’s no way you did me this ‘favor’ out of the goodness of your heart. You need me for something.” He clicked his tongue. “You’ve been working alone a lot lately. Maybe you’re in need of some…”

“If I wanted to fuck a sasquatch, I’d take a hike in the woods,” she said.

Colin cracked a smile, feeling his untrimmed beard. So much for that professionalism. In most of their past arguments, Kristen managed to keep herself composed, much like a schoolteacher did when reprimanding an unruly student. It was only the last one where that composure peeled away, giving him a taste of the wrath it subdued.

Her willingness to fire off insults meant one of two things: either she was still broken up over their falling out, or there was something else stressing her out. Colin’s next action would help determine which.

Pivoting to his right, he waved goodbye and started walking off. “Well, I appreciate the bailout. Nice seeing you again.”

She marched after him. “Wait. Hang on a sec.”

“I recall you explicitly telling me to walk the other way if I ever saw you again.”

“Colin, I need your help.”

He stopped and let those words sink in. She needed his help? How desperate could she be?

Colin turned to face her. “This ought to be good.”

Kristen puckered her lips. Colin braced for the next insult. For him, it was exciting seeing that side of her. She always had that closeted superiority complex disguised as competence to the point where it was ridiculous.

His disappointment was plain on his face when her typical demeanor resurfaced in full force.

“I have a proposition for you,” she said. “Long story short, my boat is out of commission. I have a lot of work I still need to do around here, and I can’t count on my institution to provide me a replacement in the near future.”

“Let me guess, you blew your engine,” Colin said. He spotted the subtle tics in Kristen’s expression, confirming his suspicion. He clapped his hands and laughed. “I knew it. I warned you, Doctor. That boat was giving you all the warning signs, and the ‘smarter-than-everyone else’ PhD happily ignored it.”

“I didn’t ignore it. As a matter of fact, I informed my boss about the issue…”

“And still continued using the engine even though it was a ticking time bomb,” Colin said.

Kristen maintained a military posture with her hands behind her back. The right hand was squeezing the left wrist, pretending it was Colin’s neck.

“I’ve spoken with the Dean. We are willing to pay you a sum of two thousand dollars per week for the use of your boat, assuming it is in your possession.”

“Of course it’s in my possession,” Colin said. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Kristen shrugged. “Considering your financial situation, I would not be surprised if it got repossessed.”

“No, that’s the one thing I actually do own,” he said. “Might end up living on it.”

“It’s easy money,” she said, uninterested in his commentary. “We’ll also cover fuel costs. I just need to borrow the boat and…”

“Oh… no!” Colin held both hands up and shook his head. “That boat goes nowhere without me. You can offer me a hundred grand, and it wouldn’t matter.” He dropped his hands and leaned towards her. “And no way could I possibly stomach spending a single day on the water with you, let alone weeks on end. God! The thought makes me sick. Ugh.”

His eyes widened. A headache quickly gripped his temples. His world appeared to spin. Then came the tightening of his stomach. All the warning signs were there, despite his attempt to suppress them.

No. I can hold my liquor better than this! I wasn’t drunk, goddamnit!

His stomach said otherwise.

Colin turned and hurled beside the driver’s side door of a parked car. Kristen turned away, visibly disgusted at both the sight and his behavior.

He wiped his mouth, then stood straight. “Uggggh! Shit! Whoever drives this thing is gonna be pissed.”

“That’s the sheriff’s car, I think,” Kristen said, looking away. After hearing him chuckle, she was fed up. “You know what? Forget it. I don’t know why I was so stupid to think this was a good idea. Take care of yourself, Colin.”

She walked away, got in a rental car, then took off.

Colin watched her pull out of the parking lot and on to the road. Good riddance.

He looked down at his mess on the pavement, then at the station’s front entrance. It was only a matter of time before the sheriff stepped out and saw him. Feeling a little more energized after clearing himself out, Colin walked north towards home. Luckily, Green Pastures was not a very big island.

CHAPTER 10

After only a few minutes of leaving the jail, Colin regretted not hitching a ride with someone. His stomach still felt like crap, and his feet were already protesting. He spent much of the night standing up, for the bunk was crap. He had read from various sources on the internet that inmates had better care than actual law-abiding people. The bunks were supposedly good quality, and the food in most cases met a high standard. Not the Green Pastures Police Department’s jail.

Jackasses.

By the time he got home, his feet were ready to fall off. He strutted to the front door and fumbled with his keys. Looking at the dim reflection in the door window, he noticed a particular oddity in his driveway. There was nothing between him and the dock. Absolutely nothing.

He turned around. “Where the hell is my truck?”

After looking back and forth, he noticed his mailbox propped open. He marched to it as if about to take his wrath out on the innocent post. Inside was a large tan envelope, stacked on top of a week’s worth of mail which he never bothered collecting.

Sure enough, inside that envelope was the repossession notice from the bank. He was four months late on payments and had failed to return the bank’s phone calls.

The bastards. There was no use searching for them. In all likelihood, they had already loaded it onto a ferry and taken it to Marysville.

“Whatever. Let ‘em have it. It was a piece of shit anyway.”

He let himself into the house, tossing the mail onto the coffee table as he strutted in. Immediately, he noticed the stale smell and the warm temperature. The air conditioning was off. The microwave had no clock on it, the desktop computer was off, and the inside of the fridge was warm.

The power had been shut off.

Colin plopped down on the couch, feet crossed on the arm. Hands behind his head, he stared at the ceiling. He figured he may as well enjoy it while it lasted. At this point, he knew it was only a matter of time before they would evict him from this house.

He was a man with no money, no truck, no job, and most importantly, no beer. All he had in the world was that boat.

The Sulfuric Raindrop was a seventy-eight-foot crab boat, capable of hauling over sixty-thousand pounds of catch. Owning a boat, especially one that size, was something desired by all fishermen. His possession of that great piece of machinery earned him more contempt from his fellow islanders. The boat was earned through hard work, just not his own.

His father, Raymond Carver, purchased the vessel in his final few years leading up to retirement. In those few years, he set out over three-dozen times on voyages lasting nearly a month each. His earnings allowed him to pay the vessel Sulfuric Raindrop.

Colin had started working with his old man at the age of eighteen, working his way to first mate after seven years. For another twelve years, he worked regularly with his dad. After Raymond’s retirement came a gift that could not be exaggerated.

“I don’t want you bogged down with expenses,” he had said. “Good luck, Captain.”

Colin stared at the ceiling. He missed his old man, but at the same time, he was glad he wasn’t around to see the walking humiliation he had become. Colin kicked off his boots and shut his eyes. His stomach was playing games, settling down for a few minutes, only to act up again.

It was more annoying than uncomfortable. There was no chance of getting a nap in while it felt as though his stomach was doing summersaults. Fed up, he swung himself off the couch to grab some Tums.

His feet hit the coffee table, scattering the mail. Colin didn’t even pay it a glance. Most of them were bills and notices anyway. He went to the bathroom, crunched a couple of Tums tablets in his teeth, then returned with a bottle of water.

Upon returning, his eyes went to one of the envelopes. Its seal was shaped like a sun with a red stick figure person in the middle. He picked it up and looked at the return address.

Rehab Dynamics.

He opened it and read the letter.

To the parent or guardian of Stevie Carver,

After the 1st of September, the coverage from Blue Cross Blue Shield will have reached its conclusion. To continue providing treatment for Stevie, we will either require a renewal of this plan, coverage by a new provider, or out of pocket payments. We understand these are hard times, and we are willing to assist in any way we can to continue providing treatment.

Colin read the letter twenty times, while trying to convince himself of the reasons they had mailed it out.

Maybe it’s just a fiscal year thing… except I would have received this in June. Maybe Sarah’s job switched providers. Or perhaps there was a screwup in the paperwork.

He dug out his phone and found Sarah Malkah’s name. Hitting the send button made him clench his jaw. The last time he had spoken to her was three months ago, and that was only to tell her money was tight. If only he knew how bad it was gonna get…

“Well, well, well. I was starting to think I would never hear from you again.”

“Hello to you too, Sarah.”

“You want to speak with Stevie?”

“Eh, maybe in a little bit.”

He heard her scoff. “You know he likes hearing your voice. The fact that he still recognizes it is a testament to his memory.”

“I didn’t ask you to move out there, Sarah.”

“Really, Colin. You’re not wasting time with excuses and semantics, are you?” She sighed, the way someone did when they pitied someone. “What do I owe the pleasure?”

Colin had to give her credit for the smooth delivery. Had he not known her so well, he would not have picked up on the sarcasm.

“Is Stevie still going to the rehab place?”

“Y—yes. Yes he is.”

There was a shift in her tone that he didn’t like.

“Is something wrong?”

“Everything’s fine, Colin.”

“Right. You would certainly tell me if things weren’t okay…”

Another sigh. “Sure.”

Colin clenched his jaw again. Uh-huh. Sure.

“What’s the matter? This letter here is saying the Blue Cross Blue Shield coverage is ending in September. Is your job switching providers?”

“Don’t worry, Colin. I’ll work something out.”

“Can you give me a straight answer, please?”

“Alright, fine. I got laid off.”

“Huh?”

“CEO got caught spying on an ex-employee. In a nutshell, it led to court. Word got around, which eventually led to less profits. So, they decided to cut some costs.”

“What are you doing for money?”

“I’m working at a gas station for now until I can get back on my feet.”

It was all making sense now. No way was that minimum wage job offering any decent benefits, even if she was working full time.

“What about Stevie’s therapy?”

Sarah scoffed again. “You won’t even talk to him on the phone, and you’re nagging me about his therapy bills?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to talk to him…”

“Colin, you’re off the hook, alright. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna hire a lawyer and go after you. I know you have your own issues right now. Please get yourself in order. I’ll take care of Stevie.”

“Wait. How much do they need for the rest of the year?”

“Does it matter?”

“How much?”

“Ugh. Twenty-four thousand. It’s expensive therapy.”

This time, it was Colin who sighed. Paying that out of pocket on a gas station salary? It would never happen. At best, they would continue the sessions and put her on a payment plan, which would accumulate interest over time.

“Hang on, I’ll figure something out.”

Sarah chuckled. “Colin, like I said, don’t worry about it. I’ve taken care of Stevie so far. I’ll come up with something before the insurance runs out.”

“Sarah, no offense, but you only have a GED. You got lucky to land that managing position at the warehouse. Everywhere else, you might have to start at the bottom. Might be a few years before you climb far enough up the ladder.”

“Thanks for reminding me. Look Colin, I gotta go. I’m running late for work. Do yourself a favor, and don’t stress, alright? Good talking to you. Take care.”

She hung up.

Colin tossed the phone on the table, then leaned back on the sofa, staring into the depths of the living room. His eyes eventually went to the bookcase. Even now, five years after splitting up, he still had the photo of him and Sarah in the hospital with little baby Stevie. Most other pictures with her were removed and stuffed in the attic, but that one stayed. Once in a while, he was tempted to remove it, but never came around to it. Maybe it was the ‘what could have been’ mindset. He had a shot at a good family life, but blew it. Plus, it was the reminder that Stevie was always that precious baby boy.

Colin did not take the autism diagnosis well. On his first birthday, they knew something was wrong. He smiled occasionally, but not nearly enough for a baby that age. He rarely made eye contact, and he frequently bumped his head repeatedly against the wall or sofa. As he got older, he easily got upset, and was non-vocal. The worst part were the violent temper tantrums. It was not a case of the terrible twos. The poor young fella was easily overstimulated and unable to convey his emotions properly.

The rift between Colin and Sarah was like a crack in a long sheet of ice, gradually expanding, until it caused a split. She and Stevie moved to Olympia, and Colin stayed behind, burying himself in booze and work, until the latter was stripped away from him.

Up until now he took solace in knowing the kid was getting the care he needed.

“That damn CEO. Had to screw everything up.”

Colin did not consider himself a good father, but beneath his self-pity was a shred of conscience.

He needed to make twelve grand fast. Pursing his lips, he looked through the window at his boat.

Begrudgingly, he phoned Kristen’s number. To his surprise, she picked up.

“Hey. About that offer…”

CHAPTER 11

It came as no surprise for Dr. Elliot Alere to learn Kai had named his vessel the Alpha Predator. Like his penthouse, the seventy-foot boat was decorated with his former glories. Shark teeth lined the forecastle, and the bow. Teeth from various species were attached to the hull in demented fashion, forming a gaping mouth. Adding to the image were two eyes spraypainted behind the ‘upper jaw’.

Elliot stood portside aft, doing his best to ignore the uncomfortable presence of Kai’s crewmen. The stone-faced Felix stood by a tarp, which resembled a teepee on the aft end of the boat. It was a silly way to conceal the large harpoon gun mount, but it worked. The harpoon gun itself was sealed in a long, metal case on the starboard side. Vance was seated on it, feet crossed, nonchalantly reading an 80’s Playboy magazine. Meanwhile, Llew was in the galley, getting some shuteye, and sparing Elliot the displeasure of his presence.

Numbed by silence, the biotechnologist was left with nothing to do except scroll through his tablet. It wasn’t for naught, as he was using it to keep an eye out for any unusual news anywhere near Vancouver.

To his dismay, the reports he found were closer—in the Strait of Juan de Fuca.

“My God,” he said. He looked to the flybridge, where Kai Zahn steered the boat, a tobacco pipe clenched in his teeth. Dressed in blue jeans and a leather vest, he looked more like a biker than a hunter. Elliot resented being at his mercy, but there was no avoiding reality. “Kai?”

“Yes, Doctor?”

“Where are we?”

Kai removed the pipe from his jaw, then turned, anticipating a complaint about the delay in their departure. Getting a winch capable of hauling a forty-ton creature in short notice was not easy. This was no great white or tiger shark. This was a creature whose length, with its arms outstretched, nearly rivaled the blue whale.

In the hours during prep, Kai went over his gameplan on how to hunt the thing. To sum it up, the plan was to lure it to the surface with bait, then hit it in the head with a harpoon. While the beast struggled with the snare, he would gun it down with a rifle powerful enough to put down an elephant.

“Listen, Doc, I know we had a late launch, but that’s what happens when you’re hired on the spot.”

“No,” Elliot said. “Where are we?”

Kai dropped his hand to his thigh, fed up. “A few miles north of Port Angeles. Why?”

“I think it’s close.”

“Close? I thought you said this thing would show up near Vancouver Island?”

“I was wrong,” Elliot said. “I found some articles from last night. A private dock in Neah Bay was destroyed yesterday evening, and the woman who was on it is missing. Then, just a couple miles east of that location, the remains of a small yacht were found adrift. No explanation. No storms, nothing.”

Kai smirked, then took a draw from his pipe. “That’s an awfully long distance for that thing to travel in a day and a half.”

“It’s not unheard of,” Elliot said. “Whales are known to migrate over a hundred miles in a single day. And we’re talking about an intelligent predator with jet propulsion, and an overwhelming desire to find suitable territory.”

Vance folded his magazine and stuffed it in his back pocket. “Anything else other than those two reports?”

“What?” Elliot shrugged and shook his head. “Those not enough for you? You think the dock just fell off the shoreline? No, it was pulled out from the roots.”

“What he means is ‘is there anything else to help us narrow down the search’?” Kai said.

Elliot noted the relief in his voice. In a way, he couldn’t blame him. Though he was certain of the squid’s trajectory, finding it in the open ocean was still a longshot. The fact that it had likely entered the strait made their task much easier.

He scrolled through his tablet for several minutes, then shook his head. “Not that I can see. Then again, my internet is spotty.”

“Hang on.” Kai twisted a knob on his radio. The audio that came through the speakers was not news or music, but Coast Guard radio transmissions. “If we’re lucky, it killed someone else within the last couple hours. At the very least, we’ll have an idea of how far it’s gone.”

Elliot glared at the hunter, tempted to tell him off for that idiotic, insensitive comment. He kept his lips zipped, knowing that speaking out ran the risk of getting him thrown overboard.

“Yeah, we have another one over here.”

“How big?”

“Mature, that’s all I can say. I can’t tell you much more. It’s pretty messed up.”

“Copy that. That makes three. We’ll have to speak with the Canadian Coast Guard and alert them of the situation. In the meantime, I want regular chopper patrols around the Great Chain for the next twenty-four hours. It’s not normal for dead grey whales to randomly turn up around here.”

“Could’ve been orcas, Lieutenant.”

“Maybe, but I’ve never seen them do THIS much damage.”

Kai turned the volume down, then came about. “Looks like your boy is heading northeast, Doc.”

“And had a snack on the way,” Vance added.

Elliot took a seat, his sciatica radiating in his left leg. He returned to the Noah Bay report on his tablet, then closed out the window.

That was two more people dead, thanks to his work.

CHAPTER 12

The kelp forests near Green Pastures and the San Juan Islands were seeing a new explosion in the sea urchin population. On the outer edge of the forest west of the island, Kristen discovered nearly an acre of devastated kelp ravaged by these spiny creatures. In northern California, they were considered to be a massive problem, and the same was starting to happen around Washington State’s archipelago.

Four species of sea urchin populated the straits around the San Juan Islands, though only two of them were commercially harvested. Divers return to the same spot year after year to harvest the urchins into large baskets or nets. In the past year, over three-hundred-thousand pounds of urchins were harvested, a number that would probably have doubled if not for weight limits imposed by the federal government.

Generally, overfishing was something that concerned Kristen. However, in the case of sea urchins, she was less critical of this issue. The spiny little creatures were voracious and overpopulated. Their numbers now in the hundreds of millions, they were wrecking kelp forests all along the West Coast. Part of that issue was the decline in their natural predators. Sea otters were one of nature’s key elements in keeping sea urchins in check. Unfortunately, their numbers had been drastically reduced in the 18th and 19th centuries. Fortunately, their numbers were on the rise again, but their period of endangerment allowed for an explosion in urchins.

Kristen snapped several photos of the underwater deforestation and the little red bodies that caused it. Several yards up ahead was a marker, planted by her two weeks prior, showing the then-limit of the urchin invasion. Small and expressionless, they did not look like much, but in fact these things were ravenous. A single female could lay over a hundred-thousand eggs.

If the kelp forest was to survive, and subsequently the ocean, something would need to be done about the urchin population.

Kristen secured a new marker at the end of the devastated area, then ascended for Colin Carver’s boat.

She arrived on the starboard side, tossing her flippers aboard before waiting for Colin to help haul her up. Being a crab boat, the Sulfuric Raindrop was not equipped with a diving deck. There was a hull-side door, but not equipped with a ladder. This wasn’t a problem, so long as there was someone on deck to help her up.

“Hey, Colin?”

She kicked and paddled, trying to keep afloat. Being a muscular person, she sank pretty easily and had to really work to keep her head above water.

“Hey! Colin! I’m ready to come up! Where are you?”

After calling twice more, she got fed up. She reached as high as she could, barely grabbing the edge of the deck with her fingertips. It was now that those chin-up exercises she often performed at the gym came into use. Gritting teeth, she hauled herself aboard. Colin was nowhere to be seen on deck. Either he was below, or up in the wheelhouse.

She removed her tank and rebreather, then climbed a ladder to the structure. She barged into the wheelhouse, finding Colin in his seat, a magazine in his hand, and a grin on his face. He looked up, his expression shifting into one of mild surprise.

“Hey! You’re back already.”

“Right. Called you like five-hundred times,” she said. “I told you before we set out that I would need help getting aboard.”

Colin closed the magazine and leaned back. “Sorry. Guess I didn’t hear ya.”

Looking at the lude images on the cover, it was not difficult for Kristen to guess why.

“And you wonder why I dumped your ass,” she said.

“Oh, wow!” he said. “I predicted we’d make it a whole day before you started firing the heavy guns.”

“You make it pretty easy,” she replied. “But instead of going to war with each other, could we just go to the next location? Please?”

Colin took the opportunity to cool his jets. Kristen was good at deescalating these arguments before they got out of hand. Then again, she did start them, but still, it was nice to have the opportunity to hit the brakes early on.

“Yes, ma’am.” He tossed the magazine aside then stood at the helm. “Where are we going this time?”

“The south drop,” Kristen said. “There’s a red buoy I placed there. That’s where we’ll anchor next.”

Colin stepped outside and climbed to the main deck. With the winch control system, he raised the anchor. Pieces of reddish-brown leaves came up with the chain.

“The damn vegetation is so thick down here,” he said.

“That’s a good thing,” Kristen said from the fly deck. “In fact, we need more of this. There’s a lot of damage being done to the kelp forest. If we lose too much of it, it could have a severe impact on the entire ocean.”

After bringing the anchor up, Colin returned to the wheelhouse.

“They’re just plants.”

“Very important plants,” she replied. “It’s a bigger deal than you think. Just like normal forests. You think there’d be no global consequences if the Amazon Rainforests burned down?”

“I think they’d grow back. Nature kind of designed them that way.”

“Not if they’re destroyed faster than they can regenerate,” Kristen said. “Like rainforests, kelp forests create microclimates, provide habitats for many species, soak up the sun, are photosynthesizing, and most importantly—Eh, why am I explaining this to you?”

“Nah, go right ahead,” Colin said.

Kristen noticed the little smirk on his face as he started the engine back up and turned the boat about. He wasn’t legitimately interested in whatever she had to say, but for some reason, he was amused by her passion.

She couldn’t help herself in this instance.

“The ocean is being heavily affected by climate change. Over acidification is destroying hundreds of species. This is caused by an overabundance of carbon dioxide in the water. That’s what scientists mean when they reference greenhouse gases. The kelp forests absorb this carbon dioxide, and in essence, they help de-acidify the water.”

That smirk was still on Colin’s face, irritating Kristen further. While good at avoiding most arguments, this topic was the one thing she could not let go of. It was maddening for so many people to blatantly ignore these issues facing the world. She referred to it as the ‘who cares, it won’t affect me’ syndrome.

“Here’s a question for you…” he said.

“Yeah?”

“How much oxygen does kelp produce?”

Kristen perked up, not expecting that question from him. Maybe she was wrong; perhaps he was willing to educate himself on this environmental issue.

“A lot. Algae and kelp produce over seventy percent of the oxygen in the Earth’s atmosphere.”

“Okay. How long does kelp live?”

“Giant kelp can live up to seven years, roughly.”

“How much kelp is in the ocean?”

Wow. Maybe he is genuinely showing interest.

“It takes up around twenty-five percent of the world’s coastlines,” she said.

“What’s the newest product or invention made from kelp?”

Okay, somewhat strange question, but sort of relevant.

“Well, scientists are currently trying to develop it as a bio-fuel,” she replied.

“When’s my birthday?”

Kristen grimaced, her eyebrows nearly raised to her hairline. “What?”

Colin turned to look at her. “You heard me. When’s my birthday?”

“When’s your… what the hell does that have to do with anything?”

“I know yours. March 21st, 1986,” Colin said. “I’ll give you an easier one. What’s my dad’s name?”

“Your dad? Uh… John!”

“Jake, but good try though.”

Kristen groaned. “Okay, Colin. What’s your point?”

“Your parents are Michael and Kesha, and they live in Salt Lake City.”

“Again, what’s your point?” Kristen said.

“My point is you’re so obsessed with your field of study that you don’t pay attention to the people around you. Hence, you’ve never held a relationship for more than three months. You blame the other guy, but the fact is, you’re barely even half-interested in the personal lives of your peers. Some might call that obsessed.”
Kristen looked at the magazine, then at him.

“Really? I’m gonna be lectured about personal relationships by someone who couldn’t hear me yelling because he had his face in a porn book?”

Colin chuckled. “Well, when you put it that way…”

“And don’t get me started on your self-medication with alcohol.”

That grin of his started to fade. “I might go a little heavy from time to time…”

“Sure. If we consider a gallon of whiskey a day as a little heavy…”

“It’s not a gallon!”

“Might as well be,” Kristen said. She paused, letting the silence defuse their rising tempers. “Listen, I know what happened on your last voyage. I’m sorry about your crewmen. Having two men die in a fishing accident, then losing your commercial fishing license—I know it’s got you feeling wrecked inside. But I don’t think it was your fault. There’s great risk that comes with working at sea.”

Colin’s face hardened. He turned around, his elbow on the helm.

“Their names were Lawrence Riley and Mark Cater. I’ve worked with them since my dad was captain. And yes, it is my fault.”

Kristen didn’t know what to say. She had stumbled into uncharted territory with this subject. All she knew was that a couple of weeks after she ended her relationship with Colin, he had set out for a crabbing voyage. At some point, they encountered rough weather. Two of the men went overboard and were never recovered. After a week of searching, Colin was forced to report back to port. Due to a reckless decision to fish in rough waters, he was stripped of his license. He was not charged with any crimes but prohibited from obtaining a commercial fishing license of any type.

“We’re here,” he said, pointing fifteen degrees port at the red buoy.

“Yep, that’s it,” she said, relieved to get a segue from their awkward conversation. “I’ll head out and drop the anchor for ya.”

“Sounds good. I’ll be in here.”

Figured as much. Kristen climbed down and went for the winch control. She dropped the anchor onto the seabed, then began collecting her materials. She needed pH samples from this end of the kelp forest, which would be compared to samples taken from the entrance of the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Part of the experiment was to find an area with higher levels of acidification and transplant some kelp to see if they would increase the pH levels.

She pulled her flippers back on and strapped her scuba tank over her shoulders. Anticipating a lack of assistance from Colin, she tossed a lifeline into the water to help herself climb aboard.

Down she went.

Splash.

Once again, she was right where she belonged. No matter how depressed or stressed Kristen felt, she was always at peace when in the water. Sometimes, she wished she had been born a porpoise or an orca. Some people are just drawn to certain things. For some, it’s art. For others, it’s the wilderness. Some found their purpose in building things, while others found joy in tearing them down. For Kristen, it was aways the ocean.

Perhaps Colin had a point. She had spent so much time addicted to the water that she failed to devote attention to other important aspects in life. She didn’t have much family. Those who were still alive, she spoke with only a few times out of the year. She had even fewer friends. In fact, she really thought of them as colleagues.

Her real friends were down here, in the kelp forests of Green Pastures and the San Juan archipelago.

The first of those friends was a kelp greenling. Its color perfectly matched the kelp blades, making it barely discernable as it clung to a lower branch. Kristen took a moment to admire the nine-inch fish before proceeding to the end of the forest.

After a few yards, she stopped. A smile took form under her rebreather as she watched a ten-foot-long salmon shark emerge from the canopy. Dark grey in color, it cruised on by, taking little notice of the human inhabiting this portion of the forest. Its lower jaw parted from its short, cone-shaped head to allow water to pass through its gill slits.

Hey fella.

Kristen inched forward, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the amazing fish as it swam by. All of a sudden, she felt the urge to go cage diving. It was a favorite pastime of hers. She would lower a shark cage in fifteen feet of water, then hand out dead mackerel or salmon to sharks. It was amazing how gently some of the sharks accepted the offering, as though they knew how fragile the human companions were.

She resisted the urge to pet it. Sharks were not nearly as violent as depicted on screen, but still, there was a reason cages were used when interacting with them. With that in mind, Kristen settled for watching the shark glide through the kelp forest.

It moved with an angelic grace, gently weaving between the huge redwood-colored stipes. It turned to its left and made its way toward the end of the forest.

All of a sudden, the fish slowed. Huge stipes, stretching to the surface level, suddenly parted in opposite directions.

Kristen felt her heart thump in her chest. A huge section of forest had just parted like a battery of soldiers making a lane for their commander. There was no current that would cause such a phenomenon. Only titanic physical force could move kelp like that.

Indeed, it was titanic.

The thing rose like a military submarine, its shape rounded and narrowing toward the tip. From a distance, it reminded Kristen of seashells she used to find on the beaches of Maine. Except this one was forty feet long, and certainly not empty.

When Kristen saw the huge head, she immediately came to realize two facts: Not everything in the ocean was her friend; and she was in incredible danger. Its flesh was as red as blood, its eyes as black as sin. The beast looked like something regurgitated out of the bowels of hell. Its arms resembled those of a giant squid. All ten were lined with suction cups, each one concealing a curved claw, resembling a cat claw.

One noticeable difference, aside from the huge cone shell, were the elongated claws that protruded from the tip of each tentacle. Each one was at least three feet long and crescent-shaped, bringing to mind the sickle-shaped khopesh sword wielded by ancient Egyptians. Like fingernails, they protruded from the tip of each arm, waiting to impale anything unfortunate enough to be within reach.

The salmon shark recognized the threat and turned around, fluttering its caudal fin. Its speed was outmatched by the deadly instruments of its attacker. Like a cluster of cobras, the tentacles lunged after the fish. One of the sickle-shaped claws plunged into its back, snaring it. Like a fish on a line, the shark twisted and turned, desperately trying to free itself. The tentacle coiled around the shark, constricting it, then delivered it to the enormous beak.

Backing away, Kristen could not help but watch as the beak parted, and the slithery tongue protruded. Lined with teeth shaped like boxcutter blades, it wiggled like an earthworm. The beak pinned the fish, allowing for the slimy appendage to saw it into bits.

As the squid fed, it slowly turned until its eyes were pointed at the little human in the distance.

Her fascination vanished, leaving her with panic.

Kristen shot for the surface, blowing air bubbles in her attempts to scream. She could feel the current under her flippers, indicating the thing was moving in her direction. The kelp bent to the north, like trees in gale-force winds.

Kristen emerged alongside the Sulfuric Raindrop and spat her rebreather out.

“COLIN! HELP!”

This time, the crab boat captain heard her cries. He stepped out of the pilothouse, partially annoyed.

“The hell’s the matter with you?”

“THERE’S SOMETHING IN THE WATER!”

Recognizing her panic, and the strange swirling of water behind her, Colin quickly realized she was not exaggerating. He free-fell to the main deck, landing on his heels, then ran for the hull-side door. Kristen was already grabbing the lifeline. He grabbed the rope and hoisted her onto the deck.

The water beneath her contorted into a violent surf, twisting and swirling, until the immense force behind it showed its ugly face.

“JESUS!” Colin shouted.

The beast did not hesitate to start its attack. Clawed tentacles lashed out, scraping the hull. Others coiled beneath the keel, attempting to secure a grip. The boat rotated in place, the squid parting its beak.

Dodging leathery arms, Colin and Kristen ascended the ladder and disappeared into the wheelhouse.

The engine came alive with a roar, the propellors blasting a current in the boat’s wake. The Sulfuric Raindrop raced several yards, only to stop suddenly.

“SHIT!” Colin shouted, looking behind him. In the hysteria, he had forgotten to raise the anchor.

“Oh God! It’s gonna pull us under,” Kristen said.

Colin reached into a compartment under the coffee table, then pulled out a Mossberg 590 Shockwave pump action 12-guage. He loaded the shells, feeling the stern begin to tilt into the water.

“Not today,” he said. He pumped the shotgun, grabbed a machete and a flare gun, then went for the door.

“Colin!” Kristen said, her eyes riddled with fear.

“If I have to go out, might as well do it like Captain Nemo. Stand by with the throttle.”

Colin sprang from the door, and for the second time, jumped to the main deck. One of the huge tentacles wavered over the cargo hatch, its black talon slicing the air with each movement.

A blast of the shotgun blew a hole in the arm, forcing it to retract into the water.

“Gonna have to work for your meal!” Colin shouted. He opened fire at the other tentacles that ascended, the buckshot stinging the flesh and forcing them back.

He reached the anchor and brought it up.

The retraction was excruciatingly slow. The gears grinded, the chain seemingly reluctant to return to the ship.

Another tentacle lashed at him. Colin yelped and fell backward. The tentacle lashed above him, its suction cups pulsing, the tiny hooks emerging from their centers. It searched around, swinging inches over his face, dripping ammonia. Colin winced, surprisingly more annoyed than frightened. He pumped the shotgun and pressed the muzzle into one of the suction cups.

BANG!

Bits of flesh flew from the exit wound on the other side. The tentacle retracted, leaving behind a trail of blood.

Colin was back on his feet. He looked down at the anchor chain. Finally, the damn thing was up.

“Kristen! Gun it! Gun it! Gun it!”

The engine roared, the propellors spiraling to maximum speed. The boat raced forward, only to stop once again.

Colin fell to his knees. “The hell…”

The bow swung back and forth, teetering up a second time.

Colin rose to his feet and looked to the water. The squid was not giving up. Its head had surfaced, its arms grasping the port and starboard quarters with their suction cups.

With incredible strength, it was managing to pull the seventy-eight-foot boat into the water.

“Colin! I can’t break free!” Kristen shouted.

He aimed the shotgun and squeezed the trigger. Click!

“Shit!” He tossed the empty weapon down, then pulled the flare pistol from his waist. He took aim at the creature’s eye and fired. A blazing ball of fire struck at the corner of the squid’s right eye.

All ten tentacles released the boat and flailed around the burning area. The boat leveled out and jetted from its reach.

Kristen turned about and pointed the bow toward the island, breathing several deep breaths on the way.

Colin stepped inside, thoroughly exhausted and smelling of ammonia. He breathed through his mouth, simultaneously alarmed, fascinated, and oddly enlivened by what had just occurred.

“Ooookay!” he said. “Did not expect that to happen.”

“My God,” Kristen muttered. For the next few moments, she could not keep herself from repeating that phrase. “It can’t be! It’s impossible!”

“Well, it’s possible. Whatever that thing was…”

“We need to report this to the sheriff.”

“That’s fine,” he said. “What the hell was that thing? Some kind of squid?”

“Not just any squid…”

CHAPTER 13

Sheriff Grant Brookman looked at the printout image, then at Kristen. The look in his eyes said it all. The forty-nine-year-old sheriff was not believing a word of what Kristen McCauley or Colin Carver had to say.

“Uh-huh…”
“We’re serious, Sheriff,” Kristen said. “One of these things is swimming in the kelp forests surrounding this island. You need to shut down all boating activity and, pardon the cliché, close the beaches.”

Grant chuckled, then faced the image in their direction. “Right. You’re expecting me to believe this shit?”

Colin stared at the image of the cephalopod with the cone-shaped shell.

“Yes.”

“Right.” Grant shoved it in his hands. “I’ve seen a lot of practical jokes in my time. You know I once had a couple of morons fake their deaths on North Beach one time? One of them had a blue raft with a makeshift dorsal fin on it. They were swimming a couple of hundred feet out, far enough for the raft to look like a shark from the beach. So, the shark-raft swims to one of the other friends, who pretends to get attacked. He starts spraying ketchup from a small bottle he snuck out there, making everyone believe he was being torn to bits.”

“Sheriff, do I look like a practical joker to you?” Colin said.

Brookman snorted. “Is that a serious question? Dare I bring up the Wheedon incident?”

“The Wheedon incident?” Kristen looked at Colin. “What did you do?”

He balked, aghast at the fact she would assume he was guilty of something inappropriate. “Nothing!”

“Nothing. Right,” Grant said. “I’ll tell you what happened, Miss. A month or so ago, this dipstick decides he wanted to get a bite to eat at Weller’s Hot Dog Lounge on Sunrise Street. Sounds harmless, right? Just a guy getting lunch. Well, not so much when you’re smelling of booze and have your fly open when you step up at the window.”

Kristen stared at Colin like a disappointed mother, or worse, an annoyed girlfriend.

“So,” Grant continued, “this dummy tries to order something. They deny him service, understandably. Then, one of my officers, John Wheedon—who happened to be having lunch there at that time—intervenes. He tells Colin to leave, and eventually, he complies. Or so John thought. As John went to speak with the manager about the issue, Colin sneaks back in. At this point, he’s wearing a hat and a windbreaker, which disguised him just enough for nobody to take notice in the five seconds he was back in the building. He goes right for John’s plate, takes the hotdog out of its bun, and puts a dildo in its place.—and don’t ask me where he got all that stuff. Then again, knowing Mr. Carver, I wouldn’t be surprised if he just happened to be wandering around town with a dildo in his truck.”

Kristen shot Colin another look. He cringed, initially embarrassed. Then a devious grin took form.

“Well… the look on that idiot’s face when he bit into the not-hotdog…” He snorted, then burst into laughter.

“Colin!” Kristen said.

“Case and point,” Grant said. “If you want to convince me there’s a giant prehistoric squid swimming in our waters, you’re gonna have to do better than an internet printout. And also, hire better talent. This actor’s not very convincing.” He pointed at Colin, then waved his hand at his office door. “Now, be on your way, please.”

Kristen put both hands on his desk and leaned over at him. “Sheriff, I assure you, this isn’t a joke.”

Grant’s face began to harden. The amusement phase was over. Now, he was getting pissed.

“Better reconsider your assertiveness, Doctor.”

“I’m not playing a damn prank! I was almost killed by the thing,” she said.

“She’s right, Sheriff. If you want, you can look at the markings on my boat,” Colin added.

“Oh, right. That ratty thing? Knowing how much abuse that boat’s been through, there’s no way I would be able to identify the cause of the damage.” Grant looked to Kristen. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but my patience is wearing thin.”

“Why would I play a prank?” she said.

“Oh, probably because the two of you have had multiple altercations with the other fishermen on this island. Stands to reason you both hold a grudge and would happily try to hinder their livelihoods. Not on my watch. Now, beat it.”

Grant waved at the door again.

Kristen groaned, then led the way to the exit. They passed through the small station out to the parking lot.

“Well, that was a bust,” Colin said.

“No thanks to you,” Kristen replied.

“What’d I do?”

“You and your stupid hot dog dildo prank,” she said. “Thanks to you and your dumbass-ness, he doesn’t believe us.”

“Well, excuuuuse me,” Colin said. “Had I known I’d have to warn the sheriff about a giant octopus monster, I would’ve behaved better. From now on, I’ll keep in mind the possibility that I may have to inform someone of a giant fish, or shark, or snail, or whatever else is out there.”

Kristen marched to her rental car, ignoring his tirade.

Colin followed her and got in the passenger seat. “What’s the plan now? Go to the mainland? Alert the state police? Call the Coast Guard?”

“Unfortunately, they would check with the sheriff first,” she said. “I think it’s safe to assume he’d tell them all we’re a bunch of immature pranksters who apparently want to ruin the island economy.”

“What a dumb ass,” Colin said.

“Takes one to know one,” Kristen said.

“You know, the next time a sea monster tries to eat you, I think I might just sit and watch. Better yet, I might offer him some salt and pepper. Maybe some mustard.”

“Yeah? I suppose it must be a relief knowing there’s no chance it would eat you,” she said. “The thing would take one freaking glance at you and lose its appetite forever.”

“I don’t know. I seem to remember you being eager to put your mouth all over me…”

Kristen winced. “Goes to show what drinking a fifth of pink whiskey on an empty stomach will do to me. Besides, you weren’t quite as gross back then.”

“Oh, yeah?! How ‘bout the time you wanted to…”

“Another word, and I’ll tie you to the bumper and drag you across the island.” Kristen slowly exhaled, then started the engine. “We have bigger issues at hand.”

“And nothing we can do about them,” Colin said. “Might as well go out for a drink.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s your answer to everything,” Kristen said. She put the car in drive and steered them out of the lot.

“Where are we going?”

“There’s a local journalist. Maybe he can get a warning out to everyone.”

“Fine. I’ll let you do the talking,” Colin said.

“Probably the first intelligent thing you’ve said all day.”

“Oh, you want to talk intelligence? How ‘bout the fact that you still haven’t actually explained what this thing is. All I’ve heard is prehistoric squid!”

***

“It’s a species called cameroceras!”

It was the fourth time Kristen repeated the statement to Roger Drew, the owner of the Drew View. The only journalist on the island, he was on top of every event, big and small, that took place on Green Pastures. With over twenty years of experience, he had hundreds of people come into his office and suggest they had the next big story. At this point, he believed he had a good grasp on which were real and which were fake.

Today, he wasn’t sure.

“And this thing is prehistoric?”

“Again…” Kristen leaned in, “yeah!”

“It attacked us earlier today,” Colin said. “Nobody believes us. The sheriff thinks we’re playing a joke.”

“Oh, really? You? How could he?” Roger said.

Kristen threw her head back, wanting to scream. “Yes, yes, the stupid hot dog incident…”

“Yeah, there’s that too…” Roger said.

“Too?” she looked at Colin. “What else did you do?”

“Nothing!” Colin said.

Roger put his feet up on his desk and munched on a stick of jerky, grinning at Kristen’s reaction. “Aren’t you two dating?”

“Hell no,” Kristen said. “And it’s none of your business, anyway. Now, what did he do?”

“Oh, nothing much. Just took a dump at the front door of the district attorney’s office.”

“They never proved that was me!” Colin said.

“That’s not a denial!” Kristen said. She hung her head low and grimaced. “Jesus, Colin. I think I’m gonna have a heart attack.”

“Need me to call 9-1-1?” Roger said.

“No! It’s a figure of speech!” Kristen said. “You’d think a journalist would understand such things.”

“Have you seen most journalists these days?” Colin said. “It’s all about getting clicks, Kristen. If I told him a joke that you identify as a dog, he’d totally write it into a headline. ‘Kristen McCauley identifies as a poodle.’”

“You questioning my integrity, Colin? Not a good way to get a favor from me,” Roger said.

“Hang on,” Kristen said. “You want clicks, right?”

“That’s part of the business, Doctor,” Roger said.

“Listen, we’ve encountered an enormous prehistoric cephalopod lurking in the kelp forests around this island. You put that in a headline, you’ll grab all kinds of attention.”

“And threaten my reputation if it turns out to be false,” Roger said.

“It’s not false,” Kristen said. “Listen, that creature came after us. I’ve done some reading online after we got to shore. I think this creature is responsible for a few strange occurrences that took place in the Strait of Juan de Fuca. There was a yacht that sank and a dock that got wrecked. Plus, I’ve heard reports that grey whales have been found dead near the Great Chain.”

“Doesn’t mean there’s a prehistoric squid swimming around,” Roger said.

“Damn it, Roger! Help us out here,” Kristen said.

Roger continued munching on his jerky, watching the marine biologist. He was unaffected by her intensity, and still uncertain if she was serious or not. His eyes turned to Colin.

“You believe it too?”

“Believe it?” Colin said. “I saw the thing with my own eyes. I nearly got snatched off my boat. It’s out there. It’s real. It’s dangerous. That’s why we’re trying to warn everybody.”

Roger smirked. “Alright. Fine. I’ll write something about it.”

Kristen breathed a sigh of relief. “You will? Really?”

“You calling me a liar?” Roger said.

“Nope, absolutely not,” Kristen said.

“Good.” He pushed a notepad to her side of the desk. “Write down everything I need to know about this squid, so I can put it into the article. Just make sure your handwriting is readable. I once had someone write a statement, and I swear it was nothing but a bunch of squiggly lines.”

Kristen took the pad and eagerly jotted down paragraphs of notes. After ten minutes, she had two whole pages of information for Roger to use.

“Hope that suffices.”

“Wow. Certainly does,” Roger said. “Thank you, Dr. McCauley. I will get right to work on this. Should have it up within the next hour.”

“Thank you,” Kristen said. She felt a weight off her shoulders as she and Colin exited the small office. “Thank God. At least now we can say we’ve done our best to warn everyone.”

“We certainly did our best,” Colin said.

“What? You don’t think he’s going to write the article?”

Colin shrugged. “Will he write an article about it? Sure! I’m just worried it might not be exactly the kind of article you think it’s going to be.”

“He took my information,” Kristen said. She got into the car. “What kind of piece do you think he’ll write?”

***

Roger Drew chuckled as he concluded the article with the name of its author. He scrolled back up and checked for typos, starting with the headline.

Disgraced drunken fisherman and environmentalist researcher claim sea monster lurks near Green Pastures!

Any of you enjoy a good seafood dinner? According to Colin Carver and Dr. Kristen McCauley, sometimes the sea creatures crave a little snack. Colin Carver, fresh off his arrest at the Foghorn Pub, is now claiming to have been attacked in the waters surrounding Green Pastures. He’s not the only controversial fella on the island to make a claim. Dr. Kristen McCauley, fresh from a controversy after stealing Marcel Raimes’ catch, is also claiming this creature exists.

What could this beast be? A shark? A whale? A giant fire-breathing lizard? Or maybe a kraken?

The last option would come the closest, according to them. In the words of Dr. McCauley and Mr. Carver, a giant cameroceras nearly sunk their boat. Gasp! What is a cameroceras, you might ask? How do you PRONOUNCE it, you might ask? Who knows?

Well, Dr. McCauley knows. She says it’s a genus of Orthoceras. I can’t lie, when I first read the name, I thought this thing was the orthopedic of the sea. There’s animals that need their joints and bones treated, right? Well, not by this thing. Apparently, it’s extinct. Or so we thought.

So, should we, the islanders of Green Pastures be alarmed? According to my two witnesses, we should be. How could we not believe someone who got his two shipmates killed, and spends his days getting into barfights and getting blackout drunk? Don’t worry, Dr. McCauley doesn’t have a motive to ground all boats. She definitely doesn’t have a history of getting into conflicts with the hard-working fishermen of this island.

No, of course not…

Make up your own minds.

- Roger Drew.

***

“Ralf… you know my lunch break is almost over.”

Ralf Briggs chuckled as he nipped at his secretary’s neckline. His hands coiled under her blouse and began to pull.

“I can fix that in the computer system.”

The secretary chuckled, while—though Brett couldn’t see it—squeezing her eyes shut. Attending to her boss’ needs was part of the job. Every need. She reached down and began to undo his fly.

“Oh, Mr. Briggs, I think my phone is ringing...”

“Eh, let it go to voicemail.”

“Okay. It’s just that you said you didn’t want me to miss a single call. Something about a lost asset…”

Ralf managed to suppress his sexual urges. “Oh! Yes, uh, go ahead.”

The secretary fixed her top, then stepped out of the closet area and picked up the phone.

“Ralf Briggs’ office… Uh-huh… uh-huh… Okay, I’ll let him know right now. Thanks.” She hung up and looked to Ralf. “That was Greig over in the Portland office. I guess you told him to keep an eye out for local news articles that may pertain to a certain asset.”

Ralf marched to her desk. “Did he find one?”

“He said he emailed it to you.”

“Great.”

Ralf dashed for his own office desk and woke his computer up. He logged onto his company email account, finding the forwarded article at the top of his inbox.

Disgraced drunken fisherman and environmentalist researcher claim sea monster lurks near Green Pastures!

“Green Pastures…” He looked to his secretary. “Do you know where a place called Green Pastures might be?”

“Hang on.” She tapped on her keyboard, then scrolled through the search results. “I guess it’s located near the San Juan Islands.”

“Excellent. Maybe I can catch my team in time.” He pulled a cellphone from his back pocket and dialed a number.

“Yeah?”

“Dr. Alere, this is Briggs. I have new information for you.”

“I sure hope so. It’s in the Strait of Juan de Fuca. We think it’s killed nearly a half dozen people so far, and a few grey whales.”

“I have a line on where it might be. You familiar with a place called Green Pastures? Should be a few miles south of San Juan.”

He could hear Elliot consulting with Kai Zahn.

“Yes, we know where it’s at.”

“I’ve got a news article stating someone’s seen it near that island. I guess that place is surrounded by kelp forests.”

“That’s gotta be it. That’s the perfect environment for cameroceras.”

“Yeah, sure. Just hurry up and put it down before someone gets wind of this thing.”

“But if there’s an article, doesn’t that mean the public is aware of it?”

“Not really. In fact, it’s written in a satirical manner. It does not appear the author actually believes it exists. If you eliminate it soon, then these two people who supposedly saw it will be regarded as crackpots.”

Elliot sighed. “I suppose so.” Another sigh. “We’ll be there by tonight.”

“Perfect. The cover of darkness ought to help you. Just finish the job and get back to the lab so we can start again. We have investors who are demanding results.” Without waiting for a response, Ralf hung up and stuffed his phone back into his pocket.

Anxiety had spiked his heart rate. He needed something to calm himself down.

He winked at his secretary. “How ‘bout we extend your lunch break?”

CHAPTER 14

“Son of a bitch!”

“I told you it wasn’t going to be exactly the kind of article you thought it would be.”

Kristen gave Colin a glare, then stepped away from his desktop computer. Colin remained in his computer chair and proceeded to scroll through numerous websites he had been unable to visit for a while.

“Guess I should thank you for paying my internet bill,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” Kristen muttered. This deal was getting better and better for her ex-boyfriend. First Kristen needed a boat. Then she needed internet, and since most businesses on the island were denying her service, she decided to pay Colin’s dues so she could use his computer.

As it turned out, Colin was right about Roger Drew. The guy did not believe them, and in turn, made their situation worse. Now, anyone they turned to for help would reference this article and think they were a couple of bitter nutjobs.

Colin logged onto his internet. “Oh boy!” He quickly minimized the window, but not before Kristen got a glimpse of the pornographic images on his screen.

He cleared his throat. “Business associates.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Kristen said. “Geez, Colin. Seems like every hour I spend with you, I discover new ways you’re falling apart.”

“Oh, it’s internet porn. Everyone looks at it.”

“Everyone who’s a loser.” She leaned against the bookshelf, looking at him like a schoolteacher disappointed in her failing student. “Good Lord, Colin. What the hell happened to you?”

Colin moved his keyboard mouse to a different icon, held it there, then brought it back to the start button. No longer interested in surfing the web, he shut the computer down.

“What I do in my personal time is none of your business, Doctor McCauley.”

“Listen, Colin, I’m sorry. You had a rough year. First us, then your crewmembers, losing your license…”

“I’ve got it coming,” he said. His fingers tapped on the computer desk. Kristen quickly recognized the nervous ticks of an addict needing his fix. She was pretty certain it was just alcohol. No way would someone as broke as him be able to obtain illegal drugs, and he wasn’t liked enough for anyone to supply him any.

“Listen, Colin…”

“So, what’s the plan going forward? You quitting this research endeavor? It’ll be hard studying kelp with a hungry cone-squid-thing looking at you like I look at a double cheeseburger.”

Kristen read between the lines. It came as no surprise that Colin did not want to discuss his problems. At the very least, he didn’t want to discuss them with the woman who dumped him a few months prior. Had it not been for her desperation to continue her work, that breakup would have been their final interaction.

Yet, here they were, trying to put up with each other while trying to solve a dangerous issue.

She decided to focus on the latter.

“Nobody will believe us,” she said.

“So, you’re quitting?” Colin said.

“Not a chance,” Kristen said.

“Wait…” Colin stood up. “You’re not saying you’re gonna go diving again? In case you forgot, we barely got away from that thing.”

“No, I’m not gonna dive,” she said. Colin relaxed, exhaling with relief. “I’m gonna go back to my research boat and I’m gonna grab my underwater cameras so we can get footage of the creature.”
The hair on Colin’s neck stood on end.

“The hell are you talking about?”

“We need proof of that creature’s existence. Otherwise, nobody will listen to us.”

“Give me a break,” Colin said. “This isn’t about safety. This is about you getting some clout in the world of marine research.”

Kristen’s brow furrowed. She sucked in a deep breath through her nose, the voice in her head warning her not to flip out at that statement.

“That… that’s cold, even for you,” she said. “As I’ve mentioned before, this thing has likely killed several people already. You saw the way it came after us. It sees humans as part of its diet. Not to mention it came after me after consuming a ten-foot shark, which should have satisfied an animal even as large as itself. Meaning it has a high metabolism. If we don’t do something, that thing’s bound to kill somebody else.”

“Why not call your institute?”

“Because… they probably won’t believe me either,” Kristen said. “I’m in good standing with them, but they’re going to need more than my word if they’re going to believe a prehistoric squid is lurking near this island.”

“Oh. How science-y of them.” Colin grabbed a bottle of water and chugged half of it. Kristen wondered if he was pretending it was beer. The look of disgust implied that to be the case.

At least he’s hydrating himself for once.

Colin leaned on his desk, simultaneously annoyed at the lack of alcohol, and the fact that Kristen expected him to take his boat out on the water again. He made an exasperated sigh, then looked at her, resigned.

“Fine. What’s your stupid plan?”

“It’s simple. We’re going to attach underwater cameras to the hull of your boat. Then we’ll spend the day patrolling the water until we find it. When we do, we’ll present the footage to the sheriff, then to my institute.”

“I love how your plan comes with the assumption that we’ll come back alive.”

“We’ll be prepared,” Kristen said. “Obviously, you’re still allowed to own firearms. We’ll take your shotgun with us, bring extra cartridges for the flare pistol, and I’ll bring along some sedatives that I can fire from a crossbow. I’ve used them in the past to help capture other specimens for research.”

“Squids?”

“Sharks, mostly.”

“Oh, great. Completely different physiology, but whatever.”

“Dude, quit with the bullshit!” Kristen said, slamming a hand against the wall. Or rather, through the wall. She looked at the hole in the drywall, then at her fist, thinking for a moment that she had superhuman strength. A closer look revealed she had punched through a sheet of spackle. Inside, she found termite-infested studs.

“Holy Jesus, Colin!”

“I was gonna get that fixed.”

“When?! After your whole house collapsed down on you?!” Kristen strolled to the center of the living room, away from the termites that were scurrying from the wall. “Listen, you need money. Use it on booze, hookers, strip clubs, whatever. I would advise house repair, but that’s up to you. Bottom line, if we do this, I can convince my institute to write you a check for your services. In addition to what we’re already paying you. Deal?”

“How much?”

“Enough to fix all of this,” she said. “Does it really matter?”

“If I’m going to risk being squid food.”

Kristen’s expression softened. “Alright, I guess you have a point there. Do we have a deal or not?”

Colin downed the rest of his water, then studied her with his eyes.

Kristen’s patience was quickly waning. “What?”

“Just thinking what else I can add to my payment.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh no, you misogynistic prick. You think I’m going to sleep with you in order to…”

“Ha! Oh, hell no,” Colin said.

Kristen lowered her finger, relieved, yet oddly offended.

Colin stood up, chuckling. “No. Just a trip to the liquor store on our way back from getting your equipment.”

“Oh.” Kristen considered declining his request. On the one hand, she hated the idea of giving an alcoholic a drink. On the other hand, the current situation at hand was more important, and one more drink was not going to kill the guy. In fact, it would probably help him in this instance. Alcoholics could not quit cold turkey. They needed to be weaned off the substance.

“Alright,” she said. “One bottle. And don’t you dare be drunk when we go out tomorrow. Deal?”

Colin hesitated, contemplating extorting her for more than one bottle. To her relief, he held back.

“Deal.”

CHAPTER 15

When Elliot Alere initially set out on this voyage with Kai Zahn’s group, he expected it to be a quiet, solemn trip. For the duration of their search, it was. When night fell, the boat became as lively as a college party. Clearance Clearwater Revival blasted through speakers. Big white lights blasted in all directions.

The tarp was yanked off of the harpoon gun. Felix, with that consistent stern expression on his face, stood on the mount. The tip of the harpoon was fixed on the water thirty feet out. Two spotlights beamed on the target area.

“Alright, Mr. Prehistoric Squid…” Vance said. He emerged from the deckhouse with Llew. In his hands was the tail of a freshly thawed five-foot bluefin tuna. Llew carried it by the head, his face strained. “… I hope you’re hungry. I’ve got a nice slab of meat for ya.”

“Less talking, more fishing,” Kai said. He stood on the flybridge. In his hand was his elephant gun. Double-barreled and capable of firing .700 Nitro Express cartridges, the very sight of the weapon was striking. One shot was more than capable of downing a thirteen-thousand-pound elephant. Being Kai, he didn’t go for elephants. There was little thrill in that. No, he happily tested the weapon on a charging rhino, whose horn he took as a trophy. With one shot, the poor creature’s attack was cut short, as was its life. Vance, being the talker of the group, gleefully filled Elliot in on that story.

The big fish was a heavy one. In life, it was a force of nature. It had died a youth. Adults grew to nearly eleven feet and were fierce predators, especially when in large groups. Only a few species threatened their existence—one of which was tying a rope around the dead animal’s tailfin. Next was a floatation device to keep the creature on the surface.

Vance and Llew tossed the fish overboard. As intended, it bobbed along the surface, held up by the bright red buoy.

Kai started the boat engine and throttled forward until all of the slack was gone. The crew adjusted the lights, fixing them on the bait. He killed the engine and let the boat drift.

He looked at the doctor, who stood uncomfortably on the portside near the deckhouse.

“Need something to do, Doc?”

“I just want that thing dead, is all,” Elliot said. “Pardon me if I’m a little nervous.”

Kai held his elephant gun as though it was a Viking’s sword. “No faith in our plan?”

Elliot listened to the music and looked at the blinding lights streaming in every direction. “I’m not overly thrilled with your methods.”

“Aww.” Kai put a hand over his heart. “I’m so hurt.”

“I’m not kidding,” Elliot said. “You’re acting like this’ll be a cakewalk.”

“It will be a cakewalk,” Kai said. “So long as everything goes to plan. We draw the son of a bitch up with lights and bait; when it goes for the tuna, Felix harpoons it; then we reel it closer to the boat, where Big Besse does her work.” He stroked the barrel of the gun. “It used to be my granddad’s. Named it after his first wife.”

“Wonderful.”

“You take issue with the lights? Sorry to break it to you, Mister Scientist, but night-feeders are often drawn to light. All ocean predators are drawn to noise. And smell. Speaking of which… Vance, give the doc a scoop. Let him toss the chum out.”

“I didn’t know squids could smell,” Vance said.

A reluctant Elliot set his tablet down and approached the transom. “As a matter of fact, their smell and taste receptors are highly advanced.” He knelt by the white bucket of chum and tossed a scoopful of the soupy mixture into the water. “In fact, my observation of this beast has revealed that it takes pleasure in feeding, much like we humans do.”

Kai put his feet up on the helm, chewing on some jerky. He kept his gun leaning on his thigh, the muzzle pointing skyward. Between chews, he snickered at the doctor’s statement.

“Yeah? It likes to eat, huh? Almost like how I’m enjoying this sodium-filled venison stick?” He swiveled in his chair and extended the stick to show it off. “Made it myself. Occasionally, I hunt boring things like deer and elk, mainly because they make for good snacks.”

Elliot exhaled slowly. Yeah, of course it’s boring if it can’t hunt you back. He looked at the water. Should be having the time of your life right about now.

“Yeah, I guess that’s a fair comparison… if the deer was still alive while you gutted it.”

Kai lit a cigar, alternating puffs and bites of jerky. He had his feet back on the helm, unbothered by what Elliot was implying.

“You’re saying this bad boy likes chewing on its meals while they’re still kicking, huh?”

“Damn right that’s what I’m saying.”

“And how would you know this?” Vance said. “Give your squid some fish while he was in his aquarium? Did he pull their fins off before chewing on them?”

“Yes.” Elliot looked up at the hunter. “That’s nothing compared to what it did to the staff members it killed. You know how a squid feeds?”

Vance shrugged. “They grab things with their tentacles and chomp down with their beak.” He looked to the sky and raised a fist like a crazed medieval king. “Off with his head!”

Elliot shook his head. “You ever seen a squid’s tongue?” Vance shook his head. “You don’t want to, believe me. Partly because it’d be the last thing you’d ever see and feel. The beak doesn’t just crunch you like a parrot’s would. I mean, it could if it wanted to. But generally, it pins you down while the tongue scrapes the meat from your bones while you’re kicking and screaming. Basically, it acts like a giant cheese grater.”

Kai lowered his feet and turned his chair again. He drew on his cigar before pulling it from his teeth. Eyeing Elliot’s expression, he knew he was looking at a man who had seen some of the worst human death imaginable—and not just from the creature.

“How’d you end up working for Ralf, Doc?” he said. Elliot dug the scoop into the bucket and tossed more chum into the water. Kai cocked a smile. “You know, if you wanted to keep the answer to yourself, it would’ve been easier to lie than to ignore me.” He watched as Elliot glanced back up at him, then resumed adding to the chum trail. “You and I both know that folks don’t work for Ralf Briggs unless they’re desperate. And usually, they’re desperate due to major skeletons in their closets.”

“Yeah?” Elliot glared at him. “What are yours?”

Kai drew on the cigar, completely unfazed by the question. “You know me. I’m a trust fund recipient who has too much time on my hands. That time is spent traveling the world and killing shit. It’s what I like to do, and I’ve gotten pretty good at it. Such skills come in handy for a nutjob CEO who hires people to genetically engineer big, violent animals that he can’t control.” He chomped down on his jerky then drew on his cigar while chewing. “That’s my story. What’s yours?”

Another scoopful hit the water. Elliot leaned on the transom, watching the murky trail break apart in the brightly lit water. Some of the meaty bits clung to the bait rope, which was starting to slacken.

In the blink of an eye, it was as tight as a razor’s edge. The water around the bait erupted. Enormous arms raised high over the tuna, poised to strike. Their curved, bony tips glistened in the glow of the spotlights.

Kai was on his feet. “Party time!”

Felix pivoted the harpoon gun. All he needed was for the thing to show its face.

Kai started the engine up and moved the boat forward. The tentacles went after the bait, only to narrowly miss. He kept an eye on the target, making sure not to get too far away from it.

“What are you doing?” Elliot said.

“I need the bastard to level out,” he replied. “That way Felix can plant the harpoon in its head. Tentacles are too thin and fast, easy to miss, let alone have a barb properly implanted.” He slowed the boat to a stop and waited for the beast to show again.

Elliot slapped his forehead. “This isn’t going to work.”

“Shut up, Doc. Now is not the time.”

“Yes, it is the time,” Elliot said. “Take us to port. We’re not going to win this. It already knows we’re up to something.”

“Oh, give me a break,” Vance said. He stood at the transom with his own rifle in hand. It was a smaller caliber than Kai’s but had a twenty-round magazine loaded with bullets that would easily tear through the flesh of any species. Llew picked up a 12-guage shotgun and waited for the moment of truth.

Kai kept one hand on the wheel as he watched for the creature to reemerge under the lights. The bait drifted toward the boat, the line slacking.

“Come on, you dinosaur calamari. You mean to say you’re not willing to work for it.”

In that moment, a shadow passed under the spotlight.

The three hunters on the main deck saw it and braced. Felix pivoted the harpoon gun left and right, anticipating every angle the creature may attack from.

“Where is it?” Vance said.

“Jerking us around,” Kai replied.

The hairs on the back of Elliot’s neck began to stand. He backed away from the transom, eyes wide.

“No…” He turned toward the flybridge. “Gun it!”

His warning came too late.

A titanic force struck the Alpha Predator from underneath, momentarily lifting the stern several feet. The sound of splintering hull and machinery echoed from below deck, right before the deckhouse split wide open.

Through the breach came the tip of the shell. Like an enormous drill bit, it punched through the vessel with ease. The force of the penetration produced a tremor that knocked all five hands off balance.

“What the—” Vance fell against the transom, rolling on the edge in order to point his rifle at the target. What he saw was a giant bony cone, emerging from the deck like the tooth of a titanic predator.

The creature paused long enough to suction more water, which it jetted out. The force pushed its body further skyward, further splintering the Alpha Predator.

Vance took aim.

Elliot put his hand out. “Wait! Don’t!”

Vance squeezed the trigger. A barrage of bullets struck the shell. Each one bounced off, flying in different directions.

An aggrieved grunt from Llew caught his attention. Vance looked over and saw his fellow hunter literally holding his stomach together in his hands after one of those bullets ripped it open.

Llew looked at his own guts attempting to spill out, then at the foolish hunter. A hundred unspoken messages were conveyed in the span of an instant. You idiot; You shot me; You seriously thought you’d penetrate that shell?; Holy shit, I’m dying.

The boat continued to break apart. Like an assassin twisting the knife it had plunged into its enemy, it jerked the shell back and forth. A series of cracking and popping sounds followed until, finally, the vessel broke in two.

Both halves formed an incline, threatening to toss their occupants into the water.

Kai clung to the helm, his gun strapped over his shoulder. The front half of the boat drifted away from the aft section, which held the rest of the crew.

The creature dipped under the sea, obscured by darkness. Only the transom spotlights illuminated the madness. One swiveled toward the deck, putting the four hands in full view. Everyone held on for dear life—except Llew. He was already dead. He rolled like a log down the slope and splashed down, disappearing under a cloud of his own blood.

A moment later, he reappeared, skewered in the front claw of one of the squid’s tentacles. And again, he was pulled under the waves.

“Oh… shit…” Vance muttered.

More tentacles rose. All at once, they assaulted the wreckage. Vance yelled out, firing the remaining bullets in his mag before running dry. When the gunshots stopped, he swung the weapon like a club, only to have it yanked from his grasp.

Another tentacle lashed from his right, the claw appearing like a curved Arabian sword. He shut his eyes and braced for death. There was a brief juddering impact along his jawline which oddly did not knock him to the side. He was as motionless as though nothing had ever touched him. It was as though the arm had passed right through him like a ghost.

He opened his eyes and saw the tentacle now to his left, having completed its swing.

Oh, shit…

He realized he couldn’t say the words. Physically¸ he couldn’t say the words, as though his jaw was paralyzed, or…

He felt a warm stream running down his chest.

…it was no longer attached.

His tongue dangled freely under his upper jaw.

Elliot watched in horror as the hunter teetered back and forth. Shock and blood loss took their toll, but not before the tentacle swung back in his direction. This time, it constricted him like a python and lifted him high into the air. It held him upside down. Blood drizzled from his mouth, giving him the appearance of a ketchup bottle.

That stream went straight into the open beak of the creature, which eagerly emerged to feed.

Vance’s suffering did not end there. Just as Elliot had explained, the creature exercised its favorite method of feeding. The hunter squirmed as the beak slammed shut over him, breaking ribs in the process. Next came the excruciating sequence of the bladed tongue sliding repeatedly over him. Now, the rest of his face was gone, though that did not stop Vance from squirming.

Elliot, clinging to some splintered deck boards, looked away. Not that it made much of a difference. The gagging sounds, plus those from Vance’s bones grinding, penetrated his mind. Once again, his creation led to the death of another human.

He and Felix were next.

“Yo!”

Both men looked to the forward half of the boat. Kai waved at them from the bridge. In his hand was an orange flare pistol.

“Felix! Dump the spare fuel! Hurry it up!”

The quiet hunter looked to the right. Tied to a cleat in the portside gunwale was a red plastic fuel container. Seeing the flare gun in Kai’s hand, it became clear what the plan was: dump the fuel over the water and light it. With some luck, the flames would drive the creature away.

Felix threw himself at the cannister. One of the tentacles dangled above him, dripping ammonia. He drew a large knife from its sheath and swung at the arm, nicking one of the suction cups. He plunged the knife into the top of the container, and sawed open a large section of plastic.

“Look out!” Elliot shouted.

By the time Felix looked up, he was unable to pull the knife free and defend himself. Not that a ten-inch blade would have done much against the three tentacles that swarmed him. One of the claws skewered his thigh and lifted him. Finally, Elliot heard Felix’s voice. It was a deep, gravely yell, fueled by pain and terror.

One of the arms coiled around his right elbow. Like pulling the wings off a fly—or the fins off a tuna—it yanked the arm from the roots. Blood spurted from the empty socket. Next went his right leg. All the while, Felix remained skewered on the long claw.

After a few moments, the squid was done playing with its food. Almost done. Now, it was Felix’s turn to go through the grinder.

“No… NO!!!! FUCK YOU!!! AHHHH!!!!”

There was a rawness to the sound of flesh and bone being grated by that satanic tongue.

Elliot climbed up the deck until he reached the harpoon gun.

“Hey, Doc!” Kai shouted. “It’s up to you now. Dump that fuel, or we’re next!”

Elliot looked over at him, then at the tentacles flapping above him. He only had a few seconds before he was impaled or otherwise snatched up. With all of his might, he threw himself at the container. He used the knife to cut the line that secured it, then finished the work Felix started. With a gaping hole in the top of the container, he was able to splash the diesel freely, coating some of the tentacles.

Kai, now lying over the instrument console, pointed the flare gun. The squeeze of the trigger launched a fireball right at the edge of the aft section.

WHOOSH!

A mountain of fire erupted, scalding the ten dancing tentacles. The squid thrashed about, caught by surprise by this new, unfamiliar force of nature. Being a creature of the sea, it had never experienced the hot touch of fire until now. It was a ghostly thing, impervious to the slashing of its razor-tipped arms.

Elliot climbed further up the wreckage until he was at the transom. Looking back, he saw an ocean of fire. The fuel from the Alpha Predator’s tank had also ignited, turning the world around them bright orange.

In the middle of it all were ten tentacles, writhing about like worms stranded on hundred-degree pavement in the summer. With a jet of water, the creature vanished.

Large swells rolled to the south. Elliot followed its trajectory with his eyes until the waves were complexly obscured by darkness. Silence followed.

He clung to the wreckage, which continued to remain afloat for now. Meanwhile, Kai was working to access the inflatable raft from a compartment under the instrument panel. His half of the boat was gradually sinking.

With the tug of a ripcord, the raft took shape. Kai groaned, realizing there were no oars.

He planted the raft in the water and lowered himself into it. After checking his rifle and revolver, he paddled toward Elliot, going wide to avoid the flames. A few minutes later, he reached the stern of the boat.

“Coming, Doc? Or would you rather stay there?”

Begrudgingly, Elliot lowered himself onto the raft. A cold breeze washed over the two men.

Elliot hugged himself, still quivering from the adrenaline rush.

“Nice work, great hunter,” he muttered. His brow wrinkled as Kai cracked a big smile. “You’re… happy?”

Kai stroked his gun once more. “Best hunts are the most dangerous.” He looked Elliot in the eye. “Your pet is proving to be the best one yet.”

CHAPTER 16

“Hey, come on! Wake up!”

“Five more minutes.”

“For godsake, Colin. You said five more minutes an hour ago!”

Colin’s misery was announced to the world in the form of a pitiful groan. He sat up in bed and stretched, his bourbon clutched in one hand. Kristen stepped back, fully dressed, sneering at the pathetic sight.

“You took that to bed with you?”

Colin looked at the bottle and smiled. “It doesn’t complain. Or snore.”

“Well in any case…” Kristen stopped and thought about that comment. “Wait a minute? I don’t snore!”

“Heard you from all the way in the guest room all night long,” Colin said. “Why do you think I needed to sleep in?”

“Because you were up half the night drowning your sorrows away. And because you’re pathetic.” She turned around to leave, only to swing back once more. “And, for the record, I don’t snore!”

Colin coughed into his hand. “Yep. Uh-huh. Absolutely. Whatever you say, Professor.”
Kristen nearly took the bait and prolonged the argument. She raised a finger, only to immediately lower it. “You… get dressed, will ya? And take a shower. Your water’s running again. Thank God.”

“Wait! Shouldn’t I take the shower first then get dressed?”

“Ugh!” Kristen stepped outside, hands raised as though about to pull her own hair out.

Colin smiled, pleased with his immaturity. After taking a swig of his bourbon, he stood out of bed and looked at the clock. Eight-thirty.

Jesus. She had me thinking I slept till eleven.

One thing he did agree with Kristen on was the shower. Now that his water was running again, he could finally get some of the grime off of him. He grabbed a fresh set of clothes… relatively fresh—they had not been washed since his water was turned off. That would be a chore for later. Colin had grown content with being a slob, but he at least liked having clean clothes on his back.

He entered the bathroom, turned on the shower, and relished the feeling of warm water raining down on his palm. It was a sense of not appreciating something until you didn’t have it anymore. As he stripped down, he decided to take advantage of this gift. He grabbed his razor and shaving cream from the cabinet, then stepped into the stall.

Usually, it took ten minutes for Colin to complete a full, clean shave. This time, with his bristly beard grown out more than usual, it took about twenty minutes. On the plus side, it felt twice as good when finished. Next came the usual soap, shampoo, and conditioner routine.

Colin stepped out and dabbed his face with his towel.

“Whew!”

When he looked at the mirror, he felt he was looking at an entirely new person. Or, more accurately, seeing someone he had not seen in quite a while. He combed his hair neatly to get the visual accurate.

The sight of his clean and shaven reflection brought Colin back to a time when life was simpler and guilt-free. Memories crept into the forefront of his mind, leading right up to that fateful decision to travel west, right into that blasted squall. The words “man overboard!” were like spirits in the night, haunting him day after day.

Colin tossed the razor into the trash and got dressed.

When he stepped outside, he found Kristen standing aboard his boat. She had her yellow Gladius mini-size drone and tether in hand. Her monitor was set up and ready to go. She had spent the morning installing underwater cameras around the sides of the boat. Colin was grateful to know that these cameras hung by rigid tethers instead of resorting to drilling holes for thru-hull cameras. Two cameras hung from the bow rail, their 360-lens able to capture anything that passed under their boat while they traveled. Once they found their spot, the drone would go to work in search of the squid.

Kristen glanced in his direction, then quickly resumed her prep work. “About damn time you showed up…” She did a double take. For a moment, there was silence as she was visibly taken by the significant visual improvement. “Oh. I guess that makes sense why you were taking so long. I was worried you were doing something else in the shower.”

Colin smirked while he climbed aboard. “Nah. Too busy. Maybe tomorrow.”

Kristen shut her eyes and grimaced. “I should’ve known making that remark would open a can of worms.”

“Funny how you’re put off by a mildly vulgar joke, but you’re happy-go-lucky with the idea of hunting a monster squid.”

“We’re saving lives,” she replied, not bothering to look up.

“Saving lives, getting you on the cover of National Geographic…”

This time, she did look up. “Not funny. I might be obsessed with my career, but I’m not out for fame and fortune.” She lowered her eyes back to her drone tether. “Believe me, I had a chance about a year ago. At least on the fame part, that is.”

Colin was halfway up the ladder to the wheelhouse. He stopped his climb and looked back, intrigued. “Yeah? How?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, no. Too late now. You opened another can of worms. Now, I’m eager to hear this story.”

Kristen sighed, then stood up. The tether reel was fully set up anyway.

“It’s nothing special.”

“Oh, I beg to differ,” Colin said. “The fact that you don’t want to talk about it tells me so.” He put his finger to his chin. “Then again, maybe you do want to talk about it. You did halfheartedly mention it, knowing I’d be interested.”

“Will you leave it be?”

“Oh, come on. I’m curious!” Colin climbed to the fly deck and leaned against the rail. “Tell me, what was it? Movie deal? Were they gonna let you voice the next Planet Earth series?”

Kristen scoffed. “I wish.” She watched Colin’s stare intensify, as though he was trying to telepathically probe her mind. “Alright, fine. Jesus. If you have to know, I had an opportunity to…” She bit her lip. Her hesitation only made Colin more eager to know. “I… turned down a role in a movie.”

“What?! What movie?”

“Some stupid slasher flick where a bunch of people are on a yacht, and a sea monster thing sneaks on the boat.”

“The Eight-Day Voyage?!”

“Oh, God. You’ve seen it?”

“Damn right. Hot actresses in bikinis for ninety minutes. Ticket was bought opening day.” He smiled widely, envisioning her in the lead role. “How’d you almost get involved?”

“I did some consulting work for the marine life aspect of the film. The lead actress they originally had dropped out a week before shooting. Apparently, the director thought I had the charisma for the part.”

“And you turned it down?!” Colin laughed.

“I had research I had to do. I couldn’t just drop it.”

“Oh, yes. Everything is sacrificed in the name of research. Especially everything fun.”

“Life isn’t about fun, Colin,” Kristen said.

“Something you make clear every single day,” Colin said. “Well, at least you were telling the truth. You turned down fame and fortune. Movie was made on a shoestring budget and brought back a couple hundred million bucks. And I hear they’re making a sequel, with the same lead actress.”

“I’d rather be doing this,” Kristen said.

“Sure,” Colin said. “Too bad you probably would have been able to afford a brand-new research boat.”

“True. Then I wouldn’t have to work with you.”

“Oooh!” Feigning hurt feelings, Colin stepped into the wheelhouse. His shotgun was loaded, his machete and ax handy. This time, he went a step further by having a chainsaw aboard the boat. There was no way he was going to let himself be lunch for that squid.

What the hell am I thinking? This is the dumbest idea ever.

“Moorings are detached,” Kristen yelled. “We’re good to go!”

Colin switched on the engine. As he throttled out to sea, he glanced at an online image of the Eighth-Day Voyage poster. Several actors and actresses, all young and good-looking, lined the deck of the boat. In the middle was the lead. Good-looking, but that was about it. Acting chops were kind of lacking.

“It’s a shame,” he shouted to Kristen.

“What is?”

“The movie would’ve been an improvement.” Especially with you in a bikini the whole time.

Down on the aft deck, while he couldn’t see it, the marine biologist was blushing.

CHAPTER 17

The top of the desk was cold. Oddly, it felt wet. The air smelled salty and his mouth was dry. Tension made each breath shallow. He could feel his clothes hugging his body, soaked by what seemed to be a cold sweat.

In one hand, he held a syringe. The other, a sheet of paper. Every line was marked with red Xs.

In one moment, Elliot Alere was in his lab, looking at the first vials of the new experimental Epstein-Barr vaccine.

A moment later, he was in a hospital room. He still clung to the syringe and the piece of paper. The red ink of those Xs was brighter. Wetter. Dripping like blood on the floor.

The syringe was empty. Weeks old, in fact.

The first experimental dosage.

In the hospital bed before him was the patient, a thirty-nine-year-old man named Len Garber. With a family history of leukemia, he was considered a high-risk Epstein-Barr patient. Like many others, he agreed to take part in human trials.

The room disappeared.

Elliot Alere was in a conference room, standing opposite a long-time associate, Dr. Wilson.

“It’s not ready. You can’t rush to human trials…”

Dr. Wilson’s voice was warped in a realm between reality and imagination.

The world around Elliot transformed again. In the blink of an eye, he was back in Len Garber’s hospital room.

Nurses and medical doctors were performing a trach. His tongue had swelled so much that it was blocking his airway. The veins in his neck were bulging and discolored, his eyes blood red as though he had looked directly into the depths of hell.

“No…”

His mouth was so dry, he couldn’t swallow. He tried backing away, but he was stationary.

“Look there.” The voice was like an echo in the night. “There. Someone’s coming.”

The room began to shake. The emergency staff remained in perfect balance, tending to the suffocating patient on the bed. Everything on the tables, countertops, and the walls remained perfectly still. Yet, the room was rocking back and forth.

Cold water struck his face.

One of the doctors turned and leaned close. “You happy now?” He reached and tapped Elliot’s face. “Wake up!”

“Wake up, Doc!”

Elliot awoke as though struck by a bolt of lightning. The raft shook as Kai Zahn balanced on his knees. He reached down and tapped the doctor on his face once more. “Enough sleepy time, Alere. We’ve got company. Like I said, you should be happy now.”

Elliot rubbed his eyes, then sat up. His vision was hazy, his mouth and throat dry, his joints stiff from being in the raft all night. It was morning now. Looking around, he saw nothing but blue ocean.

Kai was on the other side, pointing to the south. At that moment, Elliot heard a faint motor in the distance. He looked in the direction Kai was pointing and squinted.

Far in the distance was a small Boston Whaler cutting across the water. It was a third of a mile away, probably twenty-five feet in length.

Kai had the flare pistol in hand. He loaded a fresh cartridge and fired a ball of flame in the air.

“Hopefully those dipshits pay attention and see it,” he muttered.

“Yeah,” Elliot said, grimacing at him. “How dare they enjoy their day on the water. What assholes they must be, not looking out for poachers who were in over their heads hunting an ancient predator.”

His sense of bravado quickly vanished as he noticed Kai pick up his elephant gun.

“I bet saying that makes you feel virtuous, Doc. But don’t forget, you made the thing. Every death that thing causes is on your head.”

Elliot kept his mouth shut. No argument there.

He turned his eyes to the south. To his relief, it appeared that the Boston Whaler was slowing down and turning in their direction. A few moments later, there was no doubt in his mind that the people aboard had seen the flare.

As they closed within three hundred yards, Kai waved to catch their attention. Elliot watched him, surprised at how eager the fearless hunter was to get rescued.

“I thought you were hoping for another shot at killing the thing,” he said.

“I am,” Kai said. “That said, I’d like to have something more than this tiny raft.”

The boat slowed, the occupants clearly searching for the source of the flare. There were two people aboard, a man and a woman. Both were in their mid-twenties and dressed in bathing suits. The man was at the helm while the woman, presumably his girlfriend, was pointing at the raft.

“There it is!” her voice was barely audible through the buzzing motor. The boyfriend steered the boat to starboard, then gently cruised near the raft. The woman looked at the two castaways, visibly perplexed. “Are you guys alright?”

“We’ve seen better days,” Elliot said.

“Dude, what happened?” the man said.

Elliot chuckled. “That’s a long, long story.”

“Better told on land,” Kai said. He picked up his gear and tossed a lifeline to the woman. She caught the line but did not begin to pull them toward her boat, for her eyes were fixed on the big gun. “Why do you have that?”

Hearing his girlfriend’s odd question, the boyfriend looked at the raft, exclaiming “whoa!” when he realized what she was addressing.

“Yeah,” he said. “You mind explaining to me what you’re doing on a raft with a big ass gun like that?”

“As my associate mentioned, it’s a long story,” Kai said. “Now, you mind pulling us in?”

The girlfriend looked to her man. “The Coast Guard reported that a bunch of whales had been killed. Maybe this guy has something to do with it.”

“Maybe one crashed into their boat Moby Dick style,” he replied.

“No, that’s not it,” Elliot said. “Listen, we’ll explain everything if you please pick us up. Believe me, you don’t want to be on the water right now. This area’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” the boyfriend said. “How’s it dangerous?”

“There’s an organism in the water,” Elliot said. “Again, we’ll explain if you’d just be kind enough to take us to shore.”

The boyfriend stared at them, gravely suspicious. Elliot could tell that he was hesitant to bring them aboard, especially Kai with his weaponry. He kept one hand on the throttle. The engine was already running. All he had to do was push it forward.

“No. I’m not bringing you aboard until I know exactly why you’re out here with those firearms.”

“Hunting,” Kai replied nonchalantly. He saw the look on their faces. “Not whales though. Something much more dangerous.”

Elliot was much less relaxed. A strange, sixth sense was creeping up his spine. It was as though he was telekinetically connected to the specimen. Somehow, he knew it was nearby. He looked in every direction, seeing no signs of it. Still, there was a feeling in the back of his neck warning him that it was nearby.

He was tempted to explain its existence to the couple but was afraid they wouldn’t believe him. Giant squid attacks were not exactly commonplace in the real world.

“Please,” he said. “We need to get out of this area.”

The boyfriend wasn’t budging. “Hunting? Hunting what?”

The answer came rising up from underneath him. The couple screamed frantically, alarmed by the abrupt appearance of ten squiggly tentacles that ascended around their boat. Armed with their eighteen-inch claws, they coiled over the Boston Whaler.

One of them found the girlfriend and wrapped itself around her waist. Suction cups bared their hooks, which dug deep into her flesh. Screaming, she was lifted out of the boat and pulled into the water.

Yelling her name, the boyfriend leaned over the side where she disappeared, just in time to see the cloud of blood disperse beneath his gaze.

The tentacles smacked and clawed the boat, easily crushing the hull. The engine sputtered and died. The gunwale cracked and imploded while two of the arms crushed the boat as though it were a soda can.

“No, no, NO!!!” The man threw his hands over his face and fell backward. One of the tentacles slashed, intent on snatching him off the boat. Instead, it smacked him across the forehead, leaving a large gash above his right eye.

The laceration was the least of his problems. On his back, the man could do nothing but scream as the sides of the boat closed in around him. The tentacles continued to squeeze with increased force. There was one last squeal as the entire upper deck was compressed, then a sound of vomiting. Blood jetted high into the air like the contents of a cherry tomato that had just been popped.

All at once, the Boston Whaler and its lone inhabitant disappeared under the red waves.

Elliot shook, completely aghast at both the ferocity and suddenness of the attack. Behind that horror was an elevated sense of guilt. He could hear Kai’s voice in his memory. “Don’t forget, you made the thing. Every death that thing causes is on your head.”

The danger was real. The creature would continue to hunt every human it came across. Only death would halt its rampage.

Kai stood ready with his rifle shouldered. The tentacles had disappeared now and the water was settling. He kept the muzzle pointed low, ready to blast anything that would dare emerge from that water.

“Where is it?” Elliot said. “You think it knows we’re on this raft?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Kai said. “Currently, I think it’s preoccupied with prying its snack from the wreckage. Once it’s done, it might pay us a visit.”

Elliot could feel himself slowly descending into madness. No matter how guilty he felt towards his part in this crisis, he could not stand the thought of death. Being an atheist, he feared the eternal nothingness that followed life. While many other scientists enjoyed speculating on the ‘after death experience’, Elliot wanted to keep it a mystery. He tried to convince himself of a peaceful afterlife, only to find himself confronted by his many sins. After all he had done, after so many people had suffered as a result of his work, he could only rationalize one thing: if there was an afterlife waiting for him, it was in the fiery depths of hell. It was little comfort to know that the only alternative was perpetual blackness.

He considered thrusting the oars into the water in a desperate attempt to paddle to dry land. Reality quickly gave him a wakeup call. The motion of rowing to shore would only attract the squid’s attention. Besides that, there was nothing but water in all directions. At best, land was two miles away.

Elliot scanned the horizon, praying to see at least a thin sliver of shoreline. When he looked to the north, he saw something else. A boat. From his perspective, it looked no larger than a grain of rice. However, he was good at estimating distance. The boat was roughly a mile away, maybe a little less. It was far larger than the ill-fated Boston Whaler.

He grabbed the flare pistol and loaded their last cartridge.

“What are you doing, Doctor?” Kai said.

“Just keep watching for the squid,” Elliot said. He aimed the pistol to the north and squeezed the trigger. The ball of flame arched in the sky like a burning meteorite.

Elliot shut his eyes and prayed to a God whose existence he doubted. “Oh, please, let them see it.”

At the moment, he was not concerned about putting those peoples’ lives in jeopardy. All that mattered was avoiding that eternal blackness. Or hell fires—whichever was waiting for him.

***

Colin Carver kept the boat going at five knots, humming old tunes that his father used to play during their years of fishing. For him, the songs never got old, for they were forever associated with happy memories of simpler times. Colin, though he never admitted it, longed for the days he went out to sea with his old man.

He never told his father about the accident. In fact, as far as his father was aware, Colin was still fishing on the high seas, making a killing in the market. Whenever they spoke on the phone, when asked how business has been, Colin would simply answer ‘fine’ and move on to other subjects. His dad probably suspected something was wrong but decided not to press. Mr. Jake Carver was not one to pay attention to the news, especially not Green Pastures local news. The accident never made it onto any major stations. Colin was grateful for this. The thought of his dad finding out about his failures would be worse than anything his nightmares could envision. Almost anything. The actual event of losing his deckhands and explaining their deaths to their loved ones stood at the top of his mountain of misery.

“You’re a bastard. A greedy, obsessed, good-for-nothing bastard!” It was Mark Cater’s wife who said that. Before that day, she was a proud, elegant woman who never even frowned in front of Colin. He never saw her gorgeous smile again after that. “It should have been you who went overboard. How stupid are you, driving directly into a storm? What were you trying to achieve other than a few extra bucks?! Was that worth Mark’s life?!”

It was another reason Colin had not dared to mention the incident to his dad. Mark Cater and Lawrence Riley had worked on this boat for two decades, going back to the days Jake Carver was captain. He was good at putting his past behind him, and bad at keeping up with old associates. Jake had simply moved on to enjoy his later years.

In moments like this, Colin looked to the sky while wondering if Heaven existed. He thought that if he knew there was truly a place where there was no suffering and misery, and where joy flourished, that Lawrence and Mark would be there. Sometimes, he wished he would see some kind of sign.

“What the hell is that?”

What he saw instead was definitely no sign. If anything, it looked like a burning star falling into the ocean. When he saw the trail of smoke in its wake, the truth became obvious. It was a flare.

“Kristen?!”

“Yeah?” she replied from the main deck, clearly more interested in watching the monitors than talking to him. She could feel the boat picking up speed as Colin lay into the throttle. “What’s going on?”

“Someone shot a flare,” he said. He kept his eyes on the horizon, focusing on the end of that line of smoke. After crossing two thousand feet of water, he saw the little speck of red a half-mile out. “There’s a life raft.” There was nothing else in the water—not that he could see with the naked eye, at least.

Only after coming within eight hundred feet did he see the bits of wreckage floating around the raft.

“Oh, hell.”

Kristen saw it too. “I think they encountered it.”

Colin made sure to have his shotgun on hand as they neared it. Aboard the raft were two people. One of them was a muscular figure with a mix of Asian and Caucasian ethnicities. In his hand was what appeared to be a giant shotgun.

“Whoa…”

The second man in the raft was thinner, wearing a button-down shirt and trousers. He did not look like the average seafaring man. If anything, he looked as though he should be teaching in a classroom. Whoever he was, he was much livelier than his muscled-up companion. He was waving his arms, almost pleading for Colin to not turn away.

“Kristen?”

“The gun? Yeah, I see it.”

“Be careful.” He brought the boat next to the raft.

The man aboard tossed his lifeline to Kristen, who pulled them to the boat before tying it to the deck.

“Here, catch,” the man with the gun said. He tossed it aboard, catching Kristen off guard. Only by pure luck did she manage to catch it.

The two men climbed aboard, the man in the button-down shirt gasping for breath.

“Oh, thank you.” He stood up, his hands quivering as he tried pointing at the water. “We must leave right now.”

Colin stepped out onto the fly deck. “Let me guess: you gentlemen encountered an overgrown piece of calamari.”

The man calmed slightly. “You saw it too?” It was more of a realization rather than a question.

“You know where it is?” Kristen asked.

The man did not have to answer, for the beast arose with tentacles thrashing above the water.

“Gun it!” the larger man said. He aimed the big gun at the tentacles and fired. The end of one arm exploded, the tip and its claw dangling by a few strands of rubbery flesh. “Yeah, how’d you like that, ya bastard.” He fired again but missed.

Colin dove into the pilothouse and gunned the engine. For the second time in two days, he was retreating from a monster cephalopod.

“I knew coming back out here was stupid…”

“Mind speeding it up?” the big man said. He was standing at the transom now with his gun shouldered. The rifle kicked hard as he fired it at the water.

Colin took a glance out the back window. Behind the boat was a large, cone-shaped silhouette under the water. The tip was quickly nearing the keel.

He turned hard to port. The vessel teetered on its side, the prop spraying water. The squid’s shell broke the surface less than ten feet away, the tentacles lashing about.

The man fired another gunshot, cheering as he and the others witnessed the gaping hole appear in the base of the head. The tentacles lashed with increased intensity, the creature jetting ink as it submerged again.

“Did you kill it?” Kristen asked.

“No,” the man with the button-down shirt said. “Look. See the trail? It’s licking its wounds.”

“Good,” the bigger man said. “Once we recoup, we can come out with fresh supplies and finish the job.”

“Finish the job?” Kristen said. “Who are you guys?”

CHAPTER 18

When Colin docked the vessel at his property, he and Kristen had still learned very little about these two visitors. All they disclosed were their names, and a very unconvincing story of what they were doing all the way out here with an elephant gun.

The one in the button-down shirt was Doctor Elliot Alere. He had a shy, reluctant demeanor which persisted during the entire trip. While relieved to be alive, there seemed to be a heavy weight on his shoulders. Even as Colin docked the boat, Elliot watched the water with a lethargic stare.

Kai Zahn had significantly more energy. During the trip home, he fed them a nonsensical story about running a charter service up along the coastline. It was such an insulting lie, as even the most amateur of seamen would know nobody packed an elephant rifle on a boat. A pistol or shotgun, maybe. At best, an AR-15. Those options were at least conventional. Not a gun designed to take down a seven-ton animal.

It was not a coincidence that someone appeared with that type of weapon around the same time as a never-before-seen giant cephalopod.

“Alright, enough is enough,” Kristen said. She followed the two men onto the dock. “I want answers. Real answers. Not some bullshit story. If you don’t tell me the truth right now, I’m phoning the Sheriff’s Office.”

Kai cracked a grin. “Typical woman. Always sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Kristen nearly took the bait. Restraining herself, she allowed the moment of reactionary rage to pass.

“As I recall, this woman saved your sorry ass,” she replied. “If I wanted to, we could’ve left you to be chewed up by that thing out there.”

“Yes, yes,” Elliot said. He stepped between Kai and Kristen, hands cupped together in what looked like a pitiful display of mercy, even though it was probably meant to be gratitude. “Thank you, ma’am. Mr. Zahn and I owe our lives to you.”

“Damn right you do,” Colin said. He joined the others on the deck, keeping a watchful eye on the hunter. In his mind, it was easy to assume that to be what Kai was. Who else would carry around a cannon like that?

“Explain,” Kristen said. “What were you two doing out there? What do you know about that creature?”

“It appears to be a large species of squid,” Elliot said.

“‘Appears’.” Kristen chuckled. “It’s not just any large squid. It’s a species called cameroceras, from the genus Orthoceras.”

She and Colin watched the shift in Elliot’s attitude. He perked up, taken by surprise. Of all people to be interrogating him, he did not expect it to be someone who clearly knew her stuff on marine life.

“You’re a scientist?” he asked.

“Yes,” Kristen said. “A marine biologist.”

Elliot rolled his tongue as he tried to think of a new lie. After a minute of consideration, he accepted reality. Only the truth would suffice in this situation, whether he liked it or not.

“These waters have become the most dangerous place on the West Coast,” he said. The shaky, nervous voice had disappeared. Now, he spoke as though he was standing in a lecture hall in front of several dozen students. “You are correct, ma’am. The creature out there is a very large cameroceras. Its body length is forty feet, and its arms can stretch even longer. The only unexpected surprise, other than its ferocity, are the eighteen-inch claws that extend from the tip of each tentacle. Technically, they’re arms, not tentacles… but regardless, there were no fossil records of the claws. All we’ve ever truly obtained were remnants of their shells. The suction cups on their arms are equipped with razor-sharp hooks, just like those of Architeuthis Dux. Its muscles are just as strong as its modern-day counterparts. Being a marine biologist, you’re aware that cephalopods like the Pacific octopus can lift forty times their weight.”

Kristen sighed through her teeth. “This one can do the same, no doubt.”

“Worse,” Elliot said. “Given its shell, it’s heavier than, say, a giant squid of equal size would be. We’ve conducted tests at the lab. This thing, if it wanted to, could crush the fuselage on a jumbo jet.”

“And there it is,” Colin said. “The magic word: Lab.”

“You people engineered this thing?” Kristen said.

“Not me,” Kai said. “I was just hired to hunt it.” He touted his gun and winked.

“Not sure if I’d be bragging,” Kristen said. “Last I saw, you’re without a boat.”

“And a trophy,” Colin added.

“Last I saw, that thing would’ve caught up with you had I not been aboard,” Kai said. He nodded at the cameras on the boat. “By the looks of it, you two were looking for that thing, weren’t you? A bit foolish, given the fact you already know how dangerous that thing is. After all, you’ve seen it.”

“What makes you say that?” Colin said.

“She introduced herself as Kristen and confirmed she’s a marine biologist, who happens to be on an island called Green Pastures,” Kai said. “I seem to recall an article shared by Dr. Alere about a Dr. Kristen McCauley and a disgraced fisherman, Colin Carver, who believed they saw a killer squid.” He looked in Colin’s direction. “I’m assuming you’re Colin Carver.”

Colin’s silence was enough of an answer for him.

“What were you trying to do?” Elliot asked.

“Get video documentation,” Kristen said.

“You could’ve gotten yourself killed,” Elliot said.

“You are lecturing me, Doctor?” Kristen said. She scoffed, tucking her hands in her pockets. “That’s rich. Especially coming from the guy who engineered this creature and then lost it. God knows how many people it’s killed already.”

Elliot looked away. “I warned my employer against transporting it. They wouldn’t listen. Believe me, this is the last thing I wanted.”

“Who’s ‘they’?” Kristen said. “And what purpose could possibly be gained from creating this thing?”

“If I may chime in,” Colin said. “I’m getting a kick out of how we’re talking about genetic engineering a prehistoric squid as if it’s a normal everyday thing. How the hell did you pull that off?”

“Would you really understand if I told you?” Elliot muttered. “It was a long process of scouring the ocean and finding samples of various species preserved in underwater resin.”

Kristen perked up. “Underwater resin?”

Elliot grinned. “My company has made many remarkable discoveries, dear.”

Kristen put a finger in his chest. “Don’t call me dear.”

Elliot looked down at her digit, then slowly separated from it with a step back.

“To answer your question, there’s plenty of benefits to bringing back extinct lifeforms. In the case of cameroceras, we might finally find the cure to many different types of diseases, cancers, hell, maybe even certain mental disorders. The immune system of the cephalopod is extraordinary, Dr. McCauley. Think of the benefits if we could find a way to apply its healing capabilities to humans.”

“I’m sure the benefit of mankind was at the top of your priorities,” Kristen said, shaking her head.

“It is,” Elliot said with a snarl. “Do not cast judgement on my intentions. I’ve always strived to better the human race with my research. This is the closest I’ve ever gotten. You see, my specimen heals at an extraordinary rate. It can regrow entire limbs The wound it recently suffered will be gone in twenty-four hours, tops.”

“What?” Kai said. Elliot’s nervousness quickly returned as the big hunter approached with an angry scowl on his face. “You didn’t inform me of this, Doctor.”

“I didn’t think it was of consequence,” Elliot said.

“It is when you’re shooting and tracking an animal,” Kai said. “Especially when you think it’s wounded.”

“My apologies,” Elliot said, raising his hands and backing away.

“Regrow entire limbs, eh?” Colin said. “Sounds like your pet has been through the wringer in the name of science. No wonder it’s out to eat any human it comes across.”

Elliot did not offer a retort. Once again, his eyes went to the water.

Kristen broke the silence. “So, what do you plan on doing now?”

“Finishing the job,” Kai said.

“You mean hunting the creature?” Kristen said, failing to restrain her amusement. “Without a boat?”

Kai glanced at the Sulfuric Raindrop, then at its burnt-out captain.

“I’ll find a way.” He cracked a smile. “Mr. Carver?”

“Yes?”

“Let me thank you for your assistance. There a good restaurant in town? Or a bar, maybe?”

CHAPTER 19

In spite of Kristen’s protests, Colin was more than glad to take Kai up on his offer. Five minutes after taking a seat, he was already on his second gin and tonic. Kai sat across from him alongside Dr. Elliot Alere. The doc cupped his full Scotch glass with both hands, visibly uncomfortable, yet yielding to Kai’s leadership.

“I like this place already,” Kai said, admiring the pictures and maritime memorabilia on the walls. “Willy’s Bar, you call it, huh? Good choice. I had my eye on the Foghorn Pub for a minute there, but I think this place has a seaside charm to it.”

“Nah,” Colin said. “Foghorn Pub is better, but I’m not allowed in there anymore. Bunch of fishermen like to hang out in that place, and, well…” he chuckled. “Let’s just say I’m lucky they’re not making me pay for the renovations.”

Kai threw back a shot of whiskey. “Sounds like a bunch of lowlife assholes.”

“Damn straight.” Colin finished his gin and tonic, then went for his Budweiser. Before tilting it between his lips, he noticed Elliot staring at his glass. After a few moments of observation, he realized the scientist was looking at his own reflection. “Admiring yourself, Doc?”

“Hmm?” Elliot looked up. “Oh, no. Nothing’s wrong.”

Colin snorted. “I didn’t ask if anything was wrong. I noticed you were looking at yourself.”

“Oh…uh…”

“You look uncomfortable,” Colin said.

“As he should.”

All eyes went to the door as Kristen walked into the bar and took a seat at their table.

“Dr. McCauley,” Kai said, feigning delight. “So glad you’re able to join us.”

“I’m sure you are. Especially considering you guys left while I was in the house,” she said. “After I objected to this little lunch date, I might add.”

“Gotta hand it to the cab services on this little island. They’re speedy,” Kai said. He refilled his shot glass and raised it. “To Green Pastures.”

Colin touched his beer to the glass. “I still think it should be called Brown Pastures. Kelp isn’t green. Plus, it’s more fitting.” He tilted the bottle down, ignoring Kristen as she stood over his right shoulder, staring with unblinking eyes while he downed his beer. After a belch, he looked up at her. “Something I can do for you?”

“Get up,” she said. “We’re leaving.”

“You my mommy now?”

“Might as well be, considering how juvenile you’re acting,” she said.

“I’m having a drink with some new friends,” he said. “They’re generous like that.”
“Nice, my ass,” Kristen said. “They’re buttering you up for a job. Isn’t that right, Mr. Zahn?”

Kai licked his lips, enjoying the taste of his whiskey. “As the man said, we’re generous. So generous, that we’re willing to offer a fair sum of money for the use of your boat. Mind explaining how that’s a bad thing?”

Kristen crossed her arms. “Let’s start with how he might get killed in the process.”

Colin nearly spit out his drink. “You’re not serious, are you?”

“What?”

“NOW you’re worried about my well-being? After you goaded me into taking you back on the water this morning, despite the fact we nearly got eaten by that thing a day ago?!”

“Listen.” She took the seat next to him. “Colin, there’s a fine difference between getting a video image of the thing and actively hunting it. You do remember we found these guys in a raft, right? Meaning the thing sunk their vessel. The same could happen to you.”

“The good doctor, or rather the company he works for, will pay a hundred-thousand dollars,” Kai said, elbowing Elliot as he spoke. Colin sat still, absorbing that. “While you’re here, would you like a drink, Dr. McCauley?”

“No thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” Kai turned his attention back to Colin. “So, Mr. Carver, what do you think? But before you answer, can I get you a refill?” Before Colin could answer, Kai was already snapping his fingers at the waitress. “My friend could go for another, when you get a chance.”

“Gin and tonic?” the waitress asked.

“Eh, I’ll switch it up this time,” Colin said. “I’ll go for a classic martini. And throw in some potato skins, will ya?”

“You got it.” The waitress jotted the order down and returned to the counter.

Colin ignored the look of loathing on Kristen’s face as he polished off his beer.

“So, what’s the plan?” he asked Kai. “Get some bait, lure the squid to the surface, and shoot the crap out of it?”

“That’s the idea,” Kai said.

“Whoa, wait,” Elliot said, turning to look at the hunter. “Don’t you remember what happened last time?”

“I do,” Kai said.

“Does that not concern you?”

“Not one bit.” Kai threw back another shot of whiskey. “Trust me, I’ve got it all worked out in my mind.”

“It’s gonna take a hell of a lot of firepower to kill that thing, even with that cannon of yours,” Kristen said. “You might want to think of a different method. How about coaxing it into eating bait full of poison?”

All three men looked at her, amused.

“Offering suggestions now?” Kai said. “Had a change of heart? You in on this?”

“I can’t make this idiot say no,” Kristen said. She tilted her head at Colin. “I might as well be there to make sure he doesn’t get hurt.”

“Aww.”

Kristen was not amused by Kai’s feigned admiration.

“Unfortunately, poisoned bait won’t work,” Elliot said. “The creature has a voracious appetite, but its stomach is surprisingly sensitive to contaminants. It would regurgitate the bait before the poison could take effect.”

“Alright, fine. But the plan is to lure it to the surface, right?” Kristen said. “What if we injected it with cyanide? I can go to my boat and get my crossbow. I can equip it with a cannister of cyanide which will inject once the spear is embedded.”

“What is a researcher doing with a crossbow?” Elliot said.

“Took it off one of the fishermen who was abusing a dolphin,” she said. “One of the reasons I’m so ‘popular’ around this place.”

“I heard about that,” the half-drunk Colin said. “The guys said something about you dropping it into the water.”

“That’s what I claimed,” she said. “The reality is I just hung on to it instead.”

“Nice,” Colin muttered. The waitress arrived with his drink and food, which he immediately went to work on. “Hope the sheriff doesn’t find out about that. That’s a felony.”

“Shut up,” she said.

“Alright, fine,” Kai said. “If you can supply the cyanide and cannister, I should be able to inject it into our fishy friend.”

“It’s a cephalopod,” Elliot grumbled under his breath.

“Whatever.” Kai helped himself to some of the potato skins. “Tomorrow morning, we’ll set out.”

“There’s still the issue of bait,” Kristen said.

“And protecting the boat,” Elliot said. “The squid was wise to our act last time and attacked the boat first. It’s likely to do the same again tomorrow.”

“I already have an idea for that,” Kai said. “I’ll show you tomorrow while we’re out.”

Kristen watched him with suspicion, not liking the sound of that at all. She did not like this entire scheme, for that matter. At this point, however, there was nothing she could do. Colin was already intent on taking part in this. Going to the sheriff would be useless without evidence of the creature. And if her judgement was anywhere near correct regarding these two men, they would simply buy the sheriff off. Clearly, they did not want the public aware of the squid’s existence.

“Colin, finish your drink and I’ll take you home,” she said. She looked to Kai and Elliot. “Be there tomorrow at nine, or the deal’s off.”

“Nine’s perfect,” Kai said, admiring her neckline as he drizzled another whiskey.

Kristen stood up and pulled Colin off his seat. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“Wait, wait, wait…” He leaned over the table and reached for Elliot’s Scotch. “Since you’re clearly not gonna drink that…” He took it and guzzled it down.

“Oh, good lord, Colin!” Kristen said, pulling him away.

Kai chuckled as he polished off the remainder of his drink. He gave one glance at the marine biologist as she escorted Colin out the door.

“Woman has too fine an ass to be working as a scientist.” He turned to look at Elliot. “Would you agree, Doctor?”

Elliot had his hands cupped together and anxiously tucked under his chin. “There are easier ways to make a living, that’s for certain.”

“I know a few clubs where she’d make bank. Heh. Yet, she settles for studying sea grass.” He downed the last droplets of his beer and stood up. “Still got your wallet, Doc?”

“Um, yes?”

“Good. Pay up. Then get us a couple of rooms at the motel. No offense, but I’m not sharing a bed with you.” The hunter cackled at his own joke.

His brow furrowing, Elliot hit Kai with a sharp glare. “Where the hell are you going?”

“Might as well check out the Foghorn Pub. I’ll be over there for a while.”

“What for?”

Kai started for the door. “Doing a different kind of fishing.”

CHAPTER 20

The rental car came to a screeching stop in Colin’s driveway. Between gathering her supplies from the research boat and returning to the house, Kristen did not utter a single word. Not that they were needed. Even a drunkard like Colin could read between the lines. It also helped he had been in a relationship with her and knew all the signs of a pissed off Kristen McCauley.

He cleared his throat.

“What?” Kristen said.

“Hmm?” He shrugged. “I didn’t say anything.” He cleared his throat again. “Though, I should mention you ought to be careful with these rentals. If they see the slightest scratch, they really ding you…”

“Oh, right. You are the one to give advice on taking care of property.” Kristen yanked the key from the ignition and stormed out of the car.

Biting his lip, Colin gently opened the passenger door. “Well… technically this isn’t property. At least, not ours. So…”

“Oh, shut up.”

“What’d I do?”

Kristen ignored the question and marched to his house. Groaning, Colin followed her. He put his hand up to prevent having the front door slammed in his face. Biting his lip yet again, he made sure not to follow her into the kitchen. Instead, he plopped onto the living room couch, crossed his feet, and shut his eyes.

“You’re sleeping there tonight,” Kristen said.

“I…” He opened his eyes and hit her with a befuddled look. “What?”

“I’m taking the bed. That’s the least you can do for what you’re putting us through.”

Colin scoffed. The lady was talking as though she owned the place. Or was still sleeping with him. Not that that happened much during their time together.

“First of all, there’s a guest room,” he retorted. “Second of all, I’m not putting us through anything. They offered me a job. I accepted. Nobody made you tag along.”

Kristen marched into the living room and stood over him with her hands on her hips. “You were too busy floating in gin to even consider what you’re getting into.”

“I wasn’t drunk enough to miss the hundred grand offer.” Colin crashed a smile and shut his eyes.

“My university and I were paying you money,” she said.

He opened his eyes and scoffed. “Seriously? That’s supposed to be an argument? Two-grand a week versus a hundred grand in a day? I thought you had a PhD.”

“Ugh!” Back into the kitchen she went.

Resigned, Colin slapped his legs, then stood up. So much for relaxing. When he went into the kitchen he found Kristen cleaning dishes of all things.

“I’m surprised you even have a clean sponge,” she said. She stopped, hung her head down, then chuckled. “What am I talking about. Of course it’s clean. If it wasn’t, that would imply you actually put it to use. Look at all of this. This is disgusting, Colin! How do you live with yourself?”

Colin knew better than to answer. She was on what he called ‘rampage mode’. Anything he would say or do from here on would only piss her off all the more. With that in mind, he stood by the dining room table while she scrubbed away.

The next several minutes were spent in silence, save for the incessant scrubbing of pots, pans, and plates, as well as the occasional cursing under Kristen’s breath.

The clean pots were slammed onto the drying rack, shocking the buzz out of Colin. “Jeez, lady! Talk about jealousy.”

“Jealous?” She turned around to glare at him. Colin shrugged. At this point, her not glaring at him would be the more unusual thing. “Jealous of whom? Those creeps?”

“Uh, yeah!” Colin sniggered. “So, let me get this straight: if I go out on the water to help you get video footage of the thing, with the intent of presenting it to the authorities and prevent people from getting killed, that’s okay? But if I take money from these guys with the intent of going out there and killing the thing, which would prevent people from getting killed, behold the wrath of Kristen!”

She bit her lip, stopping herself from an off-the-cuff reaction. After a deep inhale, she raised a finger at him.

“For a second, I thought you were gonna call me a Karen. Had that happened, those hunters would be using you as bait. And I’d take the hundred grand just for good measure.”

“Good to know.” Colin took a seat at the kitchen table and put his feet up on one of the other chairs. “So, am I gonna get the full scoop on why you’re on angry non-Karen mode? The inconsistency of your argument is reaching monumental levels? Hence, I’m going with the jealousy theory.”

Kristen finished rinsing off the last few dishes then turned around to face him. She leaned against the sink and took a moment to formulate her words in a less-aggressive manner.

“It’s not about you putting yourself in danger. These guys are not simply hunting the squid with the hope of saving lives. They are covering up for the company that created the thing. Everyone that thing kills or hurts is a potential PR hazard. By taking them out there tomorrow, you are acting as an accessory to their activities, which very well may be illegal. I’d alert the sheriff, but we already know how that conversation would go.” Colin’s lack of concern was plain on his face, something noticed by Kristen. “Apparently, that’s something you’re perfectly fine with.”

He stood up to go into the living room. “I guess not.”

“Why?” Kristen said. “For the money?”

“Yes. Exactly for the money.”

Her hands slapped against her thighs, the only outlet for her frustration she could think of in the moment. She dried her hands with a towel and followed him into the living room.

“At least you admit it.”

Colin was back on the couch with his feet up. “You can ride your hyper-moralistic high horse all you want. Not gonna faze me one bit. You’ve pointed it out many times since I got out of jail. I’m at rock bottom. My reputation is already tarnished. I have nowhere to go. And, frankly, I have obligations.”

“Yeah? To the local pub?”

“Them too,” Colin said.

Kristen took a seat across from him. “And who else, then?”

“Just—nothing that concerns you, alright?”

“I’m just trying to figure out…”

Colin sat up with a ferocity that shut Kristen right up. “Ya know, you like to point out all my flaws, so how ‘bout I point out some of yours.” He put his finger to his chin to imitate a thinking posture.

“Colin, forget it—”

“Ah, here’s one! There’s your exhausting tendency to get in everyone else’s business. Like the fishing community, for example. Gosh, I’m sure the activist community would give you a useless gold star for how much you’ve stuck it to the fishing industry.”

“I, you, they…” Kristen could feel herself turning purple. “Overfishing is a problem. You know that and they know that.”

“Or, maybe they’re guys with mortgages to pay who maybe could use a little more compassion than ‘You catch fish. You bad.’”

“I don’t hold it against people for catching fish. But it’s gone overboard,” she replied. “There are more than sixteen hundred endangered species of fish in the world. Over four hundred are linked to the human consumption of food.”

“Been that way for millions of years,” Colin said. “They say the megalodons were wiped out by killer whales, both by being hunted and competition for sustenance.”

“That doesn’t justify—” Kristen perked up. “You know about that theory on megalodon extinction?”

“Yes, Kristen,” Colin muttered. “In case you’ve forgotten, we were an item for a short while. I’ve listened to all of your monologues on marine science. Maybe if I was a dolphin, things would have worked out between us. I, for one, have humans in my life that I care about.”

Three aspects of his monologue struck Kristen hard. The first was the fact he was so articulate, despite consuming God knows how many adult beverages at the bar. The second was how much he retained from their dating months. It was true she tended to go on and on about her career. Most men she dated could not seem to care less. Colin Carver appeared to be another one of those. So she thought, at least. Except, it turned out he was paying attention. To remember so succinctly what she said meant more than simply a good memory; he was invested in her.

The third was the last part of his statement. “I, for one, have humans in my life that I care about.”

“Who?” she asked. “What people in your life are you referring to? Your parents?”

Colin grimaced, as if he regretted hinting at whatever it was he meant. “No. Never mind. It’s nothing.”

Kristen stood up. “I don’t think it is.” Despite Colin waving her off, she was not willing to give up. “What’s going on, Colin? Does it have something to do with those people who died on your boat?”

“Ha! Their families won’t even talk to me,” he said.

“Then who?”

Colin stood up. “Just let it go, would ya?” Gritting his teeth, he stormed through the kitchen to his bedroom, leaving Kristen flabbergasted in the living room. “Oh!” He turned around and pointed a wavering finger. “I am, in fact, sleeping in my own bed. Good night. Don’t let the couch bugs bite…. That sounded better in my head…”

It was as though the alcohol in his system went into effect right then and there. His strut became a stumble. He bumped against the kitchen counter and the dining room chairs on his way to the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

Kristen said nothing. What was there to say? It had been a while since she had been so thoroughly put in her place like that. She never considered herself an arrogant person, but her ego was throbbing at this moment.

Internally, she was on the defensive. Her mind conjured up every defense imaginable to Colin’s tirade.

Who is he to judge on having human relationships? The closest thing he has to a meaningful relationship is sliding a few dollar bills to the bartender.

He thinks he can judge me for working. At least I CAN work!

Of course he comes to the defense of fishermen who tend to use illegal means to make a few extra bucks. Who wouldn’t take the word of a boozer who was half out of his mind while on the helm of his boat?

I, on the other hand, am helping to make a difference. Imagine if we all pitched in a little. Maybe the world would be a little less shitty.

Kristen took a breath and forced the increasing infantile tirade to come to an end.

It was the second time she took notice of the lack of human relationships in her life. Almost all of her consciousness centered around her studies and ambitions. Save the planet, that was the ultimate goal. Preserve the kelp forests. Provide sanctuary for endangered species. That was her life’s mission. So strong was her dedication that she failed to look at everything else the world had to offer. Not all people saw things the way she did. They all had their own problems, whether it was financial, physical, or otherwise.

That thought took her eyes to Colin’s bookshelf. After all of these months, it finally dawned on her that she never actually looked at any of the pictures. Moreover, it made her think of how infrequently she visited Colin’s house back in those days. Even the excitement of a new relationship failed to shift her attention from her research.

Kristen was human. She knew it was good to be in love with someone, but her love was always directed to the ocean. As most people do, she assumed she was a considerate person. She certainly did not like seeing Colin as an alcoholic and a recluse. But those issues were so blatant, a blind man could see them. She never bothered to dig below the surface. In their time together, she rarely delved into the details of Colin’s life. He was a crab fisherman and that was about it.

With that in mind, she found herself looking at the photos on his bookshelf. There weren’t too many. A couple of them were from his childhood, showing him and his father on the deck of a crab boat. Young Colin looked so happy, holding a live snow crab by its back legs.

Another photograph showed Colin catching stripers somewhere presumably on the east coast. The smile on his face held her attention for several moments. There was something so genuine about it. It reminded her of the guy she used to know when she first moved to Green Pastures, except she did not appreciate it back then.

There were a few photos of his parents and some friends. On the left side of the shelf were a few photos of a baby. The image quality suggested they were taken somewhere in the late 2010s. A nephew, perhaps. After giving it more thought, she was pretty certain he did not have any siblings.

Does he have a son?

There were a couple of photographs of the child as a toddler, but none beyond that. An excruciating curiosity grabbed ahold of Kristen’s mind. No way would Colin keep a photo of some young kid if there was not some kind of personal significance. He never mentioned anything about having a kid.

Then again, I never asked.

To be fair, it seemed to be something worth bringing up on a third or fourth date. Unless there was a reason he kept it to himself. Maybe something tragic, or something he was ashamed of. Or both.

She covered her mouth, having gone to the most drastic, horrible conclusion.

“Oh, my God! Did he lose a child?” Consumed with a need to solve this mystery, she marched to Colin’s bedroom. The door was open a crack, having failed to latch when he slammed it shut.

He was passed out on the bed, the intake of booze having taken its toll. Kristen took in the image of the disturbed crab fisherman in temporary peace. For once, she felt an aura of sympathy flood her mindset as opposed to the pitiful contempt for what she viewed as a lack of self-control.

There was no point in waking the poor guy. The alcoholism was simply a symptom of the larger issue. That issue being deeper than Kristen previously considered.

She gently shut the door and returned to the living room. With nothing else to do, she figured she may as well clean up the mess in here as well. Miraculously, Colin had some surface cleaner spray under the kitchen cabinet. A full bottle—a relic of what felt like a time long passed. She put it to use, cleaning the window frames, the entertainment center, and the computer desk before making her way to the coffee table.

Several mail envelopes were scattered, most of which were unopen. She gathered the ones that were obvious advertisements and put them in a pile to be recycled, making sure to stack the bills in another pile.

One opened envelope stood out apart from all of the others. Considering the fact Colin was ignoring all of his mail, including overdue notices, Kristen could not help but be curious as to what this letter pertained to. Initially, she tried to suppress the automatic nosiness she felt. It was a losing battle, one in which she was quick to wave the white flag.

The return addressee was some place called Rehab Dynamics, located in Olympia, Washington. She found the letter and unfolded it.

To the parent or guardian of Stevie Carver,

After the 1st of September, the coverage from Blue Cross Blue Shield will have reached its conclusion. To continue providing treatment for Stevie, we will either require a renewal of this plan, coverage by a new provider, or out of pocket payments. We understand these are hard times, and we are willing to assist in any way we can to continue providing treatment.

Kristen sank onto the couch. She read the letter multiple times, slowly grasping the revelation they brought forward. Not just that some special service was on the verge of being dropped, but the fact one was needed in the first place.

Using her phone, she looked up Rehab Dynamics in Olympia, Washington. As she suspected, it was a private therapy practice held in that area, which catered for special needs children and their families. It offered occupational, physical, and speech-related therapy services individually, as well as providing early intervention programs.

She glanced in the direction of the baby pictures, then at the name Stevie in the letter. All of a sudden, it all added up. This was why he was willing to take the hundred-thousand-dollar payment. It wasn’t going to be for booze—well, some of it, maybe—but for the most part, it was to pay for these services. This young Stevie fella probably lived with his mother on the mainland.

“Why would he not say anything?”

She thought of the drinking he did before. It was bad then, though nothing compared to now. At the time, she figured he was a guy who liked his booze, and allowed it to consume his entire life. Only now did she consider the fact he was masking something.

If only I paid more attention before. If only I put a little more focus on the people in my life…

Kristen placed the letter down and lay on the couch. She stared at the ceiling, twiddling her thumbs, no longer thinking about tomorrow’s hunt or even her research. For the first time in a while, she thought of the people in her life. Her parents, her brother Ted, her little nephew who was turning…

Two? No, wait… three?!

She had to get on her phone and scroll through Ted’s Facebook page to figure out the answer.

Jesus. He turned four two months ago.

Yet, Colin never met the kid, nor her parents, but managed to remember all of their names. Not because he had the memory of an elephant, but because he knew they were family… and family was important.

That begged the question as to why Colin was still here in Green Pastures and not in Olympia with his son. That was a question for another time. For now, Kristen needed to begin prep for the hunt. And maybe do a grocery trip. Almost everything in this stupid house was expired.

CHAPTER 21

Kai Zahn drained his shot of whiskey and slammed the glass down on the countertop. “Fill her back up, darl’n. It’s Tasha, that right?”

The bartender was still buzzing from the fifty-dollar tip she had received moments ago. At the rate this new customer was going, there was much more to come. He was already the most popular person in the bar, having bought rounds for all the fishermen who had gathered for the evening.

“Honey, you can call me whatever you want,” she said. She filled his glass with whiskey and remained on standby as he drained it.

A bearded fisherman, Douglas Farrow, took a seat on the stool beside him. He was on his second beer, courtesy of the great hunter.

“So, where have you sailed in from, stranger?”

Kai slid his glass toward Tasha for a refill, generously slipping a twenty-dollar bill in her direction. “Let’s just say I have a residency in Seattle. Only there from time to time, though. Beyond that, I’m kind of everywhere.”

“You come here by boat?” Douglas asked.

“You could say that,” Kai replied. “In the market for a new one, actually. But that’s a story for another day.” He spun on his stool to look at the numerous fishermen gathered in the bar with him. During their time drinking together, he learned a few names. There was Douglas, of course. From what Kai surmised, he appeared to be the most senior fisherman in the group. His hands were rugged, showing signs of a lifetime of manual labor. When he wasn’t out on the water, this bar and its pool table served as his pastime.

Next, there was Leroy. His appearance fit the name, for the guy looked as though he should be working on a ranch somewhere as opposed to the deck of a boat. He had a greying goatee and wore a leather hat and vest over a checkered shirt and jeans.

Seated behind him was Elana Rogers, a woman in her late thirties who wore sleeveless shirts either to show off her physique or her tattoos. Or both. Regardless, she talked a big game about her years on the water. Whether there was any truth behind that talk was not something Kai concerned himself with at this time.

“Hey, ‘Man with no name’,” she said.

Kai turned to look at her. “In need of another?” He gestured at the glass of Scotch in her hand.

She looked at it and moved to the bar. “If you’re offering…” Seeing Kai tilt his head at Tasha instructively, Elana placed the glass down for a refill. “Aside from the drink, what else are you offering? I doubt you’re just a generous soul who wanted to make a bunch of friends on some sleepy northwestern island.”

“Hey, be nice,” Douglas said. “I’ll settle for that. I don’t see you offering to buy everyone a round.”

“Do I look like I’ve got buckets of cash lying around?”

“Does he?” Douglas said, pointing at Kai. “And besides, if you did, you still wouldn’t spread the wealth by treating your fellow fishermen. Newsflash, Elana—you’re not very friendly. You don’t like anybody.” He watched the way she sat on Kai’s right and leaned on the counter while sipping her Scotch. “Unless they’re your meal ticket. Damn whore.”

“Don’t make me smack you around, Doug,” she said. “Besides, I’m waiting to hear what all of this is really about.”

Douglas cackled and shook his head. “What it’s really about?”

“Yeah, genius. He’s buttering us all up for something.” Elana shifted her gaze toward Kai. “Aren’t you?”

Kai smiled. He liked her already.

“There is a proposition…” In the blink of an eye, the entire bar’s attention was on him. Somebody turned the music down to allow the stranger to be heard without hindrance.

Elana smiled, taking great delight in knowing she was right. “We’re waiting, ‘Man with No Name’.”

Kai finished another shot of whiskey. “I’m on the hunt for… let’s just say a big fish.”

“A fish?” Douglas said.

“A shark. A big shark,” Kai said. “It’s out there right now. It’s a maneater. It killed a couple people who are close to me. I tracked through the strait, and now it’s somewhere near this island.”

“That’s what this is about?” Elana said. “You’re treating us to a fun night because of some fish?”

“What kind of shark is this?” Douglas said.

“Great white,” Kai said.

“A great white? Here?” Elana said. “Give me a break. There’s never been a great white sighting around this area.”

“It was part of an exhibit,” Kai said. “A private venture whom I occasionally work for. Let’s just say there was steroids and GMOs involved in getting this thing nice and ready to be put on display in a big aquarium. Long story short, there was an accident and it got loose. Furthermore, it’s mean and has no problem going after boats, let alone people.”

“A shark having roid rage,” Douglas said with a laugh. “Now I’ve heard everything.”

“So, you’re out here to hunt it?” Leroy, the cowboy wannabe asked.

“Correct,” Kai replied. “The company, who will remain unnamed, doesn’t want to make a big fuss out of it. The families of the victims are being paid off handsomely. Plus, it was in the contract informing them that the job carried certain risks. Still, I need to find the thing and put it down before some unlucky swimmer has an encounter with it.”

“Gosh, this has been an interesting couple of days,” Leroy said. “First, that crazy scientist lady making a claim about a prehistoric squid swimming in the kelp forests.”

Kai paused for a split-second before reaching for his glass. “Squid, huh? Interesting indeed.”

“That has no relation to your story, does it?” Leroy asked.

Kai chuckled and raised his glass. “What sounds more believable? A big, violent shark that escaped and is suffering a little roid rage, or a prehistoric squid monster that suddenly reappeared out of nowhere?”

The crowd laughed.

“Yeah, true enough,” Douglas said. “I take it you’re looking for help.”

“I’m going out on the water again tomorrow morning, around nine o’clock. I’m pretty sure the fish is somewhere in the kelp forests on the south side of the island. I found the remains of some dead seals today. Judging by their remains, I’d say it fed within the last thirty hours. Meaning it should be pretty responsive by the time we go out and chum the waters.”

“‘We’?” Elana said. “It’s true that you are trying to recruit us, huh?”

“Every boat captain that participates in the hunt will get fifteen thousand dollars, plus an extra fifteen to whomever kills the shark. You can keep the catch, if you wish, so long as I am able to take photos for my employer, confirming it is the right shark and such.”

Elana eyeballed him as she drained the last of her Scotch. “Interesting. You strike me as a man who enjoys the hunt. Why involve us?”

Kai turned to face her. “Because it’s a time-sensitive job and I have other gigs I’d rather do. Sooner I get this shit done, the better. Trust me, I’ve killed more than my fair share of sharks already. I’m more interested in heading back to Africa to hunt some lions and crocodiles. Much more vicious and stealthy. They will give any hunter worth his salt a run for his money.” He smiled at Elana. “Or hers.”

The three boat captains exchanged glances. All at once, they came to an agreement.

“Okay, stranger,” Douglas said. “Tomorrow morning. When do we get the money?”

“Once the fish is dead,” Kai answered. “My boat’s radio will be on channel eleven.”

“Shouldn’t we try tonight while it’s dark?” Elana asked.

“This particular fish is more active during the daylight hours,” Kai said. “Thanks to being raised in sanctuary, it is used to being a daytime feeder.”

“Gotcha. So, nine o’clock it is,” Elana said.

“Sounds good to me,” Leroy said.

Douglas looked to his two crewmates, who stood behind him with beer bottles in hand. They nodded their approval.

“We’re in.”

“Some captain,” Elana said. “Needing to check with your mates before making a decision.”

“Hey, it’s called diplomacy, lady,” Douglas said. “Besides, I prefer to be on the same page with them. We’re going after a maneater. There’s risk with this job.”

Elana sniggered. “Yeah, risk. A big shark versus a bunch of boats. I think we’ll all be fine.”

“I’m sure you will be,” Kai said. He had Tasha refill his glass, then raised a toast. “To killing shit.” Laughing, the other fishermen raised glasses and bottles, then partook. Afterwards, he leaned towards the bartender. “Put everyone on my tab until midnight. Can you do that, darl’n?”

Tasha smiled. “Sure thing.” That smile widened as Kai slid a few hundred-dollar bills in her direction. “You’re too generous.”

“That’s what I often hear said about me,” Kai said, winking.

“You gonna stick around, or are you gonna call it a night?” she asked.

“I’ll stick around for a little longer,” Kai said. “I’m a light sleeper. Couple hours is all I need. Just trying to kill the time before tomorrow’s hunt.” He admired Tasha’s figure and skin tone, something she gladly took notice of.

She smiled. “I’m out of here at midnight.”

Kai grinned.

What to do, what to do…

CHAPTER 22

Colin awoke with a shudder. His stomach ached and his throat was dry. It was a state of being he had grown all too familiar with. Rolling onto his back, he reflected on the pleasant dreams he experienced before abruptly returning to the misery of real life.

It was pleasant memories of bouncing baby Stevie on his knee. It was one of the times he got a smile out of the kid, and when Colin saw it, he never wanted it to end. There was something precious about baby smiles and laughter. The good memory unfortunately came with a crushing sense of helplessness, for it reminded him of the reality of Stevie’s life.

He reached to his nightstand, instinctively in search of a bottle. Only, none was there to be found. Clenching his teeth, Colin shut his eyes and inhaled deeply. It was his first tactic of suppressing the anguish when booze was not available. It almost never worked.

Almost.

An electric current of interest ignited his brain. His inhale took in a very familiar scent. For once, it was a good one. Heated meat of some sort.

A second sniff identified the source as something no man could mistake: bacon and eggs.

He peeled himself off the bed and moved into the kitchen. At the doorway, he detected the sound of food sizzling in a skillet. The smell intensified as he entered the kitchen.

At the stove stood Kristen, wearing a set of sweatpants and a sweater, flipping a few eggs. She looked his way and sported a friendly grin.

“Good morning.”

“Morning,” Colin replied. He was glad to see the food, but was also suspicious. “What’s going on here? What’s this all about?”

Kristen snorted. “Trust me, this is as much self-serving as it is me doing you a favor. Your fridge and pantry, eh, how can I put this nicely? For a second, I thought I was gonna need a hazmat team to come out here. Practically everything was expired. Just… yuck! So, I cleaned the place out and made a grocery run. I had no intention of going out this morning without breakfast.”

Colin stared longingly at the bacon on the griddle. Beside it was some strawberries, oranges, and some sliced tomatoes. Last, but not least, the coffee was completing its brewing cycle.

Near the garbage can were several grocery bags. There were far more than what was needed to carry in some eggs, bacon, and fruit. He moved to the pantry and opened it. Each shelf was filled with newly purchased goods, from canned goods to bread. He checked the fridge and found it also freshly stocked. Orange juice and milk stood on the bottom shelf, the meat drawer stuffed with lunch meat and cheese, and the bottom drawer loaded with vegetables. There were other things as well. Butter, dressing, mustard, coffee creamer, and many other amenities.

He shut the fridge and looked at Kristen. “Self-serving, huh? How long exactly were you planning on staying here?”

She cracked a smile, knowing the dumb question was his way of saying thanks. She loaded a plate full of eggs, toast, and bacon, then extended it to him.

“Bon appetite.”

Colin took in the aroma. He certainly was not going to say no to this. Still, he could not shed the look of suspicion on his face.

Kristen shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep last night. I needed to run back to my boat anyway to get the cyanide, cannister, and harpoon gun. On the way back, I figured I may as well make a run to the store. They were open later than I thought they’d be. Worked out for everybody.”

Colin opened the cabinet for a coffee mug. It was then he noticed everything in this kitchen had been thoroughly cleaned. At this point, it felt as though he was in an entirely different building.

He filled the mug and carried his breakfast to the dining room table. That too, was freshly wiped down and organized.

“Did you get any sleep?”

“I tend to be a light sleeper,” Kristen said. She filled her own plate and mug, then sat down across from him.

Colin ran his fork across his plate, playing with his food while pondering some thoughts.

Taking notice of the lack of consuming, Kristen looked over at him. “Don’t worry, they’re cooked all the way through. Even I can manage bacon and eggs.”

“Huh? Oh, no it’s not that,” Colin said. He leaned closer to his food and pretended to inspect it. “Then again, I think I see a little gooey spot right here…”

Kristen reached over and gently smacked him, sparking a chuckle from the former crab fisherman.

“You’re an ass.”

“If only I had a dollar every time somebody ever said that to me,” Colin said.

“You wouldn’t need to take a hundred grand from two strangers you rescued from a sea monster,” Kristen replied. An awkward silence filled the dining room.

Colin played with his food a little more, contemplating his situation. “Yeah, well, it’s not like I’m in high demand on the job market. Can’t blame anyone, if I’m being honest. I made my own bed, and I’ve got to lie in it.”

“Yeah, by the way… I’m actually glad I didn’t make good on my declaration to sleep in the bedroom last night. I peeked in on you, and yeah, saw the—” She chuckled as she thought of the many phrases to describe the mess. “Let’s just say that’s probably next on my list of things to clean around here.”

Colin appreciated the humor in that remark. His spirits lifted by the banter, he began shoveling food into his mouth.

“I suppose I could use some tidying up.”

“It’s a good stress reliever,” Kristen said.

“That why you did it last night?” Colin asked. He put his fork down and looked her in the eye. “For once, I wish the alcohol actually made my memory hazy. But it didn’t. Not for last night. I suppose I ran my mouth a little.”

“Except you were right,” Kristen said. “I gave you a hard time about everything that’s happened with you. Not to sound cruel, but you are right. It’s not like you’re in a position to say no to a job offer. Even one as weird and whacky as helping somebody slay a sea monster. Given the debt you’re in and everything, I suppose the only recourse you probably got in your disposal is selling your boat.”

Colin shuddered at the thought. “My father would disown me. He worked all of his life to pay that thing off. That, and the house.”

“You mean he expects you to keep it for life?” she asked. Colin’s lack of a response managed to convey the answer to that question. He had only assumed, but never got the nerve to ask his father about the situation.

“Haven’t spoken to him much lately,” he said. “I just know he loved the profession and loved that I was in it. I don’t see a world where he’d be happy to see me doing something else.”

“You sure you’re not selling your dad short?” Kristen asked. “I don’t know your dad, but I think most parents would be happy to see their kids happy. Not drinking themselves into an early grave, suppressing the pains brought about by the struggle of life.”

“I got two people killed,” Colin said.

“You made a judgement call in a very dangerous profession,” Kristen replied. “You were right; what you said to me before. Those of you who set out on the water, you’re not evil people. You’re making an honest living. Maybe some of you are contributing to the depopulation of certain marine species, but you’re not monsters.” She took a breath. “I took a little time to read up about it on the internet. A lot of guys die every year, whether it’s crab fishing, or swordfishing, you name it.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Colin resumed clearing his plate. Good-tasting food proved to be a better distraction from his personal issues than anything else so far. Even better than the booze, though he was not yet sure he was ready to admit it. Sensing Kristen’s eyes boring into him, he knew he had to follow up the statement with something a little more meaningful. “It’s the beauty of the world we live in. You have your gifts, guys like me have ours. I guess we need to find a way to meet in the middle and figure out a way to benefit the needs of humanity while respecting the oceans.”

Kristen was visibly caught off guard. If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought Colin was trying to butter her up to get her into the bedroom. Looking at her ex-boyfriend’s empty breakfast plate, it suddenly dawned on her: doing something nice for people sometimes brought out some of their better qualities.

Colin looked at the clock. 8:55.

“The hunter and the scientist will be here soon.” The hard knocking on the door made him twist in his chair. Through the window curtain, he could see two shadowy figures standing outside. “Speak of the devil.”

Kristen’s expression soured. “And he should appear.”

CHAPTER 23

Dr. Elliot Alere used to love being on the ocean. There was something freeing about seeing that vast blue horizon. He never considered himself a sailor, but he had taken advantage of friends’ yachts and fishing vessels from time to time.

Only now did he find himself watching the lapping waves with a melancholic stare. Perhaps it was one sea monster attack too many. Or, more likely, it had more to do with the fact his latest scientific marvel had proven to be nothing more than a burden for mankind. He watched the waves move from the hull of the boat and gradually disappear into the horizon, never to be noticed again. He used to watch those waves and compare them to the careers of most of his peers. Most of them did not do anything grand with their scientific gifts. Many settled for typical nine-to-five jobs, working in labs, doing research that would be read by nobody, taking teaching jobs for the benefits. One college buddy of his, Dr. Berning, went on to become an ice cream scientist. “Easy money, good hours,” the guy explained. Prior to that, he was top of his class, with forward-thinking ideas on regeneration and improving human immune system. Marriage and kids shifted his priorities and desires.

In Elliot’s mind, Dr. Berning’s contribution to science would roll with time, only to eventually disappear, unnoticed by almost all of humanity. Much like the ripples lapping from the Sulfuric Raindrop’s stern.

Today, Elliot watched those waves with envy. He would give anything to trade careers with Dr. Berning. Dr. Elliot Alere certainly made waves in the world of science, only those waves were tsunamis, causing destruction to everyone around them.

In trying to heal the sick, he only inflicted death.

Tobacco smoke wafted in his direction, snapping him out of his self-loathing trance. Kai Zahn emerged from the structure and stepped on deck, a lit cigar clenched between his teeth. Dr. Kristen McCauley was on the portside, audibly groaning when she saw the hunter strutting in her direction. He had his huge rifle on his shoulder, its barrel appearing tall enough to serve as a flagpole.

“We’re halfway there,” he said. He took a moment to glance at Green Pasture’s west shoreline. They could see a beach loaded with bathers, eager to take advantage of the beautiful summer morning.

“We should warn them,” Elliot muttered.

“The doc and captain already tried,” Kai replied. “It’s a waste of time. And time’s a-wast’n.”

Kristen raised an eyebrow. “What’s your rush?”

Kai puffed on his cigar. “Can’t I just be concerned with saving lives? What do you take me for, missy? Some cold-hearted bastard?”

Kristen’s expression was unwavering.

Drawing again on his smoke, Kai studied her assortment of supplies. She had a large crossbow and several sets of syringes, each one capable of holding up to ten ccs of cyanide.

“You sure you’ll be able to get that into the sucker using just a crossbow?” he asked.

She picked up one of the cannisters and a thin line of tubing. “See this? It’s called a medi-dart. We use them for sedating wildlife, including whales and other large marine animals. It’s simple: we bring the creature to the surface, we pump it full of poison, job’s over. Obviously, you don’t like wasting time, so I figure quick and easy suits you.”

Kai smirked. “Blowing its brains out is more fun. But all the same, as long as I can add one of its claws to my collection, I’m a happy camper.” He leaned against the gunwale, watching the world go by. During his idle staring, his eyes moved to the wheelhouse, then to Kristen. “So… you and the fisherman...”

Kristen was holding the crossbow. Never in her life had she felt murderous tendencies. But she had only known this jerk for sixteen hours, and already, she fantasized about putting one of those spears in his ass cheek.

“What about us?”

“I see you live in the same house. I guess there’s more than hanky-panky when it comes to you two, huh?”

Kristen slowly exhaled through her nostrils. “It’s a mutual arrangement. I chartered his boat, he was short on cash.”

“Yeah, I read about that,” Kai said. “Took his boat into rough waters. Got two of his men killed. Heard he was behind quota, so he decided to take the risk.” He whistled. “It gets rough in those Alaskan seas. Taking his boat directly into bad weather, not smart. I guess he really wanted the money. It looks even worse after learning his house and boat were already paid off by his daddy. I can’t imagine why he’s in a world of debt… unless he’s a gambler. He a gambler?”

Elliot tensed. Listening to this conversation, he was reminded of Kai’s need for thrill whenever he was not actively hunting. Often, that involved sexual escapades. Certainly, he got his fill of that all night long with the bartender he brought to his motel room. Now, he was getting his satisfaction by aggravating the environmentalist.

A hunter and an environmentalist in the same space. Yeah, that was never gonna go over well. Especially if the hunter is Kai Zahn.

“No, he’s not a gambler,” Kristen said. Her attempts to muffle her frustration did not go unnoticed, spurring the hunter further.

“Well, he doesn’t appear to be a big spender. ‘Cept for the booze, but that probably has more to do with the overall downward spiral. No, maybe drugs. Yeah, drugs. That shit really drains the bank account quick, even if you have a lot of dough. Never was dumb enough to do the shit myself, but I’ve known a few shitheads who have. Damn, I gotta tell ya, the stuff they would do just to get the cash for their next fix.”

Kristen squared up with him. “Shut up. He does not do drugs. He’s not involved in anything illegal. His issues are none of your concern. Keep this up, you will have a concern. And that’ll be backstroking to shore.”

“Tell that to your boy-toy, whom you claim is not your boy-toy,” Kai persisted. “Doubt he’d take kindly to you costing him a hundred grand.” He tilted his head to study her figure. She was a foot shorter than him and probably weighed a hundred-twenty pounds soaking wet. “Not that he’d have to worry about that in general.”

Elliot could not take it anymore. He turned to face them.

“Kai, you mind?”

“You judging me on character, Doctor Alere?” Kai responded. “I might be a jackass, but hey! I’m one of the few people on this boat who doesn’t have blood on my hands. Imagine that irony.” He turned his eyes back to Kristen. “What about you, Miss? Any skeletons in your closet? Doubt they’ll match up with Alere’s, but you look to be the type who’s full of surprises. Tree-hugging type like you, I bet you’d ram a boat if you saw them catching ingredients for turtle soup.”

Kristen did not take the bait. Instead, her eyes shifted to Elliot, conveying her unspoken questions about what the hunter was alluding to. She was smart enough to know he was not referring to the squid.

“We’ll be at the kelp forest in twelve minutes.”

All eyes went to the flying deck. Colin Carver’s hands gripped the guardrail as he glared at the main deck of his boat. Judging by the look in his eyes, he had caught most of the conversation.

“Mr. Zahn,” he continued. “Get the chum out. We’ll want to lure your friend up with a nice aroma. Cephalopods love the smell of blood as much as everything else. It’ll give you something to pass the time until you can have your ‘thrill’.”

Kai replied with a mock salute. “As you wish, Captain.”

“Just dawned on me,” Kristen said. “You said you’d solved the issue of bait. I don’t happen to see anything other than chum.”

Kai moved to where the chum bucket was located. “Trade secrets, darl’n.”

The group decided to leave it at that. By now, nobody wanted to strike up conversation with the jackass. Not that anyone was eager to begin with, but given his thirst for conflict, now the occupants of the Sulfuric Raindrop treated him as though he had some kind of infectious disease.

Elliot gave one more look to the shoreline. He could still see several people splashing with their rafts and a few others on small sailboats. The thought of letting them go into the water, knowing a tentacled fiend was lurking somewhere below the deceptively calm waves, made him nauseous.

The overwhelming guilt welling within him was not helping matters. Just as Kai needed amusement to kill the time, Elliot needed to distract himself.

First thing’s first: he needed to stop watching the water. With that in mind, he moved to the ladder and ascended to the flying deck. Colin was on his way back to the wheelhouse when he noticed the doctor reaching the top bar.

“Need something, Doc?”

“Maybe some more pleasant company, if you don’t mind?”

Colin took note of the way Elliot subtly tilted his head in Kai’s direction. Shrugging, he waved the scientist in.

Elliot followed him into the bridge and stood left of the helm. Colin took a seat in the chair and put his feet up on the console.

“I’d offer you a beer, but I’m out.”

Elliot’s brow wrinkled. “Plus, it’s twenty after nine in the morning.”

“Hmm. That too,” Colin retorted.

They rode in silence for a couple of minutes before Elliot came up with something to fill the dead air.

“Boat’s been in your family for a while, huh?”

“My dad’s,” Colin said. “Right now it’s just a hunk of metal with no purpose. It’ll never see a crab voyage again. Unless I sell it, of course.”

“Because of what happened? With the storm?” Elliot asked.

Colin gave him a sour glance. Elliot felt the first pings of regret for bringing up such a sensitive subject. It wasn’t simple nosiness that made him ask, but his own list of regrets, for they forged a wall of empathy.

“Yeah, because of what happened,” Colin finally answered.

Feeling the need to reassure the fisherman, Elliot pointed his thumb back in the hunter’s general direction. “Sorry about dipshit back there. He has a way about him, for lack of a better way of putting it.”

“I’ve noticed,” Colin said.

“Yeah. My point is: I don’t think you were doing anything sinister,” Elliot continued. “By that, I mean I don’t think you’re involved in any of the shit Kai was insinuating. I’m sure you had your reasons.”

“He was right about one thing,” Colin said. “I was behind on quota. Money wasn’t particularly great this past couple of years. Been on kind of a cold streak, and I’ve got expenses.”

“Oh…” Elliot tried to think of what those expenses could be, aside from basic bills. He clearly was not very good at concealing those thoughts, given Colin’s follow-up.

“Yes, my house and boat are paid up. I’ve got a kid. Lives on the mainland. Needs a lot of therapy. I mean, a lot of therapy. He’s probably gonna have to live in a group home and will require a lot of professional assistance.” He fidgeted with his ballcap. “Eh, who am I kidding. Not ‘probably’. For sure, he’ll need those things. Not to mention I’ve been supporting his mom so she could stay home and take care of him. At least, I was.”

“Oh! I’m sorry to hear that,” Elliot said. “Special needs, I assume?”

“Yeah.”

“I see. So, I guess that explains your actions on the seas. Needed to pay some bills, keep the therapies ongoing. He probably needs constant work on speech, motor skills, and a number of other things. Yeah, those costs would add up, even with insurance.” He lowered his eyes in sorrow. He did not expect to relate so closely to Colin’s story. The guy did not go into dangerous territory out of greed, but out of a desire to help his son. His good intentions and bad judgement cost the lives of two people, and now it was eating him from within.

“It weighs heavily, doesn’t it?” Colin said.

Elliot sensed the tone. It was Colin’s way of telling the scientist ‘your turn’. Following a sigh, he decided to let it out. Fair was fair.

“When I was a kid, my father came down with Parkinson’s at a relatively early age. Watched the old man get paralyzed on half his body. The disease seemingly struck whenever it felt like it, as though it had a mind of its own. Add to that, I had a sister come down with Leukemia when I was ten—the stress of dealing with that probably hastened my dad’s Parkinson’s. Going from bad to worse, she contracted the Epstein-Barr virus. The doctors suspect it hastened the progression of her cancer. Ultimately, she died after six weeks.”

“Hm. My condolences,” Colin said. His tone was simultaneously sincere, yet dry. “That’s why you genetically engineered a prehistoric squid?”

Elliot should have seen that question coming.

“No. That’s why I devoted the first few years of my profession to developing a cure for the Epstein-Barr virus. I thought I was on to something. We had some trials that were showing promising results. We had something that diminished the symptoms of the virus within a couple of days. That was not good enough for me. I didn’t want the equivalent of a flu shot. I wanted a cure. So, I went back to formula and redesigned the antiviral. The board did not want to go forward with it. Too quick. Not enough tests. In other words, they needed suits to have a few meetings and make a few handshakes. So, I arranged some tests myself. We tested the antiviral, and…” An exasperated sigh finished the statement.

Colin filled in the blanks. “The test subjects died. Yeah, that might put a damper on a career.”

“Yeeeeah,” Elliot groaned.

“And you needed a job,” Colin continued. “Long story short, you get in contact with somebody who wanted you to experiment with prehistoric marine life. You figured you could find the cure for Parkinson’s and other diseases. If successful, maybe, just maybe, you could claim to have atoned for your past mistakes.”

Elliot watched the fisherman with a heightened sense of admiration. “I guess you’ve still retained some brain cells despite your steady diet of booze.”

Colin grinned, appreciating the humor in that remark.

“One or two.” He stood up and gazed at the waters on the south side of the island. They were getting close to their destination. “Hopefully I’m still smarter than your squid.”

Elliot bit his lip. “I’m not even sure I am.”

“It’s that smart, huh?”

“Smarter. It’s very smart and very mean, and that is a very bad combination.”

Colin paled, questioning his decision to come out here.

“Hopefully that plan of ours works.” He glanced over his shoulder to look out at the main deck. “Then again, given how crazy that bastard seems to be, I wouldn’t be surprised if he has some batshit lunatic scheme.”

Elliot found himself staring at the horizon again. Kai’s remark about not having any blood on his hands was questionable at best.

“Nor would I.”

CHAPTER 24

The brownish red mixture of oil, blood, and fish guts extended over a hundred yards. Already, it attracted some small sharks and bony fish eager to grab themselves an easy snack.

Kai’s cigar was an inch from the stub when he took his last draw. Spewing a long, grey cloud of tobacco smoke, he tossed the soggy remnant into the chum trail, the lit end hissing as it connected with the water. A scoopful of chum splattered over it, blending the piece of tobacco perfectly with the rest of the trail.

Colin watched from the flying deck, letting the boat drift while the hunter attempted to draw it in with the enticing scent. He was awfully quiet while he worked; a fact much appreciated by everyone else on the boat. While Colin appreciated the levity in combativeness, something within him felt uneasy. His bullshit meter was going off. But without anything to go on, there was no sense in trying to figure out why he felt suspicious about Kai. With that in mind, he decided to focus his energy elsewhere.

He looked to his left at Elliot, who also watched from the flying deck.

“After we’re done here, when do I get paid?”

Elliot stalled with a nervous, “Uhh,” before shrugging and stumbling out the words, “When we get back to shore, I suppose. I’ll need account information for my company to do the wire transfer. Does that work for you?”

Colin watched the ocean, half-expecting the pointed shell of the leviathan to appear any moment. If he bit the dust during this expedition, it would all be for nothing.

“That phone of yours working?”

Elliot looked at his smartphone. “Seems to be. Case managed to keep it from getting too wet.”

“Good. Call your boss and authorize the transfer now,” Colin said.

Elliot’s eyes widened. “He, uh, probably won’t take well to that before the job is complete.”

“How would he take to this: tell him I want a down payment right this moment, or we turn back.” Colin dug a card out of his wallet and shoved it in the doctor’s hand. “Name, account number, and routing number is all right there.”

Elliot, unsure of what to do, found himself looking at Kai. The hunter tossed another scoop out to sea, then looked back at Elliot as though sensing he was being watched.

“Don’t look at me. You heard the man. Go and do it. Shocked he didn’t demand it last night.”

Seeing he had no other choice, Elliot unclipped his phone and started dialing. As he did, he read the details on the card.

“Wait.” He stopped mid-dial and turned to Colin. “The name here is Sarah Malkah.”

“Yeah. And?”

Elliot thought about it for a moment, then connected the dots with the story Colin had shared earlier in the wheelhouse.

“I’ll have it taken care of.” He finished dialing and waited for someone to answer on the other end of the line. “Yeah, it’s Doctor Alere. Get me Ralf Briggs… I don’t care if he’s busy right now. I need him on the phone this instant… Thank you.” A couple of minutes passed, during which Elliot got increasingly impatient. In the end, his boss answered the call. “Mr. Briggs, thanks for taking my call. It’s an urgent matter… Yes, we’re tracking it right now. Looks like we should have the issue taken care of today. We’ve hired a contractor, but he’s requiring a down payment… Oh, for chrissake, Ralf! It’s a drop in the bucket compared to what you typically spend on a Friday afternoon… I have the account info right here. It’s not his, it’s his ex’s… I don’t know… I don’t—You want me to ask?... Ralf… Alright, fine, thank you. Okay, the details are as follows…”

Colin rested against the guardrail, listening to Elliot read off the account number. A chilling feeling rushed up his spine. It was a sensation he had not felt in a long time. A weight lifting off of his shoulders. Sarah would be able to pay off the rehab debts and get Stevie back into his sessions.

The heavy feeling began to return as he did the math in his head. Half of those funds would immediately go to the debts. The other half would be depleted in a year. Maybe two. Even if he finished the job and got the other fifty grand, it would last them another couple of years at best. There was also food, bills, rent, and everything else to consider. Not to mention his own cost of living.

It was depressing to realize how little one hundred thousand dollars was in the grand scheme of things.

He forced the concerns from his mind and focused on the short-term win. Stevie was in a better spot now than he was yesterday. There was something to be said for that. Once this job was over, he would pull himself out of the rut he was in and come up with a long-term solution.

Maybe start with making yourself a part of his life, you dummy.

“Okay, thank you.” Elliot ended the call and returned the bank card to Colin. “Everything’s taken care of.”

Colin stood motionless. His bullshit detector was going off again. Elliot’s hand began shaking as it continued holding the card in his direction.

“You look nervous.”

“What?” Elliot forced a smile. “He authorized the transfer. If you don’t believe him, you can check the account.”

“Awfully convenient, given it’s not my account.” Colin snatched the card from Elliot’s hand. He was regretting his decision not to use his own account. He had wanted to ensure the money was in Sarah’s possession in case things went south during the hunt. Unfortunately, he didn’t think this part of it through, and he had a feeling this Ralf Briggs guy was counting on this.

“Look at that,” Kristen said. She pointed starboard to the vessel’s four o’clock.

Elliot was quick to take advantage of the segue. He smiled as he caught sight of the splashing waves and the arching bodies that were causing them.

“Look at that. Pacific white-sided dolphins.”

There were eight of them in the pack, each of them revealing the three colors on their bodies as they breached the water’s surface. Their bellies were a creamy white, contrasting sharply with their dark grey back, beak, and flippers. Dotting their sides were light grey patches, like little clouds on a twilight horizon.

They moved in on the chum trail, drawn by the smaller fish that was busy feasting on the little bits of meat drifting within the mixture.

“At least we found something interesting today,” Kristen said.

Colin could see she was smiling ear-to-ear. Obviously she was a lover of all things related to the ocean, but right now specifically, she looked like a kid in a candy store.

“What? You haven’t seen dolphins before?” he quipped.

Kristen snorted and gave him a derisive look. “Of course, you dingbat. But I didn’t expect to find them here. This species in particular. They occasionally come into the strait, but for the most part, they prefer to stick to the open ocean. I guess these fellas felt like taking the scenic route today.”

“They obviously don’t mind helping themselves to our bait,” Kai muttered. “Fat bastards, aren’t they? Would you say they’re heavyset for the average dolphin?”

It was an odd question, but Kristen decided to answer it anyway. “They can get to around eight feet and two hundred and twenty pounds. And they’re not helping themselves to the bait, but rather, helping themselves to everything else that’s visiting the chum line. Mind explaining to me why that’s a problem? And while you’re at it, you can throw in a point as to why you’ve stopped chumming.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem,” Kai said. He tossed the scoop into the bin and looked to the west. “Not a problem at all. In fact, nobody on this boat is happier to see them than me. On top of that, their timing is perfect.”

Right then, he made a B-line right for the wheelhouse.

Colin looked to the west, spotting three dark shapes on the water. Immediately, he recognized them as fishing boats. He grabbed a pair of binoculars from the wheelhouse and took a closer look at the nearest one.

It was a beam trawler, with a light grey hull contrasting sharply with its white outboards. No net was in the water, and the two crewmen on deck were sporting shotguns and rifles.

He focused on the name of the boat. Mean House.

“What the hell?” Colin lowered the glasses. “What is she doing here?”

“Who?” Elliot asked.

“Elana Rogers,” Colin said. “Real self-proclaimed hotshot. Thinks she’s the biker chick of the sea. Not a big fan of yours truly, but then again, who is?”

“Sounds like you’re two peas in a pod,” an uninterested Elliot replied. “What’s the big deal with her being out here?”

“She almost never fishes over here. She likes to set crab traps and trawl for shrimp near the Washington Merchant wreck, three miles northwest of the island.” Colin studied the two men on her deck. Though they were pretty far away, he was able to recognize the denim vest and black ponytail of Terrence Hawthorne, and the faded John Deere ballcap worn by Wade Cowl. “Also, I doubt Remington sponsors shrimp boats.”

Elliot whipped his head in the direction of the Mean House. “They’re carrying guns?!”

“Why would they—” Kristen stopped abruptly, figuring out the answer to that question herself. She looked at Kai as he climbed the latter. “Almost looks like they’re on a hunting trip. Almost as if someone spread the word last night of a predator in the water. Let me guess, you promised a reward?”

Kai stepped onto the flying deck. “I believe in working efficiently.”

“Didn’t think you’d be one for letting someone else have your kill,” Colin said.

“He isn’t,” Elliot said in a foreboding voice. He watched Kai enter the wheelhouse, then followed him inside. “Kai, what are you doing?”

“What you hired me for.” The hunter went straight for the boat’s radio.

Colin could tell by Elliot’s reaction that he had no clue what Kai was up to. He followed the two men into the wheelhouse, ready to demand an explanation. Before the words could come out, Kai had the speaker mic raised to his lips.

“Miss Elana. Leroy. Douglas Farrow. Is that you I see over there?”

“I’m here,” Elana replied. “Don’t tell me that’s you on board the Sulfuric Raindrop, Mr. Man With No Name.”

“Yep, that’s me.”

“Buy that loser’s boat off him?” Leroy asked. “Not a bad investment, now that I think of it. You could probably get it for half-price at this point. Hell, maybe even a third, given how strung up for cash he is.”

Kai chuckled, watching Colin’s facial expressions as a few more insults came pouring in.

“No, he’s right here with me. I have no use for this tub after today. Once the job’s done with, I’m outta here.”

“Douglas here. On that note, Mr. Man With No Name, what’s going on? You making a social call? Some of us would like to get on with this hunt.”

“Perfect,” Kai said. “Because I’m offering all of you something to speed up the process. I’m offering some bait that is sure to attract our target. Just bring your boats over to me. Make sure you have a towline ready.”

“Sounds good to me,” Elana said.

“On my way,” Leroy replied.

“This better work,” Douglas added.

Kai smiled. “It’s bound to work. Oh, if you hear gunshots, don’t be alarmed.” He placed the mic down and turned on his heel. Without a moment’s hesitation, he pushed between Colin and Elliot and marched back outside.

Colin’s heart had skipped a couple of beats at this point.

“Gunshots? Bait? What bait? I didn’t see you bring anything other than chum when you arrived at my house this morning.”

“There wasn’t anything sufficient to our needs available on the market,” Kai said. He slid down the ladder to the main deck and made his way to the transom.

The dolphins were still busy at the chum line, some of them splashing less than ten yards away from the boat. He watched them for a short while, gauging their breathing patterns and movements.

“Perfect.”

He drew his revolver and took aim.

Colin sucked in a breath. This asshole seriously isn’t doing what I think he’s—

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Colin jolted, the popping of gunshots ringing his ears. “Jesus!”

“What in the hell?! Kai! What are you doing?!” Elliot descended the ladder and moved toward the hunter.

Beyond him, the water churned. Cries of agony haunted the souls of those aboard the Sulfuric Raindrop, with the exception of the murderous fiend at the transom.

Another shot rang out, the deadly bullet striking another porpoise behind its right eye. The mammal smacked its fluke against the surface and rolled onto its back, its dying brain firing a thousand different signals through its body.

The rest of the family rushed to the aid of their injured members, unwittingly putting themselves in the path of Kai’s reign of terror. With fresh rounds loaded into the 357. Magnum’s cylinder, he popped off more rounds.

Blood spurted from gaping wounds. The pod was in a frenzy, with members struggling to keep the dying porpoises afloat, while some whistled warnings about swimming to safety.

By now, Colin joined the others on the main deck. He ran up to Kai, grabbed his wrist, and redirected his gun to the sky.

“What in the hell is the matter with you?!”

“Have you gone mad?” Elliot added.

Kristen had her hands to her face, unable to take her eyes off the horrendous bloody aftermath of the massacre.

“We’re heading back!” she cried. “Stopping the creature is one thing. But this is insanity.” She looked over her left shoulder at the approaching boats. “And what’s going on with them? Why are they coming over here? What are you guys planning to do?”

Elliot immediately raised his hands. “This is not my idea. I’ve got nothing to do with this.”

“You hired this man, did you not?” Colin said. “You not know anything about him when you linked up?”

Elliot stammered, overwhelmed by the sudden escalation of violence and the sparking tempers.

“No, no, no. I—”

“Oh, shut up.” Kai lit another cigar and strutted past Colin for a snare pole. “We’re not part of the E.P.A. We’re not on some righteous mission. We’re here to kill a big-ass squid. And I’d like to keep my head while we’re at it.”

“Your head,” Kristen said. She pointed her thumb at Elana Rogers’ vessel. “But what about theirs? Do they even know what they’re hunting?”

“They know enough,” Kai said. He crossed his arms and waited for the three boats. “For the love of Christ, could these people move any slower? The bait won’t stay afloat forever.”

Colin turned his eyes to the boats, then back at Kai. All of a sudden, it made perfect sense. His failed method of towing bait, which had only served to cause the creature to attack his vessel, was part of the plan. Except, the porpoises he killed were not the real bait. That unlucky role was planned for the fishermen, who he was conning into towing the carcasses.

Even his bizarre antagonistic behavior was all part of the strategy. Kai knew he would face questions about the issue of bait, so he shifted the attention off of himself by creating an incredibly awkward situation, resulting in nobody, not even Elliot, wanting to interact with him.

“Only guy on this boat without blood on your hands, huh?” Colin moved to the gunwale and waved his arms in a desperate attempt to deter the boats from getting closer.

Kai sniggered. “Trying out for a role as an island native?”

Colin gave thought to decking him across the face. Then again, he wasn’t foolish enough to start a brawl with a man holding a gun. No, the better idea was to speak with the fishermen directly through the radio.

It was a thought shared by Kristen, who was already making her way to the wheelhouse, having come to the same realization about Kai as Colin. He hurried after her, whipping up the ladder as though he was light as a mosquito.

Equally as fast was Kai.

“Kai! What are you—Don’t!” Elliot called out.

Colin turned around on the flying deck as the hunter rose from the ladder. His brow furrowed and he raised a finger.

“You’re already on thin ice. Don’t take another step.”

Kai responded with a smile, and a haymaker to the jaw. Colin fell against the structure, his vision a haze. A second punch landed to his midsection, dropping him to his knees.

There, Colin remained, his insides feeling as though they might erupt through his throat at any moment. Meanwhile, Kai casually marched into the wheelhouse.

As the door opened, Kristen’s voice could be heard as she began speaking into the radio. “This is the Sulfuric Raindrop, calling all fishing boats in the area. Do not—”

The sound of a heavy impact, followed by the thud of something hitting the floor interrupted her transmission.

The next voice was Kai’s. “Disregard. Move it along, will ya? You guys are as slow as molasses in January.”

Colin stumbled into the wheelhouse. Kristen was on the floor, unconscious, her forehead red from where Kai had slammed her against the console.

“Son of a bitch!” He looked to the area where he stored his shotgun. Kai was already way ahead of him, tapping the case with his boot.

“Come and get it.”

Anger took hold of the crab fisherman. This time, there was zero regard for the revolver in Kai’s possession. Not that it mattered. It was holstered, the hunter appearing more than eager for a good fight.

Colin charged, slamming him against the helm. He executed a wide swing, catching Kai across the chin. What he got in response was a toothy grin, conveying the unspoken message That’s all you got?

A headbutt followed the sentiment. Colin stumbled backward, blood dripping from both nostrils. At this moment, he realized he was fighting with someone who was way out of his league. Kai Zahn was the kind of bastard who enjoyed wrestling with full-grown crocodiles. An alcoholic washed up boat captain was nothing in comparison.

That did not stop Colin from trying again to knock his block off. This time, his haymaker was parried, and a closed fist found its way to his ribs. An elbow struck his chin, then a knee raised to his abdomen.

Next thing Colin knew, it was his turn to have his face slammed against the console. He hit the deck, settling on his back.

Kai stood above him, not having even broken a sweat. He relit his cigar as though casually attending an outdoor barbecue. Puffing smoke, he pressed his boot onto Colin’s neck.

With his airway cut off, the curtains were quick to close over Colin’s vision. Next came the black of unconsciousness.

CHAPTER 25

“Don’t you think this is a little messed up?”

Elana Rogers kept her eyes on the horizon and her fish finder, all while resisting the urge to tell off her anxious first mate. Terrence Hawthorne generally was not the squeamish type. He had no problem drinking booze on the job, using illegal underwater traps for catching fish and lobster, and even sabotaging the nets of a competitor one time. Evidently, using a dead porpoise was crossing the line for him.

Standing tall on the flying bridge of the Mean House—adequately renamed from its previous destination Greenhouse—Elana kept one hand on the revolver tucked in the waist of her pants, all the while listening to the gentle breeze, the rolling waves, and the rhythm of the motor. None of those were as tantalizing as the sound of money.

“It is what it is,” Wade Cowl replied. “The thing’s already dead. Might as well get some use out of it.”

“It’s not like we found it dead,” Terrence said. “The guy shot the poor thing. And a bunch of others. Who the hell does that? Doesn’t anything about this hunt strike you as weird?”

“All I care about is my cut of the ten grand he’s paying,” Wade said. “As long as the boss is confident the check will clear, I’m content with it.”

Terrence shifted, his angst only deepening. “What the hell are they doing out there behind us?”

Curious as to whom he was referring to, Elana turned around. A few hundred yards back was the Sulfuric Raindrop. It was trailing behind the line of fishing boats, aligned perfectly with the middle vessel, which was Leroy’s Harbinger. Almost a thousand yards beyond him was Douglas’ vessel, L. Talbot. All three boats towed at least one dead porpoise. According to the ‘Man with no name’, it was the most likely method of attracting the man-eating shark.

Admittedly, it did look strange with their ‘client’ straying back so far. It appeared as though he was intentionally maintaining a distance of which he could monitor all three vessels.

She brushed it off. In fairness, he did say the target was in this precise area. Spreading out too far would not make too much sense.

“He’s giving himself a bird’s eye view,” she replied to Terrence.

“I don’t think they’re towing bait,” Terrence said.

“How would you know?” Elana asked. “You can’t see their stern from all the way over here.”

“We’ve got enough of an angle.” Terrence raised binoculars at the Sulfuric Raindrop. “There doesn’t appear to be anything behind them.”

Wade took a turn. After a minute of observation, he lowered the glasses and shook his head.

“Too far off. Can’t really tell.”

“Maybe this is part of some scheme,” Terrence said. “Maybe Carver’s setting us up. Maybe someone will catch us out here with these dolphins, land us in jail and a hefty fine. His way of taking out the competition.”

“Except, he lost his fishing license, you muppet,” Elana replied. “Even if he ‘took out the competition’ it wouldn’t do him much good. Plus, he fishes for crab. Rather, he used to. And besides, I doubt Carver has the connections to recruit a guy like Mr. No Name. Definitely doesn’t have the funds to pay for everybody’s tab at the bar.”

“But don’t you think it’s a little odd—”

Elana groaned. “Terrence, would you please shut up about it?”

“But…”

“One more word, and your cut’s getting divided between Wade and myself. Dead serious. We’re already guaranteed some decent coin just by participating. If we find and kill the thing, we get another fifteen grand. Don’t screw it up for me.”

Terrence kept his lips shut. He knew of his captain’s debts. Between a slow shrimping season, her gambling, some medical expenses, and spending too much time at the bar, her savings were almost completely drained. As much as she liked to make fun of Colin Carver, she was truly not too far from being in a similar financial hole.

Content with his silence, Elana returned her attention to the water and her fish finder. Propped on the gunwale to her right was her 12-guage shotgun. It was fully loaded and ready to put a gaping hole between the eyes of the rogue great white. A few blasts and she would be fifteen thousand dollars richer. It would be enough to get Doug Merchin at the casino from blowing up her phone. And allow her to afford something better than cheap beer from the bar.

***

“Wake up.”

Prior to hearing Kristen’s voice, Colin felt the heel of her shoe driving into his shoulder. A surge of energy and awareness consumed body and mind, lifting Colin from the abyss of slumber. Images of his brawl with Kai flashed in his mind.

An ache crept up both arms into his shoulders, the flesh around his wrists feeling as though they were being sliced. In that moment he realized both hands were locked behind his back. He sat up and pulled, unable to remove his wrists from their position.

Seated across from him was Kristen. She was leaning against the cupboard, her head bruised and her hands locked behind her back in the same way his were.

They were in the galley. Their hands were tied behind their backs and their feet were bound with rope. Kai did not skimp on his tying technique, for Colin could not wriggle his wrists free no matter how hard he struggled.

“You alright?” he asked Kristen.

She cocked her head to the side and grunted. “Define ‘alright’?”

“Fair enough.” Colin made another attempt to free himself. He pulled until he felt his hands would pop off his wrists. He slumped against the canned goods drawer, on the verge of unloading a slew of curse words into the dark room. The view of Kristen staring back at him with concerned eyes lifted him from the fog of anger. “I suppose you wanna say ‘I told you so?’”

Kristen pursed her lips and made a ‘mm-hmm’ sound.

Colin shrugged. “I’ve got it coming this time.”

She sighed and shook her head. “Maybe not as much as you think. I knew there was something fishy about those guys, but I didn’t think they would take it this far.”

“How long have we been out?”

“As far as the entire length of time, I can’t say,” she replied. “All I can say is you’ve been out for a half-hour longer than me. Only thing worse than being captured by a psychopath was listening to your snoring.”

“That’s just great,” Colin said. “Glad to know you’re focused on the important stuff. I don’t suppose you know if the creature has attacked.”

“Don’t think so,” she said. “I could hear the occasional back and forth between Kai and Dr. Alere. Pretty sure I’d hear some more hearty commotion if they came across it.”

“Fair enough.” Colin sat still for a short while. His effort to calm himself and focus only resulted in agitation. “I’m gonna kick that guy’s ass.”

“Yeah?” Kristen sported a grin. “I see how well that worked out the first time.”

Colin sat up straight and burned her with a contemptuous glare.

“Ouch!”

Kristen’s grin evolved into a full smile. It had a contagious effect on Colin, who finally cooled off and sported one of his own.

It did not last long. High spirits were hard to keep up when one was essentially held hostage while knowing lives were at severe risk.

“For real, though,” Kristen said. “We need to get out of this and find a way to alert those other fishermen. Except, we’re dealing with a bastard who’s got three guns in his possession. Don’t suppose you’ve got extra firearms hidden down here, do ya?”

“I will once this is all over,” Colin replied. He looked to the silverware cabinet near the sink. “But there’s something else I might be able to use.”

“Think we’ll need something more than a butterknife,” Kristen said.

Colin shifted his weight, putting himself on his knees, then stood up. With his ankles tied together, he had no choice but to hop over to the cabinet. Once there, he had to figure out a way to open the drawer without his hands. He leaned forward and pressed his chin to the handle, then inched backward. For a moment, it seemed to work. The drawer started to slide open a few millimeters…

Then he slipped and fell backward.

“Hell!”

Kristen shook her head and got herself off the floor. “You know, there are easier ways to do this.”

He looked at her from the floor. “Yeah? This from years of experience of being captured by evil villains?”

“No. Just a little bit of common sense.” Kristen hobbled to the drawer and turned around so her hands lined up with the handle. She grabbed it then scooted forward, opening it completely.

“Hmm. Certainly makes more sense.” Colin got up. “For what it’s worth, that was gonna be my second strategy.”

They both peeked into the drawer.

“Not that it would’ve made much difference,” Kristen said.

They both cursed under their breath while looking at the empty knife slot. Kai was smart enough to remove the utensils and make sure they did not cut themselves free.

A sharp turn in the boat made both of them fall over.

“Son of a—” Colin landed on his back, his elbows breaking the fall. Kristen fell in the exact same manner… and direction. Her right elbow connected with his groin, igniting a world of hurt. “—bitch!”

***

Kai chuckled, having heard Colin’s exclamation all the way from the wheelhouse. Hearing movement below deck, he shifted the boat to starboard, successfully throwing the two prisoners off balance. There was no motivation other than his own amusement. Even being a seasoned hunter who had spent countless days in hot, bug-infested environments, he preferred having something to kill the idle time.

With his elephant gun and Kristen’s crossbow propped against the console, he put the Sulfuric Raindrop on a narrow course.

Elliot Alere rushed into the wheelhouse. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’?!” Elliot said. “The boat veered suddenly. Someone spot the creature?”

Kai looked back at the scientist. Elliot was still nursing the bruised eye he earned after attempting to interfere with tying up the prisoners.

“Not yet. Glad to see you’ve got your priorities back in order, though.”

Elliot’s jaw tensed. After sorting through a few retorts, he went with a simple, “What’s going to happen to them when we’re done?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether your boss will change his mind about paying them.”

Elliot exhaled slowly. “And if he does not?”

“Might be hard to keep them quiet. The drunken fisherman would be easy to write off as, well, a drunken fisherman. Nobody will believe a word he says. The scientist gal might pose more of an issue.”

“Speak plainly,” Elliot said. “What’s gonna happen to them?”

Kai, again focused on amusing himself, continued with the current method of answering, knowing Elliot hated it.

“The guy already has a history of making bad decisions, nautically speaking. Missy clearly has a thing for him, even if she doesn’t want to admit it. It stands to reason ‘they went on a little cruise, alcohol was involved, dumb decisions ensued, bad results happened.’”

As he predicted, the scientist paled.

“You’re not seriously thinking—”

“Not just me,” Kai said. “You know why you had to lie about that account transfer?”

Kai could almost envision the headache setting in as Elliot connected the dots. The scientist’s hand crept up his face, uncertain whether it was to nurse the headache or pull his hair out of his head.

“You spoke to Ralf?”

“There’s a reason he recommended me to you,” Kai said. “You think he would fork out money without keeping tabs on the progress. He’s already aware of the situation with Dr. McCowly.”

“McCauley,” Elliot corrected him.

“Whatever it is, you can say she screwed it up for Crab Man. It’s a shame, I actually kinda liked him. Kind of guy you can have a beer with. Or ten or twelve. If it was just him, we maybe could’ve convinced Mr. Briggs to just throw some money and an NDA and shut him up. But she’s the moralistic type. And unfortunately, he fancies her. What a shame.”

“Wait, Ralf is suggesting you…” Elliot could not get himself to say it out loud. He was in darker territory than he could ever have dreamed. He thought things took a drastic turn with using the fishermen as bait. But outright killing somebody to ensure their silence? This day was quickly going from bad to worse. Knowing Ralf was now communicating directly with Kai confirmed the tycoon did not trust Elliot to handle the situation. Not to Ralf’s satisfaction, at least.

He turned his eyes back to the ocean. The Mean House and the Harbinger were still several hundred feet ahead of him. He looked to the right.

The L. Talbot had slowed, now trailing a couple hundred feet behind the others.

He picked up the mic. “L. Talbot. Everything okay over there?”

“I was gonna keep it to myself,” Douglas replied. “But since you’re asking, I’m picking up something on my fish finder. Something BIG! And it’s been moving behind me, directly under my bait. I’m not sure if it’s your fish, though. It seems way too big. But it doesn’t seem to be a whale.”

Kai cut the wheel to starboard. “Well done, L. Talbot.”

“Wait, that’s it? I don’t think—”

“Yep, you found it.”

“Don’t forget! The fifteen grand only goes to the person who KILLS the thing!” Elana exclaimed.

Right away, the Mean House and Harbinger turned to starboard and moved at full-throttle towards Douglas’ vessel.

“You’ve got to warn them,” Elliot said.

“Unlike the idiots below, these people’s silence can be bought,” Kai explained. “I know their type. All too well, as a matter of fact. They’re a dime a dozen. Unfortunately, they have just enough self-preservation to require a little deception on my part. If they knew from the start what they were dealing with, they probably wouldn’t have come out here. Not to mention there were other people in that bar who would’ve heard the story. Too many mouths to pay off. Again, the boss man is good with the plan. Helps that these guys are cheaper. All I need to do is increase their initial ten-grand to fifteen, and they’ll be more than glad to sign anything. Everybody’s happy.”

“Everybody who walks away,” Elliot replied. “You’re using them as bait. You know how that thing hunts.”

“I think it’s ascending!” Douglas announced. “Fifteen grand, here I come!”

Kai grabbed the harpoon. “Doc, I’m gonna need you to take the wheel in a minute.”

Elliot stood quietly for a moment, eventually croaking out the words, “Okay, fine.”

Then he was out of the wheelhouse.

Kai exhaled through his nose, his upper lip peeling back to bare his teeth.

“Like I don’t know what you’re doing.”

***

“Will you get off of me?”

Kristen sat up and gave a burning look at his boot pressed against her hip. “If you even think of pushing me off like that, you’ll be begging to meet with the squid.”

Colin, taking her threat seriously, allowed her to roll off of him. He propped himself up on his elbows, wincing from the continuing discomfort in his groin.

“I think I’m already at that point.”

Kristen put her knees to her chest and slipped her hands under her feet. Though her wrists were still bound, she at least had a little maneuverability with her hands this way. She looked down at Colin, who looked as though he was on death’s door.

“The hell’s the matter with you?”

“How is that even a question?!” He laid back flat and shut his eyes. “Just go on without me.”

“You big baby. Stop giving up. Let’s move.” She waited for him to respond, but got a deflated moan instead. Her patience wore out, peaking her temper with a kick to his shin. “Get up, Colin!”

“Ow!” He rose from the floor as though injected with ten ccs of adrenaline. “What was that for?!”

“Stop being a wimp and get up,” Kristen said. “There are people out there who don’t realize they are being used as bait.”

She reached down and grabbed him by the shirt. Muttering a series of curse words under his breath, Colin rose to his feet.

“How do you propose we retake control of the boat?” He raised his bound wrists. “Kinda hard to fight like this, don’t ya think?”

“If you hold still, I can cut them off.”

Colin and Kristen pivoted to face the passageway. From the ladder well came Elliot Alere. He had a small pocketknife in his hand.

They backed up, unsure whether to trust the scientist.

He stepped into the light and stopped. Sensing the apprehension of the two prisoners, he raised his hands in a show of peace.

Colin stood ready, hands balled into fists, ready to be clubbed against the guy’s skull if necessary. When he finally took his eyes off the small blade, he took notice of the bruising and swelling on Elliot’s face. None of those marks were there before.

Their origin was obvious. Elliot had walked in on Kai after the brawl, voiced a protest, and took a small beating himself. Only a promise of cooperation kept him out of bindings himself.

“You’ve got a knack for bad judgement, Doctor,” Colin said.

“I’m afraid that’s my legacy,” Elliot replied. He gestured at their bindings. “Would it be bad judgement to assume you won’t beat my ass if I cut you free?”

Colin shook his head and extended his hands.

“Something tells me Kai already did a number on you.”

“What gave it away?” Elliot said with a weak laugh. He approached the boat captain and began to cut him free. “I made my bed. I have to lie in it. Don’t feel bad for me.”

“Wasn’t planning on it anyway,” Colin said. “That phone call you made—that was a load of crap, wasn’t it?”

Elliot paused. He looked at Kristen in an instinctual search for guidance. In her eyes, he only found greater demand for the truth.

“I lied. My employer is as cheap as he is rich,” Elliot admitted. “At first, I didn’t understand why he wouldn’t pay you. But, given Kai’s tactic in luring the creature to the surface, he probably did not want to risk having witnesses who would spill the beans to the media. Even someone whose reputations were soured. In their minds, given your histories and reputations, you are better served as sacrificial lambs.”

Colin’s fists tightened.

Elliot knew the unspoken message. If we weren’t in this mess, I’d kick your ass right now.

“Listen, I swear, I will get you the money. No matter what.” Elliot proceeded to cut the bindings with his pocketknife. “But first, I’d like to focus on our current predicament.”

Colin’s hands parted. He turned around, looking Elliot in the eye while he rubbed the raw skin where the bindings had squeezed his wrists. His temper swirled like a hurricane, tempting him to make good on his unspoken promise. Elliot braced for the worst, folding his pocketknife as a gesture.

Colin exhaled through his nose. There were more important things at hand.

“What’s going on out there? Are the fishermen still alive?”

“For the moment,” Elliot replied as he cut Kristen’s restraints. “One of them has detected something large on his fish finder—something that’s tracking his bait.”

“Damn it,” Colin said through clenched teeth. “It’s tracking him. Sizing him up. It knows what’s up. We need to alert them.”

“Can’t do that unless we gain control of the wheelhouse,” Kristen said. She parted her newly-freed hands and feet. “Do we have a plan? Or are we just gonna bum rush the jerk and hope for the best?”

Colin cracked his knuckles. Having regained the freedom of movement, he was eager for another go against Kai Zahn. He made his way for the ladder, placing his hands on the bar before his better sense kicked in. Not only was Kai likely to whoop his ass for a second time, but he also had multiple firearms handy. Being so close to his prize, he was more likely to use them on anyone who got in his way.

A confrontation with Kai was doomed to be short-lived.

“We need to even the odds,” he said.

Elliot held his arms to the side, defeated. “How? You got an extra gun lying around somewhere we can use against him?”

“Not a gun, but another projectile.” Colin moved past the doctor and went into the utility cabinet. He tossed aside some old buckets and a broom, eventually locating an empty spray bottle and a few chemical jugs. He sorted through them until he identified the ammonia. “There it is.”

He moved to the sink and began loading the pungent-smelling liquid into the spray bottle.

Kristen pinched her nose. “That’s your master plan? Spray that stuff into the wheelhouse and hope the smell forces him out?”

Colin snorted. “Doubt that’ll do much. We use this stuff to refrigerate our catch. Not so harmful in that capacity.” He lifted the newly-filled spray bottle. “But a good shot to the eyes is a completely different story.”

“Could work,” Elliot said. “Assuming you can get a shot. You’ll only have one chance. And…” He cautiously looked over his shoulder at the ladder, “…he probably knows what I’m up to.”

“Meaning he knows we’re coming.”

Colin thought for a moment. They were right. His plan needed touching up—something to keep Kai from shooting him outright. Something that would truly catch him off guard.

He looked at Elliot. An idea took form.

“Hey, Doc?”

Elliot swallowed, not liking the look in Colin’s eye. “Y-yes?”

Colin nodded at his pants pocket. “That pocketknife you’ve got?” Elliot pulled it out and held it up. Colin grinned. “Wanna trade?”

Elliot groaned, slowly catching on to what the crab fisherman had in mind.

“Oh, geez.”

***

It had been at least three minutes since Elliot exited the wheelhouse. The movements coming from the galley, while faint, were lively enough for him to know the prisoners had been freed from their restraints.

He rested one hand on his revolver. “A lesson for next time: if you’re going to exterminate someone, just get it over with and don’t bother holding them.”

The movement had shifted aft. Despite how cautiously they tried to move, they could not evade Kai’s adept sense of hearing. He had spent much of his life tracking all sorts of targets in all sorts of environments. He had tracked a polar bear across the Arctic tundra over the course of three weeks. For five months straight, he lived on the savanna with lions and hyenas. Three years ago, he went to the Forbidden Island west of Australia, which was believed by many to be home to the largest saltwater crocodile in history. The legend proved true—the proof stored on the wall of his lounge at home in the form of six-inch teeth he pried from the dead salty’s mouth.

A drunken fisherman, an idealistic marine biologist, and a morally conflicted researcher would be a cakewalk compared to all the challenges he recreationally faced.

The Harbinger was a few hundred yards ahead of him; far enough that the other boats would probably not hear the gunshots.

He slowed the Sulfuric Raindrop, turned around, and drew his revolver.

The back door swung open. From the flying deck came Elliot Alere. His back was arched, his head tilted towards his right shoulder. His right arm was locked behind his back.

A blade was pressed against his carotid artery, ready to slice it open and spill his blood onto the floorboards.

Holding that blade was Colin Carver, his face mad like a wild beast. He held tight to Elliot’s arm, almost using it as a steering wheel as he moved him into the wheelhouse.

Kai, keeping the revolver trained on the target and his hostage, sparked a smile.

“Wow, Carver. I gotta hand it to ya. I didn’t expect you to take it this far. Dr. Alere, see what happens when you let compassion get in the way? Now you know: not everyone is worth it.”

Elliot gritted his teeth. “Kai, please…”

“Please what?” Kai said. “The squid is directly ahead. We’re minutes away from finishing the job.”

“Minutes away from getting people killed,” Colin said.

“Oh! Is that your concern?” Kai said. “That’s why you have a knife pressed to Dr. Alere’s neck. Makes perfect sense. Brilliant move, by the way. I’ll admit, I planned on blowing your head off as soon as you stepped inside. But you can only stall me so much. So, if you’re so concerned about human life, I suggest you let the doctor go.” He put his thumb on the hammer of his revolver. “Because, mark my words, these bullets will punch right through him and kill you anyway. Your choice.”

“You’d do that?” Colin said. “Not sure how much your boss will appreciate that.”

“It’d be a shame. But Ralf can be a glass-half-full kinda guy. The money he’ll lose, at least he’ll save the back pay he owes Dr. Alere. And it opens the door to finding someone cheaper. And dare I say, less idealistic. So…” He cocked the hammer. “Decide.”

Colin took a few breaths, then lifted the knife a few millimeters from Elliot’s neck.

“Colin! Don’t!” Kristen yelled from outside. “It’s not worth it. Let him go. Please!”

Kai smirked. “I was about to ask where she was.”

“Shut up,” Colin said.

“I will. After you drop the knife and let the doctor go. Or else, I’ll shut all of you up.”

“Colin!” Kristen pleaded.

Colin bared his teeth, appearing to defeat his barbaric instincts by a narrow margin. The knife fell from his hand and he pushed Elliot forward.

Kai shifted his revolver to the side in order to not accidentally shoot the scientist. “Sucks when you let things like good human nature get the better of you. Hate to break it to you, Carver, but no matter how badass you try and portray yourself as, that good nature brings with it a crippling predictability.”

Colin shrugged. “Speaking of that…”

Elliot whipped his arm from behind his back and pointed a spray bottle right in Kai’s face. A fluid fired from its nozzle and struck his eyes. The piquant smell was instantly recognizable.

Ammonia.

The burning sensation, however, was a first for Kai Zahn.

Yelping, he fell back against the instrument panel. His eyes, feeling as though someone had poured molten lava on them, were shut tight, forcing him to rely on his other senses.

He directed his revolver in Colin’s direction and squeezed off a shot.

Colin, knowing what the hunter’s instinctual reaction would be, grabbed Elliot by the shoulders and threw him to the side. The revolver went off, the bullet passing through the space both men had been a moment prior.

The hunter, hearing their movements, realized he missed and pivoted to adjust his aim.

Colin sprang from the deck and lunged, sweeping both hands against the gun barrel. The revolver flew from Kai’s hands. Instinctually, the hunter reached for his Bowie knife. His hand gripped the handle, only to part from it as Colin tackled him against the helm.

A right cross struck Kai’s chin, followed by a left. The hunter, with his eyes burning and gums bleeding, managed to crack a smile. He whipped his head forward, butting Colin square in the nose.

An elbow struck his chin.

Colin’s vision hazed. He was no stranger to brawls and taking a few licks. But Kai Zahn was no bar brawler. His experience in wrestling wild animals was apparent in his brute strength. Every hit from him was like kissing the express train, a fact demonstrated by the uppercut delivered to Colin’s chin.

Colin found himself sprawled out on his back, the temporarily blind hunter standing over him. Elliot lunged from Kai’s left and attempted to tackle him. His effort only served to earn him an elbow to the nose, a punch to the gut, and having his head slammed against the console.

Elliot fell to his knees, the strength having left his body.

With milliseconds left before that knife was drawn, Colin rose to his feet and engaged the hunter. Kai turned, hands out, ready to break his neck.

With punching proving insufficient, Colin decided to go with a different, cheap tactic. He snapped his foot, planting the toe of his boot into Kai’s groin. That seemed to do something, going by the way the hunter doubled over and roared. And like a wounded animal, he ended up being twice as deadly.

Those hands still found Colin. Like a piece of cargo being swung by a crane, Colin was whipped against the bulkhead, where his head was repeatedly slammed. One of those hands came free and went for the knife handle.

Baring teeth, Colin grabbed at Kai’s wrist. With all of his strength, he tried to force that enormous blade in its sheath. As it turned out, all he could do was slow its emergence.

Kai bore teeth as well, though his was in the form of a smile. His eyes were open now, his vision slowly returning. There was an enjoyment to knowing his strength was far superior to his enemy’s. Like with everything else in his life, this brawl was an object of amusement. If anything, he was happier than ever this time. After all, Colin and Elliot actually brought a semblance of a challenge.

The blade was halfway free.

Kai’s bloodshot eyes lined up with Colin’s. “Credit where it’s due, Mr. Carver. I was somewhat wrong about predictability.”

“Did you predict this?!”

The hunter’s grin disappeared at the sound of Kristen’s voice and the sound of a hammer cocking behind him. He stiffened, feeling the muzzle of his own revolver pressed against the back of his skull. For all of his instincts and heightened senses, the heat of the moment made him fail to detect the sounds of Kristen rushing into the wheelhouse.

In his profession, there was always a risk of being bested. It was the nature of the trade. Kai had come to accept it long ago. But being bested with his own weapon was something else entirely. It was the worst way to go out in his mind. Faced with that very real possibility, Kai felt something he hadn’t experienced in many years: humiliation and fear.

Slowly, he slipped his knife back into its home.

Elliot, bleeding from his brow, got back on his feet. Fueled by anger and a burning drive for redemption, he grabbed Kai’s elephant gun. He did not even stop to consider what he was doing. The only thought he put into his next action was a split-second debate on what end of the weapon to use.

He went with the less lethal end. Putting all of his weight behind the rifle, he rammed the butt against Kai’s temple.

It was a blow even the great hunter failed to withstand. Kai collapsed to the floor, his hands coiled around his chest as his brain went haywire. He was half-conscious, the mind fighting against the curtains.

Colin took the opportunity to remove his Bowie knife and toss it to the corner. He then took the revolver from Kristen’s shaking hands and gently uncocked the hammer.

“You alright?”

“Yeah.” She managed to smile at him. “Can’t believe that worked. How ‘bout you? Are you alright?” She put her hands on his face to inspect his swelling.

“I’m good,” he said.

Her smile widened. “Thank God.”

“Ah-hem!”

They both looked to Elliot. He was standing by the helm, his head and nose still bleeding.

“I’m alright too, in case anyone was curious.”

Colin took the elephant gun from him, then pointed at the harpoon gun. “Keep that aimed at Zai. Don’t let him move.” As Elliot did as instructed, Colin grabbed the radio mic. “Sulfuric Raindrop to all fishing vessels. Call off the hunt immediately! Whatever Kai Zahn had said to you was a lie. Please listen to me. What I’m about to tell you is real. You are not hunting a shark. You are hunting an enormous squid…”

***

“…This is not a joke! Turn back! Get your boats out of the water.”

Elana Rogers was still as a statue, gradually taking in the information that came through the radio. She looked down at Terrence and Wade, both of whom were watching for her initial reaction after hearing Colin Carver’s frantic warning.

An invisible countdown took place between them.

3

2

1

At once, Elana, Terrence, and Wade broke out in uncontrollable laughter. The two deckhands were on their knees, their faces red and their eyes watering. Elana was nearly folded over the helm, barely keeping herself on her feet through the punishing merriment.

“Oh, God!” she exclaimed before picking up her mic. “Hey, Carver! What was on the menu today? Scotch? Bourbon? I didn’t think our mutual friend would be providing entertainment in addition to our fifteen grand.”

The next voice to come through the receiver was not Colin’s, but Leroy’s. “Aw, damn it, Elana! You beat me to it.”

Laughter followed the statement. Elana and her crew did not need the radio to hear the cackling coming all the way from the Harbinger. Both of Leroy’s crewmen, Cameron Heath and Sid Vogler, sounded like sirens in the distance as they hollered their amusement.

“Does this mean whoever bags the prize can call themselves Captain Nemo?” Elana said.

“I’ll let you know in a minute,” Douglas Farrow replied. “Looks like the thing’s finally starting to come up. Sorry losers, but… eh, who am I kidding. Not so sorry! Hello, winner’s bonus!”

“Damn it, you guys!” Colin said. “I’m dead serious! Get out of here now!”

More laughter followed.

“Mr. No Name is probably having a big laugh over there,” Wade said.

“Except, apparently we can’t call him Mr. No Name anymore,” Elana said. “Kai Zahn. Won’t lie, that’s kinda sexy.”

“Sounds like a James Bond villain,” Terrence said.

“Makes it extra sexy,” Elana replied.

“Whoa!” Douglas exclaimed.

Chuckling, Elana lifted her speaker mic to her lips. “What’s the matter, L. Talbot? Sharky swimming away?”

“No, it’s moving under the boat. Wait… it’s coming up. It’s coming up fast. REALLY FAST! Holy—”

A thunderous CRASH punctuated Douglas’ transmission.

All laughter ceased, the crew of the Mean House and Harbinger now gasping in shock after witnessing the explosion of fiberglass, wood, and metal to the west.

A puff of smoke burst from the L. Talbot’s engine, partly obscuring the dismantling of the boat. All Elana could tell from where she stood was that the bow and stern were starting to drift in opposite directions.

“My. God!” Terrence croaked.

“Douglas!” Elana said into the radio. “Are you alright?” No answer came, forcing her to direct her attention to the Harbinger. “Leroy? Can you guys see anything?”

“Just saw the boat lift hard, then boom! A plume of smoke,” Leroy replied. “Something hit the boat from underneath.”

Elana and her crew exchanged another look. The same unspoken thought was shared by each: No way could a shark do that kind of damage.

“You think Carver was right?” Terrence asked. “He said he saw something big.”

“Impossible,” Wade said. “The guy’s a drunk. Besides, squids that big don’t exist. Except in movies.”

“Then what the hell just happened?!” Terrence shouted. “The boat practically exploded. And Douglas is not exactly the kind of guy to carry nitro aboard his ship.”

“Only way we can find out for sure is to get over there,” Elana said. She kept her boat going at full-throttle, nearing the Harbinger, which had slowed to a stop when the impact took place. Like Elana, Leroy was dumbfounded by what he had witnessed, then came to the same rational conclusion that he needed to head over there and help.

“Stay away!” Colin barked through the radio.

Elana turned her eyes to the Sulfuric Raindrop. For whatever reason, the boat was hanging back. By the looks of it, Carver was buying into his own nonsense.

“Put Mr. Zahn on the radio.”

“He—he’s not available,” Colin said.

“Oh, boy,” Terrence squawked. He rested his head in his hands. “This is getting weird.”

“What if he did something to the guy?” Wade said. “Somehow, I doubt he’s on the shitter.”

Elana sighed. “Carver’s gone mad.” She squeezed the speaker mic as though it was that idiot’s neck. “Listen, Carver. Either come help Douglas, or stay back and sip your booze. Now shut up while I alert the sheriff.” She switched channels to do just that. “Green Pasture’s Sheriff’s Department. This is Captain Elana Rogers of the Mean House. We have an emergency…”

CHAPTER 26

Colin bashed the mic against the console. “Damn those idiots! They’re heading straight to their deaths!”

“Imagine that,” a bloody Kai Zahn said. He sat up and ran his arm over his burning eyes. “They watched a boat inexplicably break in half out of nowhere, and still they think you’re a crackpot drunk.”

“Shut up,” Colin said.

“It’s not a total loss,” Elliot said. “She’s alerting the police. Surely, they’ll be able to help.”

“Quite the opposite,” Colin said.

“He’s right,” Kristen added. “They don’t know what they’re dealing with. Whoever comes out here is being set up for disaster.”

Elliot turned his eyes to the wreckage in the distance. Once again, his quest for bettering humanity resulted in death. If that was not bad enough, two more boats were cruising straight towards his creation. Straight towards their own doom.

Panic gripped him, the adrenaline causing his nose to resume bleeding.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen. Everything I do turns out to be wrong!”

“Can’t disagree with that,” Kai replied. “If you didn’t bother cutting our friends free, we’d almost be over there right now. Who knows? Maybe we’d have a harpoon lodged in your pet right now. But here we are, sitting on our asses, letting others go to their deaths.”

“You say that as though it wasn’t already your plan,” Kristen said.

“Fair enough,” Kai said. “Then again, my plan at least had some wiggle room for them to walk away with their lives. How’s it feel, guys? You retook the ship, and yet, the morons you were so desperate to save are disregarding your warnings. Now, you have front row seats to their painful demise. If only you did nothing and…”

Kristen pointed the revolver at him. “I swear to God. Say one more word.”

“You don’t have it in ya, darl’n,” Kai said. “I’ll prove it. Not only will I say one word, but I’ll say five: What you guys gonna do?” He pointed a finger pistol in the direction of the wreck.

“We can’t just sit here,” a guilty-feeling Elliot said.

Colin slammed his fist on the console. “Everyone, shut up!”

His raging demand proved effective. Even Kai shut his trap, though his sense of amusement remained plain on his face.

With a few deep breaths, Colin forced himself to focus through the throbbing pain in his head. Taking advantage of the silence, he slowed his racing mind enough to make a decision on what to do next.

“We don’t have a choice. If we don’t get over there now, the creature will kill Leroy, Elana, and God knows how many others.” He picked up the harpoon gun and handed it to Kristen. “Still confident you can hit the thing?”

Kristen took the crossbow. “Just get me in front of it.”

“What do we do about him?” Elliot asked, pointing his thumb at Kai.

“Keep an eye on him,” Colin said. “He’s not gonna give us much of a problem. Not now. After all, we’re going after his prize.”

Like a proud parent, Kai beamed his blood-smeared teeth.

Colin pushed the Sulfuric Raindrop to its maximum speed. The Harbinger and Mean House were closing in on the remains of the L. Talbot. All Colin could do was get over there as fast as he could, and pray the creature did not get there first.

***

“Oh my God! Look at that!” Terrence shouted. “Douglas’ boat is completely destroyed!”

He and Wade were leaning over the side, their horror swelling as Elana drove the Mean House into the array of floating wreckage. Less than a hundred feet off their bow was the Harbinger.

“I’m at the spot now,” Elana informed the sheriff through the radio. She sucked in a breath, simultaneously amazed and frightened by the sight of the stern and bow sections tilting skyward as they drifted apart. “I don’t see anyone in the water.”

“I’ve got three units departing right now. Keep me informed.”

Elana placed the mic down and slowed the Mean House. The Harbinger was in the middle of the debris field, angling north while its two deckhands, Sid Vogler and Cameron Heath, combed the water with their eyes.

Cameron, a mountain of a man with a physique earned from a daily life full of hard labor looked in her direction and held his hands out. Can’t see anybody.

The stern and bow sections were slipping under the waves. In-between them were fragments of decking, nets, hull fragments, inflatables, and pieces of bait.

To the northeast, the Sulfuric Raindrop was approaching at full speed, due to arrive in just a couple of minutes.

As she stared at the aftermath, the words of the crazed Colin Carver finally began to sink in. Up until now, she was certain his brain had been irreparably damaged from alcohol consumption and possibly trauma from losing his crew. Ramblings about a giant squid did not help that viewpoint.

But now she found herself rethinking his statement, as well as the bullshit story that Zahn guy had fed to her.

“He did say something about it being part of some experiment,” she muttered to herself. “I’ve seen some mean ass sharks in my time. Not one of them could do this, steroids or no steroids.”

As crazy as Carver’s story was, it made more sense than a shark. And boats did not blow apart for no reason. Something had physically hit it hard.

“Hang on,” Leroy said. He began swinging the Harbinger to port. “I think I’ve got something on my fish finder.”

“Oh, God,” Elana said. “It’s the thing that sunk Douglas’ boat. Move! Let’s get out of here! Floor it!”

“Wait!” Wade interrupted. “All of a sudden, you’re buying into Carver’s ramblings?”

Before she could respond, Terrence cut in with, “I don’t know about that, but all I can tell you is I want to be anywhere but here right now. Damn the money.”

“But what about Douglas?” Wade said.

“I don’t think he’s alive,” Terrence replied.

“We don’t know that for sure,” Wade snarled. “What I do know is you’re both nuts for giving any consideration to the ramblings by that idiot, Carver. Whatever’s going on, it’s weird. But I know this; there’s no goddamn prehistoric giant squid.”

“Guys? Guys?!” Leroy exclaimed. “I think it’s…”

All hands on the Mean House looked to the Harbinger. The propellors kicked on, the captain abandoning his transmission in favor of trying to speed out of dodge.

BAM!

The stern lifted, catapulting Cameron Heath over the wheelhouse into the water. Decking splintered, making way for a large, pointed object.

It rose fifteen feet out of the water, tilting northwards as the weight of the Harbinger weighed it down. Like a bobber being yanked by a fish, it retracted into the ocean. The Harbinger leveled out, though only for the briefest of moments. Its shard ripped from its underside, clearing the way for the ocean to enter. Before long, the boat was on a tilt again, this time to stern.

The second deckhand, Sid Vogler, found himself literally climbing a slope to prevent himself from being swallowed by a world of water. The door to the wheelhouse fell open, and stumbling onto the flying deck was Leroy Doublin. He had an inflatable donut around his waist, ready to abandon ship without a second thought. He fell against the guardrail, shocked to see the thrashing water climbing up his deck straight towards him.

“Sweet mother!” Terrence exclaimed. “Did you see that?”

“Yeah,” a flabbergasted Wade replied. “I saw it.”

“Hang on!” Elana shouted to Sid and Leroy. She looked to Terrence and Wade. “Guys, be ready with our lifelines.”

“Wait!” Wade whipped around to look at her. His eyes were bulging, as were the veins in his forehead. Sunlight glinted off the newly formed sweat on his forehead. The casual, almost cocky fisherman was near the point of panicking. “That… thing… that—cone, is still down there. If we stick around, we’re next.”

“We’re not leaving our friends behind,” Elana said. She was amazed at the level of persuasion in her own voice. Despite the words she spoke, her true sentiments teetered closer to Wade’s. It took every ounce of willpower to not say ‘hell with it’ and hightail it back to Green Pastures. “We’ll get them out of the water and be on our way. As Terrence said, damn the money.”

That last statement was directed at herself as much as it was her deckhands.

“The faster we get it done, the better,” Wade said.

Elana steered her vessel to line up with the sinking Harbinger. Vogler was near the wheelhouse now, indecisive on whether he wanted to climb to a higher deck or move along the gunnel to the bow.

She closed within five yards, making sure to keep an eye on the water in search of Cameron Heath.

Wade and Terrence stood ready with their lifelines. She pulled up alongside the bow of the Harbinger. Vogler was climbing over the side of the wheelhouse to get to the bow. He looked over his shoulder and immediately reached out to the Mean House.

With the boats so close, a lifeline was not needed. Terrence reached over and reached for his hand.

“Come on, man! Grab on!”

“Get him!” Elana said. She looked again at the water. “Cameron! Where the hell are you?”

The answer to her question came with the duet sounds of high-pitched shrieks and thunderous waves. Cameron rose from behind the port bow of the Harbinger. He was horizontal, his arms grasping at something in his abdomen. Extending from his tailbone was a long, red vein. Leathery in texture and lined with round suction cups, it confirmed to all those aboard the Mean House that Colin Carver was, in fact, not crazy.

Like the ancient myths from the old days of maritime voyages, a colossal kraken-like monster had risen to the surface to wreak havoc on seafaring vessels. And Elana’s boat was next.

Unlike the squids and octopuses she had seen on television, the tentacle in possession of Cameron Heath had one other oddity in addition to its massive size. She found herself staring in dumbfounded awe, wondering if her mind was playing tricks on her. The blood spraying from the dying fisherman and the smell of ammonia confirmed that was not the case.

Cameron was not constricted. On the contrary, he was skewered by a long, black talon protruding from the tip of the arm.

He was still alive and very much in agony, trying to somehow pry himself free from the jagged black instrument. The tentacle reeled down, constricting him with several feet of its length.

From near the Harbinger’s bow, another tentacle rose high like a hissing cobra. To the left, a third one appeared, And a fourth. All of them bent over the sinking vessel and the humans abord it.

All at once, they slashed.

Leroy was easily snatched from the flying deck and hoisted over the portside. He avoided being impaled by the talon, for the limb had snagged him in the old-fashioned way of lassoing.

It proved not to be a luxury. As a matter of fact, the nearly dead Cameron Heath proved to potentially be the lucky one.

Two massive surges of water moved in opposite directions. In the epicenter, the cone-shaped exoskeleton appeared. It leveled out parallel with the water’s surface, bringing its fleshy head into plain view. The ten arms parted like a gigantic umbrella, exposing the curved beak and its razor-lined tongue. Cameron was immediately delivered to the bony jaws, which promptly closed and held him in place while the tongue stripped the flesh off his bones. In a matter of seconds, a pinkish skeleton rested inside the beak, brain matter oozing from the eye sockets, and internal organs spilling through the busted ribcage.

The realization of learning that same fate awaited him put Leroy’s panic to a level of sheer madness. No amount of kicking and screaming could outmuscle the huge limb which carried him to the now gaping beak.

Cameron’s bony remains were pushed aside by the drooling tongue. It retracted into the throat, bits of minced flesh dangling from its teeth.

Leroy squirmed.

“No! Get it away from me! Get—BLECH!”

The jaws shut over his body with enough force to rupture spinal discs and snap a few ribs. The tongue reappeared and coiled over him. For a moment, the boat captain was mummified, his thrashing reduced to subdued quivering. The tongue raked over his body, taking his clothes off, as well as much of his skin.

“Oh, God!” he screamed through a lipless mouth.

The tongue came over him again to finish the job.

At the same time, those tentacles lunged for the Mean House.

Wade recoiled from the gunwale, swinging a pole like a baseball bat. They swung over the ship, one of the talons tearing through one of the outrigger cables with a single slash. Another limb struck the arm of the outrigger and secured a hold by constricting it.

It pulled.

The boat leaned to port.

Any compassion Elana felt to her fellow fishermen evaporated. All that remained was a desire to save her own skin.

Terrence put himself halfway over the gunwale. His hand clasped over Vogler’s.

“I got him!”

Elana didn’t pay attention. She shifted the throttle and gunned the engine. The Mean House moved forward, lurching against the tug of the tentacle’s grasp on the outrigger.

Terrence fell overboard, taking Vogler into the water with him.

The boat tilted farther to port, the outrigger cracking as it began dragging the squid creature. Unable to tow its immense weight, the Mean House veered to the left in a half-circle.

Elana’s mouth went dry. There was no overpowering its strength. She vowed to never set sail on the water again. How could one ever want to leave dry land after encountering such a beast? In the blink of an eye, she made the decision to sell her boat and her business. The first of her profits would go to pouring whiskey down her throat in an effort to forget this horrible nightmare.

To forget about it, first she needed to survive it.

She snatched her shotgun and took aim at the outrigger. Three shots put holes in the thick red arm. Blood trickled from the various wounds. The arm began to loosen its grasp, but not fast enough to satisfy Elana.

Pivoting to the left, she aimed the muzzle at the creature’s head. It extended from the chamber of its shell, the arms still expanded outward to expose its beak, tongue, and Leroy’s pink skeleton.

She fired off several shots. Pink mist exploded from within the ‘umbrella’, sparking pain.

Its arm came off the outrigger.

Freed from the biological anchor, the boat shot forward at twenty knots.

The arms wriggled high above the water and slashed in all directions. Claws raked the water, slashing pieces of debris and two unlucky fishermen.

First to get slashed was Sid Vogler. The claw came across his body like a scimitar. It was a quick death compared to his captain and crewmate, both halves of his fresh corpse launched to the sky like golf balls.

Next to be struck was Terrence Hawthorne. The claw slashed across his back, spilling blood and nerve tissue. With his spine nicked, Terrence slumped over the piece of wreckage he clung to, oblivious to everything in the world except the pain he felt.

He, in addition to the floating stern section, was pushed southwards by a jet of water from the creature’s syphon. It cut across the surface like an arrow in pursuit of the Mean House, submerging after twenty yards.

Elana kept course for Green Pastures. The thick kelp forests would hopefully slow the thing down.

It needs to!

All she needed was enough time to get to the shallow waters near the beaches. No way could the creature come to shore. It was too implausible in her mind.

***

“Damn it, we’re too late,” Colin said.

The Mean House was speeding north, leaving a world of wreckage in its wake. The beast was nowhere to be seen. The only movement from the water came from Terrence Hawthorne. It was not waves for attention, but spasms of pain.

“I saw it” Kristen shouted. She had her laptop in hand. Flipping the monitor to face him, she rewound the footage taken from one of her underwater cameras. It was a blink-and-miss-it moment, but the creature was definitely in frame, heading north in pursuit of Elana Rogers.

Kai Zahn was on his feet, equally frustrated and amused.

“And it would be dead by now had you stayed put.” He looked Colin in the eye. “Seems you’re pretty good at letting others take the fall while you crawl free.”

Colin eyeballed the shotgun and rifle. The hunter was practically begging for a shot to the head. Kai was well aware of the hypocrisy of his statements, and he didn’t care. It was all a ruse to get under Colin’s skin. Sadly, it proved to be effective.

The whole situation was a giant mess, loaded with ‘what ifs’ and ‘what could’ve beens’. When Colin woke up that morning, he hoped he would end the creature and make some money in the process. In the end, he achieved neither, and every attempt to make things right only made them worse.

He chose to ignore the hunter and focus on the fisherman in the water.

“Elliot, take the wheel.” He hurried out to the main deck with Kristen.

Terrence was barely moving. A disc of red water formed around him like the rings of Saturn. His shirt was torn, revealing a gash running from his left hip to his right shoulder.

“Terrence?!” Colin shouted. The man lifted his head from the piece of decking, only to slump.

There was no use tossing him a line. Someone would have to go down and get him. He took the line, wrapped it into a makeshift harness around his shoulders and hips, then climbed over the gunwale.

“Wrap the other end around the cleat,” he said to Kristen. Like a paratrooper, he fast-roped down the side of the Sulfuric Raindrop into the water.

The chill of the water struck him to the bone like an electric shock. Fighting through the natural urge to cringe, he paddled in Terrence’s direction. He was still motionless, the red water continuing to expand around him.

A lap of water struck his face.

Like a flash of lightning, Colin found himself in the Bering Sea. Water rose and fell around him. Resonances of men shouting “man overboard!” flooded his mind like a giant intercom booming through the heavens. Thunder cracked overhead, jagged white lines of electricity stretching through the clouds.

The wind, rain, and shifting ocean water was hell on the ship’s crew. He was warned about the risk of cruising into rough seas. A few bad seasons and mounting debt had a way of making a desperate man blind to the risks, until those risks became reality.

Mark Cater had been near the transom when the wave swept the deck. Spotters caught glimpses of his red coat with the lights, drifting farther and farther away from the vessel. With a lifeline strung over his body, Colin descended into the water to get him.

He swam farther out, his muscles burning, the freezing-cold water doing its best to turn his blood to ice. He kept moving, the red coat glinting in the lightning flashes ahead. No matter how hard he swam, the waves kept pushing Mark away.

With the whole crew’s attention on him, nobody had noticed that Lawrence Riley had been snagged by a line attached to a crab trap. Colin had reached Mark’s last known location when he heard the other crewmen shouting Lawrence’s name.

All he could do was focus on Mark and hope his team could handle Lawrence. Except that red coat was nowhere to be found. Everywhere he looked, he saw nothing but angry waves.

One moment Mark had been there, the next he was gone.

“Where is he? Where is he?”

Around that time, the crew discovered Lawrence’s fate.

“Colin! Colin!”

“Colin! Colin!”

The sound of Kristen’s voice snapped him back to reality. Colin looked over his shoulder at Kristen. She was jabbing her finger to the right in a way to drive his attention in that direction.

He looked.

“Oh, shit!”

The dorsal fin stood over a foot above the water. Seven feet behind it was the crescent-shaped top lobe of the caudal fin. A thirteen-foot blue shark, drawn by the scent of blood in the water, was cruising straight for the vibrations of struggling prey.

He swam closer to Terrence. “Hang on, man!” He reached out and grabbed him by the shirt.

Terrence’s head hung over the piece of decking. The man was cold, his skin pale, his muscles stiff.

“Shit!” Colin waved at Kristen. “Pull us back!”

“Colin! Look out!” she replied.

The fish was moving in with a clear purpose.

Though Terrence was the one bleeding, Colin’s movements made the fish think he was the wounded animal. He released the injured fisherman and began backstroking.

He kicked his feet at the large fish’s nose. Its snout rose over the water, revealing a row of teeth lining its upper jaw. The eyelids slid shut, confirming its intent to bite.

“Get away! Get away, you son of a bitch!”

Unwittingly, he only spurred the fish on. Its tail swung at an increased rate, closing the remaining distance.

“Crap! Crap! Crap!”

BANG!

The shark lurched to its right, the side of its head blown wide open by a massive projectile. It rolled across the water, its body thrashing as the life faded away.

Colin’s mind identified the sound of a gunshot. He looked to the flying deck of his vessel, where Kai Zahn stood with his elephant gun. Having retrieved the weapon from Elliot, the hunter winked at him.

Yeah, I could shoot you right now, but I’m choosing not to.

Colin got the message and the reasoning behind it. Disposing of him would be difficult, given his alibi would no longer work. His plan of sinking the Sulfuric Raindrop would have to happen far out here, where it could potentially be blamed on a collision with the Harbinger. But he needed to go after the creature, and time was of the essence.

Kai raised the barrel. “Better hurry up, Carver. We can still kill the thing.”

Colin tensed. He hated the thought of letting Kai have the weapon, nor was he a fan of working side by side with him as though there was no bad blood between them. But there was no chance of Kai giving up his weapon, and time was of the essence.

He swung around to grab Terrence.

Except, he was not there. The piece of wreckage was present, but the man was gone.

“What? Terrence.”

He looked to the left. Nobody was there.

He looked to the right. Nobody was there.

Terrence was not behind him, nor did he drift farther out.

“Where is he? Where is he?!”

“Come on, Carver,” Kai shouted. “Hate to leave you out here!”

“Colin, he’s gone!” Kristen called to him.

“Where is he?” Colin shouted again. A wave of déjà vu hit him. He had seen Terrence less than a minute ago. He was right in front of him. Now, he was gone.

There was only one place he did not look.

Colin stuck his head under the water.

Descending into the kelp forest was the stiff body of Terrence Hawthorne, his arms outstretched, eyes frozen open. He disappeared into the shadows, swallowed by the undergrowth in-between the huge stalks of kelp.

Colin dove. Spitting air bubbles, he tried racing to the ninety-foot depth.

He felt tightness around his waist.

“No!” His voice was lost in the water.

He fought against the pull of the rope, but failed to overcome it. When he reached the surface, he tried to untie the very harness he had made.

“Colin! He’s gone!” Kristen said. “There’s nothing you can do! Get back here! What the hell are you doing?”

Kai made his way to the main deck and assisted Kristen in pulling him in. It was not an act of decency, but quickening the process of getting Colin back on board so they could resume the hunt.

“No, stop! I can get him!” Colin shouted. He had done too good of a job in tying his knots. There was no way he could free himself before being pulled aboard.

After a minute of struggle, he gave up. If Terrence was not already dead before, he certainly was now. Resistance would only delay their chances in stopping the beast.

They still had a line on the creature’s location. It had a goal of vengeance and was dead set on pursuing the Mean House. Wherever Elana went, it would follow.

Anything caught in its path was equally as doomed as her.

CHAPTER 27

“Are those sirens I hear?”

Kimberly Yates could not be bothered to look up from her tablet. She was already feeling grouchy from the struggle to remain in the meager shade provided by the small cockpit overhead. It was Jeremy’s insistence she come out on the water with him while he cast a few lines. As usual, he never caught anything, and she was bored to tears.

Jeremy Tray stood on the bow deck of his little Sea Pro 219 Center Console Boat, his hand cupped over his eyes as he looked towards the island. His disinterested girlfriend was listening hard, not for sirens, but for the YouTube video on her device. Par for the course when it came to being offshore, the signal was hit or miss. Mainly miss, but with just enough luck for her to keep trying to get the damn thing to play.

“Don’t you hear it too?” Jeremy asked.

Kimberly responded with a cavalier “eeh-deh-no” mumble. Her boyfriend reeled in his line, his eyes still focused north on the shoreline.

“They’re getting louder.”

Kimberly’s screen froze again. “Damn it!”

“Aren’t you listening?”

Finally, Kimberly looked up at him. “No, Jeremy. I’m not listening to some stupid police sirens. I know what they sound like. I’m from Chicago, you moron. I heard them every day. They’re not that big a deal unless they’re coming to your house.”

For a moment, Jeremy forgot about the issue at hand. His friends and sister all warned him about moving Kimberly out to Green Pastures to live with him. Somehow, everyone seemed to know how miserable she would make his life once she came out here. Jeremy had it in his head Kimberly would love the quieter town, the water, the fishing, and the simple joy of being away from the city. On the contrary, she hated it all, and she hated him for talking her into coming over here. As it turned out, the lifestyle he despised while studying in Chicago was Kimberly’s cup of tea.

While living there, they got along great. Less than three days after bringing her home, she was practically a different person. Jeremy had initially planned to put a ring on her finger and make things permanent. He was certain they were meant for each other, destined to spend the rest of their lives together. Now, he had to resist the urge to throw her off the boat and be rid of her.

“Well, this isn’t Chicago,” he replied. “Here, police and EMS sirens are not the norm. You might be used to living in a gang-infested cesspool. Some of us actually like living in civilized communities.”

Kimberly hung her head back and groaned.

“First of all, not all of Chicago is like that, you ding dong. Second of all, you call this place civilized? From what I’ve seen, half the people here are drunks. Two thirds of them don’t have any grooming standards. The food here sucks. I’d be surprised if the restaurants on your island can pass a basic health inspection. And, I might as well say it, it smells funny here.”

“Funny,” Jeremy muttered. “Nobody noticed a stench until you showed up.”

“Oh! You’re a comedian now, huh?” Kimberly planted her tablet on the console and stood up. “You said you were bringing me to paradise. I was thinking somewhere with umbrella drinks and palm trees. It’s colder here than in Illinois.”

“I told you it was northwest of Seattle,” Jeremy said. “Where exactly did you think Seattle was? You know what: Please don’t answer that. I’m deathly afraid you’re gonna say you thought it was in California or Hawaii.”

“You’re saying I’m stupid, huh?”

“No, I—” Jeremy huffed, closed his eyes, and reached his ‘screw it’ point with a dramatic exhale. “Yes, actually. I am calling you stupid.”

Kimberly gave thought to slapping him across the face. She probably would have, had she not finally picked up on the sounds of police sirens gradually getting closer.

She turned around. The source of the noise did not appear to be inland. At the most, it was on the edge of the island somewhere, heading out to sea.

Kimberly may have been used to seeing cop cars and trucks speeding everywhere. But boats were not nearly as common in her neighborhood, being as she lived nowhere near Lake Michigan or the river.

She began to check her surroundings. What kind of emergency would draw the cops all the way out here?

Jeremy leaned against the center console and rubbed his forehead. “Listen, I’m sorry. I guess…”

“Shut up for a minute,” she said.

“Hey, I’m trying to apologize.”

“Shut up! I’m listening!” she said.

“You’re not listening if you’re telling me to shut up, you dummy,” Jeremy snapped. His desire to make amends was gone as quickly as it reappeared. “To hell with it. You can take your ass back to Chicago.”

Kimberly scoffed. “So, all that crap about us, ‘together, forever’ was just a bunch of storybook nonsense?”

“I guess it was,” Jeremy said. “If only I had the smarts to listen to—”

The blaring of a boat horn cut their argument short. It did not come from one of the island’s docks, but the opposite direction. The estranged couple looked to the north at a seventy-foot shrimp boat speeding in their direction.

On its flying bridge was a woman, on its main deck a guy with a John Deere ballcap. Both were waving frantically and shouting at the pair on the small Sea Pro.

“Get out of the water! Run! Run!”

The boat passed and continued on towards the island.

Jeremy picked up his rod and began reeling in his line. He had no idea what was going on, but between the sounds of police sirens and those people acting as though the devil himself was in the water, he wasn’t taking any chances.

“Ah, shit.” He tugged on the taut line. Sadly, it was not a fish on the other end, but a stalk of kelp. Cursing repeatedly, Jeremy moved to the forward deck and pulled on his line in hopes of freeing it.

Kimberly crossed her arms and watched his line inside the thick forest below. “Wow, and you have the gall to say I’m the dumb one? I’ve never fished in my life, and even I could’ve told you this is a stupid place to drop a lure. Unless you’re fishing for salad.”

“Will you shut up?” He pulled again, the stalk of kelp barely wavering against his might.

Kimberly, now invested in the fight, felt the evil desire to enhance Jeremy’s humiliation. “I knew a guy at the hardware shop who could get that thing out. He liked to flirt with me when he shopped there. I wonder what he’s up to right now. I think I still have his number…”

“His loss, my gain,” Jeremy shot back. “‘Together, forever’… gosh, that sounds like hell.”

Kimberly’s jaw dropped, the strategy backfiring. She tried to think of a follow-up to get her soon-to-be-ex’s blood boiling. Once again, their argument was interrupted, not by noise, but a rising surf. It was not a cresting wave, but instead a large inflation of water underneath their boat, as though something colossal had displaced it.

The couple went silent as the giant stalks of kelp underneath their hull suddenly bent like trees in the wind. A moment later, some of them arched to the north, pushed aside from a large, pointed mass.

For once, Kimberly and Jeremy found themselves united with their simultaneous response. “What in the world?”

The cone shape angled toward their boat. A stream of bubbles and silt kicked up like a horizontal mushroom cloud, shredding leaves and uprooting stalks.

Kimberly and Jeremy hardly noticed the damage to the kelp forest, due to the CRASH of the tip of the cone punching through their boat.

Kimberly fell against the transom, screaming in horror as the boat was lifted out of the water like a skewered fish on a spear. The center console was entirely gone, and in its place was the tip of the bony object, standing between her and Jeremy like a stalagmite.

The cracks in the deck and hull widened, and the boat split in half. Both sections were quickly swallowed by the water, their wakes pushing the confused and disoriented couple closer together.

Kimberly fought against her own weight and the natural pull of gravity, kicking and stroking with every ounce of strength in her arsenal. Having lived most of her life on concrete, she was not an adept swimmer. After five seconds, she was barely managing to keep her chin above water.

Instinct led her to grabbing ahold of Jeremy, who was also struggling.

“Let go!” he shouted, spitting water.

“Get me out of here!”

“I can’t if you’re—BLECH!!!”

A sharp convulsion from Jeremy threw Kimberly a few feet away. Through the laps of water against her face, she witnessed his body briefly rise from the waves, revealing the rubbery coil of flesh squeezing his waist like a boa constrictor. He was pulled under the water to an unseen destination.

Unseen from the surface, at least.

Another rubbery limb snatched Kimberly and effortlessly pulled her down. Saltwater stung her eyes as she flailed in its grasp. Donut-shaped cups on the limb pulsed and flexed against her abdomen, and from their centers, a pointed object protruded.

Terror and agony struck at once.

Kimberly’s screams were reduced to a flurry of bubbles rapidly rising to the surface, outpaced only by the clouds of blood spurting from the jaws of the tentacled monster.

Its beak was hardly visible through the silt and blood, but unmistakable regardless. It spat out Jeremy’s splintered remains and made room for her. When those jaws clamped down, the agony for Kimberly truly began.

The tongue stripped the flesh off her bones, requiring four rounds of scraping before the life finally left her body. When it was finished, her body fell to the seafloor, settling next to Jeremy’s.

Together, forever.

***

“Oh, God!” Wade shouted. “It killed the people on that boat!”

Elana paid no attention to her deckhand. She did the best she could do. She tried to warn them. The fact they failed to get ashore was not her fault. None of this was her fault. She was told she was on the hunt for a shark. Not some kraken-like monster with a shell like a hermit crab.

“What is that thing?” she said to herself. “That’s no damn squid.” She had seen Humboldt squids and a few octopuses. The similarities to the monster that killed her friends was minimal. None of them were big enough to consume a full-grown human, let alone actually tear through a boat.

“Elana!” Wade shouted.

She kept her eyes on the island. It was maybe a thousand feet off, the beach area crowded with summertime visitors and locals taking advantage of the sunny weather.

“Elana!” Wade shouted again.

She kept her eyes on the beach and her ears on the sound of sirens echoing from somewhere on the west. The cops were coming.

“Elana-Elana-Elana-Elana-Elana-Elana-Elana-ELANA!!!”
Finally, she looked over her shoulder, and gasped at the sight of the pointed missile cruising across the water’s surface directly at her port quarter. She cut the wheel to starboard. Avoiding the creature was impossible. At best, she would reduce the impact to a sideswipe.

BAM!

The Mean House jolted, its helmswoman falling over the helm. Water splashed over the portside onto the deck, drenching Wade.

Past the bow was the huge bullet, a flock of tentacles frolicking in its wake. Driven by its powerful momentum, it proceeded several yards onward before veering to the left.

Both Wade and Elana looked over the side. The hull was heavily marked and dented, but not breached. For an instant, their terror was suppressed by astonishment. Elana’s maneuver actually worked!

The astonishment reverted back to terror after the lapping of waves gave away the circling back of the squid. As far as it was concerned, the failure to properly strike was nothing more than a delay to its overall goal.

In this moment, Elana became aware of the lack of motion from the Mean House. The engine was quiet, the prop failing to churn the water, and the shoreline was not getting any closer.

Though it failed to sink them, the beast still struck hard enough to stall the engine.

Elana started the ignition. The engine turned over, but failed to spark. She tried a second time. Same result.

“No, no, no, no, no!”

All of her life, Elana hated the cliché of the engine failing to start in movies. Every single time, she would burst out laughing, stating to anyone else in the room how vehicles always had a way of conveniently failing to work when the threat was coming. “So unrealistic!” was what she usually said. “What are the odds that would actually happen during the one occasion you’re being chased by a killer?”

Never in a million years would she have thought she would be in the exact same situation, and on the water of all places.

The creature lined itself up with her boat and prepared for a strike. Its tentacles bent in twisted shapes behind its shell, like evil serpents laughing amongst themselves at the expense of their victim’s fear.

Elana looked beyond the beast at a series of red and blue lights extending into the water. Three sheriff department patrol boats were speeding south in response to Elana’s call about the L. Talbot’s sinking.

She grabbed her radio. “Deputies! On your ten o’clock! Over here! Get your asses over here! Help! Help! There’s something in the water!”

The boats turned to port and came her way.

“Hi, this is Deputy Ramos. Is this Elana Rogers?”

“Yes! Listen, Deputy! There’s a large animal in the water. It’s like a squid, but it’s…” She struggled to describe its physiology without sounding like a lunatic. “Just get over here! And have your guns ready.”

The boats came within a hundred yards. Their motions were clearly picked up by the creature, which turned its body several degrees to the right to watch them. It sucked in a load of water through its syphon and submerged.

“Hey, Corporal?” another deputy radioed. “Did you see that? There in the water? I think she’s right. Something’s here.”

“Yeah, I saw it,” Ramos said. “Boat Three, go south, Two, go north. Set up a sort of perimeter. Maybe we can—AGH!”

The end of that transmission was stifled by the explosive sound of the creature’s shell imploding the bow. The center boat went into a tailspin, its front spewing malformed metal and fiberglass fragments.

The creature swung itself a hundred-and-eighty degrees, revealing its ugly face and arms. Screaming deputies aboard Boat One attempted to fire their pistols at the storm of tentacles embracing their sinking boat.

A slash of a mighty claw cut one of those screams short.

Elana covered her mouth, recognizing the fountain of blood spouting over the still spinning vessel. The beheaded deputy’s body somehow managed to stay on its feet, the arms squirming as wildly as the tentacles until the muscular contractions ceased.

The deputy named Corporal Ramos yelled maniacally and fired off a couple of shotgun blasts. A puff of mist around one of the arms confirmed a hit. All it accomplished was a little bit of pain and a strong desire for retribution.

Multiple arms lunged at him like rattlesnakes, seizing the deputy by his legs, his arm, and around his body.

All at once, they pulled in different directions.

A stifled grunt left Ramos’ throat, followed by the popping of bone and shredding of fabric. Blood rained into the churning water from the four body fragments.

“Officers down! I repeat! We have officers down!” one of the other deputies said through the channel. Boat Two hooked to starboard to intercept the creature. A man on its deck held a military-style rifle and was aiming at the water.

Boat Three moved in from the south, one of its officers also armed with a rifle. They created a crossfire and began popping off rounds. The squid jetted water and skidded across the surface. The boats went after it, maintaining an eight-meter spread.

With the threat distracted, Elana went back to work trying to get the engine started. The stubborn piece of machinery resisted her efforts, giving her nothing but a few stifled revs before dying.

“Boat Two, where’d it go?”

“It went under. Hang on…”

“Sheriff Brookman here. What the hell’s going on out there?”

“There’s something in the water, Sheriff!” Boat Three’s operator replied. “It’s like an octopus or a squid. Kinda like what that whacko fisherman Carver warned us about.”

A moment of dead air filled the radio waves before the sheriff responded.

“You’re kidding me.”

“We need the Coast Guard out here, Sheriff!” Boat Two said.

“Two! It’s coming up on you!” Three shouted.

Boat Two veered to port. Behind its transom, the cone breached the water. The creature’s entire body lifted out of the water and splashed down horizontally. The deputy on deck let loose multiple rounds at the writhing limbs.

His efforts to get a lucky shot were thwarted by the slashing of arms. He spun on his feet, jetting blood from a two-inch stub sticking out of his right shoulder. His severed arm, still squeezing the rifle grip, fell over the gunwale, the muscles spasming and depressing the trigger. Rounds spat off to the north, striking water, empty space, and the hull of Boat Three.

Smoke spewed from the engine, forcing the helmsman to stop the boat.

The creature continued its attack on Boat Two, impaling the dying officer through his belly and moving him high in the air like a child with a toy airplane. Its other arms successfully latched onto the boat, cutting its retreat short. The officer at the helm took notice of his boat being pulled backwards in spite of the throttle, and gave in to panic. He tried swerving left and right, but no maneuvering could free him or the vessel from the creature’s grasp.

One of its arms coiled around the cockpit, constricting it and the deputy. His cries were silenced by the console being crushed against his ribs, and those same ribs being pressed into his lungs. The cockpit splintered, as did the deputy’s spinal cord, ribs, and breastbone. A puff of pink mist erupted over the vessel, followed by a horrid fountain of insides escaping the compressed space through any avenue available.

The creature did not bother eating either of these adversaries. It was not motivated by hunger as much as it was cursed with a cruel malice and an absence of compassion.

It pushed aside the damaged vessel and set its sights on Boat Three. The officers on board had moved to the gunwale, one with a rifle, the other with a shotgun. Their engine was dead, leaving them with no choice but to make a defiant last stand.

They were either a braver pair, or simply more macho. That, or stupid. Elana could hear one of them shouting at the creature, “Come on, you piece of shit! Come get us!”

His challenge was accepted in brutal fashion. The creature fired off a thousand gallons of seawater from its syphon, closing the distance with the final two adversaries in the blink of an eye. It struck with an explosive impact, the police vessel instantly unrecognizable upon contact.

Soaring across the air with the pieces of wreckage were the two deputies. One was swatted by one of the tentacles before he even touched the water, the black talon dividing his head and left shoulder from the rest of his body.

The final deputy was granted a few more moments of life. After splashing down, he rose to the surface for air, only to find the ugly face of the cephalopod glaring at him with those two black eyes.

Keeping true to his macho stoicism, the deputy unholstered his sidearm and pointed it at the beast.

It fired first, not with bullets, but a blast of water from its syphon. The deputy was sent several dozen meters, flipping head over heels over the water’s surface, until bursting into a cloud of blood and guts after colliding with the derelict Boat Two.

“Dear God!” an unnerved Wade Cowl croaked. He had reached his psychological limit. Nothing could prepare the average human mind for this much death, let alone the presence of an honest-to-God sea monster. Especially when that sea monster was dead set on killing him.

Triumphant from its battle with the cops, it was quick to set its eyes back on the Mean House.

“For the love of God, Elana! Get us out of here!!!”

She gave the key another twist. Same damn result.

Sweat dripped from her forehead. She glanced at the beast. It was turning around, pointing the tip of its shell at the boat for its signature attack.

She gave the key another twist. The engine turned over twice, nearly coming alive, only to go silent.

A twisting white jet of water launched the organic torpedo. The tentacles straightened out behind the shell, allowing for the most streamlined motion.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!”

Elana twisted the key.

VROOM!

“YES!”
She put it in full throttle and took off for shore, clearing the creature’s path by the skin of her teeth. It passed behind her and angled off to the right. Its arms parted and thrashed as though pissed it had missed the target.

Wade moved to the starboard side of the boat and watched the beast. “It’s still coming!”
Elana fought the urge to look back. She tried to lean on some sort of optimism bias, willing the beast to give up its pursuit. Wade’s anxious jitters as he watched the thing caused her to look for herself.

Indeed, it was not giving up, but was correcting course to fulfill that bloodlust.

Elana faced forward. Tunnel vision set in. She saw the beach and nothing else. She took no notice of the crowd that had gathered on the sand and the people in the shallows, frantically attempting to swim out of the way of the speeding boat.

A thousand feet became five hundred.

Five hundred became two hundred.

All of a sudden, the vast blue water became shallow and was teeming with several frightened people.

Tremors of impact reverberated under the hull. Screams and grunts by unlucky swimmers beneath her boat, nor the panicked sounds and actions of those fleeing her path gave Elana any thought to the cost of her escape. The only thing on her mind was getting the hell away from the reach of those arms.

Behind her, the water turned red, the propellors making fast work of the mangled bodies she ran over.

The Mean House came within fifteen feet of the shoreline when it connected with the sandbar. The stern lifted, the bow groaning and kicking up clouds of silt on both sides.

Wade had his hands pressed to his face. “Mary and Joseph!” Unlike Elana, his desire for survival had lifted long enough for him to recognize what they had just done. At least eight bodies floated in their wake. An eighteen-year-old boy was being hauled out of the water by his two friends. Blood was freefalling from his nose and a large gash in his head.

People were on their cell phones, some crying to loved ones, others alerting 9-1-1 dispatchers about the situation.

“What have we done?” he cried.

Elana’s brain did not instantly register the fact her boat was lodged. She was running on autopilot with a singular goal to get on dry land. The propellors continued spiraling behind her, kicking up bloody water and a severed arm, sparking a new wave of screams.

Wade climbed up to the flying bridge and grabbed her wrists. “Turn it off!” The strength of her grip on the throttle caught him by surprise, forcing him to twist her wrist and trigger some nerve pain to get her to let go. He switched the engine off and spun his captain around to look at the carnage. “What did you do?”

Elana hardly noticed the floating bodies and clouds of blood. Her eyes went farther out to sea at the lapping waves beyond the shark nets.

“Oh, God!” She pushed Wade aside and hurried to the main deck. As she prepared to hit the water, a sect of the crowd comprised of vengeful family members and friends of the casualties gathered near her boat. An angry mob in the truest sense, they were ready to tear Wade and Elana apart limb from limb. To hell with the rule of law.

“You crazy bitch!” one shouted. “You killed my brother!”

“Get down here!” another screamed.

A third, his face covered in someone else’s blood, pointed a finger at her. “We’ve got a real treat for you! Get your ass down here!”

Everywhere Elana looked, there were angry people in her path, each of them with a bloodlust equal to the squid.

Wade waved at the crowd in hopes of reasoning with them. “Listen! There’s something in the water. You heard the gunshots—”

“Get down here!” another local shouted.

Impatient, the mob began climbing aboard.

“Get off!” Elana shouted. She thrust out a powerful kick, striking one in the face as he arrived over the gunwale. He splashed into the water, only for a few others to take his place.

They climbed onto the boat like ants. And like ants, they shared a singular hive-mind purpose of getting to the meat on top.

Elana, seeing nowhere to go, raced back to the flying bridge. She was halfway up the ladder when some of the angry locals started pouring onto the main deck.

“What are you doing?” Wade asked.

Elana pushed him out of the way and started the engine back up. To her relief, it came on with the first twist.

She put it in reverse and engaged the throttle. The Mean House came free of the sandbar and moved to deeper water.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

More screams echoed. A few other swimmers and some on rafts attempting to rescue injured loved ones, all expecting the boat to stay in place, found themselves in its path. The propellers diced flesh and the hull crunched bone.

All the while, an angry group of seven people clung to the boat.

“Get those fuckers!” one of them yelled.

All sense of civility had departed their minds. They had succumbed to madness and given in to an ancient barbarian instinct most did not even know they had to begin with.

Elana passed the anti-shark nets then pulled Wade to the helm. “Get us out of here.”

“What are you going to do?” he asked. Elana picked up the shotgun. His hands came up over his head. “No! You can’t!”

“Shut up!” She pumped the weapon and took aim at the main deck. Wade grabbed the barrel and shifted it upward.

“We’re already in enough trouble. If we do this—”

THUMP!

It was an impact that came from directly under the keel. The two fishermen froze. It was waiting for them, and in their attempt to escape the mob, they had moved right into its grasp.

A swarm of tentacles tore from the ocean and crested over the Mean House. All at once, the crowd on deck went from sheer anger to utter horror at the impossible sight of gigantic leathery arms whisking around them.

One of them opened his mouth to scream. A tentacle came down on him like a wasp’s stinger, its pointed talon punching through his mouth and out the back of his head.

The other arms went to work slashing and lassoing the terrified group. One looped around a man’s legs and lifted him off the deck. Unsatisfied with eating him alive or crushing him in its grasp, the demented beast chose to slam him back down on the deck, rupturing his skull on impact.

His surviving companions fought to flee the very vessel they had fought so hard to board. All sense of vengeance was lost. Like Elana, they sought to flee the unimaginable horror that had revealed itself to the world above the water.

One of them leapt from the starboard side, only to be snatched midair and held upside down. His captor, growing increasingly cruel with each fatality, wrapped another tentacle under his armpits.

His cries turned to bubbly grunts, then a blood-spewing gargle as the two arms pulled in opposite directions. The guy’s midsection split open, revealing his spinal cord, which quickly detached from his hips. Blood and organs free-fell into the ocean, much to the horror of those who were about to follow him off the boat.

A slash from another tentacle took a man’s leg off. He fell to the deck, grasping at his bleeding stump.

Nobody bothered coming to his aid. They were too busy trying to save their own lives. Their efforts lasted them all a few short moments. The beast did not waste time with the rest. Its claws tore across the deck from both the port and starboard sides, each limb acting as a weedwhacker. Limbs were hacked free and blood sprayed across the deck.

“Dear Jesus!” Wade shouted. Madness gripped him. He could not go back to shore, nor could he stay out here. Death waited for him either way.

One of those arms lifted over the console, eliciting a scream from Elana. She pointed her shotgun muzzle high and let off a shot. A gaping hole popped in the limb, the force of the spread-shot knocking it backward.

A second arm rose from the opposite side, dangling a scrap of blood-soaked clothing from its black talon. Like a scorpion’s tail, it crested over the bridge. The tip of its claw nicked Elana’s temple, spinning her and her shotgun to the right. Muscle contractions squeezed her finger over the trigger.

BANG!

Wade flew backwards as though struck by a medieval battering ram. He hit the deck, his chest blown wide open.

The pain and adrenaline ceased in the blink of an eye. For Elana, the entire world came to a pause as she took in the sight of her deckhand of ten years, killed by the weapon in her grasp.

Her numbness transformed back to adrenaline and psychosis. Elana’s mind was in a tailspin, her thoughts shifting between the death of Wade, the desire to escape, knowledge of consequences, a fear of death, and the spiderweb of mental fuzziness connecting them all.

She put the boat back in forward gear. The Mean House shot once again for the beach. For the third time, well-meaning people, desperately trying to help the injured stragglers, found themselves in its path.

More crushing impacts, more screams, more chaos on the beach, all concluding with a roaring impact against the sandbar.

The sudden stop put Elana’s forehead against the helm. She fell beside Wade’s body, feeling the warmth of his blood before passing out cold.

CHAPTER 28

“My God, it’s on a rampage,” Elliot Alere steered the Sulfuric Raindrop past a floating graveyard of wreckage. Shredded remnants of police jackets drifted between pieces of decking and hull. He switched the channel to the police frequency, and nearly vomited after hearing the storm of chatter.

“There’s blood and body parts all over the beach and the boat. I don’t know what the hell happened!”

“Some people are claiming they saw a large animal in the water.”

“Did any officers or paramedics see it?”

“Negative! Sir, I’m up on the flying bridge. The woman is up here. She’s unconscious. Same woman who drove the boat onto the beach. We’ve got a fatality up here as well. Shotgun blast by the looks of it.”

“Goddamn! Did she go mad?”

“Have no idea, Sheriff. We’re still trying to figure out what happened to our boat units.”

Figuring out what happened was not difficult. The beast had pursued Elana Rogers all the way to the beach, and was delayed by a violent encounter with the sheriff’s department, in which it clearly emerged victorious. Elana Rogers, blinded by desperation, fled onto a populated recreational area, inadvertently creating her own bloodbath.

He started breathing heavily. “This is my fault. This is all my fault.”

“Damn right, it is,” said a disgruntled Kai Zahn. He stepped into the wheelhouse with the very rifle he had taken back from Elliot during Carver’s attempt to rescue the fisherman. “It’d be dead by now, and fewer people would be dead.”

“It’s all about numbers to you, isn’t it?” Elliot said.

“It is to you as well,” Kai said.

“Think what you want,” Elliot said. “I would give anything to undo everything I’ve done.”

“Precisely.” Kai stood next to him, completely carefree in spite of the burning in his eyes while watching the chaos on the south beach. “You were seeking immortality—to become a legend in the field of medicine. Legacy. To be remembered for many years to come. Decades, centuries even. As I said, it’s just as much about numbers for you as it is for me.”

The feeling of nausea returned to Elliot’s gut. He was uncertain as to whether it was because of the downward spiral that would describe the current series of events, or if it was because he knew Kai was spitting truth.

Kai picked up two of the harpoons for Kristen’s crossbow. “At least we’ve got some luck.”

“Luck?” Elliot said. “The hell are you talking about? What about today has been lucky?”

Kai nudged the console with his finger. “Haven’t you heard the radio? There’s hardly a word about a sea monster. Everyone’s focused on what Elana Rogers just did.” He sniggered. “The dummy was so frightened, she ran over a bunch of people while trying to get on land. She caused so much mayhem herself, the news will not waste time speculating about a sea monster.”

“That’s what you’re concerned about?” Elliot said.

“Oh, quit acting shocked. Better yet, quit acting virtuous,” Kai said. “And to answer your question: I don’t really give a shit. It’s the boss man who would prefer to keep this under wraps. But make no mistake—deep down, you’re relieved as well. Legacy comes down to what people know about you.”

Another wave of nausea hit. The ugly truth seemed to have that effect on Elliot.

“Guys!” Kristen called out.

Kai opened the door to the flying deck. “Yes, Doctor?”

“It’s coming.”

“The fish finder caught a reading,” Elliot concurred. He could sense the strain in Kristen’s voice, having no choice but to work in alliance with a hunter who had assaulted her and intended to sacrifice her to cover up the situation with the cameroceras.

Kai raised the two harpoons and their cyanide-filled canisters.

“Moment of truth. Keep an eye on that fish finder. You can bet that thing’s gonna strike, and you know how it likes to do that. Be ready to evade.”

Without waiting for a reply, the hunter went outside to the main deck.

Colin took a look at Kristen’s computer monitor. Another glimmer passed by the starboard bow camera. The cameroceras had moved from the beach and was sizing up the Sulfuric Raindrop.

He took a glimpse at the hunter descending from the superstructure to the main deck. It left a bitter taste in his mouth to think he and Kristen had to join forces with him again. There was no time to come up with a brilliant strategy. He had gotten his weapons back, leaving no effective method for overpowering him. If there was any luck to their predicament, it was that his focus seemed to be entirely on the creature.

It was a case of ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’.

“Forgot your harpoons, Doctor McCauley,” Kai said to Kristen.

She took the little poison-filled projectiles from him. The word she spoke was “thanks” but the meaning was “go to hell.”

Colin held the crossbow. “I’ll take care of it.”

Kristen put her hand on the barrel and pulled it down. “No, Colin. I’ll do it.”

His shaky grip did not last long against her tug. Colin, his mind reeling from the sight of Terrence Hawthorne sinking into the forest, felt as though he would pass out at any moment. His head ached and his hands shook, so much so that he made sure to keep his finger far from his shotgun’s trigger.

“I reckon she’s a better shot than you anyway,” Kai quipped.

Kristen loaded the crossbow and pointed the tip of the harpoon at his foot. “One more word. Please.”

“Kristen,” Colin said.

“If you’re going to tell me to calm down, Colin—don’t.”

“No.” He pointed at her laptop monitor. “It’s coming!”

Kristen came to his side and saw the movement on the port quarter camera. The creature was less than a hundred feet away, keeping pace with the boat.

“Full stop!” Kai shouted to Elliot.

“Hold on,” Colin said. “It’s underwater. Unless we lure it into the shallows, we might not be able to get a shot at it.”

“I’m well aware,” Kai said. “Except if we keep moving at the present speed, it will put a hole in your boat before we get anywhere close to a suitable location. Now you know why I wanted bait, because I understand how this thing likes to attack. We need something to draw it up to the surface and make it vulnerable to attack.”

“Then why are you helping us now if we have no bait?” Kristen asked. “Somehow, I doubt you’re looking for repentance.”

“I’d have to feel guilty first,” Kai replied. He cracked a smile at the two of them.

Colin and Kristen both felt their blood rushing. Neither of them liked what they saw.

Kristen was not taking any chances. She raised the crossbow at Kai.

Anticipating this move, he swung his elephant gun, smacking the weapon from her hand. In a fluid motion, he cracked the butt against her stomach, doubling her over.

Colin pulled back a closed fist to retaliate. Again, Kai was the faster of the two. The barrel of the rifle came down on his forehead, knocking him flat on his back.

For the third time today, Colin felt himself on the verge of passing out. His vision turned into a bright blur, with Kai being nothing more than a vague shape. The sound of feet stumbling to the port gunnel and Kristen grunting in pain sparked the necessary willpower to get back up.

When his eyesight returned to focus, Kai was standing with Kristen at the gunnel, the former maintaining that demented grin.

Right then, it was clear what Kai had in mind. He had saved Colin from the shark and expressed determination to kill the squid, manipulating their better nature to save lives, all so he could have them as live bait.

“Maybe you can catch her before she sinks.”

With that said, Kai threw the marine biologist overboard.

“No!” Colin sprinted across the deck, grabbing a lifeline before launching himself over the gunnel. Kristen was already under the waves, struggling to swim through the pain in her stomach. For her to be this clumsy in a survival situation, she probably had one or two broken ribs.

Colin lunged for her, his head pulsing. The abuse he had endured was doing its worst on both his psyche and his concentration. Kristen saw him and swam up to him.

They swam up to the surface together.

“You hurt bad?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said in a strained voice. That pretty much confirmed his suspicion about the fractured ribs.

Colin wrapped the lifeline around her arms and tied a quick knot. He pulled on the line to get themselves closer to the boat. Except there was no resistance on the other end. Only slack.

The severed end of the rope drifted in their direction. Up on deck was Kai sheathing his Bowie knife.

Colin shook his fist. “You bastard! When I get up there…”

Kai tilted his head to Colin’s five o’clock. “You’ve got bigger problems right now.” He shouldered the crossbow.

The water began to churn.

Kristen hugged Colin close. “Oh, God! Colin!”

Like individual serpents, the cameroceras’ arms squirmed around them. A sharp ammonia stench hit their noses.

Colin held tight to Kristen and paddled with his free arm. The lapping waves worked against him. Two of the tentacles bent in their path, blocking them off from the Sulfuric Raindrop.

Colin turned around in search of another way out. He and Kristen gasped at the sight of the creature’s grotesque face rising from the swells. Two black eyes, orb-shaped, like those on an insect, shifted in their direction. The limbs parted, exposing its huge white beak.

He was living his worst nightmare. For the second time in a row, he failed to save her life. In his final act of life, he would have to endure the agony of losing Kristen McCauley and the knowledge he had once again failed to provide for his boy.

Its syphon pulsed, its end opening and shutting as though gasping for breath.

Those eyes shifted to the boat. The creature adjusted its angle, pointing that syphon at the deck.

Intelligent as it was brutal, the beast knew that the human standing on the boat with the t-shaped weapon was up to no good.

For the first time in his life, Kai was outdrawn.

A concentrated stream of water struck his chest with enough force to lift him off his feet and throw him across the deck. It was in that moment Kai Zahn experienced another ‘first’. He was knocked out cold, having been slammed against the starboard gunwale.

Oddly enough, the besting of Kai brought little comfort to the two souls in the water. While Kai was the one responsible for them being in the water with the beast to begin with, he was also their only hope of survival.

Colin and Kristen hugged each other close, kicking their feet with all their might to keep their heads above water.

The creature’s attention returned to them. Its arms closed in around them, the pointed claws moving in for a deadly blow.

Elliot stepped out onto the flying deck just in time to witness Kai crashing against the gunwale. His shoulders hit the corners, his arms whipping to the side. The crossbow flew from his grip and vanished under the waves.

The hunter was out like a light upon impact.

Elliot looked to the source of the incredible stream of water that knocked him out. Down there, a mere twenty feet from the hull was the cameroceras. A few yards in front of it was Colin Carver and Kristen McCauley, condemned to death by Kai’s hand in another fiendish attempt to lure his trophy to the water.

Far in the distance were the remnants of the creature’s rampage. The beach was in chaos, with cops and paramedics racing back and forth across the sand and shallow water. To the south, floating wreckage from multiple police vessels spread across the water.

As Kai had said, this was his legacy. No matter how hard he worked to save lives, he only ended them prematurely.

Down in the water, two more souls stared into the dismal face of his evil creation. And it was indeed evil. Perhaps it would not have been if it had not been raised in captivity and prodded by needles and fed scraps. In the Ordovician Period, it may have been nothing more than a simple carnivore or scavenger, feeding only when hungry, and otherwise keeping to itself. But this one was not a simple animal. It was a product of man’s hubris. Dr. Elliot Alere’s hubris. A bastardization of nature, never meant to share the planet with humans.

It needed to die. Elliot had been the author of enough pain and suffering. It needed to end today. He would never cure disease, the Epstein-Barr virus, or Parkinson’s. Such things were not in his destiny.

All he could do now was reduce the consequences of his unholy work. Even if was the last thing he would ever do.

The hunter was out of commission, the police distracted, the fisherman and biologist moments from death. Only he had a chance of stopping the thing.

On the main deck, near Kai’s foot, was the second harpoon. Its cannister was filled with enough cyanide to put down a blue whale.

Elliot slid down the ladder and sprinted the instant his feet touched the deck. He grabbed the harpoon by its stem, then turned to face the portside gunnel. A wave of self-awareness caused a split-second of hesitation. No matter how guilty one felt, no matter how intense the desire to atone could be, it was no small thing to willfully sacrifice one’s own life.

If Heaven existed, Elliot figured his only hope of getting there was to do the right thing.

“Dear God, I’m sorry…”

He ran across the deck, climbed over the gunnel, and identified the nearest tentacle. One had curved a couple of yards behind Colin and Kristen, putting itself eight feet from the vessel.

Holding the harpoon downward like a dagger, he launched himself into the water. A crazed yell left his lungs as he descended to his fate.

He landed on the arm and plunged the tip of the harpoon into the leathery flesh.

The cameroceras convulsed. Its arm flicked outward, smashing the cannister and Elliot against the boat’s hull.

He wheezed, both lungs deflated from bone fragments cutting deep into them like grenade shrapnel. His arms and legs refused to move. Pain in his femurs and shoulders indicated many fractures throughout his body.

Rolling in the water in front of him was the broken cannister, its contents spilling into the ocean. At most, the thing had gotten a partial dose.

Many tentacles rolled over themselves towards the creature’s face. It was a sign of distress, confirming that at least some of the liquid chemical had entered its bloodstream.

Knowing its immune system, it was not enough to cause organ failure. At best, the creature would cease its attack and go into hiding for a few hours. His effort to kill his creation ended in failure.

With the water up to his chin, he used the last of his energy to look at Colin and Kristen.

“Kill it!”

One of the arms uncoiled. The beast, seeking retribution against its creator, thrust its talon out like a Spartan’s spear. Elliot was impaled through the chest and pinned to the Sulfuric Raindrop.

The beast held its arm in place, relishing in the death of the troublesome human who had caused it a lifetime of grief. Its insides burning, it retracted its arm, pulling Elliot’s dying corpse with it, and jet-propelled itself out to open sea.

The blast of water pushed Colin and Kristen to the vessel.

“Hang on!”

Bam!

Colin absorbed the impact with his shoulder, his head whipping against the hull. His ears rang and his eyesight was reduced to a strange white veil. In the middle of the haze was the outline of Kristen directly in front of him.

His battered brain did its best to function. He remembered that the severed end of the lifeline dangled above them. Colin reached up and grabbed at it. He missed again and again. He knew it was up there, but he just could not get it.

“Hang on, Kristen.”

The throbbing in his head intensified. His temples felt as though they were squeezing his brain.

“Colin?” Kristen put a hand on his face. “Colin, stay with me.”

Her words echoed as though coming from another dimension.

“Hold on…” It came out a whisper.

“Colin,” Kristen’s warped voice said.

The white turned to black.

CHAPTER 29

“We are getting conflicting reports as to what the cause of the incident was. Some witnesses are stating seeing a large organism in the water attacking the Mean House. Others state that its owner, Elana Rogers, repeatedly drove the vessel into a populated swimming area following the sound of gunshots by police boat patrol units. Details are still unclear, but police have recovered a shotgun on the scene, owned by Ms. Rogers, which appears to be the direct result of at least one fatality. Back to you, Harold.”
Ralf Briggs switched the television off and refilled his Scotch glass. Today, he needed it more than ever.

“Do you want me to prepare a public statement?” his secretary asked. She had entered the room to deliver his next bottle of Scotch, and knew him well enough to understand he was sweating over the massacre near the San Juan Islands.

“Unfortunately yes,” he said. “The press is more hung up on this crazy shrimp boat that ended up killing a bunch of people. The fact she shot one of her own people helps our case of painting her as the scapegoat.” He took another drink from his glass. “If it was just that, we’d be fine. But there’s reports that two other fishing boats are missing, a couple fishing near that same area, and three police boats went down. Police radio traffic indicates they were dealing with a large organism.”

“You think they might connect it to us?” the secretary asked. “I mean, at the end of the day, it’s just an animal. How would they connect it to you?”

Ralf tapped a key on his laptop and brought up an article. The headline read Researcher associated with the Boettiger Corporation among casualties in Green Pastures incident.

“Dr. Alere fucked up, and in turn, fucked us,” he said. “Even in death, he’s causing us problems. Sure, we’ll deny any involvement to his activities, but that won’t stop Pryce Genetics from manipulating the situation.”

He did not feel like elaborating on the ‘how’ and the consequences. Speaking the words out loud would just aggravate him further. Stock price drops, loss of government and private contracts, and a nonstop barrage of bad press was in his future.

Not even the company of his secretaries and their low-cut blouses could distract him.

The office door opened and a second secretary stepped inside. “Sir, you’ve got a call on Line Two.”

Ralf put his head against the back of his office sofa. “I told you, I’m not answering any calls from reporters today. We’ll schedule a press conference tomorrow. Or the next day. Or week.”

“Pardon me, sir. It’s not a reporter. It’s Senator Loyd.”

Ralf lifted his head. “Senator Loyd?”

She nodded. “He says it’s a matter of extreme importance.”

He stood up and went to his office desk. “Clear the room, please.” He waited for the ladies to exit, then looked at the phone. Senator Loyd was not one to call for no reason. Nor was he the type to waste time. As far as Ralf understood, the senator only socialized with people whom he could get some good use out of. If he needed someone of Ralf’s stature, generally there was some mutual gain to be had.

He picked up the phone. “Ralf Briggs.”

“Mr. Briggs. This is Senator Loyd. Been a while.”

“Indeed it has, Senator. What do I owe the pleasure? How’s Pryce working out for ya? Any closer to getting approval for that project of yours?”

“Funny you ask. Based on the conversations I’ve had, the house and senate are willing to vote in favor of it and the big guy on Pennsylvania Avenue will sign off on it. Like with most things, there’s a caveat.”

Ralf inhaled. That word ‘caveat’ was always important in these sorts of conversations.

“Sounds like they want something more than just health research,” he said plainly. “Am I correct that a few donors are inquiring on military applications for whatever you develop or research?”

“You know us too well. And vice versa. I’m watching the news right now. Strange little happenings taking place in the Strait of Juan de Fuca, particularly near some island I’ve never heard of called Green Pastures. Nice little name, though it’s something you’d expect a country town down south to be called. Anyway, I recognize one of the names released. A gentleman named Dr. Elliot Alere. Killed by a large piercing wound to the chest area. I took the liberty of having some people check with local investigators. No powder burns, so it was not a firearm. Injury was inconsistent with any bladed weapons. No residue, so it was not caused by debris. They’re a little perplexed. I can’t blame them. I would be too, but I know better. Something tells me you, Ralf Briggs, knows what happened over there.”

Ralf knew better than to flat out confirm the senator’s suspicions. It was not wise to associate himself with the cause of such a tragic event and potentially incriminate himself.

“I’m not sure if I should be offended or flattered, Senator. Did you share this suspicion with anyone? I don’t like unflattering rumors spread about me.”

“No mention of your name, but believe me, you’d be flattered if I did.”

“Keep talking.”

“I seem to recall talks of your corporation beginning experimentations with sea life during our previous engagements. Even rumors of finding specimens preserved in some kind of formerly-unknown secreted resin that managed to protect their bodies from the elements.”

Ralf swallowed. He wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or irritated. For the senator to know this information, there had to have been a leak somewhere in his company.

His silence served as an answer to the senator’s unspoken question.

“Something about regeneration and a cure for illnesses. I’m curious, Mr. Briggs, was there any success in any specimens showing promise in that area?”

“There’s been some good signs and some bad. The bad is our specimen contains a venom inside some ducts in its jaw. It’s pointless for smaller prey, but can immobilize larger animals like whales. That’s significant because the venom is extremely toxic. As for the good, our specimen has been proven capable of recovering from major injuries inside of a day, including full limb regrowth.”

“All I’ve heard was ‘good’. Such a thing would probably have a hell of an immune system. Gosh, maybe a significant lifespan, now that I think of it.”

“That was something considered by our lead researcher.”

“Had he gotten to human trials?”

“I’m afraid not. We ran into… let’s just say a ‘hiccup’ recently.”

“Ah, hiccups. Pimples on the ass of progress. But let’s say, if that ‘hiccup’ could be recreated, do you think we could pick up where your researcher left off?”

“It may take some time, but it’s likely.”

“And do you think there’s a way of harnessing that venom for… ‘other’ uses?”

“Like what? Make a contagion out of it?” Ralf laughed. The lack of reciprocation on the other end of the line made him stop. “Wait… you want something like that?”

“Can it be done?”

“I’d have to speak to the people who assisted Dr. Alere, but it might be possible.” He shifted in his seat. “Listen, Senator, I understand wanting to harness its regenerative capabilities. But the venom… I don’t see how that can be of any use. Except, some sort of weaponization.”

A ‘tisk’ from the senator pretty much confirmed Ralf’s suspicions.

“The world’s going to shit, Mr. Briggs. We’ve got tensions in the West Pacific. There are powers who want to do something about it, but have their hands tied by bureaucracy and the realities of the nuclear age. Not to mention it would be a guaranteed election loss these days if someone tried to initiate military conflict, given public sentiment these days.”

“So, your new department of health, you’d like something that can be covertly dispersed in foreign nations or places where we hold some sort of financial or military interest? Am I close?”

“You know us all too well.”

“And these unnamed special interest groups heard the rumors of what was sighted near the San Juan Islands, had a few words with you, and are now under the impression that a bioweapon could be created.”

“Your reputation for brilliance precedes you, Mr. Briggs.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Ralf said. Of course, he was lying through his teeth with that statement. The next statement was all truth, as much as he did not want to mention it. “Even if my company was responsible for creating an organism with such capabilities, we would probably need more than one specimen to accomplish what you wish to acquire. Especially if you hope to blame any outbreak on the existence of a ‘newly discovered organism’. And that would take some time to get them to the proper maturity rate.”

“But it’s not out of the question that a new growth hormone could be invented and experimented with, right? I know the Boettiger Corporation has been working, with significant success, on such things. I hear you’re close to a breakthrough on the Wonderland Project.”

The fact Loyd knew of that project meant he had been keeping tabs on Boettiger for a while. A man in his position only did that if he was looking for dirt or if he knew he could one day get some use from the one he was spying on.

Ralf chuckled. “You’re suggesting we make super squids, for lack of a better term?”

“New discoveries are made all the time. God only knows what lives in the ocean depths. Nobody certainly expected a marine predator to attack the Pacific Northwest, but here we are, hearing reports on the news.”

Ralf stretched the phoneline so he could grab his Scotch bottle and glass. He filled his glass. This time, it was not to dull the misery but to enhance the rush he was experiencing.

“That would be a very ambitious project. Might be hard to keep it quiet.”

“Not if you handpick your staff. I hear you tend to hire people with checkered backgrounds. Tends to come in handy if they get out of line.”

Ralf took a sip. “It’s going to require lots of funding.”

“That’s where the vote comes in.”

“Military Industrial Complex is really expanding its horizons, isn’t it?”

“It’s a different age. So, what do you say? You think we might be able to get more specimens? Within the next year, by any chance?”

Ralf’s heart jumped at the mention of that timeframe.

“Here’s the problem, boss. Dr. Alere was the one who engineered the creature. He was the one who figured out how to sequence the DNA. Sure, we have his notes, but even our best scientists might struggle to make sense of it. Especially since he was the type who covered his ass. By that, I mean he likely kept a few details to himself. Call it an insurance policy. He was an idealist and desperate, but not stupid. Point is, to recreate the thing from scratch would take way more than a year.”

A long pause filled the line.

“What about the one that’s loose?”

“What about it?”

“Say we manage to capture it. What are the odds we can duplicate its DNA?”

Another sip of Scotch.

“Much easier than trying to figure out the gene sequence. I’ll tell you this, it’s much easier to clone from living tissue than dead tissue.”

“Meaning we’ll need to capture it alive.”

“We know where it’s at. I have a man on the island who will be more than happy to help capture the thing. As far as transports go, I might need help on that front. The plane we had outfitted for the creature was brought down.”

“We can make that work. I can have a team of contractors in the area by tomorrow night. You sure your man is up for the job?”

“Why wouldn’t he be?”

“Because he’s in police custody. Kai Zahn, is that right?”

“That’s him.”

“According to my investigators, he got his bell rung by the specimen. The people he contracted brought his unconscious body to the cops for attempted murder. I guess he was associated with Dr. Alere. The woman who brought him in also brought in the doctor’s body.”

“All I can say, knowing him, is if he was bested by the thing, he’ll move mountains for another shot at it,” Ralf said. “I’m sure he’ll settle for capturing it alive. Might ask for a souvenir, like a claw or something. But as long as he comes out the victor, he’ll take the money and shut up.”

“On that note, I’ll make a direct call to the sheriff.”

“You can get him out of jail? You don’t think the police won’t try and look into this?”

“The sheriff has a lot on his plate right now. Part of that is speculation that he was aware of a violent sea creature in his waters and brushed it off, despite being warned. He’s probably looking for an early retirement. Something I can provide.”

Ralf finished his glass. “Get Kai out of jail and have him call me immediately. I’ll put him in charge of the operation. Get your contractors in the area as soon as you can. Needless to say, keep the Coast Guard and the media off our backs.”

“Consider it done.”

“And Pryce Genetics?”

“Nothing’s been signed yet. If we pull this off, the first call I’ll make is to their representatives. ‘Sorry, but I’ve received a better offer’.”

“Works for me.”

“Excellent. Pleasure to be working with you again, Mr. Briggs. We’ll be in touch.”

“Sure thing. Oh! One more thing, Senator?”

“Yes?”

“Those people whom Zahn and Dr. Alere were working with? Where are they now?”

CHAPTER 30

Salty water struck Colin’s face. Lightning flashed high above. The clouds collided with one another like angry gods fighting for supremacy of the skies.

Straight ahead was Mark Cater, drifting with the waves.

Colin stroked and kicked. He clawed at the ocean, getting farther and farther away from the Sulfuric Raindrop. But Mark Cater was not getting any closer.

A flash of lightning blinded him.

When the strobe reached its conclusion, Colin opened his eyes. He saw the red donut drifting alone. Only now was Colin able to close the distance. Mark Cater was gone.

“Where is he?”

Another flash of lightning blinded him.

When his eyes opened, Colin found himself in daylight. All around him was floating wreckage and red water.

Straight ahead of him, floating on some wreckage, was Terrence Hawthorne.

“Colin!”

From the mess came a pointed blue snout and rows of teeth.

BANG!
He closed his eyes.

When he opened them, the wreckage was floating alone. Mark Cater was gone.

“Where is he?”

A splash of red water hit his face.

When his vision cleared, he was in the water. Kristen was in front of him. All around her were the arms of the beast, ready to seize her and pull her to the depths.

In a heartbeat, everything went black.

“Where is she?”

The darkness turned to light.

“Where is she?!”

Colin sat up. No longer was he in water, but on a solid surface inside a twelve-by-twelve room.

Running footsteps approached his side.

“It’s okay, Mr. Carver. You’re in a hospital.”

Two women in blue scrubs eased the confused crab fisherman on his back. By now, he was aware of the IV needle in his arm, the beeping of the monitors near his bed, and the white gown he wore.

Most importantly, he was aware of Kristen’s absence.

“Where is she?”

“The woman who brought you in?” one of the nurses asked. “Dr. McClellen?”

“McCauley,” he corrected her. “Kristen McCauley.”

“That’s right. She’s perfectly okay.” The nurse leaned over him to check his eyes. “First, let’s worry about you. Do you know your name?”

“Colin Carver.”

“You know what day it is?”

“Friday.”

“Good.” The nurse put up a few fingers. “How many?”

“Four.”

“Good. You took a few good hits to the head. I guess God gave you a pretty sturdy skull.” The nurse jotted down a few notes.

Colin looked at the clock. It was almost eight in the evening. “What happened?”

The second nurse exhaled sharply. She was visibly tired from what was probably an extremely busy day at the hospital. In addition to the obvious fatigue, there was a sense of confusion, delaying her response to his question.

“I guess it depends on who you ask,” she said. “Best I can say is there was a major incident at the south beach. Lot of people dead and injured. Crazy woman on a boat.”

“Though that doesn’t explain a lot of the other things that happened,” the first nurse said.

“Anyway, your friend Kristen was able to get you and one other individual out of the water,” the second one continued. “He was already dead, and I guess there was another man whom she turned in to the police for attempted murder. On that note, Sheriff Brookman will probably want to question you about that when you’re ready.”

“If he doesn’t resign first,” the other remarked.

The two nurses huddled together, one whispering to the other, “Wasn’t he the one mentioned in that article?” The other nodded.

Colin could not have cared less about the sheriff’s misgivings. There was no satisfaction to be had from an ‘I told you so’ attitude. Lives had been lost. A lot of them. Boats, docks, and all other property could be replaced. Lives could not be. And many would still be here had he not failed miserably in his endeavor.

In the end, he even failed to save Kristen. Not only that, but it ended up being him who needed rescuing. The fact she was able to find a way to hoist him and Dr. Alere out of the water made her worthy of some kind of metal.

Colin sat up.

“Whoa!” the second nurse said. “Might want to take it easy. And be careful with that IV line. Based on what I’ve been told about you, this is probably the most hydrated you’ve been in a long time.”

“On that note, I’m out of here,” he said.

“You really should stay. You’ve been through a lot of physical trauma. It’s safer if you stay here where we can observe you.”

Colin pulled the IV out. “Last thing I need is a hospital bill. I’d rather spend my last few bucks elsewhere. First, where are my clothes?”

***

It was a long walk from the hospital to the liquor store. Colin’s first idea was to go to one of the bars, but after seeing all the vehicles in the driveways, he concluded he preferred solitude over company.

The few dollars he was able to scrape together was enough to purchase some cheap vodka. Not fancy, but he did not need fancy. He just needed to get this stuff in his body and to numb his mind. The painkillers given to him by the hospital doctor before his discharge would not do the trick.

From the liquor store, he made his way home on foot. His clothes were still damp from when he fell into the water, but he did not care.

It was dark by the time he arrived at his front doorstep. The bottle dangled from his fingers. It was unopened; the only remnant of self-control Colin had left. The last thing he needed was to be caught intoxicated on the street, especially with the Coast Guard personnel walking around everywhere. He saw a helicopter flying around. He would not be surprised if a cutter was in the area helping with the investigation.

None of it mattered to him. All he cared about was stepping foot in the house and drowning his sorrows.

He pulled the door open and stumbled to the sofa. Not one drop of alcohol had entered his bloodstream and already he was dizzy. Yeah, the nurses were right, but Colin waved it off. If anything, he now believed he deserved the pain.

On the table in front of him was the mail. At the top of the stack was the letter from Rehab Dynamics regarding Stevie’s coverage.

The pain flared in his temples.

Colin squeezed his eyes shut and recoiled. Baring teeth, he swatted the stack of letters off the table. Like giant rectangular snowflakes, they drifted across the living room.

He twisted the cap off. There was no need for a glass. Like a Russian freezing his ass off in the days of the Soviet Union, he would endure his hardship straight from the bottle.

“Go ahead.”

The bottle stopped a few millimeters short of his lips. From the living room came Kristen. Through the misery and headaches, Colin did not register the fact that his front door was unlocked. Single-minded in his pursuit of getting wasted, he even failed to notice her sitting at the dining room table where they shared breakfast that morning.

He did not look her way. Those eyes remained fixed on the bottle.

“I intend to.”

“The choice is yours,” Kristen said.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was going to spend the night in your hospital room. For most of the evening, I was busy making reports for the sheriff and Coast Guard. When I found out you were gone, I figured you’d either go to a bar or straight home. I rolled the dice and thought you’d be here. Call it optimism bias. I thought you’d choose something other than alcohol to bury your pain.”

“You misjudged me,” he said.

“I guess we’ll find out,” she said.

Colin snorted. “Optimism bias. What’s there to be optimistic about? That I survived? Why should I have? I aligned myself with a maniac, thinking I could fix all of my problems in a day. Instead, all I did was take part in a scheme which ended up getting several people killed. I’m starting to think it’s the only real talent I have. Even Terrence Hawthorne… the guy and I were not necessarily drinking buddies, but he had a kid. A wife. Just as Mark Cater and Lawrence Riley did.” He sat up straight and turned to look at her. He pointed a finger, the rest of his hand still gripping the bottle. “You don’t know what it’s like having that on your conscience.”

Kristen held her ground, not overstepping her bounds by patronizing him, but not turning her back and giving up on him either.

“You’re right. I don’t,” she said.

Colin lowered his hand. A thousand words came to mind, few of which made any sense. It was the chaos that came from emotion. The temptation to lash out began welling up in his mind. But how could he? Not only did he fail to save Kristen’s life, but she ended up saving his.

“I do know this,” Kristen continued. She stepped to the edge of the couch. “I believe you make your own destiny. You’re a grown man. Whatever you choose to do from here on, I won’t get in the way. If you choose the bottle, I won’t stop it. I won’t condone it, but I’ll stay away.”

Those last three words stuck out to him.

Colin lightly twirled his wrist, watching the liquid gently lapping inside the bottle.

“It’s awfully tempting, you know? It’s not like I’ve got anything else.”

“That’s not true.” Kristen sat down beside him. “You’ve got me. That bottle will never care about you.”

Colin watched the vodka swish a few more times. All the while, he analyzed those words. He could not remember the last time anyone voiced genuine sentiments of care for him. The only exception was his father, entirely through voicemails, for Colin could never muster the strength to answer the calls. To this day, he had not told his father about Mark and Lawrence. Every time the thought came up, he chose the bottle.

Once again, the bottle beckoned at him, promising to end all of his pain. He looked at it, at Kristen, at the bottle again, then back at her.

“You’re just being nice.”

Kristen chuckled. “You can call it ‘nice’. That’s one word.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “I think I misjudged you. You’re not as big a selfish jerk as you let on. You’ve got a heart of gold. When you let others down, it tears you up inside. Everything that happened today, it was not your fault. It was Kai’s. And the incident with losing your two crewmen: that was not as black and white as you made it out to be. I took the liberty of reading the official police report. All of your surviving crewmen testified that you spoke with them before making the decision. They unanimously supported it. Now, that does not mean it was a wise decision to travel into rough waters during bad weather. But at the same time, you did not act as a dictator and force your men into a situation they did not want to be in. And I know you well enough to know, had your situation been normal, you would not have even entertained the idea for a minute. But you were desperate to provide for Stevie.”

The mention of his son’s name ignited something within Colin. A warm feeling came over him.

“You remember his name.”

Kristen smiled. “There’s more to life than science and research. There’s people. Friendships.” Her eyes locked with his. “Some that grow into something more.”

Colin inhaled. All of a sudden, the headaches were hardly noticeable.

At the end of a long, affectionate moment looking into what he could only describe as the face of an angel, he stood up. He walked past her to the kitchen sink, tossing the vodka cap into the trash as he went by it.

He arrived at the sink and flipped the bottle upside down. The entire liter of contents were swallowed by the drain.

Once the last drop of alcohol disappeared, the bottle joined its cap in the trashcan.

Kristen was now standing by the dining room table, wearing a proud smile on her face. Colin had made his choice.

She extended her arms and embraced him in a hug.

CHAPTER 31

“So, we have a deal?”

Sheriff Grant Brookman took a breath. It was a turn in his career he never thought he would ever make, but here he was making it.

“Yes.”

“Excellent. You’ll receive a ten percent down payment within the next hour. The rest in five-percent increments over the course of the next six months, plus an expense reimbursement after you decide to move. But only if the job is successful.”

Without skipping a beat, the representative ended the call, leaving Sheriff Brookman to ponder that last statement.

He was experiencing mixed feelings. For all of his career up until now, he lived by the letter of the law, never once taking a bribe or abusing his authority. Being sheriff of a quiet island, which was simultaneously the smallest county in the state, proved helpful in such a lifestyle. Nevertheless, he always took pride in living clean and doing right by the people who elected him. On three occasions, he and his men assisted the Coast Guard in intercepting drug trafficking operations. The fact that Green Pastures was a quiet, unassuming place made criminals believe they could sneak their product through without anyone noticing. On the contrary, it was the worst thing they could do, as people in quiet areas did not take kindly to unwanted attention in their neighborhoods.

For his five terms as sheriff, he did the public’s bidding, making sure to hold his deputies to high standards. Very rarely was there ever a complaint directed to his department. Twenty years, he served the island with dignity with only his reelection as a thank you.

Today, he experienced the first controversy of his career. One bad day following thirty-five years of police service was all it took to end it all. The local news was quick to run with the prospect of his electoral opponent gaining traction in the upcoming race. Judging from the influx of angry emails and phone calls, that traction was real.

Unfortunately, it was not just the local news running with the story. The major stations were covering the disaster at the beach, with some of the reporters speculating the presence of a violent marine predator and how Sheriff Brookman was made aware of it. Even though a large part of the coverage was focused on the actions of Elana Rogers, her statement of a giant predator made its way to the airwaves. Furthermore, several locals came forward with matching stories of a large shark being in the area. It was a spiderweb of confusion, but the common factor was Sheriff Brookman being made aware of a potential danger. One way or another, a disaster happened on his watch. Whether or not he could have done anything about it did not matter.

Even the families of his deceased deputies wasted no time roasting him on screen, with one even suggesting he knowingly sent her husband to his doom. On ten occasions, he found his picture on the internet with a dramatic headline over it. Whenever disaster struck, someone always had to be thrown to the wolves. Today, that person was him.

He stopped at home at one point in the afternoon to drop off some belongings before heading back to the station. There, he received some angry remarks from his neighbors and some handwritten hate mail at his door.

The heat was scorching, and it was only day one. With the people knowing where he lived, it was unlikely things would get better. The calls for him to resign were immediate.

Thirty-five years of honorable service did not matter. The whole world was ready to pin the blame on the sheriff and throw him out like yesterday’s trash. Of course, his opponent for the election season took no time to comment on the matter. His calls for Brookman’s resignation seemed to be going well with the public, with no attention given to the conflict of interest. Brookman’s departure would lead to a special election, in which his opponent was sure to win.

Losing to a career desk cop was the icing on the cake. The guy’s most significant achievement was keeping everybody’s paperwork in order. And everyone wanted him to lead the island police force because of an incident no rational person could have seen coming.

The dark side of the federal government was quick to recognize this fact. If there was anything they were good at, it was pulling threads to get vulnerable people to give them what they wanted. The representative on the phone laid out how Brookman’s reputation would go from bad to worse, and how his only course of action would be to retire and relocate, preferably somewhere far away where nobody would recognize him. A gut feeling warned him this individual was partly responsible for the media’s emphasis on the failed sheriff of Green Pastures, greasing the gears for them to enact their plan.

That plan was to capture the monster lurking in the local waters. Its existence was the true icing on the cake. If it were not for the extreme pressure and heat Brookman was feeling, he would be reeling from the fact that Colin Carver and Dr. Kristen McCauley were telling the truth when they showed him the image of the cone-squid thing.

Who would ever think that drunken whacko would be right about such a thing? If Brookman had taken them at their word and closed the beaches, the scrutiny would match the backlash he was receiving now. It was a no-win scenario.

The powers-that-be were definitely exploiting their influence in the media to pressure him into complying with their wishes. Brookman was not stupid. He was able to piece together the crazy elements of the situation. But at this point, he did not care. The way he saw it, his community had turned on him. He was nothing more than an asset, worth their time until they found a flaw.

To hell with it all. If this was what his entire career amounted to, then taking a bribe to assist in some sort of weird federal coverup was worthwhile.

“Wheedon?”

The deputy stepped into his office. “Yes?”

“The suspect we arrested this afternoon; bring him over from the jail.”

Wheedon gulped. “The hunter guy? With the big-ass gun?”

“Did we arrest anyone else?”

Wheedon read between the lines. “We’ll bring him right over.”

***

Kai Zahn lifted the glass of water offered to him inside of the sheriff’s office. He eyeballed the swishing waterline, then looked at Brookman.

“Got anything stronger?”

Brookman glanced at the closed door behind the former inmate’s right shoulder as though worried someone was standing behind it, listening in. He reached under the desk and extracted a bottle of Jack Bourbon. A little generic for Kai’s taste, but it would do.

The hunter was glad to be back in his regular clothes. An orange jumpsuit was not his style. All he was lacking was his Bowie knife and six-shooter. It seemed Brookman wanted to keep some illusion of caution. Not that it mattered. Kai would have his weapons back before the night was done. That included his elephant gun.

He drank from a five-ounce glass and put his heels on the edge of the desk. The cuffs were off, the charges were dropped, even if those pressing were not aware of it. It was a nice luxury to have friends in high places.

“I reckon the friend of my friend is offering you quite the sum.”

Brookman looked away. “I figure I’m out of here anyway. Might as well make a few extra bucks on my way out the door.”

Kai raised his glass. “Man of my taste.”

Bottoms up.

“I thought you were a man of ambition,” Brookman said. “You’re the type always seeking some sort of conquest. That’s why you travel the world, shooting things that hunt you back.” He filled his own glass. “Is it true you’ve hunted everything there is?”

Kai took the bottle for a refill. “I’m sure there’s something I haven’t gotten to yet.”

Brookman looked him in the eye. “Man?”

Kai swallowed a mouthful of bourbon. “Mmm. You don’t think I’m the kind of guy who handles things diplomatically.” The tilt of Brookman’s head was exactly the kind of response he expected. Kai grinned and raised his glass to polish off the remaining contents. “Haditha Dam.”

Brookman nodded. It wasn’t exactly a hunt, but then again, a conflict like that would certainly cross man off from one’s checklist of targets.

“Never would’ve taken you for an Amry Ranger.”

“Nor would I,” Kai said with a laugh. “What can I say? I needed a challenge at the time. Towers had fallen, the world was going to war, I was a twenty-something man who saw an opportunity to shoot some cool guns and be paid for it—what better way to kill the boredom?”

“And how do you seek to kill the boredom of the next day or so?” Brookman asked.

“For starters…” Kai refilled his glass again and raised the bottle. “More of this. Especially if it’s on your dime.” He took a moment to appreciate the sheriff’s scalding glare. “After that, I guess we have a mutual interest in snagging a big-ass sea beast.” He held his glass a few millimeters from his lips. “Unless, of course, you’re getting cold feet already.”

Brookman took a breath, then shook his head to confirm the latter. “No. But I know you’ve already been bested by that thing a couple times already.”

Kai’s smile went away. In a rare instance, a nerve had been struck.

“It has not been a boring hunt so far,” he said. “We’re dealing with something that’s smarter than the average predator. And tougher. Whatever that doctor did to engineer that son of a bitch worked a little too well. It’s got the healing powers of a Marvel superhero. Punch a bunch of holes in it, it’ll be good as new by the next morning. Probably why the people influencing my employer are interested in that aspect, in addition to using that thing for military purposes. Doctor Alere was not aware, but I was keeping the boss informed the whole time. At some point, I was kind enough to mention—or rather, chastise him—about the thing’s healing ability, which was not shared with me until well into the hunt. I guess he shared it with somebody else, who shared it with someone else, and eventually got it passed along to some senator.”

“The world of influence, interest, and power has a lot of moving parts,” Brookman said. “I guess that makes us the pawns of their schemes.” He noticed Kai’s questioning stare. “Which isn’t a problem as long as the check clears.”

It was the clarification the hunter was looking for.

“Speaking of pawns, how many men are they sending?”

“A team of six,” Brookman said. “Special ops type of guys. I’m sure you’ll like them.”

“As long as they follow instructions,” Kai said. “Not only does the thing heal damn quick, but it’s smart. It catches on to strategy. There isn’t any hope of catching it without making some sort of sacrifice.”

“And what’s your answer to that?” Brookman asked.

“A new strategy,” Kai replied. “Make it think it’s ahead of the curve. Put a boat out there; wait for it to come up.”

“And when it does, then what? A sedative?”

Kai shook his head. “Given its immune system, I’m not willing to put my money on drugs.”

“We need to capture it alive, or we don’t get paid,” Brookman said. “Unless you’re secretly itching to get back at the thing. Pardon me, but you come off as the type to hold a grudge.”

Kai chuckled at that. “I am!” He polished off his glass and placed it on the desk. “But I’m not a barbarian. At least, not in the sense I seek to kill everything that ever wronged me. I’m perfectly fine with seeing that thing living the rest of its days in captivity, knowing it will never wander the open sea ever again. It’s smart enough to know misery. That misery will be greater if it knows I’m the one who stripped it of its freedom. So, no, you have nothing to worry about. Not regarding me, at least.”

“In that case, how do you suggest we catch it?” Brookman asked. “Your boss is heading over right now with a means of transporting it. The hard part is capture. You said drugs aren’t reliable. So, what do you suggest?”

Kai leaned back in his seat and gave it a thought. His eyes went to the overhead light. It was starting to flicker mildly, its bulb on the verge of burning out. That, or it had bad wiring, in which the solution was a better electrical flow.

“Good wiring,” he thought out loud.

“Hmm?”

“You’re a cop. I’m sure you’ve tasered at least one asshole in your life. We’ll do the same to the creature. Get a high-voltage generator, attach a cable to a harpoon, shoot it into the soft tissue, and give it a jolt. Once it’s subdued, we attach an IV drip of sedative. Something steady and constant that’ll hopefully keep the thing knocked out. All the while, we’ll keep the harpoon and cable attached in case we need to give it another zap.”

“Fine with me,” Brookman said. He played with his glass in a way that suggested he was still uncertain about the strategy.

“What’s bothering you? Other than your conscience?” Kai asked.

“Not my conscience. Just assurance of earning my pay,” Brookman answered. “I’m on board with your idea. But your talk of an IV line and all that… we don’t have a vet. And I don’t think your boss is sending one either.”

“Hmm.” Kai nodded. The sheriff had a point. Fortunately, Kai was a quick thinker. “I know how we can kill two birds with one stone.”

“Two birds?” Brookman perked up. “The vet issue is one bird. What’s the other?”

“Loose ends,” Kai said. “The people funding this will handle the talking heads on the television. We’ll be able to cast the blame of the beach on the lady fisherman. I can talk Mr. Briggs into loading up a couple of sharks with some steroids or something and dumping them off here to be ‘caught’ by some of your deputies. That way the talk of sea monsters can be put to rest. But there’s two people who won’t be bought.”

Brookman exhaled. “Carver and that marine biologist.”

“Yep. Nice thing about her is she’s knowledgeable enough about the species to serve as our vet until we get the thing into a secure holding facility.”

“You said she can’t be bought,” Brookman said.

“Not bought, but she can be persuaded,” Kai said. “You see, she’s taken a liking to that Carver guy. Don’t ask me why. Only answer to that I can muster is bad taste. Either way, he’s our leverage. But you’re gonna have to step up and ensure he is our leverage. And it’s gonna have to be you. It’s not a job for the mercenary guys. Can’t have people disappearing for no reason. The sheriff is going to do what needs to be done and arrest some criminals.”

Brookman looked at his glass again. Already, this job was proving to be more than he bargained for.

He gave a glance at his computer screen. An article was brought up, with his face under an unflattering headline.

Kai knew the look. The sheriff had dedicated his entire adult life to this job, only to end up as a scapegoat in the public eye.

Brookman finished the glass and placed it down hard on the desk. He looked Kai in the eye.

“Where do you think they’ll be?”

CHAPTER 32

For the first time in months, Colin woke up without his throat feeling dry and his stomach aching. He lifted his head off the pillow and took in the view of the sunlight coming through the bedroom window. It was a pleasant sight, surpassed only by that of Kristen snuggled up beside him.

Her eyes were closed, her hair a mess. In spite of that, she looked more at peace than ever. Colin found himself staring at her in silence, a tiny grin of affection creeping up his face.

“What’s that about?” she mumbled.

Colin flinched. “Uh, what’s what?”

Kristen opened her eyes and looked up at him. “I saw that smile.”

He shrugged. “After last night, who wouldn’t be smiling?”

She smacked his arm. Colin winced dramatically and laughed.

“You have a talent for ruining the moment, don’t ya?” she said.

“Maybe less so than I used to,” he replied. He lay back down and let Kristen put her head on his chest and arm around his middle.

“I suppose that’s possible,” she quipped. “But there’s one improvement that needs to be made, and that is your snoring, mister.”

“Duly noted.”

They shared a chuckle and a few moments of quiet as their minds gradually lifted from the fog of sleep.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

Colin took a deep breath. “I’m feeling alright.” He looked up at the ceiling. Slowly, but truly, the realities of his world began creeping their way back into his brain. “Things could be worse, right?”

“Damn right they could be,” Kristen said. She kissed his cheek, then laid her head back down. “You’re worried about Stevie.”

He nodded. “Thought I had a way out of it, yesterday. Hundred grand would have been a good start to making things right.”

“Making what right?”

“Where to begin?” Colin said. “I haven’t seen the kid in a couple of years. I haven’t been able to bring myself to leave this place. Fishing is all I’ve ever known. I thought with the money I would have gotten from ‘Evil Company Inc’ I could have paid off some of the medical debt. And maybe, fixed things with my fishing business. I don’t know how; I haven’t really thought that far ahead, but still.” He sighed. “But it doesn’t matter. Dr. Alere is dead. Kai’s a bigger psychopath than either of us thought. There’s no money coming from them.”

Kristen sat up, keeping herself covered with the blanket. “The fishing business—is that part of why you haven’t spoken to your dad about what happened?”

Colin tried to distract himself by looking at her bare back. She had hit the nail on the head.

“He worked all of his life. Paid off the boat and the house. Left them both to me out of nothing but love. I can’t bring myself to give them up and throw away everything he spent his whole life working for.” He sighed. “But the resources Stevie needs are not here.”

“Ah. You think your father would feel betrayed if you gave up everything you have.” Kristen put a hand on his leg. “You know, everyone thinks I wanted to be a marine biologist all of my life.”

Colin sniggered. “Wait… you didn’t?”

“Well, yes, I did. But I didn’t think I could make it happen,” Kristen said. “All through high school and my first year of college, I promised my dad I would go into engineering. Almost guaranteed six-figure income, and one day take over his family business—he comes from a long line of engineers. My grandfather started an LLC, Dad took it over and turned it into something that made a profit. He was hoping to expand and had put aside many thousands of dollars to put me through engineering school. He brought in a good income, but without getting into too much detail, there were a lot of costs that kept us from being an upper-class family.”

“So, let me guess,” Colin said in a sarcastic voice. “You told him you wanted to swim with the whales for a living and he disowned you.”

Kristen made a face. “Yes, I came forward with wanting to pursue a different career. No, he did not disown me. He didn’t even get mad. Good parents want what’s truly best for their kids. I pursued something that was meaningful to me. Yeah, I would have to work twice as hard to pay the bills, but as long as I’m not living off Daddy’s dime, he’s my biggest cheerleader.” She leaned down to snuggle with Colin again. “My point is; you and your parents have a good relationship. I don’t think you’ll be letting him down if you told him the truth.”

“You’re optimistic,” Colin said.

“I am.” She kissed his cheek again and got out of bed. “I’m also hungry. After all the kindness I’ve shown you, I think it’s fair you cook me a little something.”

Colin admired the sight of her rear. “I suppose you have a point.”

Before long, they were dressed and in the kitchen.

Colin got right to work cracking some eggs and spreading some butter on a skillet.

The coffee pot finished its work. He filled a cup and brought it to Kristen, who sat at the dining room table.

“Cream? Sugar?”

“A little sugar,” she replied.

“Okay, I’ll go get—” She grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him down for a kiss. Colin had the look of a man who was pleasantly bewildered. “You know, if you want to ‘counsel’ me a little more, we can…” He tilted his head in the direction of the bedroom.

“Don’t press your luck,” Kristen said. “And yes, I could also go for some sugar. Actual sugar.”

“Since you’re being so nice to me, I guess I can oblige.”

Colin went to the cabinet near the pot and came back with sugar. He placed the jar down on the table and leaned forward in hopes of a reward on the cheek.

To his disappointment, she was on her phone. He held his pose for a minute, then grunted to get her attention.

“Hmm? Oh.”

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“I was trying to see the news reports regarding yesterday’s incident,” Kristen replied. “A lot of the video footage has been taken off the internet. The platforms are claiming misinformation.”

“That’s a favorite word these days,” Colin remarked. “What are they saying about what happened?”

Kristen scrolled through some articles and shook her head.

“They’re pinning the whole thing on Elana Rogers. Claiming she had a mental breakdown and killed both of her crewmates during a killing spree. They’re saying she killed the sheriff’s deputies and sank their boats using dynamite charges.”

Colin’s throat tightened.

“Why would they…” His thoughts came to a halt as the sight of police vehicles with red and blue flashers appeared in his driveway.

“First thing’s first,” Kristen said. “Might want to watch that butter, Colin. Judging by the sound of that sizzling, it’s probably browner than this table by now… Colin? Cooolin?” She smacked his arm. “Hey!”

Colin’s eyes remained on the flashing lights outside the window. Two police cars were in his driveway. Exiting their driver’s seats were Sheriff Brookman and Deputy Wheedon.

“Oh great.” Him of all people.

Colin went to the front door. Kristen, finally seeing what had his attention, stood up.

“What are they here for?”

“Not sure,” Colin said. “You said you were pressing charges against Kai. Maybe they need to double-check something on your statement.” He opened the door as the uniformed men arrived. “Good morning, Sheriff. Deputy. What can I do—”

Wheedon extended his taser and fired its prods into his chest. All body control left Colin, who collapsed onto his floor.

The only one of his senses that somewhat properly functioned was his hearing. It only served to let him hear Kristen scream before Sheriff Brookman tasered her.

CHAPTER 33

They were not taken anywhere. For the entire course of the day, Kristen and Colin were held in his living room. Their wrists were bound together with zip ties, their devices smashed, including the desktop computer, and the landline had been cut.

During the course of the day, they only moved to use the restrooms and eat. Deputy Wheedon did most of the supervising, with Brookman spending much of his time heading in and out of the property. They assumed he was maintaining the illusion of tending to police business, while working out whatever scheme he had going on.

Few words were spoken throughout the many hours. The only significant exchange came an hour into the home imprisonment, with Colin saying to Wheedon, “I’d offer you a bite to eat, but I’m fresh out of dildos.”

That gained him a backhand to the jaw.

In the hours between then and early dusk, they existed in silence, with only Wheedon’s choice of programs on the television to keep their minds occupied. Brookman stopped in every now and then to speak privately with the deputy and allow him to take breaks. During those times, he kept as far away from the prisoners as possible without getting out of sight. It became very obvious he was very uncomfortable in his actions. That garnered him no sympathy from Colin and Kristen. If anything, it only earned him a feeling of contempt surpassing all the lowlifes either of them had encountered. Brookman knew what he was doing was dishonorable. He was an officer of the law. For one reason or another—probably a significant financial payoff—he had decided to throw away his oath and his honor.

It was not difficult to connect his actions with the strange discoveries made online. The company was working hard to get a handle on the situation. Given the lengths they were willing to go and the reach they apparently had, it stood to reason there were powerful players involved.

It was a few minutes after seven that evening when new arrivals reached the property. Sheriff Brookman brought his police boat to Colin’s dock and moored it. Behind its transom were two large great white sharks. They were both dead and, from what Colin and Kristen could see from the window, riddled with bullets.

A black helicopter flew in the distance, heading southwards.

More significantly, two SUVs arrived on the property. The passenger door of the leading one opened up. Out came Kai Zahn, complete with his elephant gun and 44. Magnum revolver.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Kristen muttered.

“Seems we’re making a habit of getting captured by this guy,” Colin said.

Four other individuals stepped out of the SUV. All of them were dressed in paramilitary attire, including a sidearm strapped to their thigh. Each one appeared to lack any charming personality. Stone-faced, they moved to the dock where they spoke with Sheriff Brookman.

Their presence confirmed what Colin was already suspecting. The company was taking action. What he wasn’t sure was whether this was a simple coverup or if there was something larger at play.

The fact he and Kristen were kept alive indicated they were needed. If the powers that be wanted them silenced, it would have already been done. With Kai coming up to the front door, it appeared those questions were about to be answered.

Kai stepped inside. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Colin leaned forward, restraining himself from lashing at the hunter by a thread of self-control.

“Got a little something right here.” He motioned at his chin and neck.

Kai rubbed the marks he had sustained from the creature’s use of its syphon. It was the equivalent to being blasted in the face by a power washer.

“Comes with the trade,” Kai replied.

“You win some, you lose some,” Kristen remarked. “I seem to recall you losing big time yesterday.”

Kai smiled. He knew they would use his defeat in an attempt to get under his skin. Like with the blows he had taken during their fights in the wheelhouse, he rolled with the punches.

“It hasn’t been a boring hunt, that’s for sure.” He looked through the window at the water. “For better and for worse, it ends tonight, for sure.”

“That why you’ve got us tied up?” Kristen said, holding up her wrists. “In need of bait?”

“He’d be better off using those great whites,” Colin remarked.

“Nah, those are meant to put an end to the rumors of a ‘sea monster’ swimming in the area,” Kai said. “A lot of the fishermen were apparently told something by some ‘outsider’ that a man-eating shark was on the loose. Thanks to the sheriff, it and its mate was caught. What a hero.”

Colin and Kristen did not say anything. The fact Kai was relinquishing this information so freely was simultaneously concerning and intriguing. Something was up, and it required them to be alive.

“Over the last twenty-four hours, my client recruited some additional help,” Kai continued. “Those guys over there, talking with the sheriff; they’re real Expendable type of bastards. Except, they lack the charisma of Stallone and… whoever all the other guys were—I’m not much of a movie guy.”

“Delta Force was better,” Colin remarked. “Can you get to the point? I’m sure you can understand, it’s been a long and slow day for us. Kinda kills the mood for idle chit-chat.”

“What are you up to?” Kristen said. “You think you’ll be able to kill the creature this time?”

“I do like to say ‘third time’s the charm’,” Kai replied. “It’s only half-true in this case. No, there’s been an update to the plan. You see, my client has rekindled certain friendships in his life. I don’t know the names, but I can assure you it’s someone of significant influence.”

“Doubt it’s another company,” Colin said. He ground his teeth upon the realization of who it had to have been. “Someone in government, no doubt. Hence the change in the news cycle.”

“Little place like this, nobody’s really gonna put too much conspiracy thought into what happened yesterday,” Kai explained. “Nobody of importance died. We have a suspect. It’s just another ugly mass shooting. The sharks are just here to shut up the locals. By tomorrow morning, there will be other news stories that will bury this one. Nice thing about the world being full of shitty people is it’s pretty easy to distract the public. As long as you have enough sensational headlines, am I right?”

Kristen shook her head at the mention of ‘nobody of importance’.

“Clearly, they were willing to get Brookman to let you out,” Colin said. “Son of a bitch.”

“For letting me out or for tasering you?” Kai said. He laughed at the question. “Heard you pissed your pants. I see they were nice enough to let you change. That, or they dried up over the course of the day—” He shuffled backwards, avoiding the kick aimed at his groin. Colin smacked his foot against the floor and forced himself not to proceed with further attacks.

“Lucky for you, I’m polite,” Kai continued. “I could easily use this as an excuse to get some exercise. But the job comes first.”

They were not sure how to feel about that statement. Kai had pretty much stated flat out he had no intention of killing them. With guys like him, nothing was as simple as it seemed.

Colin maintained his scalding glare. “And that job is?”

“We’re not killing the beast,” Kai explained. “As it seems, my boss’ friends have some interest in the thing. But with Dr. Alere dead, bringing a new one to life is going to be pretty damn time consuming. They’d rather catch the one out there and have their way with it. Scientifically speaking, of course.”

“Figures,” Colin muttered. He looked at Kristen. “Probably that healing factor. Something with its healing speed would probably live a freakishly long time. Given the fact our federal government is practically run by senior citizens clinging to power, it stands to reason they would see this thing as an answer to immorality. That, or they want to somehow use it as some sort of weapon.”

Kai shrugged. “Tomato, tomahto. Point is: they want it alive. That’s where you come in.” He put his foot on the table and peered at Kristen.

“Me?”

“Yeah, you see: I guess it’s easier to get a bunch of “oo-rah” contractors than it is to get someone who can serve as a vet for this thing during the transport. At least, not by tonight. So, in addition to keeping you guys from causing any more problems, my client wants to use your expertise on keeping the specimen healthy as we get it to a secure facility.”

“That boat of yours will come in handy,” Deputy Wheedon added. “Perfect size for towing the thing.”

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Colin said. “How ‘bout you take Kai here out to lunch. I can assure you, he has something you’d like to put in your mouth.”

Wheedon’s smile shifted into a demonic scowl. He approached the fisherman and raised his hand to strike. Kai put an arm out, stopping the deputy.

“Whoa there, Deputy.” He kept his arm in place until Wheedon withdrew. The hunter chuckled. “I’m gonna have to ask around to get the details on that story.” It was a statement which made Wheedon very uncomfortable.

“That creature is a maneater,” Kristen said. “As incredible as it is, it’s too dangerous to be left alive. It’s a killing machine, plain and simple. It is not meant to share the planet with us. Even Dr. Alere realized that. If you guys think I’m going to help you keep it alive, you’re out of your minds.”

While she spoke, Kai was looking bitterly at some cheap cigars he had obtained at some point during the day.

“No wonder they want the sheriff to resign. When I ask for cigars, I mean real cigars, not the cheap gas station fake crap.” He tucked them back in his shirt pocket. “As for your reply, I anticipated you’d say that. That’s why we have your better half sitting here next to you. The choice is simple: do what we say, and he’ll be just fine. Refuse, and you get to watch him get dismembered and used as chum.”

Kristen sucked in a breath.

Colin turned to look at her. “Don’t do it for me, Kristen. They’re gonna do me in when this is all said and done anyway.”

“But Colin…”

“No buts. We can’t help them. They lost the thing once. They’ll lose it again, and more people will die as a result.”

“Aww.” Kai made a heart gesture with his hands. “So cute and romantic. Funny thing; last night, I was actually a tad worried about your resilience. Whether you’d have the resolution to follow through on that promise is up for debate, but I really hated the idea of wasting time and energy on that. Fortunately, thanks to the investigative skills of your local law enforcement…” he pulled a piece of paper from his back pocket, “…we’ve got some better motivation.”

Colin’s stomach twisted into knots after recognizing the letter from Rehab Dynamics in the hunter’s hand.

“You son of a bitch.”

“Stevie sounds like a sweet kid,” Kai said.

“You go anywhere near him, I swear to God, I’ll—”

Kai laughed. “Oh, no, no, no. I wouldn’t do such a thing.” He waited for Colin to relax a bit before gesturing at the mercenaries outside. “But they have no problem with it, I’m afraid. Should be easy to find, thanks to the generous details in this letter. Shame on you for living so far away from your son, Mr. Carver. I guess your baby mamma would appreciate a visit.”

There was no doubt in their minds he was serious. Colin shifted on the sofa, every fiber in his being determined to ravage Kai and everyone working with him.

Kristen put her hands on his knee to calm him down. “Colin, shh.”

“Nobody threatens my boy,” he hissed.

“Nothing will happen to Stevie,” she said. “I won’t let it.”

Kai perked up. “Is that an agreement?”

Kristen kept her eyes on Colin, who was watching the floor. He could not bear to look at any of the freaks in the room. And ‘freak’ was the proper word. There was nothing human about Kai, Wheedon, or any of the others aside from their physical form. The beast, as ravenous as it was, at least was a product of mankind’s hubris. It was acting on instinct and self-preservation. It was the people in his house and in his yard who were the real monsters.

Kristen moved her hands from his knee to his shoulder, then looked over at Kai. “What’s the plan?”

CHAPTER 34

“Mr. Carver will drive the sheriff’s boat. We will patrol overhead in our chopper. The plan is to get the thing to attack, and when it does, we hit it with a harpoon attached to an electric cable. Once the barb is in, we will hit the thing with an electric current and, as you two have experienced earlier, essentially get tasered. A heavy shock will incapacitate the thing, and a mild charge will keep it paralyzed until Dr. McCauley is able to attach a sedative drip to the creature. We will then use the Sulfuric Raindrop to haul the thing out through the strait. After that, I’ll provide new instructions.”

The setting sun cast its orange glow on Colin’s perplexed face as he stood on his dock, listening to the crazed hunter. Kristen stood beside him, equally as puzzled as well as nervous. Kai explained the whole thing as though hunting killer prehistoric cephalopods was perfectly normal.

“You think we’ll be able to tow it out unnoticed?” Colin said.

“It’s the dead of night. The strait is seventeen miles wide,” Kai said. “If we see a boat, we’ll make sure to keep our distance.”

Kristen raised her palms. “Let’s back up a sec. You intend to use Colin as bait and expect me to cooperate?”

Kai puffed his lips and nodded. “Mmm, yeah. If anything, I figured that would incentivize you to act fast when applying the sedative. We don’t know how long the creature will remain incapacitated after we zap it.”

“Are we certain the sedative will work?” she asked. “The ones Dr. Alere had it on during the flight did not work. Either it was human error, or the creature developed a strong tolerance. Considering its healing factors, I suspect the latter.”

“I’m not an anesthesiologist,” Kai said. “I’m usually the reason people need anesthesia.”

Sheriff Brookman stepped onto the dock. “Deputy Wheedon and I will wait here with Carver’s vessel. Once you give us the word, we’ll bring it to your location.”

“Fair enough,” Kai said.

Colin shook his head and grunted. Brookman looked his way, torn between reacting to the mockery or letting it be. Colin decided to help end his debate by reinforcing his scorn with a statement.

“I gotta say, it feels good.”

“Yeah? What feels good?” Brookman said.

“No longer being considered the biggest fuckup on this island,” Colin replied. “Feels damn good.”

“Yeah? Well, enjoy it,” Brookman said. He tilted his head at the police vessel. “Who knows? Might be the last time you feel that way.”

“I’ve made more than my fair share of mistakes,” Colin said. “But I’ve never sold my soul. You might be getting the big payment, but somehow, I feel a bit richer.”

Brookman gave a derisive chuckle. “I’ll keep that in mind while I’m drinking beer down south, enjoying my retirement. You know that word, right? Retirement? You, on the other hand, are what? Worth nothing? Can’t even pay your electrical bill without Missy coming to your rescue? You keep your soul. I’ll enjoy my money and my remaining years. You might be younger than me, but I think it’s fair to say, whether you get eaten by the squid or blow your own brains out, I’m gonna outlive you.”

The sheriff went from stuttery to overtly committed in the span of his little monologue. Whatever reluctance was still in his heart had been shed during those few moments. Even his eyes seemed darker, as though some demonic spirit had possessed his body.

Sheriff Brookman had shown his true colors, and they were dark.

“By the way, don’t get any funny ideas while you’re out there,” he said, pointing to the instrument panel on his patrol boat. “I deactivated the radio. You won’t be able to get in touch with the Coast Guard or police frequencies. The contractors working with Mr. Zahn will provide you a two-way to enable communications.”

Colin looked at the helm, then held up his wrists. “You guys expect me to drive this thing with my hands like this?”

Brookman looked at Kai for guidance. The hunter shrugged, then nodded. Their warning was made clear. Colin and Kristen would not chance escaping at this point and risk Stevie’s safety.

Brookman approached and cut his zip ties with a pocketknife. Colin rubbed his wrists and waited for the sheriff to cut Kristen’s bindings.

“There. Happy now?” Brookman said, tucking his knife away.

“After this.” Colin threw a kick into Brookman’s groin, putting the sheriff on his knees.

Brookman’s temper flared along with his extraordinary pain. Knowing he would not be permitted to shoot the fisherman, he drew his taser and extended it in his direction.

Colin, anticipating this, grabbed the sheriff by the wrist and redirected the weapon in Wheedon’s direction. The barbs went flying, embedding themselves in his thigh. The deputy shook uncontrollably, then hit the ground. Colin kept the sheriff’s finger on the trigger, continuing the electrical charge until he saw the big wet spot encompassing Wheedon’s groin.

“Now I’m happy.” He released the taser and lifted his knee into Brookman’s chin, reeling him backward. Brookman gasped and reached out for the post. He missed and plopped into the shallow water.

He reemerged in a rage, arms out and teeth bared. Dripping wet, he lost all sense of reason and went for his sidearm.

“Ah-ah-ah,” a laughing Kai exclaimed.

Brookman stood waist-deep in water, pistol raised a few inches above its holster. He looked at the hunter, then at the fisherman.

“Carver, you son of a bitch.”

Colin crossed his arms. “Oh, quit being such a baby.”

Kai continued to snigger, much to Brookman’s irritation.

“Aren’t you going to do something?” he said.

Kai leaned forward and dropped his jaw. “Do I look like the cops? And the answer is no. I knew he wasn’t going to make a run for it. He just needed to make himself feel better in the moment. Why would I deprive him of that?”

Brookman gestured at his wet uniform and his groaning deputy.

“Yeah? So?” Kai held his hands out. “You’ll dry off and dick-eater over there will find himself some new undies.” The sounds of whirring rotor blades and their downdraft coming down on the lawn drew his eyes upward. “’Bout damn time.”

Descending onto the yard was an SH-60 Seahawk helicopter. It was painted black, with all remnants of its former Navy ownership erased. The bird gently set down on the ground, its blades gradually slowing as its engines were powered down.

The mercenary group moved from the SUV to the bird. In the time since the conversation in the house, Colin had come to hear their names. At least, it was the names they used while on the job. Their real names were anyone’s guess.

Leading the pack was Montgomery. A man of few words, he was clearly respected by the four men around him. Though he was a hardened killer, visually he did not pass as one. If anything, he reminded Colin of a clerk who worked at a grocery store he once shopped at, just taller. Just grinned and nodded uninterestedly when someone spoke to him, and while not out of shape, he did not have a menacing physical build.

Perhaps, being unassuming was the point. Even now, they were not decked out in military-style gear. They wore cargo pants and utility belts, but would easily have passed for service workers if it were not for their gun belts. And, of course, the helicopter.

A guy named Dryfus served as the second-in-command. He was a head shorter than Montgomery and wore a plaid shirt under his vest. Like his boss, he was not the talkative sort. In fact, that was true of all of the men.

The only hint of a sense of humor was in the nickname Shorty, given to their shortest member. A man of South African descent, he did not look like much. Not until he made eye contact. Twice now, Colin found himself looking away when the killer’s gaze moved his way.

Tuco was an odd sort. He did not appear to be Latino, despite his name. According to an offhand remark by Kai, he was one-seventeenth Mexican. The rest of the genetic pool was mainly West European. Colin assumed the nickname to have been made out of humor, much like Shorty, but with these guys, it was hard to know exactly.

The last of the guys on the ground was Ostrand. Of all of them, he was the chattiest one.

“What took you so long, Whitmer? Stop for coffee on your way back?”

“Was contemplating flying away and leaving your sorry ass here,” the pilot replied through the radio. “Too bad the boss was down there with ya. I like getting paid.”

Kai walked over to the chopper. “The harpoon ready to go?”

Montgomery opened the fuselage door and took a look at the door gun mount. Usually, an M60 machine gun was attached to the swivel. During the course of the day, the mount had been modified to hold a harpoon cannon.

“Looks good to me,” he said.

Kai took a look for himself. He stepped aboard the aircraft and tested the cannon. It swiveled with the same ease as a machine gun.

“Feels good.” He looked behind him at the equipment. In the middle of the fuselage was a high voltage portable generator and a loop of cable, the end of which was attached to the rod of a six-foot harpoon. “Perfect.”

“If that thing dies as a result of the shock, that’s not on us,” the mercenary leader said.

“No need to be snippy,” Kai quipped. “Alright, how many of us are riding on this thing?”

“Best to keep the crew to a minimum,” Montgomery said. “You, the lady, myself, and maybe one other.” He looked to Dryfus. “You stay here with the cops until we call for you. I’ll take one man.”

Ostrand was quick to step forward. “Shit, boss, I’ll go.”

There was an ever-subtle shift in Montgomery’s expression. Why the hell did I ask and not just pick somebody? He chose to live with the decision and stepped aboard the Seahawk.

“Get us up and running, Whitmer.”

The pilot started the engines back up.

Ostrand went to board the chopper, stopping briefly to look at the sheriff and deputy. “What did I miss?”

“Carver!” Wheedon yelled with a strain in his throat. “I’m gonna kill you!”

Brookman took off his uniform shirt and wrung it out. “The squid’ll probably take care of that for us.”

“I hope it’s nice and slow,” Wheedon said.

“What’s wrong with your pants, man?” Ostrand said.

Wheedon looked down at himself and promptly covered his groin with his hands. The action only garnered laughter from the mercenaries.

Kai lifted the boat key and tossed it to Colin. “Remember, no funny ideas.”

Colin looked at the small piece of plastic and metal with contempt. His eyes met those of the hunter, that contempt swelling like magma inside a volcano.

“Where am I going? South?”

“Just south,” Kai confirmed. “Keep a moderate pace once you’ve reached the kelp forest. We’ll direct you from above. Don’t worry, your girlfriend will be riding with us.”

Colin watched the way he was testing the harpoon cannon. “You a good shot with that thing?”

“Haven’t missed yet,” Kai replied. “Hopefully for you, I won’t take too long to aim.”

“Yeah,” Kristen said, hitting him with burning eyes. “I’d hate to miscalculate the dosage when I apply the sedative.”

Kai, greatly entertained by her effort to intimidate him, stuck his hands in his pockets. “I’ll make sure we tell Stevie all about it. I’m sure it’d make a nice bedtime story. Does Stevie still like bedtime stories? I know he’s a little old, but given his upstairs wiring wasn’t properly configured, his tastes might not evolve with his age.”

Neither Kristen nor Colin gave him the satisfaction of a response.

The latter turned around, giving Kristen a nod before he left for the sheriff’s boat. It was a look that conveyed many things.

Thank you.

I’ll see you again.

Good luck with these freaks.

I love you.

Colin made sure one thing in particular was not expressed in his eyes, and that was Goodbye. Though the deck was stacked against him, he had no intention of letting this moment be the last time he saw her. Nor would the last time he saw Stevie be his last memory of him. Things were going to change. ‘How’ was anybody’s guess, but the decision was made. With Kristen’s help, he beat alcohol. Maybe with God’s help, he would beat these guys and the cameroceras.

For now, he had to play ball.

He lifted the key and went to the boat.

CHAPTER 35

“It’s time, Carver. Start chumming.”

Kai’s voice was grating to Colin’s ears. Now a mile away from the shoreline, he reduced speed and let the boat coast south over the kelp forest. The chopper hovered a hundred feet above him, keeping pace while Colin opened the tub of fish guts.

It was torture thinking of Kristen up there with that psychopath and his henchmen. Knowing her, she was holding her own in a series of verbal exchanges with the hunter and probably that talkative mercenary, Ostrand. If there was any consolation, it was the fact they would have to keep her safe or else suffer the wrath of the CEO guy. Ralf Briggs, if Colin remembered correctly.

He took a tub and began scooping chum into the open sea.

Over the next half hour, he had a half-mile-long trail. His boat was now two miles south of the island’s beach. From what he could see, there was nobody else out on the water. No Coast Guard, no fishing boats, nothing. The reach of the company had undeniably stretched to people in high positions of power. It was a fact which made the night a little darker. For the moment, he and Kristen were needed, but given enough time, they would be disposed of. It seemed unlikely that the company would risk so much on a pair of nobodies like them.

For now, he kept his mind on the task. The mercs were nice enough to present him a fish finder. Granted, it was not out of kindness, as they were monitoring it wirelessly from the chopper—they just wanted to know if and when the cameroceras would go after the bait.

So far, he was alone out here, save for the whirlybird in the sky.

Alone. It was a state of being he had grown used to. Following the loss of his two deckhands and the failure to provide for his son, Colin thought he deserved it. An empty house with nobody to talk to was his norm. After a while, he despised human interaction, aside from making orders at the bar.

Tonight, he felt differently.

He hated being alone. The darkness was constricting, as was the silence. To his own surprise, he did not dwell on the danger lurking in the water around him. It was not the prospect of death that bothered Colin, but the realization of a life not well lived.

It was days ago when he gave Kristen a lecture on not being invested in the lives of the people around her. While it was Colin who spoke the words, he realized it was also him who needed the lesson the most. Having cut himself off from all of society with the exception of the bar, he let every relationship dry out.

As his father once said when teaching him to mend a fishing net, no matter how fouled up something gets, it can always be repaired. Sometimes it takes a lot of time and even more effort, but the cost of doing nothing is usually greater.

“I miss my father.”

He was surprised to hear his own voice. It was a think out loud moment, and a heartfelt one. The next one was for his mother, and the one after that for his son. He even had some grieving for his failed marriage. While he knew there was no hope for rekindling that relationship, it did not mean he could not patch things up and make amends. It did not have to be the stereotype of a former married couple hating each other’s guts for the rest of their existence.

The minute I’m out of this mess, I will take advantage of this gift of life. So help me God.

It was a declaration that brought a sense of overwhelming peace.

Who would ever think it would take the arrival of a prehistoric squid monster to help him see things clearly?

“How’s it going down there?”

The peace was immediately gone. In its place was an earthquake of anger.

Colin stood quietly, watching the chum trail expand before giving the hunter a reply. The last thing he wanted to do was succumb to the urge to tell Kai where he could stick that elephant gun.

Armed with self-control, he picked up the two-way radio.

***

“Still nothing. Though I figured you can see that from all the way up there.”

Kristen watched Kai smirk as he engineered a sarcastic response.

“We can. But maybe we were checking in on you. I imagine it’s awfully quiet and boring down there. Hate for you to feel lonely.”

“So, Kai? What’s it like getting your ass kicked twice by the cameroceras? That’s gotta hurt the big bad hunter’s ego. What, do you think third time’s gonna be the charm?”

“Oooo!” Ostrand exclaimed. “Yeah, that’s gotta leave a mark. On the brain, that is. Though…” he pointed at Kai’s cheek and forehead where the skin had been scraped by the creature’s water blast, “…I think it’s safe to say it left a physical mark too.”

Kai cleared his throat. It was enough to shut the gun-for-hire up.

For good measure, Montgomery slapped the back of Ostrand’s head. “If he decides to use you as additional bait, don’t expect me to do anything about it. Hell, I might let him have your cut of the pay.”

Ostrand exaggerated a look of fear, then returned to his magazine.

“You make it sound so endearing,” Kai quipped. He turned his head to the radio to speak with Colin. “Seems everyone has been trying to hit me with that lately. Fact is, I’m still kicking. I’m not beat until I’m dead. And yes, third time will be the charm. You should stay focused on making sure my bait lives through the process.”

“Sounds like good advice. First, I’d like to have a word with Dr. McCauley.”

Kai looked over at her. “Yeah? Any particular reason?”

“Just want to check in on her.”

“She’s good. I’m looking at her right now. She looks comfortable and at ease. Can’t imagine why you’d be so concerned about her.”

“I know, right? Well, I suppose there’s the fact that she’s stuck in a helicopter with a bunch of trigger-happy psychos who are hunting an ancient sea monster. Other than that, I don’t see what the issue could be either.”

Appreciating the sense of humor, Kai passed the radio over to Kristen. “I’ve used all different kinds of bait in my life. This one has the best wit by far.”

Kristen ignored the statement and took the radio. “Colin?”

“Hey. How you doing?”

“During this conversation, I honestly thought things were about to turn for the better.”

“Really? How so?”

“I thought Kai was going to throw Ostrich out the window. Then I wouldn’t have to listen to the moron anymore.”

Ostrand lifted his eyes from his magazine and dropped his jaw. “That’s not nice. And that’s not my name.”

“Shut up, ‘Big Bird’,” Kai said. He looked at Montgomery. “Is it too late to discuss how we’d split his pay?”

“Not at all,” Montgomery replied.

Kristen kept her thump on the transmitter during all of that.

“Maybe it’s not too late.”

“I see your point. I’m starting to gain a whole new appreciation for the silence down here.”

Kai reached over and took the radio. “On that note, time to get back to work, crab man. You got your wish; you got to speak with the doctor. Now, bring us a squid. The night’s still young.”

“You better watch yourselves.”

“Oh! Threatening me, now?” Kai said.

“No. Just warning you. You piss Kristen off, she’ll fill your ear with so much science shit, you’ll be begging for the squid to eat you.”

“Wow, Colin. You really know how to flatter a girl,” Kristen muttered.

Chuckling, Kai placed the radio down and put one foot over his knee. “I guess he thinks you’re a little obsessed with your work.”

“Maybe a tad,” she replied. “Doesn’t mean he’s wrong.”

“You make it sound like a bad thing,” Kai said. “My folks always said to take pride in your career.”

“And look at you now,” Kristen said. “You’re only happy when you’re on the hunt. All of the time in-between is spent whoring yourself with every vice imaginable until you are in the field again. You came to our island with three other guys. People you have worked with for years. Not once did you mention them. It’s like they never existed. The only reason I even know about them is because Dr. Alere mentioned them.”

“Your point?”

“You might have trophies and money. But what has it gotten you? In spite of everything you’ve accomplished, you feel hollow inside. You have nothing and nobody to live for. All you have is the next job. A bunch of dead animals, victories that will be remembered by nobody when you’re gone.”

Kai stuck his tongue out and made a vomiting noise.

“Good God! Colin’s a liar! He promised you’d fry my brain with boring science stuff. Not moralistic lectures!”

“Congratulations, Ostrich,” Montgomery said. “You’re no longer the most annoying person on this chopper.”

“I see that name is catching on,” the chatty merc replied.

“Dr. McCauley’s one good contribution,” Montgomery said.

Kristen looked out the window at the dark water and the lone vessel on its surface. Somewhere out there was the cameroceras. Though she could not see it, a thin brown line stretched in the boat’s wake. A mixture of minced fish flesh, blood, and oil, it spread an odor that would attract any large predator for miles.

Yet, the cameroceras was not here. At least, it was not detected on the fish finder.

“I think it’s here,” she said.

Kai looked at the screen. “I’m not sure how much it cost to get that PhD of yours, but you might want to consider giving it back if you can’t read a simple fish finder.”

“Yeah, a fish-finder. It’s not a sonar, you brainiac. Maybe if you went to college, you’d know the difference,” she responded.

“And your point is?” Montgomery said.

“I think it’s wise to our act,” she said. “I mean, come on. Given your line of work, I’m sure both of you guys know when you’re being hunted. You mean to tell me you don’t recognize the signs that somebody is trying to bait you?”

Kai looked at the deck of the police boat. Colin tossed another scoopful of chum into the water.

“Not a bad thought,” he said. “I might have to take back my remark about your education, Doctor.”

“Wait. You want to stop chumming?” Montgomery said. “It’s just an animal!”

“Ha!” Kai slapped his knee and pointed to the marks on his face. “Trust me, if it was just an animal, I would have its beak on my wall right about now. No, she’s right. It’s a smart motherfucker. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

The mercenary leader’s eyes narrowed. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”

“It makes it more fun!” Kai said. “I don’t hunt antelope. I hunt killers. Things that can hunt me back. Believe me, Mr. Tentacles down there has not been a disappointment.”

Montgomery looked over at the equally perplexed Ostrand. Neither man had any delusions that their jobs were safe, but they never took joy in the prospect of the lethality of their enemies. Sure, they enjoyed a good fight, but at the end of the day, they wanted to come home alive and get paid. For Kai, the closer he came to death, the happier he was.

“What do you suggest, then?” Montgomery asked.

Kai picked up the radio. His instruction to Colin would provide the merc with his answer.

“Carver. Stop chumming.”

“You guys see something?”

“No. That’s actually what we find interesting.”

“It’s a big ocean.”

“One with a smart beastie swimming in it. This was your girlfriend’s idea, believe it or not. The chum trail is a giveaway that we’re setting up a trap. So, here’s what you’ll do. Take your boat out a mile or so. Make some distance from the line, and then drive around.”

“Kristen? You think that’ll work?”

Kai held the radio to her. She leaned forward to be heard.

“It’s my theory, yes.”

“Alright then. Moving south.”

Kai placed the radio down. “You’ve got him wrapped around your finger. He’ll listen to your advice even when it might get him killed.”

“I’m not the one who put him down there,” Kristen said.

The chopper moved south, steadily keeping pace at Colin’s eight o’clock.

Kai watched the fish finder. The screen was warped with the images of tall kelp stalks and a few dots from the fish moving between them.

“Damn that stupid kelp,” he muttered. “I didn’t consider how it would screw with the readings. Almost makes me want to start some deforestation.”

“Chop chop!” Ostrand said. “Make a little salad.”

Kristen looked away in an effort to hide her annoyance at their ignorance. Sitting across from Kai, it did not go unnoticed by him.

“What’s the matter, Doctor? You have affection for the big green plants?”

Kristen rested her head against the back of her seat while she mentally ran through a long list of responses.

“First of all, kelp is not green, but brown.”

Kai looked at Ostrand, giving the green light for an obnoxious response.

“Ooooo! You ignorant neanderthal!”

“Yep, that’s me,” Kai replied. “Just a dumb high school dropout who did not have the patience for pompous professors. At least I avoided student loan debt.”

“You should be grateful for the kelp forest down there. If not for it, you probably would never have found the cameroceras. It preferred the temperatures here, the density of the forest, etc.”

“Uh-oh,” Ostrand muttered. “Didn’t what’s-his-name warn us about our ears getting raped with sciency mumbo jumbo?”

“Not your forte, I see,” Kristen said. “Life for you is nothing more than ‘point and shoot’, right?”

Ostrand shrugged. “And throw grenades occasionally. Take my word for it; it’s more fun than your lab.”

“Maybe, but it’s the people in the labs who make the toys for you to go out and play with,” Kristen replied. “You think it’s not science that is to thank for the function of that rifle you carry? It was someone doing research who determined how much gunpowder to put inside a cartridge. It was a ballistics researcher who discovered rifling, and how the lands and grooves cut into a bullet and put it into a spin as it travels through the barrel of the gun.”

Ostrand looked to Montgomery. “For once, I’m wishing I actually didn’t say anything.”

“I’m stuck listening to it too,” Montgomery mumbled. “Thanks a lot for that, asshole.”

Kai eyeballed the harpoon cannon. “Looking forward to performing this science experiment. Thank God for the guy who discovered electricity.” He tapped the loop of cable with his boot.

“Thomas Edison,” Ostrand said. “Everybody knows that.”

“He invented the lightbulb, you dingus,” Kristen said. “The discovery of electricity is credited to a few different people. Benjamin Franklin, mostly. Then there was Michael Faraday who invented the electric motor in 1821. Georg Ohm mathematically analyzed the electrical circuit in, I believe it was 1827.”

Montgomery shut his eyes and rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. “Make it stop.”

“You guys watching that screen?”

All eyes turned to the fish-finder. A large orange blob of light was at the bottom of the screen.

Kai stood up. “Showtime.”

Kristen looked out the window at Colin. He had slowed his boat to a stop and was glancing at the helicopter and his own fish finder.

“Bring us down to twenty meters,” Montgomery told the pilot.

Ostrand moved to the high voltage generator in the middle of the cabin. His job was simple, but extremely important: flip the switch on and off at the precise moments.

“You guys better hurry up, because I think it’s getting ready to come at me,” Colin said.

“Don’t you go running off, now,” Kai replied. He switched frequencies to speak with Sheriff Brookman. “We found it. Start heading over this way. We’ll want the subject hooked up and ready to go as soon as possible.”

“Copy that,” Brookman replied.

“Did it get that Jackass Carver yet?” Wheedon asked.

Kai sniggered. “I’ll let you know.”

He clipped the radio to his belt and moved to the harpoon cannon, keeping an eye on the fish finder. The creature was inspecting the police vessel, giving credence to Kristen’s theory of it being deterred by the tactic of using chum.

Cool night air rushed into the fuselage. Blades drummed over his head. It brought him back to his Army days. Back then, he was popping off rounds from an M60.

Fun times, but not as fun as what he was hunting now.

He attached one end of the cable to the harpoon, loaded it into the cannon, then angled the weapon down and pointed it directly where he expected the creature to appear.

Right at Colin.

***

Downdrafts from huge rotor blades bombarded the human lure. Colin’s heart felt as though it was swelling in his chest. The enormous blob of light on the bottom of the screen shifted left to right. It had been thirty feet under the surface, but had dropped nearly to the bottom.

Colin had dealt with the creature long enough to know what it had in mind. It was prepping its signature attack.

“Jes—”

He grabbed the helm and the throttle.

“Don’t even think about it!” Kai yelled out from the door gun.

Colin smacked the console. The prick truly did have every intention of letting him get shipwrecked.

Any second now, the creature would arise. Colin may have had Kristen and Stevie’s safety in mind. Still, he had no desire to unnecessarily sacrifice himself as squid food just so the big bad hunter could have a clear shot.

He thought fast, sweeping the deck with his eyes in search of anything he could use. The firearms had been removed from the boat. All he had was an inflatable donut and a flashlight.

A flashlight…

He snatched the small torch from the console and switched it on. Much to his relief, it was a waterproof light. His plan would not amount to much if the thing shorted out on contact with the water.

“Worth a shot.”

He moved to the portside gunnel and watched the screen. The creature held position for several more seconds. Colin glanced up at the chopper, wondering if the creature could sense the distortions from the displaced wind.

“Come on.”

It moved up a few feet, still apparently not ready to commit.

“Get it over with, you big sissy.”

The creature sank back to where it was.

“Come on!”

With rapid speed, it began its ascent.

Colin threw the flashlight. It spiraled like a tomahawk in midair, splashing down twenty feet from the vessel.

Unsure whether his improvised plan would work, he put his foot on the gunnel and prepared to hurl himself off the boat.

SPLASH!

A wall of water crested over the former crab fisherman. From its point of origin arose a thrashing array of tentacles. Razor claws sliced the black air, as though believing the true source of that strange black light to have originated over the water.

Colin smirked. It had seen the light from the chopper before they switched them off, and now believed the bird was within reach.

He looked up at the hunter. “Now! Now! Now!”

Kai adjusted his aim and fired. The harpoon zipped from the muzzle of the cannon and zipped into the assortment of writhing arms.

The cable went taut.

Another wall of water rose high. The arms submerged and the back of the cone raised high as the creature swung its body around.

Colin, still perched on the gunnel, saw its tip swinging right at him like a baseball bat.

“Oh, SHIT!”

He threw himself onto the deck.

The cone passed overhead, taking out the cockpit canopy. Shards of metal parted from the vessel and peppered the water, all lost in the wave generated by the cone splashing down in front of the bow.

“Fish on!” Kai announced. He looked to the man at the generator. “Turn it on.”

An electric current surged through the cable and into the beast.

An epicenter of turbulence shook the ocean. Tentacles rose over the water, twisting and tensing, the muscles spasming beyond the beast’s control. Arms wrapped over one another, claws slicing the creature’s own flesh as they bent and wrung into giant pretzel shapes.

The tip of the cone lifted high like the stern of the Titanic, then splashed right back down. Water lapped against the police vessel, pushing it under the helicopter while the cameroceras rolled across the surface.

Colin pulled himself to his knees and held his breath while watching the horrendous phenomenon.

Its motions caused it to rotate like the needle of a compass, bringing its nasty head into view. The big white beak was wide open, its tongue writhing in the same manner as its many arms. Its eyes shifted in their sockets, gushing white fluid from their edges.

Ink spewed from its syphon and a red vomit exited its beak.

As bad as the ammonia was, this new combination was worse.

Colin lowered his face to the deck and plugged his nose.

“Good Lord above!”

At the end of his cry came the ceasing of motion. The waves calmed, each lap landing softer against the hull of his boat than the last. Gone was the sound of slicing blades in the air and the hissing of a demonic monstrosity.

All he heard were the rotors of the helicopter and the whoops from the man on the harpoon cannon.

Sixty feet above him, Kai was lighting a cigar and opening a bottle of whiskey.

“Third time’s the charm!”

CHAPTER 36

“Aw, son of a bitch,” Deputy Wheedon shouted from behind the Sulfuric Raindrop. He drove the last police patrol boat to the west, circling the lapping water where the creature had sunk, all while looking at Colin. “How the hell did he survive?”

Colin didn’t know why he was surprised to hear the hollow suit with a badge openly griping about his continued existence.

The mercenary named Shorty was on the deck of the patrol boat, stoically watching the water through the scope of an M4 Carbine.

The helicopter hovered overhead, having dropped Kai and Kristen onto the sheriff’s vessel. The hunter had managed to secure another line on the creature before its weight pulled it under the waves. He waved the Sulfuric Raindrop over to attach the line to the crab boat’s lift cable.

Sheriff Brookman brought the large vessel alongside them. Dryfus and Tuco were on the main deck. They took the cable from Kai and connected it to the boat’s main hoist.

“Bring her up,” Kai said.

The sheriff stepped out of the wheelhouse. “How’d it go?”

“Piece of cake,” Kai replied. “Even managed to keep my bait in the process! Who knows? Maybe I can catch something else while we’re out here.” He playfully slapped Colin’s shoulder as though they were the best of buds.

Colin backed up to the console. Since he survived the whole ordeal, he was destined to act as an ‘escort’ for his own boat while the beast was towed through the strait.

Kristen moved over to him. She placed a hand on his face and looked him over.

“You alright? I saw you go down. For a minute, I thought you were hit when the cone swung over the boat.”

“My spidey sense served me well,” he quipped. “How about you? How are you faring? Frankly, the only thing worse than nearly getting devoured is being forced to hang out with those nutjobs.” He nodded at Kai and at the chopper.

She smiled. “I kept them at bay with my most potent weapon: a bunch of science talk.”

Colin gave his own smile. “It’s not all boring.”

A tranquil moment followed, the two of them gazing at one another. For Colin and Kristen, nothing else seemed to exist in the world. It was just two flawed but well-meaning people, each realizing how they brought out the best in the other.

The moment of harmony was brought to an end by Kai’s growly voice.

“Hey! Time to play ‘doctor’, Doctor.”

He stood at the transom, munching on jerky and the end of a stogie at once.

Beyond him, the Sulfuric Raindrop was hoisting its cable. The water frothed, making way for the forty-foot shell. The maroon flesh appeared black in the night air, almost blending in perfectly with the water until the spotlights swept over it.

Those eyes were stiff inside their sockets, as immobile as the rest of the body. The tentacles appeared like soggy noodles that had been left in broth for too long. They were bloated, their suction cups somewhat pale. A slimy secretion had oozed from them, stretching as the tentacles drifted apart from one another.

A rank smell rose with the beast. Ammonia, ink, and waste had ejected from its syphon and every pore in its body.

“Pee-you.” Kai waved his hand over his nose. “Goddamn, Mr. Squid. What have you been eating lately?” He sported a grin and looked at Kristen. “How’s it looking?”

Kristen barely knew where to begin. Looking at the cameroceras, she felt overwhelmed. Performing medical care for dolphins, sharks, whales, and other marine species was nothing new. She had even assisted in the care of small cephalopods. But this thing was something else entirely.

One thing that really caught her off guard was the next load of spew ejecting from the creature’s syphon.

Kai leaned back and waved his hand. “Damn! Is the thing shitting itself or something? Is that normal?”

Kristen shook her head. “I don’t think so. At least, not to this degree.”

The tentacles began to move.

“Whoa!” Wheedon said. “What’s going on there? Is it waking up already?”

“Not while I’m here,” Kai said. He picked up a radio and looked to the chopper. “Ostrand, give it another shock.”

Kristen put her arms out. “Wait, hold on!”

The creature jolted. Its arms twisted and coiled over each other. Its body teetered forward and back as though balancing on a fulcrum. Cables scraped against the crab boat’s gunwale like tight fishing lines holding onto a runaway striper.

The torture lasted for a few moments before Ostrand ended the charge.

“Want me to hit it again? Or can we transfer the generator to the big boat?”

“Hang tight a sec,” Kai said.

They watched in silence. For the next minute or so, the creature was motionless.

Afterwards, the tentacles began their sluggish movements. They were not aggressive or even high energy. If anything, they were weak and moving with no real coordination, rhyme, or reason. It was as though each one was acting independently.

Kai looked at Kristen. “I don’t know much about sleeping octopuses. Is it normal for their arms to toss and turn while they’re snoozing?”

“Generally, no,” she responded. “In fact, if we’re to judge by the characteristics of modern-day species, its flesh should be more pale while asleep. The breathing rate should quicken, and you might see some change in skin color.” She looked at the stiff eyes. “There should also be eye movement. Kind of like REM sleep.”

Kai’s grin shrank a tad. “Maybe this one’s having a bad dream or something?”

“Or you guys damaged it with your tasering,” Colin remarked in a flat voice.

“Nobody asked you,” Kai said.

“Maybe you should’ve,” Kristen said. “Because he might be right.”

Kai groaned. “Is that so? What’s the problem? We give the poor little guy a headache, or something?”

Kristen’s conduct grew urgent as she narrowed the possibilities down to the most likely one.

“Yes, but that’s the least of your problems,” she said. “The movements, the spewing, the fact that I don’t think it’s really unconscious—I think you might’ve given it a cerebral hemorrhage.”

Kai tilted his head, waiting for an elaboration. “I take it that’s bad.”

“It’s a freaking brain bleed,” Kristen exclaimed. She ran her hands over her forehead, on the verge of nervous collapse.

“What’ll we do?” Dryfus said.

“I’m sure all it needs is a little bedrest,” Kai said. “I don’t know what you’re all freaking out about. It can rapidly heal, remember? So, it’ll be out of commission for a while. Get an IV line hooked up to it and let’s get underway.”

Kristen looked as though she was going to be sick.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

The hunter groaned loudly. “Lady, if you’re worried about the sedatives not working, don’t. That’s why we still have the electric cable hooked up to the thing.”

“I’m more worried about the behavioral reaction to the blain bleed it’s currently experiencing,” Kristen said.

“Again,” Kai held his head back, completely fed up with the concerns. “It’ll heal. That’s part of the mass appeal of this thing, isn’t it? If it can close up a three-seven-five H&H Magnum round in less than a day, I think its brain problems will be solved by the time we’re out of the strait.”

“Maybe,” Kristen said. “Then again, maybe not. It’s not immortal, the brain bleed could lead to total neurological shutdown. Then there’s the behavioral reactions. Like heightened aggression. We’re talking about the worst headache in the world, in the deadliest organism in the world.”

“Get the IV line in the beast, lady,” Kai said. His voice was dismissive, for he was more than confident in their ability to keep the creature subdued.

Kristen hesitated, the med kit by her side. She did not want to go anywhere near those tentacles. Granted, she wanted to be far away from them to begin with. However, her present concern greatly elevated her anxiety. The slow writhing motion of the ten kept that elevation going, sparking a heart rate that made concentration nearly impossible.

“We’re waiting,” Kai said.

Colin put his hand on her back and picked up the med kit. “Let’s go.”

She appreciated the companionship and support. After a long exhale, she moved to the back of the boat.

Their efforts were cut short by the sound of a plane passing overhead. It was at one hundred feet, circling back around after locating the three boats. It was a seaplane, with two large floats underneath its fuselage. They took notice of the annoyed look on Kai’s face as he watched the aircraft descend onto the water.

“Who is that?” Colin asked.

Kai looked to Sheriff Brookman. “Why is he here?”

The sheriff put his hands out. “Don’t blame me. He insisted. Did he not say anything to you about it?”

“Oh, yeah. Right!” Kai exclaimed. “He totally did. That’s why I’m asking you why he’s here. Good thing you’re retiring, because I wouldn’t count on starting another career based on those wits of yours.”

“Who is it?” Colin said.

Kai ignored him.

The plane touched down a hundred yards to the northeast. It hooked slowly to its portside to align itself with the sheriff’s boat.

“What an idiot,” Kai muttered. “All that money, he couldn’t just facetime us?”

“Who?” Kristen said.

Kai grabbed his radio. “Montgomery? Why is he here?”

“Mr. Briggs? We gave him a call. He was waiting at a nearby port and wanted to see the thing for himself. There’s a lot of money at stake in regards to this thing. A lot of powerful people are interested in it. That’s all I know. I didn’t care enough to ask.”

“Plus, there was something said about the big game contractor screwing up at least twice,” Ostrand chimed in. “I guess there were confidence issues.”

Kai held his rifle over his shoulder like a lumberjack’s axe and watched the plane settle into position.

The fuselage door slid open. Out came an overweight man wearing a partially unbuttoned dress shirt and a loosened tie. He was dabbing a cloth over his sweaty forehead, either airsick or consumed by crippling nervousness.

“Oh, thank God,” he said.

Colin elbowed Kristen. “That’s Ralf Briggs?”

She nodded. “From the Boettiger Corporation.” The statement carried an aura of judgement. “Sounds like they’re making a comeback. If he’s this desperate to catch the thing alive, I have to assume he’s making some major deals. Like, I don’t know, government officials.”

“Well done, Mr. Zahn. What’s the animal’s condition?” Ralf called out.

Kai gave a rare nervous laugh. One on one with a guy like Ralf Briggs, he was perfectly in control. This time, there were five hired guns in the vicinity. Seven, counting the two corrupt officers. Ralf may have been a timid man when it came to his assets, but he was still powerful. When powerful people lost their temper, the results were usually catastrophic.

“We’re hooking it up to the crab boat as we speak,” Kai replied.

“Wonderful,” Ralf said. “But what’s its physical condition? Is it unharmed?”

“Eh, it might be a little hazy,” Kai said.

“From the sedative you captured it with?” Ralf asked.

Kai bit his lip and debated whether or not to lie.

“We’re applying a sedative drip as we speak. For the capture, we had to employ a different method.”

Ralf’s face turned ice cold. “At least you decided not to lie your ass off. I’ll give you that. Montgomery explained to me you had them use an electric shock to subdue the thing.”

Kai shot a deathly look at the helicopter above him. Montgomery was watching from the harpoon gun, shrugging after he saw the hunter’s harsh glare.

“My understanding is that the animal isn’t so susceptible to typical sedatives,” Kai explained. “Hence, its initial escape. I didn’t know what kind of meds would work on the thing, so I went with a different method. And whatddya know? It worked!”

Ralf tilted his head to the right to look past Kai at Kristen. “Well, what are you waiting for? Do what you need to do. Are there any medications aside from the sedative you think it needs?”

Kristen scoffed. “Probably a drill to the head.”

“Not very funny,” Ralf said. “I would consider a better choice of words, given the situation you’re in.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she said. “I’m not making a smartass remark about how to kill it…”

“That’d be me,” Colin muttered.

“…but, as I was explaining to your men, I think it’s suffering a cerebral hemorrhage. If I’m right, the pressure in its brain will need to be relieved. I’m looking at it right now. These are not the usual motions of a cephalopod in sleep.”

“Alright,” an exasperated Kai Zahn said. “How long would it take for the creature to die of such a thing?”

Kristen grumbled. She hated these kinds of questions, because there was no definitive way of answering them.

“It’s hard to say. It depends on the severity of the bleed.”

“How long in humans, then?” Kai said.

Kristen scowled. “Humans and cephalopods have completely different—”

The hunter kicked the transom. “Answer the damn question, Doc.”

“Anywhere from six hours to a couple of days!” she shouted.

Kai looked at Ralf. “Hear that? We’ve got plenty of time to get it out of here. Assuming it doesn’t heal all by itself in that timeframe.”

Ralf gave thought to the information at hand. He dabbed his forehead with his cloth again.

“Okay. I’ve got a vessel on route. It’ll meet us near Clo-oose. Once there, they’ll take the specimen and we can apply proper medical care. In the meantime, I’d like the doctor to apply some antibiotics to the creature and an IV line with nutrients.”

Colin smacked the transom. “You’re a mad man!”

Ralf glanced at the sheriff. “Who’s this guy again?”

“The crab fisherman, Colin Carver,” Brookman replied.

Ralf thought about it for a few seconds, then had an ‘oh!’ moment after remembering his previous phone calls with Dr. Alere.

“Thanks for your input which I did not ask for, Mr. Carver. Now, be smart and shut up. Knowing Mr. Zahn, he’s itching to shoot something tonight. Don’t give him an excuse.”

Those words went in one ear and out the other.

“You’re already a billionaire,” Colin shot back. “This thing has killed dozens of people. And you just view it as a minor hindrance?”

“The amount of lives we might save will more than make up for it, Mr. Carver,” Ralf said. “This specimen is a true miracle of science. When we harness the medical miracle it possesses, nobody on Earth would give a damn about the lives lost while obtaining it. Why? Because, pardon the cliché, but the ends justify the means. So many lives will be changed in so many ways, I don’t even know where to begin.”

“So many,” Colin said with a deriding laugh. “Great math. No, I think the only math you’ve got on the brain are dollar signs. That’s all you care about.”

“You blame people for making a profit?” Ralf said. “Aren’t you a businessman?”

“Who got people killed in pursuit of the almighty dollar,” Kai added. “And here he is lecturing you for doing the same thing.”

Colin inhaled and turned his eyes to the hunter. Kai loved to use emotional manipulation and guilt on his human adversaries. The worst part was how effective it was.

He would not give the bastard the satisfaction.

“And I wish somebody stopped me. But they didn’t, and two men paid the price. I told myself I was doing the right thing, but I wasn’t. So, I stand before you, Mr. Briggs. Please, destroy this thing. You’re not going to save lives. You’re only going to get more people killed. Maybe even tonight. Too many people have died already. Even Dr. Elliot Alere understood the importance of destroying this creature. It was not meant to share the planet with us. Bringing it back to life, while a spectacular achievement in the world of science, was a cruel act. Both to it, and everyone it has crossed paths with.”

He paused for a breath, hoping his attempt to appeal to the better nature of these men was working. It was not much, but it was all he had at his disposal. Plus, he wanted to believe there was good in people, just as Kristen had seen the good in him.

His eyes met hers.

“There are other ways you can benefit the public,” Colin continued. “There’s other research you can invest in. The kelp forest is one of them. You can help Dr. McCauley with preserving our oceans, while simultaneously developing new inventions we can obtain from the big plants. They grow fast, essentially providing infinite supply as long as they’re taken care of. You can even make pharmaceuticals.”

He almost wanted to cringe as he spoke. He understood he did not sound particularly convincing. Though he had learned much from Kristen, he was still uneducated in the ways of science and knew it was apparent by the way he spoke.

Still, he hoped his words would touch some shred of humanity inside the CEO.

Ralf’s brow wrinkled. For once, there was a semblance of hair on his head, that being his eyebrows. His eyes shifted, first to Kai, then to Sheriff Brookman.

The sheriff made a face, simpered, then began to laugh.

Wheedon was next, followed by the mercenaries, and finally by Ralf. They doubled over in uncontained amusement, their minds joining in a collective web of inventing phrases of mockery.

“Are you guys feeling as inspired as I am?” Wheedon shouted.

“All he was lacking was rousing music,” Sheriff Brookman said. “Could’ve beaten out some of the greatest Hollywood speeches.”

“‘Today, we celebrate our Independence Day!’” Ralf called out in reflection of the 1996 film.

“‘It’s not about how hard you hit, it’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward!’” Wheedon called out, making sure to dip the side of his lip as he spoke.

Brookman raised his hand like a five-year-old eager to join in. “‘Would you tell your enemies that they may take our lives, but they can never take… our freedom!’”

Even the mercenaries were starting to chuckle now.

Colin looked up at Sheriff Brookman. In his eyes, the man was barely human anymore. It was still difficult to believe the sheriff, whom Colin had known all of his life as a well-meaning everyman, would sell his soul to the freaks standing around them. Not only had he taken the money, but he had completely immersed himself into their goal. In a way, he was worse than the mercenaries. They, at least, saw this as little more than a job. But Grant, probably to shield himself from whatever shard of a conscience he had left, was all in. He wanted Ralf Briggs and whoever was controlling him to succeed.

Brookman, unable to stop his pursuit of getting laughs and acceptance from his peers, kept going. He cleared his throat, then worked up his best Morgan Freeman impression.

“Get busy liv’n, or get busy dy’n.”

He leaned over the guardrail to look at the cameroceras. Aside from the gasping motion of its syphon and the slow twisting of its tentacles, it was completely still. After its last electric jolt, it had settled at an angle that pointed its left eye directly at him.

He pointed a finger at it and finished his quote.

“That’s goddamn right!”

The eye shifted.

All at once, the tentacles unraveled and lifted skyward like the heads of a bloodthirsty hydra.

Brookman’s wide smile flipped upside down.

SWOOSH!

After absorbing a slash of one of those black talons across his neck, he got busy dying.

The head plopped into the ocean, the headless body quivering before falling overboard.

All laughter ceased and in its place was the sound of exclamations and expletives.

“Whoa!” Colin pulled Kristen away from the transom.

Kai, clenching his teeth, looked up at the chopper and twirled his finger. “Give it another jolt!”

The beast reared back and plunged its cone into the ocean, taking all of the slack out of the cable. Multiple tentacles coiled around the taut wire.

At once, they retracted.

“Holy shit!” Montgomery shouted from the harpoon gun.

There was a SMASH! and a brief BLECH! as the cable was yanked from the generator. Montgomery moved to the side, avoiding the slashing motion of the cable’s end as it went out the door.

Ostrand was not so lucky. The sound of his gagging was completed with the splattering of blood after the end of the cable moved across his throat, forming a gaping red line that exposed his esophagus and tongue.

The line tore out of the chopper and came down across the deck of the Sulfuric Raindrop… and Tuco’s chest. It passed through his left shoulder blade through his right hip.

The flustered mercenary’s eyes bulged. His throat pulsed, the last function of his brain being the realization of what had just happened.

For Dryfus and everyone else, it took the parting of his two halves to really sink it in. Tuco, his face still a demonstration of shock, slid down his bottom half as if it were a sheet of ice. Intestines, stomach, and lung tissue unwound and splattered over the deck.

The hardened mercenary Dryfus jumped away from his mutilated comrade, his typical stoic demeanor stripped back in place of a rattled manifestation.

All ten arms of the beast were alive in full force. They moved with little sense of control. Waving in the air, the beast created a real-life representation of classic artwork of a massive kraken writhing on the ocean’s surface, attacking those unfortunate enough to cross its path.

When it came to Ralf Briggs, Kai Zahn, and the goons they hired, it was not as innocent as an accidental crossing of paths. They had deliberately come out to hunt it; a fact demonstrated by their efforts to bait it.

It was the only cognitive thought the cameroceras was capable of at this point. A crushing pain filled the space between its eyes.

A crushing pain.

A maddening pain.

With the pain came the confirmation of Kristen McCauley’s hypothesis. The electric shocks had indeed caused a brain bleed. As a result, the creature was truly psychotic.

They had taken the deadliest predator in the sea and turned it into a psychopath.

Montgomery, having lost two of his men in the span of a few seconds, was not taking any more chances. He pointed a high-powered rifle down at the beast and put his eye to the scope.

“Oh, hell…” Kai muttered. For him, it was practically déjà vu seeing the creature angling its syphon at the bird.

Same with Colin.

The creature had taken a tanker truck’s worth of seawater. Montgomery only got a few shots off before all of it was unloaded at him and the chopper. The mercenary was knocked off his feet into the fuselage, his finger still on the trigger.

Bullets ricocheted inside the aircraft.

A static-filled expletive from the pilot came through the radio. Those listening detected more than fright and confusion, but the pain of having taken one of those bullets.

The chopper wavered, then dipped.

Colin put his hands on Kristen. She pressed up against him, watching the helicopter turn on its starboard side and begin its plunge.

“Colin?”

There was no stopping it now. The chopper was seconds away from crashing. And it was coming right towards them.

“Bail out!” Colin shouted.

He and Kristen went overboard.

Kai was right behind him, having come to the same conclusion.

The chopper touched down with a deafening CRASH!

Rotor fragments shot out in all directions, peppering the Sulfuric Raindrop and seaplane with deadly shrapnel. The port engine exploded, illuminating the dark warzone with a fiery eruption.

Colin came to the surface just to see the big orange ball lift high to the sky and hear its star-hot base consuming a wailing Montgomery. His silhouette was momentarily visible against the light of the flames, the fire consuming his upper torso. It was a moment or two before he collapsed somewhere in the mess of debris.

More gunshots rattled off.

The beast had turned its attention to Dryfus. He was firing his rifle from the gunwale of the Sulfuric Raindrop. The loss of his leader and teammates did not deter his primary instinct of fighting. To him, it was a simple matter of pumping enough lead into the thing. It was tough and violent, but not invincible.

A bird-like screech came from the cameroceras. Bullets punched through its tentacles, some into the soft exposed sections of its mantle near its head.

Dryfus’ fighting instincts, which had served him well in many skirmishes, was his undoing tonight. Even after pumping a full magazine into the creature, it still was writhing in full fury. Blood spewed from the many gaping wounds he inflicted on it, but it amounted to nothing but retaliation.

One of the tentacles came up at him.

Dryfus was lifted from the boat and brought near the fire. He resembled a worm squirming on a hook. He cursed and fought, dropping his rifle and unholstering his sidearm. He fired point-blank into the leathery tissue, hoping to inflict enough pain to get the thing to shake him loose.

All it did was entice the creature.

Another tentacle moved in. It came over his right arm and snapped back, ripping the limb straight from the roots.

It was not done with him yet.

Tossing away the arm, the creature decided to pull one of his legs off. This time, it savored the experience, letting the man suffer the sensation of tendons and tissue stretching beyond their limits and the joints coming apart. The leg came off and was discarded.

Wrapping up its torment of the mercenary, the creature simply dropped him onto the burning wreckage. Dryfus landed on the fuselage, where his last few moments was spent cooking.

There were shouts of “Hey!” from Ralf Briggs. Colin could not see the plane from where he was, but it sounded like the business tycoon was in distress. For some reason, the plane had not taken to the sky. Deputy Wheedon was bringing the patrol boat around the Sulfuric Raindrop. From what Colin could see, it was heading for the seaplane.

The creature had disappeared. In its place was frothing water, bright orange in its reflection of the flames.

Colin turned around.

Kai was nowhere to be seen.

Neither was Kristen.

“Kristen!” His voice traveled far into the distance. No response came his way. He shouted her name a second time, then a third. Still no response.

Dread took hold.

His own personal hell had resurfaced. Here he was, in the water, in search of someone who was lost.

Colin whipped around, looking for anything in the water that could give him a clue to her whereabouts.

“Where is she? WHERE IS SHE?”

His eyes settled on a strange, almost worm-like form drifting a few meters from him. Had it not been for the flames, it would have been invisible to him. A closer look enabled him to identify it as a piece of tubing for the sedative IV she had planned to use on the creature.

She had it in her hand when they hit the water. They had only been in the water for a minute, meaning it did not have much time to drift. If she had sunk, she was directly below it.

Colin took a breath and submerged.

Using the hellish glow to guide him, he sank several meters down, enduring the sting of saltwater as he combed the area for Kristen.

Stalks of kelp swayed in the current, their leaves appearing like fire in the glow of the burning chopper.

One of them leaned heavily to the side, its top few meters bent to accommodate the weight of an unconscious Kristen McCauley. She was snagged on the stalk, the thick leaves managing to keep her buoyant enough to not sink to the bottom.

Colin paddled with all of his might, calling her name through the dark ocean. Air bubbles spewed from his mouth. Hands pulled at the water, inching him toward her.

She was teetering to the side, the stalk of kelp about to bend at an angle that would drop her out of reach.

“No!” His words were lost in the water. He kicked and stroked.

Almost there.

She leaned farther.

Like a breeze from incoming weather, a gust of water pushed the kelp gently to the side.

Kristen, eyes shut and arms out, fell off the sanctuary.

Colin reached out.

His fingers closed over the sleeve of her jacket.

I got you!

He secured a grip with his other hand, held her close to him, then kicked hard with his feet.

The two of them broke the surface.

Kristen’s head hung to the side. She was not breathing from what he could see. In the franticness, she probably inhaled by accident after going overboard.

“Come on!”

He got behind her, wrapped his hands around her chest as best as he could, and performed the Heimlich maneuver to compress her lungs.

“Kristen! Come on, babe!”

He compressed.

Kristen came alive as though possessed. Her arms flung to the side and she vomited a lungful of water.

“What the—” She looked around, seeing the boats, the chopper, and night sky. It all came back to her.

Her remembrance concluded as she turned around and saw Colin looking at her.

He managed a smile.

“You’re gonna have a new appreciation for kelp.”

“What?” She wasn’t sure if she should smile at that. Especially right now, with all hell breaking loose around them. “What do you mean?”

“I’ll explain later,” he said. He looked to the Sulfuric Raindrop. Though it had taken some hull damage from the chopper crash, it appeared to be functional. Brookman and the two mercenaries aboard it were dead, meaning it was completely unmanned.

Dangling over its side was the cable they used to hoist the creature out of the water.

“You able to swim?”

“Do I have a choice?” she replied.

“Touché.”

Together, they swam to his boat.

Ralf Briggs moved to the cockpit of his plane. “Will you please get us the hell out of here?”

The pilot, a man who usually folded at the whims of his boss, punched the ceiling.

“I already told you! Look at that!” He pointed at the engine. “You see the smoke coming out of there? You see the big piece of metal sticking out of the hull? That’s a piece of helicopter rotor. We’re dead in the water. I thought you knew that, since you were flagging the cop.”

“UGH!”

Ralf moved to the fuselage door and gazed out at the seascape. The flames danced high from the chopper. Sparks popped off from the body and tail as circuits came into contact with flames or seawater. Fuel continued to pour from the cracked tank, adding to the apocalyptic ambience.

To the right, the big crab boat slowly drifted north, its hull battered by debris. On the left of the chopper was the late Sheriff Brookman’s vessel where Kai had been standing. The hunter was nowhere to be seen, the boat itself capsized in the wake of the crash. Its hull was battered, its engine probably damaged beyond repair.

Ralf could feel himself sweating, and it was not from the heat. He cursed himself for thinking he could make this experiment work. How would he explain this to the senator? Even worse, his presence here was bound to make news. His competitors would certainly pin the disaster of Green Pastures to his name. Maybe the senator would hire one of them to clone the animal instead of the Boettiger Corporation.

His stocks would freefall. He would have to close down offices, warehouses, labs, and spend much of his fortune on lawyers. Clients would withdraw from contracts. Employees would finally have an excuse to quit. The blackmail of using their personal histories against them would not work this time. None of them, not his secretaries or accountants, were dumb enough to keep clinging to the sinking ship that was the Boettiger Corporation.

Lights beamed from the right of the crab boat towards the seaplane. At its helm was the deputy named Wheedon, with the short mercenary standing behind him, weapon sweeping the water.

The small vessel’s approach reminded Ralf of the situation at hand. He was so focused on his image and net worth that he almost forgot his life was literally at stake. It did not even occur to him when he arranged the flight out here. Being so eager to make sure the specimen was captured, he needed to see it for himself. So many things had gone wrong up until this point. Rarely had he ever even skinned his knee. Ralf hardly knew physical risk. All he understood was numbers. And lately, those numbers were falling. Even after witnessing the crash of a helicopter and the subsequent death around it, numbers were front and center on his mind.

But money was no good to him if he were dead. Even Ralf had this bit of common sense, though barely.

He waved Wheedon over.

“Come on!”

The deputy slowed the vessel and lined it up with the plane as best he could.

“I still better get my money!” he shouted.

“Get me out of here, and I’ll set you up for life!” Ralf said. “Where’s the creature?”

“How the hell should I know?” Wheedon said. “Maybe it swam away. You gonna get aboard or not?”

Ralf looked at the gap between him and the boat.

“I can’t reach.”

“Try!” Wheedon said.

“Try?! There’s like six feet of distance.”

“Ugh!” Wheedon looked at the water, then gauged the height of the wing. “I can’t get under it. Move to the cockpit. I can line up over there.”

“Fine!”

Ralf turned around, cursing as he saw the pilot standing in his way. The inconvenience of the man trying to save his own life was beyond egregious in the tycoon’s eyes. Especially when someone of Ralf Brigg’s significance was nearby.

They moved to the cockpit of the plane and waited for the police boat. Wheedon had circled around the wing and was backing up to line the aft deck with the door.

SPLASH!

CRACK!

The deck of the boat lifted and split. Like a fish on a spear, the patrol boat came off the water, the tip of the cone protruding from behind the deputy. The two men exclaimed in a frenzy, then went on to full-on screaming as the cone fell toward the plane.

Ralf opened his mouth, seeing the vessel coming down like a hammer on top of the plane. Instead of a deep, earth-shaking scream, he only managed to let out a pitiful squeak, no more significant than the smallest rat.

The boat came down on the nose of the plane, imploding it and the skewered boat. Cockpit glass rained horizontally, cutting Ralf’s forehead and knocking him backward.

He sat up, his ears ringing, his shirt torn, and his mind in shock. His one avenue of escape was gone.

From the point of impact lifted the cone. It swung into the water as the creature turned itself around. Tentacles, dripping ammonia, slime, and blood, searched the front of the plane.

In that moment, Ralf learned that Wheedon and the mercenary had survived the crash. He also learned that it was not for the better.

The mercenary named Shorty squealed like a scolded child. The tentacles pulled him by his feet, dragging him over the water’s surface, and onto the battered nose of the plane. Like cheese being run over a grater, his flesh was scraped right off the bone. The creature, satisfied with his fate, allowed him to sink, the saltwater wreaking havoc on his nerves before he had the luxury of drowning or bleeding to death.

Next was Wheedon.

The tentacle that had seized him almost resembled a boa constrictor. It had looped around him, completely covering every inch of his body from his ankles to his shoulders.

His tongue was out, the man unable to form any words, let alone scream.

Slowly, the tentacle squeezed.

A slow, excruciating series of crack, crack, crack echoed from the coil.

His tongue came farther out, as did his eyes.

Ralf turned his head to avoid witnessing the eyes, and all of Wheedon’s innards, bursting through his orifices.

When he looked back, the creature submerged again.

Ralf and the pilot waited in silence. The water gradually calmed. The pieces of wreckage began to spread out. Over by the chopper, the flames were beginning to shrink.

He looked to the pilot. “Maybe it’s gone.”

“Maybe,” the pilot replied.

The plane bobbed. It was slight, but noticeable.

Both men stiffened.

That was not a movement from a swell, but directly below—a result of displaced water underneath the plane.

The flooring bent upward and peeled apart like flower petals. Through the gap came the shell, its tip passing through the fuselage and into the ceiling.

Stretching from the breach came a series of gaps which traveled across the plane’s hull like cracks in ice. The flooring split apart underneath the two men, as did the walls and ceiling.

Both halves of the seaplane moved several meters apart, their formerly connected ends dipping as water invaded the compartments.

The cone slapped the water as its owner literally clipped over to engage the two land-based creatures with its fleshy limbs.

“AGH!”

Ralf shielded his eyes as one of those tentacles struck.

“BLECH!”

Laying against the floor, he opened his eyes and saw the pilot skewered on the big talon. The creature lifted him from the half of the plane, watching him twitch and drip blood.

Ralf swallowed. There was no relief. The creature was looking right at him. And for once, he could not throw money at a problem and make it go away.

The beast flung the dead pilot into the water and grabbed him. Ralf was not impaled, but rather constricted by the limb. It lifted the fat businessman from the fuselage and held him in front of its right eye.

“No! No! NOOO!!!”

For the first time in his life, he knew true misery. And it was only the beginning.

The beast clamped its beak over him. Once again, it did not apply enough pressure to crush bone and end his life right there; just enough to hold him in place. The killing would be done by a few carefully operated strokes with the razor-lined tongue. Usually, three or four was all it needed, but Ralf was a large man.

It took closer to ten to strip him clean.

“You alright? You hanging on?” Colin said.

Kristen scaled the side of the Sulfuric Raindrop, looking back at him as she reached the top.

“For the eleventh time, yes! What do you want me to say? ‘I’ve got both hands on the bat-rope?’”

“Well, do you?” Colin quipped.

Kristen shook her head and rolled her eyes. “For real? You’re making quips like you’re in a damn Marvel movie?”

“Would you rather I be screaming uncontrollably?” Colin replied.

Kristen put a hand on the gunwale. “Touché.” She hoisted herself over the side, then leaned down to reach for Colin. “Get aboard so we can get out of here.”

He was halfway up.

Colin looked to his right. The seaplane, having been torn in two, was sinking. Between the two halves was the cameroceras. It redirected its syphon and moved closer to the glow of the flames in search of any victims it had left behind.

“Shit.”

Kristen saw it too.

“What do we do?”

“Shh!” Colin held perfectly still, making sure not to create any vibrations that would cause the creature to attack. As far as it knew, it had already slain everybody aboard the large boat.

Little by little, it moved past the boat and continued westward. It remained on the surface, its arms searching its surroundings for living targets.

Colin exhaled slowly.

It moved out farther, its wake barely illuminated by the moonlight and the flames.

The two of them knew it was not gone for good. In a minute or two, it would circle back. Escape was impossible. Even if they got the boat’s engine started and retreated at full speed, the thing would come after them with its signature attack and put the Sulfuric Raindrop at the bottom of the sea.

The solution was not easy, but it was simple: they needed to kill it.

“Kristen?” Colin said. “The cyanide and the crossbow? Do we still have them?”

Kristen picked up on his thoughts. “I’ll look for them.” She reached out to him. “Let me help you up first.”

Colin reached for her hand. Their fingers touched and linked.

A sinister voice called out from the infernal background.

“Here’s a better idea.”

Colin looked over his shoulder.

To the right of the flames, a figure rose atop of the drifting sheriff’s patrol boat. A long rifle was slung across his back in favor of a smaller, but nonetheless devastating revolver.

Kai Zahn, no longer bound by his obligations to Ralf Briggs, had reverted back to his original goal of defeating the ultimate predator. While most people would focus strictly on their own survival or even mourn the loss of a large payment, Kai was more at ease than ever. He was living his true purpose. He was a killer, a destroyer of giants, and that was more satisfying to him than all of the money on Earth.

One thing a hunter always needed was bait.

He pointed the revolver at Colin. “No hard feelings.”

Colin wheezed, anticipating to feel his insides exploding out through an exit wound that was his stomach.

BANG!

“AGH!”

A jolt of pain flooded Colin’s body, loosening his grip on the line and dropping him back into the water. The touch of seawater was quick to flare up the nerves even more.

“Colin!” Kristen screamed.

He broke the surface. The pain was not coming from his back or stomach, but his left leg.

Looking at Kai, he saw the hunter holstering the revolver and unslinging his big elephant gun.

Colin could feel the blood pumping from the large wound in his leg. Kai, a crack shot, was not shooting to kill, but to wound. After all, the beast did not fancy dead bait.

“No hard feelings, Mr. Carver,” the hunter said. His eyes lifted to Kristen. “Same with you, Missy!”

It was clear what the bastard had in mind. He anticipated the creature to understand something was up. It would not go after Colin right away. No, it would see him as bait, precisely as Kai intended. That perception would lead it to the large target nearby—the Sulfuric Raindrop.

Colin could hear the sound of waves as the creature turned around. The plan was working. It was drawn by the scent of his blood. In a few moments, it would make its move.

“Colin!” Kristen shouted. She was twirling a lifeline like a cowboy’s rope.

“No!” Colin said. “Get the crossbow!”

“What?!”

“Just do it!”

Kristen looked over at the creature, then back at him. Trusting his instincts, she dropped the line and went into the pilothouse where she had left the weapon.

Colin put every ounce of his energy into paddling.

Kai watched him through the iron sights of his huge gun.

“Ha! What are you trying to do, Carver? You think you’re gonna lead the thing away? It knows how the game is played.”

“That it does!” Colin shouted back.

Kai’s smile shrank. He looked to the waves made by the creature’s advance. It was following the distortions made by Carver’s movements. The scent of blood was the only thing keeping it from mindlessly continuing its killing spree and tearing him apart on the spot.

Its huge eye, orange with the glow of the chopper’s flame, aimed the giant black pupil at Colin. In a twitching motion, it shifted to look at Kai.

The hunter turned to fire.

His target dipped, submerging its head and arms and exposing its huge shell. Both rounds from the elephant gun struck the carapace, each one skidding off uselessly.

“Fuck!”

He breached the weapon to reload.

The beast pointed its cone at its adversary and filled its insides with seawater.

Kai crouched and with his revolver and Bowie knife in hand, awaited the impact. The creature, true to form, would strike the boat directly below the waterline. With good timing, he could leap a millisecond before the impact and put himself right on the creature’s head. Several shots point blank through one of its eyes had a good chance of destroying its brain and finishing the job.

He sported his usual smile.

“Do your worst!”

The beast unloaded its entire supply of water. It came at the hunter at full speed, closing the distance inside of a second.

Kai went to jump.

Within ten yards of the sheriff’s boat, it angled the tip of its shell out of the water.

Straight at the hunter.

Kai opened his mouth to curse. The only noise was the SPLAT of his body bursting into red goo upon contact with the forty-foot organic projectile.

The beast passed through the misty red cloud, leaving a meteor shower of body parts raining down in its wake.

Kai Zahn, the fearless hunter, was defeated.

The cameroceras slowed fifty yards past the floating remains of Brookman’s patrol boat. It turned itself around and began making its way to the wreckage. It may had slain its arch nemesis, but that did not mean its urge to kill had subsided.

Colin turned around and backstroked toward the Sulfuric Raindrop. His leg pulsed in rhythm with each motion. The sting from the seawater remained persistent, slowing him down.

A large swell pushed aside the burning chopper and an array of floating debris. In the middle emerged the creature’s massive head.

The arms extended to all sides like a parasol. Arched talons pointed down at him, the united actions of the ten arms forming a giant set of ‘jaws’ ready to impale Colin from above and below.

Like a shooting star, a grey, narrow object zipped over Colin’s head and into the jumble of limbs. Its tip embedded near the beak, driving several inches deep and sparking a jerking reaction from the beast.

It reared back, the arms abandoning their curved formation for a tantrum of mindless waving. That eye moved to the figure standing aboard the large boat behind its victim.

There stood Kristen, crossbow in hand, hurryingly loading her second spear. Connected to the shaft was a cannister full of cyanide.

Embedded in the creature, the first one pumped its contents into the creature’s bloodstream. The syphon spewed water and waste uncontrollably. The arms bent and twisted as they had done during the electric shock. Instead of a high voltage coursing through its veins, it was a deadly poison that systematically shut down its internal organs. Unlike the partial dose administered by Dr. Elliot Alere, the effects of this full one was immediate and damning.

Kristen completed the loading of the second spear and raised the crossbow.

The beak parted, tangling bits of flesh and clothing. From the space between the bony jaws came a long, drooling tongue.

A horrid screech filled the air.

Kristen put her eye to the iron sights. “Shut up.”

She fired.

The spear went between those jaws and plunged into the tongue. Mountains of water rose and fell in the wake of its vehemence. Protesting its fate, the creature slashed the ocean. More fluid spewed from both its jaws and its syphon.

Arms twisted and coiled, the claws protruding from each suction cup. Several of them rolled up to the creature’s face, unable to combat the deadly fluid racing through its bloodstream.

A final screech rang out.

At its conclusion, the arms went limp. The jaw went slack, the eyes rolled upward, and the skin paled.

Colin waved his arms back and forth, keeping himself afloat as he watched the scientific marvel in its last moments of life. The shell dunked, its weight dragging the cameroceras to the bottom of the kelp forest.

No rapid regeneration would help it this time. The poison was too much.

The beast was dead.

A lifeline splashed down next to Colin. From its other end, Kristen called down to him.

“Get your ass up here.”

He grabbed the line. “As you wish.”

Kristen, thoroughly spent, leaned hard against the gunwale. “You picked a hell of a time to quit drinking, because I really could use a beer right now.”

CHAPTER 37

It had been a hectic couple of days.

In the forty-eight hours since the killing of the squid, the island of Green Pastures had become the busiest place in the state. Agents, both state and federal, were arriving to investigate the incident. In addition, private journalists, including Green Pasture’s own Roger Drew, came to Colin Carver and Kristen McCauley, ready to print their story and present it to the world.

The Drew View, to its credit, retracted its previous article regarding the pair, and printed every word of their testimony regarding the creature’s existence and the devious intents of the men who created it. The ‘instant news’ factor of social media and internet headlines spread through the internet like wildfire, immediately gaining attention. Forced to answer the public’s outcry, government entities made their reactionary statements, many of them promising investigations into any connections with the Boettiger Corporation.

It would be a long and winding road to bringing the full truth to light. For Colin Carver, it was enough to know that the Boettiger Corporation was no more, and those backing him were scurrying into the shadows like the roaches they were.

Colin stood among towers of packed boxes, leaning against his crutch. Whenever he was free from the hordes of investigators, he spent his hours packing every one of his belongings. There was more to do. A lot more. He did not even have a new place to live yet. That was of no nevermind for Colin, for he was just getting ahead of the curve. None of the good press, while it improved his image, did little to improve his financial situation. A public fundraiser was raised, covering the repairs to his boat. Otherwise, his situation remained the same.

His license was still gone. No money was coming in.

There was only one thing he could do. His two primary assets were the house and the boat, both of which were in good condition. Together, they would give him a little over two-hundred-thousand in profit.

As simple as it was, it was anything but easy.

Before he could commit, there was one thing he needed to take care of.

He sat on the couch and looked at the contact on his phone labeled Dad. For several minutes, he stared at it, thumb on the send icon.

It was a conversation long overdue.

He made the call.

On the second ring, the familiar husky voice of his dad graced his ear.

“Colin!”

“Hi, Dad. How are you?”

“I’m fine. How are you? I’ve seen you in the news. You were in the hospital. They say you were shot in the leg. That you got involved in some kind of… I don’t know what to call it… conspiracy.”

“‘Got involved’ is probably not the best way to put it. ‘Got roped into’ is a little more accurate. Anyhow, I’m fine. It’s a long, long story, and I promise I’ll give you the long, detailed version soon enough. But Dad, there’s something else I need to tell you. A few things, actually. I know I’ve hardly spoken to you for a long time. You probably think I’ve been avoiding you, and that’s true, but not because of anything you did. The truth is, it’s because of something I did.” He gulped and mustered up the nerve to do what was necessary. “It’s about Mark and Lawrence…”

“Son, I know.”

Colin stuttered. “Y-you know?”

“Yes, son. I know. Someone explained everything to me. She thought it was too painful for you to bring up.”

“‘She’?” Colin said. “Is that ‘she’ someone named Kristen, by any chance?”

His father’s tone brightened. “She’s a nice lady. I like her a lot. You better not screw this one up.”

A shining smile formed on Colin’s face. “That she is. But Dad, I caused Mark and Lawrence’s deaths. It was all my fault. I made a bad call that I never should’ve—”

“Son. Son, listen to me. I forgive you. You hear me? I forgive you. You don’t need to keep punishing yourself, Colin. I knew those guys well. If they were uncomfortable with your call, they would have protested. And if they protested, you would have listened. Yes, it was poor judgement, but it is a dangerous business. I’ve made a few bad calls in my day, and only through luck did I manage to avoid the consequences. What happened out there does not have to dictate the rest of your life, Colin. You have many years ahead of you. It’s time to take your first steps to a new future. I say it’s time to exercise good judgement. That said, your first choice would be going with that Kristen girl.”

Colin snickered. “Geez, Dad. You like her a lot. I hope Mom doesn’t find out about you two.”

“Ha! She got to listen in. We had Kristen on speakerphone. Your mom wants to meet her when you two get settled.”

“Get settled?” Colin raised an eyebrow. It seemed his dad knew a bunch of things he did not.

“Hopefully I’m not betraying her trust, but she informed me of your dilemma. What you planned to do with the house and the boat.”

Colin felt the welling of tears.

“I don’t know what else to do, Dad. I hate doing this. You’ve worked all of your life for this house and boat, and you gave it all to me. And I’m pissing it away because I’ve screwed up. But Stevie needs his services and I don’t know what else to do.”

“Colin, Colin, shhh.” It was a fatherly shush that could calm a charging rhinoceros. “You are not betraying me. You hear? My goal was to set you up for success. I can’t expect you to stay in one place for the rest of your existence. Life presents many twists and turns. You are not obligated to keep the house.”

“But Dad…”

“Kid, I’m not coming back. Our legacy is more than catching crabs. If selling the house and the boat improve your life, then do it. As long as you don’t get screwed over, my destiny of setting you up for prosperity was successful.”

Colin was not sure what to say. His dad knew this, so he decided to follow up with four important words.

“I love ya, son.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and gratitude.

“Love you too, Dad.” The sound of tires on his driveway drew his eyes to the window. “I hate to cut this off, but Kristen just showed up.”

“Oh, good.” He gasped. “Let me know how things go.”

“How what goes? Selling the house?”

“That too. I better not say more. Talk to you soon, Colin.”

He smirked. His father definitely knew something Colin did not.

“Bye, Dad.”

He ended the call and went to the door. On the porch stood Kristen. She had a tan folder in her hand and a smile on her face.

“Hi!”

“Hey. Come on in.”

She stepped inside and responded to the sight of the boxes with a “Whoa! How the hell did you manage this with one leg?”

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” Colin said. “What’s got you so happy? I’ve hardly seen you these last couple of days. You miss me that much?”

She gave him a peck on the lips. “There’s that. But more importantly, I was working something out.” She opened the folder and handed it to him.

Colin sank into the couch. It was an application to the University of Washington. Underneath it was a stack of papers with the benefits package, all of which were waiting to be filled out.

In addition, there was an invoice presenting an offer for the Sulfuric Raindrop.

$130,000.

“What is all of this?” he asked. His voice came out in a wheeze.

“This good publicity we’ve gotten has made it easy for me to negotiate with the university president and board of directors,” Kristen explained. “They’re offering to purchase your boat.”

“Wow.” Colin was in disbelief. He anticipated having to endure the grueling process of marketing his vessel. Lo and behold, the hard part was already over. He took another look at the application and held it up. “And this?”

“That was part two of the negotiation,” she said. “If you’re willing, the university will be glad to take you on as a staff member. They have great health benefits, and would allow you to put Stevie on as a dependent.”

Colin was stuttering again.

“W-wow. What would I be doing?”

Kristen was giddy to answer that question. “We’ve gotten some nice grants as of late. Again, this publicity really did the university a lot of favors. I’ve got a lot of offshore research to conduct. Not only will I need a boat…” she tilted her head towards the Sulfuric Raindrop, “…I’m gonna need an assistant.” She took his hand. “If you’re willing, that is.”

Colin put his other hand over hers. Suddenly, it became clear what his father meant by his statement of ‘once the two of you are settled.’

“Something tells me I won’t have to worry about finding a new address.”

Kristen’s hand moved up to his face.

“As long as you don’t mind scaling down to twelve-hundred square feet. But we can always upgrade.”

“I’ll be closer to Stevie and sharing a life with you. I’m already upgrading.”

Kristen put her other hand on his face. “You’re getting good with the sweet talk.”

He winked. “Gotta earn them brownie points.”

The two of them embraced.

Read on for a free sample of THE CAVERN

Or discover more great Deep Sea Thrillers at www.severedpress.com

Chapter One

Rope zipped through Jim’s carabiner with a high-pitched whine as he abseiled down the rock wall, bouncing out one last time before hitting the ground with a thud to join his wife. Ancient limestone walls surrounded him, smooth and dry to the touch. He glanced up at the shaft’s opening, thirty metres above. Discovered in the Australian Outback by a farmer barely three weeks ago, the near perfect circle of blue sky marked the only known access to the cave system. A twenty-metre wide sink-hole had broken through into the ceiling of a limestone cavern, granting access to a previously hidden world, unseen by any human eye.

Jim unclipped his harness and peered into the gloom for his wife. He spotted Beth on the far side of the main shaft, shining her torch down a tunnel branching off to the south. He zipped up the front of his coveralls against the cool subterranean air, and began to pick his way across the rubble strewn ground.

Beth’s eyes were bright as she turned to meet him. “I can’t believe we’re the cave’s first explorers!”

“A bloody expensive privilege,” muttered Jim under his breath, still smarting at the two thousand dollars he’d paid Mr. Anastas for access to his land.

“Let it go, babe. I would have been happy to pay three times that.”

Jim clenched his jaw for a moment, then forced himself to exhale and relax. There was no going back now. He’d seen the state of Anastas’ sheep and knew his cash was probably already gone, spent on feed for the farmer’s drought stricken livestock.

“All right, no more talk of money.” He shrugged off his backpack and dumped it at his feet, raising a small cloud of fine dust. “But before we go any further, let’s do one last safety check. Can’t afford any accidents while it’s just the two of us.”

Beth huffed at the delay, but waited as he systematically reviewed their gear. Both wore a set of old State Emergency Service coveralls. Jim’s pack carried most of their stuff, including rope and a spare light source amongst other safety equipment.

He pulled a waterproof sheet of grid paper from his sleeve and made a mark for their beginning position along with a bearing off his compass. Jim fastened the strap on his helmet, before taking time to memorise the rock features around him. “Which way do you want to go?”

His wife shone her torch down each of two branching tunnels before settling on the option to the right. “This one, I reckon.”

Beth took point, weaving between larger slabs of rock that had dropped from the ceiling. The passage sloped steadily down, the uneven roof skimming scant inches above their heads before dropping down to waist height, then a length of tight squeezes.

At forks in the tunnel, Jim created a simple cairn, no more than three rocks balanced atop each other to mark the way back. He stopped for a moment to take a drink of water while Beth took a seat on a boulder to the side. Without the sound of footfalls bouncing back off the walls, their breathing seemed unnaturally loud, silence weighing like an almost palpable force. For the first time on a caving expedition, Jim felt a niggle of claustrophobia. If he stuffed up and got them lost, the cave would become their tomb.

As he put the water bottle back in his pack, a new sound caught his attention. He touched Beth’s arm. “Do you hear that?”

A faint tapping came from somewhere up ahead, rhythmic in nature.

Beth paused to listen, her expression unconcerned. “Dripping water maybe?”

“Nah, I don’t think so.” He cocked his head to the side, trying to hear the sound more clearly. “More like footsteps. Weird.”

Beth’s eyes opened wide in mock astonishment. “Maybe it’s one of the creatures that barman was talking about. What was it called again?”

Jim smirked as he cast his mind back to the previous night. “I think he called it a ‘Miner’s Mother’?” The old guy had been up to his gills in whisky when he’d pointed out creepy pictures of the town’s mythical beast behind the bar and warned them off exploring the cave. The monster’s features had been indistinct in the paintings. With its body shrouded in shadow, it had been the creature’s malevolent green eyes that made his skin crawl.

“Didn’t it help miners find opal or something?”

“Nah, he said it was more likely to slit your throat than do anything friendly.”

“Well I prefer my version of the story better,” said Beth. She took a step further down the tunnel before looking back over her shoulder. “Why don’t we work out where the noise is coming from? If it is dripping water, it might lead us to a diveable watercourse.”

Jim shrugged. “Good idea as any, I guess.”

He glanced back over his shoulder, searching the tunnel with his light. For some irrational reason, he couldn’t shake the sensation they were being watched. Seeing nothing unusual, Jim clamped down on his growing unease and walked onward, the beam of his helmet torch a harsh white against the walls. Shadows cast by the rocks on the floor danced ahead, as the angle of their torches shifted.

After a short distance, the tunnel branched. The couple paused to listen for the sound, before hearing it clearly from one side. Beth moved forward eagerly, and the tapping noise escalated for a moment, as if applauding their decision to follow. The couple continued onwards as the maze deepened in complexity, turn after turn.

Beth stopped and touched a finger to one side of the tunnel. “It’s damp. We must be getting close to water.”

A clatter of small rocks echoed from behind. Intrigued, Jim left Beth for a moment and retraced his steps to find what had made the noise. At the last fork in the tunnel, he pulled up short. The small cairn of stones he’d built to mark the route home was now missing. He shone his torch down each option, searching for footprints or any other evidence of their passage, but both were swept clean, the dust smooth and undisturbed. Shit. Both options now looked the same to him, and unless his wife could remember which tunnel they’d come from, it would be a roll of the dice on their return.

Jim quickly walked back to his wife. “Babe, we have a problem,” he said, voice holding an edge of anxiety despite his best efforts to sound unconcerned. The last thing they needed was to panic and become further disorientated.

“That last cairn of rocks I placed is missing, the tunnel’s wiped clean.”

Beth raised an eyebrow at him, confused. “That’s not possible. We’re the only ones down here, how could they have moved?”

“I’ve got no idea, but doesn’t change the fact that they’re bloody gone.”

“Well, you’ve been keeping track of our turns and co-ordinates on paper like usual, haven’t you? We just go off them to find our way back. It’ll be fine.”

“Umm… yeah, should be okay,” said Jim, not having the guts to admit that he’d grown lax in his recording as they hurried after the sound, letting his usual procedures lapse.

They heard water movement close ahead, and Beth turned toward the noise. “That sounds like a proper body of water. It might be the lake we were hoping to find. Let’s do one more corner to check, and if there’s nothing there, we go back the way we came. What do you say?”

Jim felt powerless to disagree, and followed after his wife. She was being reasonable, not losing her shit at him, and one more turn in the labyrinth was hardly going to make the difference between life and death.

His jaw dropped as he rounded the corner and bumped into the back of his wife, heart leaping with excitement. Above them, the roof vaulted high, granting a cathedral dome to the underground room. Great stalactites reached down from the ceiling in clusters, white crystalline deposits shimmering like chandeliers in the torch light. In some areas, the stalagmites rising from the ground had met with descending stalactites to form great columns. They’d found something truly magnificent.

Twenty metres into the room, dry ground gave way to water. Jim paced forward, all thoughts of their predicament banished at the wonders ahead. He dipped a finger into the water then put it into his mouth – fresh. The lake was clear and still as glass, allowing him to view the bottom as it gently sloped away.

Beth looked about the massive space, lips parted in silent awe. “We did it, babe. We’ve found something beautiful.”

“And as its discoverers, we’ve got naming rights. What do you want to call it?”

Beth shined her beam slowly across the expanse of the cavern, her gaze lingering where huge stalactites hung, in some places kissing the surface of the water.

“It’s almost like a church, the way the ceiling peaks in the middle – and those columns at the side, it’s like they’re guarding the entrance to smaller, private chapels or alcoves,” she said. “Let’s call it ‘The Temple’.” She turned to him expectantly for his reaction. “What do you think?”

Jim rolled the name about his mouth and found that it suited the cavern. He agreed, there was a feeling of power oozing from the area. “I like it. Just as long as we don’t have to leave a sacrifice to the temple’s deity,” he said with a short bark of laughter.

Beth looked at him sternly for a moment, as if checking to see whether he was making fun of her suggestion.

“No, babe, I like the name, I swear,” said Jim, holding up his hands in surrender. “But we should crack on and get a few photos of the place before we head back. The guys at the club will be sick with envy!”

Beth’s face brightened at his words, and she helped him unpack a small tripod and SLR camera from the bottom of his pack. They set up three lights to illuminate the ceiling and main cavern before Jim started clicking off some shots.

While Jim was occupied in the visual documentation of their find, Beth wandered closer to the water. The bottom looked to be less than thigh deep for about twenty metres prior to dropping away. The base consisted of fine silt interspersed with rock, much like the flooring in the dry sections of the cave. With any luck, The Temple would continue underwater, giving them a whole submarine system to explore.

She sighed at the thought of bringing in others to assist. Just the job of carting down the dive gear would require significant leg work, not to mention coordination - and that meant a larger group. Cave diving was inherently dangerous. She knew she was somewhat cavalier in her attitude compared to others in the Australian Caving Association, but if you planned on coming up the other side of a dive breathing, you had to take underwater safety seriously.

Movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention. Twenty metres off shore, slight ripples expanded in concentric circles. Something was in the water. Beth lifted her hand torch, pointing the beam for a clearer view into the shadows, just in time to see a child’s pink nose disappear under the surface. Her heart stuttered for a moment. Surely the sounds they’d been following hadn’t been actual footsteps?

Not trusting her eyes, she waited for the ripples to clear. Adrenaline surged, causing her heart rate to gallop. There it was again! Close to the drop off into deeper water, she saw the child again, just a face, the rest of its body obscured by silt and rock on the lake floor. Fear constricted her chest, breathing now quick and shallow.

Why the hell was a kid alone down here?

She froze, battling indecision. Beth’s gut screamed to run, every instinct telling her to retreat. She dry swallowed, concentrating on the child’s face to ignore her own terror and act. It didn’t make any sense, but surely she had to do something?

“Jim! There’s a kid in the water!” She started to strip off her heavy outer coveralls, ready to dive in.

“There’s a fucking what?” Jim’s face was white as he put down the camera and ran over.

“A kid – over there,” she said pointing off-shore. “He only just went under, we can still save him if we’re quick.”

“But we haven’t got any diving gear. What if there’s a current? If it pulls you under, you’re dead. Don’t do it,” pleaded Jim.

“Don’t be such a coward,” she answered scathingly. “Get one of the climbing ropes, I’ll tie it around my waist.  If anything goes wrong, you just haul me out. Quick!”

He jerked away as if physically slapped, and retrieved a coiled rope from his pack. Jim tied a length about her waist, and then she was off.

Beth churned into the water, spreading silt in cloudy blooms from the bottom, turning crystal clarity to an impenetrable haze in her wake. At waist depth she began to swim, powerful kicks driving her forward. When she thought she was in the right spot, she took a deep breath and duck-dived.

Two metres below she could see the boy. The child looked no older than six. Close cropped hair hugged his skull, the skin of his face white and hypoxic. She drove down with all her might, desperate to get the child to the surface before he suffered irreparable brain damage. She knew the stats; it only took five minutes without air before brain cells started to die, and Beth was determined to prevent that happening.

As she drew within arm’s reach, its eyes opened. Something wasn’t right with the picture below her, and she paused mid-stroke. The child’s pupils flickered as its gaze locked onto her, before lengthening into the slits of a serpent. The iris and white of the eye became a halogen green. Lips drew back in an animalistic snarl, exposing a jaw full of needle-sharp teeth.

Beth hung in the water, frozen in horror. The beast’s face deformed, mouth and jaw protruding as the skin darkened to black, shedding the chameleon-like colouration used to attract her into the water.

Bubbles exploded out of her mouth as she screamed. Beth felt two hard tugs on the rope about her waist, pulling her up to the surface. Spell finally broken, she kicked hard to follow the rope, her chest burning with the need for air, desperate to escape the monster beneath.

Jim let out lengths of rope as he watched his wife frantically swim offshore and then disappear beneath the surface. He forced slow breaths, trying to keep a lid on his own fear. It didn’t make sense. Surely if a child had gone missing, the town would have been up in arms trying to locate it before they’d entered the cave?

Another thought entered his head – air. He mentally kicked himself at his own stupidity. This far below ground and with such poor ventilation, it wasn’t unheard of to lose oxygen content in the air, leading to mental deterioration. Hallucinations weren’t such a big leap for the oxygen-starved mind. If that was the case, he needed to get his wife out of the water and quick.

Jim dug a foot into the dirt and started hauling back on the rope, pulling his wife back to shore with all of his strength.

Beth powered up to the light, her right hand punching through the surface into the air. After one frantic look to identify the direction of the shore and Jim, she kicked into a rough freestyle, feet churning the water as adrenaline fuelled muscles leant every ounce of strength. Her knees bashed into rock as the depth lessened, and she stumbled to her feet.

Beth went to take a step forward, then something grabbed hold of a leg and jerked her backward. She looked down in open-mouthed terror to see the creature had caught up. Black, bony fingers clamped about her ankle like a vice. Talons at the point of each digit punctured her skin, sinking deep as she screamed in agony.

The rope tugged viciously from behind as Jim tried to pull her to shore, the single loop sliding up under her armpits as her husband fought the beast in a brutal tug of war, with her body the prize. She couldn’t breathe, the rope a ring of fire about her torso as it snapped ribs with each savage jerk. Beth stared helplessly as the top half of the creature emerged above the water line. It had a lamprey-like mouth, circular rows of needle sharp teeth protruding as a pointed tongue flicked out to taste the air. Above the vicious maw, four green eyes with elliptical pupils blinked independent of each other. It wrenched backwards against her husband as it stood, cord like muscles standing proud on its arms and chest. A serpent tail swept the water behind, adding strength. The rope went slack, the creature must have ripped it from Jim’s hands.

With irrepressible strength, it drew Beth into an embrace, two nose slits above the mouth flaring as it leant down to her neck and sniffed. A low wail of fear and revulsion escaped Beth’s mouth, her bladder releasing a warm flood down her leg. The head lifted, reptilian eyes locking onto her gaze. Suddenly two flaps of skin sprang out to either side of the beast’s head and neck like a cobra and it emitted a high-pitched scream, then dived forward to latch onto the side of her face.

Beth wailed in terror as razor-sharp teeth tore into her cheek, ripping through the tissue in an instant. She fought against the beast but was helpless, her arms pinned to either side. Dimly, she registered her husband’s futile screams echoing her own. Claw tipped fingers forced her mouth wide, and its protruding jaws forced past her teeth to clamp about her tongue, ripping it out with one savage bite. Blood spurted in her mouth as the beast gagged down its prize, pouring down the back of her throat to fill her stomach and flood her lungs as she convulsively sucked in a breath. Her stomach rebelled and she vomited, crimson erupting in a gout from her mouth to coat her chest and the skin of her killer.

Jim watched the unfolding scene in stunned horror. Blood seeped from his palms where the rope had torn a sheet of skin away as the creature wrenched it from his grasp. Beth’s eyes bulged in agony as the creature ripped into the flesh at the angle of her neck and shoulder. Jim brushed his hand against his belt, checking for the basic knife he always carried while caving.

His wife shuddered within the beast’s grip, mouth pleading silently as her eyes stared into space. Jim charged into the water, blade in hand, any thoughts of his own safety erased by the need to help his wife. At the noise of his approach, the monster lifted its head, mouth disengaging from her neck with a wet sucking noise. A fresh glut of blood spurted from the unplugged wound and Beth’s features went slack. Releasing its hold on her, she slipped beneath the surface, dead.

New prey was at hand.

Jim stalled as the creature transferred its focus to him, saliva drying in his mouth as his balls clenched upward. The creature cut through the water, head and neck held clear of the surface, green eyes locked onto his. The thick tail swept back and forth in an arc, powering it forward with immense strength. Jim held the knife in front, his hand shaking.

As it drew near, he slashed downward, aiming for the neck. It slipped to the side of his clumsy attack and buried a mouthful of teeth into his wrist, severing the flexor tendons. Jim screamed in pain and terror as the knife dropped into the water, released by slack, useless fingers. He tried to pull away, escape back to the shore, but it had already coiled its tail about his legs like a band of steel. The mouth detached from his wrist, leaving his radial artery to rhythmically spatter blood onto the surface of the water.

The lights on shore illuminated the creature as it rose in front of Jim’s face, neck tissue flared out again as it began a mesmerizing sway. It struck with blinding speed, needle-like teeth plucking out his right eye in one deft move. He screamed as his eyeball was shredded and consumed, the pain a white-hot barb driven straight to his brain. Bony hands grasped either side of his face, using the newly created cavity as gripping point as it began to feed in earnest. A claw-tipped thumb drove deeper into his empty socket as Jim thrashed in agony, punching through the thin bone at the rear of the cavity, and into his brain.

The Cavern is available from Amazon HERE!

Or discover more great Deep Sea Thrillers at www.severedpress.com

Table of Contents

- CONE
- CHAPTER 1
- CHAPTER 2
- CHAPTER 3
- CHAPTER 4
- CHAPTER 5
- CHAPTER 6
- CHAPTER 7
- CHAPTER 8
- CHAPTER 9
- CHAPTER 10
- CHAPTER 11
- CHAPTER 12
- CHAPTER 13
- CHAPTER 14
- CHAPTER 15
- CHAPTER 16
- CHAPTER 17
- CHAPTER 18
- CHAPTER 19
- CHAPTER 20
- CHAPTER 21
- CHAPTER 22
- CHAPTER 23
- CHAPTER 24
- CHAPTER 25
- CHAPTER 26
- CHAPTER 27
- CHAPTER 28
- CHAPTER 29
- CHAPTER 30
- CHAPTER 31
- CHAPTER 32
- CHAPTER 33
- CHAPTER 34
- CHAPTER 35
- CHAPTER 36
- CHAPTER 37