What Lurks Beneath (26 page)

V
al stared at her breakfast cereal, moving the granola around in the milk with her spoon. She'd hardly eaten anything. She was feeling sick again. Like she might throw up.

She stood and walked outside onto the back patio of the guesthouse, and closed her eyes, breathing in a gentle morning breeze off the water. After a moment, she felt better and opened her eyes. On the eastern horizon, where the sun would soon rise over the ocean, there was an angry dark orange over the water, backlighting the darkness of building clouds. A rare late-winter tropical storm had been forecast for today, and it would be cooler. She crossed her arms to ward off a sudden chill.

She tried to push away the worried thoughts, the mixed emotions, as she tried to enjoy the early morning light. She hadn't slept much. And she'd still said nothing to Will. Even though she was now becoming convinced.

But she couldn't really be pregnant. She wasn't ready now.
They
weren't ready. And she couldn't actually have a child. Could she?

She'd lost her first pregnancy, as a stupid teen, even before she and her mom had been able to decide what she should do, or what to tell her dad. Even though she'd felt some relief back then, knowing she wouldn't be a young mother trapped with a baby right after high school, she had cried. Had felt so sad that the baby that had started inside her was gone.

After that, the doctor had recommended a D&C, to rid her body of the “unnecessary tissue.” But something went wrong. The trauma from all the scraping had left her uterus scarred. Permanently.

She was infertile. Or so she had thought, until she had unexpectedly gotten pregnant once again, last year. She and Will hadn't been practicing birth control, as she had thought there was no need. This time, she'd been planning to move forward despite her demanding career, and they had been so excited.

But she'd lost that child as well.

She took a deep breath. Closed her eyes and tried to enjoy the relative silence. She began to feel sick again. She wondered again if what she had felt in the ocean when she'd gone lobster diving—what Mack had thought was induced by the Navy's antipersonnel sonar—had simply caused some sort of lingering symptoms. Maybe that's all this was.

But that had been a week ago, and she hadn't felt sick anymore once she'd been out of the water a few hours. She thought of the Obeah woman. What she had said to her—

“Mornin', Val.”

She jumped. Sturman had just walked out onto the patio, cowboy hat in hand. He'd slept on the couch last night.

“Good morning, Will. You guys leaving soon?”

“Yeah. Got to if we want to catch the show. Aren't you coming?”

“I don't think so,” she said. “Is your Navy pal joining you?”

“Wits? No. I'll try to catch up with him tonight or tomorrow.”

They'd all planned to head over to Oceanus. She, Sturman, and Eric would watch a captive manta ray get transported to the ocean by helicopter, and Mack had said he'd head over with them to gamble in the casino. He claimed you always had better luck early in the morning.

Sturman moved beside her and studied her face. She looked away, back at the ocean.

He said, “What's the matter. You doing all right?”

“Yeah. I'm okay.”

He nodded back at the kitchen. “Well, I saw your uneaten cereal. And you look kinda green.”

“I just feel a little nauseous. Maybe I ate something bad. You want to finish my breakfast?”

“No thanks. We'll just bring something with us. Besides, I don't wanna get what you have.” He frowned. “You sure you're all right?”

She thought again of the Obeah woman. Her toothless grin.
You big up, ain't ya?

She said, “I'll be okay. But I'm gonna stay here and rest. You guys have fun without me.”

He nodded, and looked at the eastern horizon. “Hopefully, they get this done before that storm gets here.”

Sturman hugged her and went back inside, yelling for Eric to hurry up. Val smiled. Will seemed genuinely excited. He'd really become fascinated with commercial aquariums.

She thought about the other things the Obeah woman had said. That this octopus, this
lusca
, if it did exist, might be feeding more than usual because it too was pregnant, or going to be. That it would have a den in which to raise its brood. But it just made no sense. If this was an undiscovered species, where were the others of its kind? Where were its young? People had to have seen them by now, right?

Why was she giving any weight at all to some old island sage? To some crazy old woman?

But she knew why.

Her hand went to her womb, and she felt another wave of nausea. What if the old woman was somehow right? What was she going to do? And what was she going to tell Will?

She heard the distant rumble of thunder.

A
shley watched the huge manta ray glide past, revealing a pale underside vented with long gill slits. Despite his devilish appearance, with what looked like two horns jutting from his brow, Spirit was a harmless filter feeder. A favorite of the tourists. He'd been with Oceanus since the opening of the resort, already quite large when he'd been captured off the coast, and had grown quickly. He was now nearly fifteen feet across. The habitat in Pirate's Cove, despite its size, could no longer contain him, and Mr. Barbas was keeping his promise.

Today, Spirit would go home.

Ashley stood in the dappled light of the softly lit, below-ground viewing tunnel. Most of the light usually came in from the aquarium itself, where sunlight refracted down through the water from the outside world. But the sun wasn't up yet.

She smiled as the ray disappeared around a bend in the tank. She looked over at Barbas, who stood a short distance behind her, talking with a few of the aquarists. This was something she appreciated about the man. Even if he didn't really want to part with a main attraction, and might have kept the animal forever if he could, at least he had the decency to listen to his aquarists and accept when it was time to—

“Ashley?”

She turned. Striding down the rock-walled corridor, in his proud but uneven gait, was Valerie Martell's uncle. Beside him walked another rough-looking man she'd never seen before—much taller than Mack, younger, and wearing a cowboy hat.

“Mack! How are you, love?” She gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek.

“Same as always. How are you?”

“I'm all right, you know. What're you doing down here? I thought they'd already closed off this tunnel?”

“Apparently not where we came in.” He thumbed at the younger man next to him. “Sturman here wanted to see the aquariums.”

She recognized the name from a conversation with Val. She turned to him. He wore a plain white T-shirt and jeans. He was attractive, but not in a Hollywood way—more like an old leather jacket, with stubble along his jawline and wrinkles creasing his skin. She could tell he'd led a hard life.

She said, “I'm Ashley. I work here at Oceanus.”

Sturman took his hat off and shook her hand. “Will Sturman. Val's told me a little about you. You
are
tall.”

She smiled, looking down at her feet. “The heels add a few inches. Did you come down to see her?”

“I reckon so.”

“Are you getting along again, then?”

He smiled. “We'd have to ask her.”

“Indeed. So Val said you work at an aquarium back in California?”

“That's right. You done a pretty decent job here. How do you keep the pH, the salinity regulated in such big tanks? And how do you keep the water fresh?”

“Well, I'm no expert, but it has something to do with the high volume flowing in directly from the ocean. The water in here turns over pretty quickly.”

“I'll be damned. So how you get a job at this place?”

“Well, you could start by asking Mr. Barbas.” She pointed at him. “He's the owner.”

Sturman nodded, fitting the straw cowboy hat back on his head. “I don't wanna interrupt him now. He looks busy.”

“We're almost ready for the release. The helicopter will be coming in very soon.”

“Amazing,” Sturman said.

“I'm assuming you're both here to watch?”

Mack snorted. “Not me. Just Sturman and Watson. Seen enough helicopters and big fish in my life. I'm headed to the casino.”

“Eric's here?”

Just then, he came around a corner in the tunnel.

“He had to visit the little boys' room,” said Mack.

They locked eyes for a moment, and Ashley felt her face flush. This wasn't the time.

“Well, I'll make sure they allow you to stay down here, if you'd like. Now if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I need to get back to work.” She turned away.

 

 

When Ashley walked up, Barbas was pointing at the heavy security doors at the end of the elaborately formed hallway. He and the aquarists had been joined by a few guards. But where was Dennis? He was in charge of security today. Only a handful of VIPs would be allowed down here to watch the entire process, as divers maneuvered the huge ray into a broad hoop net suspended from the aircraft.

Nobody besides the VIPs would see anything but the helicopter arrive and leave with Spirit in the net. All the guests would be invited to watch the spectacle, but only from designated areas above ground. They just wouldn't be granted access down here, where outer doors would be locked and guards would be posted so that if something went wrong—or Spirit was hurt in the netting process—nobody would be able to film it on an iPhone.

She watched as the manta reappeared, swimming in slow circles around the enclosure. If only he knew that very soon he would have his freedom. Ashley just hoped everything went smoothly.

S
turman stood with Eric beside the aquarium, as the sun's rays began to light it from above, marveling at the scene inside the huge tank. Mack, without speaking to Eric, had left them to blow some money at the tables.

The divers above them gently drove the massive manta toward a platform of shallower water at the edge of his vision. According to handouts they'd been given, the resort's plan was apparently to get the oversized critter to move above a net on the platform, where a number of hands would then lift the rigid edges to prevent his escape. When the helicopter arrived, dangling a long rope, they would clip the net harness to it and then off it would go, manta in tow, to a drop-off point in the ocean just past the reef.

“I'll be damned,” Sturman said. “They're just wranglers.”

Eric finished taking a picture and glanced at him. “What did you say?”

Sturman nodded at the divers. “They operate the same as ranch hands. They're driving that manta to where they can lasso him, like cowpokes corralling a steer.”

A group of what looked like reporters, one of them carrying a large video camera and tripod, came down the tunnel and stopped by them. A few other distinguished-looking guests had also arrived.

“You really think this will work?” Eric said.

“I guess so. Your girlfriend there said it's been done before.” Sturman looked at Eric. “She is your girlfriend, right?”

“Not really. We've been on a date. But she's not talking to me.”

“Join the club.”

Eric smiled weakly. “Too bad Val isn't here to see this.”

“Yeah,” Sturman said. “I guess. But she's never been big on aquariums. She likes to see animals in their own environment.”

But Sturman knew Eric was right. She'd really enjoy the novelty of this operation. He was a little surprised she'd backed out, and a little worried. She didn't look good. And there was something else. Last night, and again this morning, she'd seemed like she'd been hiding something.

He looked over at Ashley and the others. She was talking to someone in a security uniform and to her boss. He was a good-looking older man, with a well-trimmed beard, and apparently the owner of the resort. They'd been joined by a mid-forties blonde in a skirt and jacket, who appeared to be his assistant.

Sturman could tell by their body language that the conversation was serious. Ashley turned away from them, a concerned expression on her face, and passed by the small group of reporters. They were visiting casually with a heavyset young woman who, like Ashley, wore a turquoise shirt with the resort's logo. He saw that Ashley flashed them all a brilliant white smile, but as she moved away from the reporters, the smile quickly left her face.

She saw him looking over at her and the forced smile returned. She headed back toward him and Eric. As Ashley drew closer, Sturman thought she looked worried. Ill, even. Almost as bad as Val had looked this morning.

She stopped a few feet in front of them, the well-practiced fake smile of a resort services employee still on her face. “It's almost time, gentlemen. Once they get Spirit netted, we'll make our way outside so you can watch the rest of the action from above. Hopefully, we can beat this storm, or we'll have to call it off.”

“A hurricane?” Sturman said.

“No. But there's a tropical cyclone offshore, headed our way, and it's nasty looking. The wind and rain would make it too dangerous for this operation.”

“I didn't think you got that kind of weather this early in the spring.”

“We usually don't.”

“Thanks again for allowin' us to be down here,” Sturman said.

“It's no problem. No problem at all.” Her gaze dropped, and the smile finally left her face.

Eric finally spoke. “Ashley, is everything all right?”

“Yes. I'm fine.”

“Look. If it's me . . . if I'm making you uncomfortable being here . . .”

“It's not like that, Eric.” She paused, glanced at Sturman, then back at Eric. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I just found out there's a problem. In another tank . . . the fish, the sharks, they're all gone.”

Eric said, “What? What do you mean they're gone?”

“They're not in the tank. Like somebody somehow came and took them. But that's impossible. A dolphin is also missing from our enclosure. And . . . I just heard that one of our security guards is missing. A friend. Someone found his radio by the shark tank.”

“Jesus,” Sturman said. “What the hell's going on?”

She shook her head. “I don't know. But something happened in that tank. And to Dennis. We can't let the media know.”

She stared past them, a faraway look in her eyes, and Sturman felt sorry for her. She began to chew on her lower lip, and Sturman could tell she was fighting off tears. He considered excusing himself from the conversation, so she could talk to Eric, but he figured it might upset her even more.

He said, “Can't they just postpone this whole circus?”

“Mr. Barbas is insisting we continue—”

Sturman snorted. “Your boss? The fancy-looking fella with a beard?”

She nodded.

“What an asshole. Want me to talk to him?”

Eric shot him a look and subtly shook his head. He said, “Ashley, is that why those doors down the hall are now closed off? To keep everyone from going near the shark tank?”

She nodded. She glanced over her shoulder, where Barbas was gesturing for her to come back over, a broad smile on his face. She smoothed her skirt with both hands and took a deep breath. “He's calling for me again. Please, don't say anything.”

She hurried off. Sturman looked at Eric and raised his eyebrows.

They stood and watched the operation unfold, as the divers in the tank finished maneuvering the half-ton ray into the net, as the wealthy guests beside them oohed and aahed. Then Sturman heard something over the conversation.

The low, rhythmic thump of helicopter rotors.

 

 

She felt the deep vibrations. They were unfamiliar, but not unlike those she had felt recently in the depths. The vibrations from the objects on the sea floor, which since her birth had regularly pulsed through her body. But that now gave her tremendous pain.

Pressed against the unusual, almost tasteless corals in the small enclosure, her body swelled slightly in her agitation, a burst of red patterns briefly marbling her skin.

She was fully sated. Unable to feed any longer, and with nothing left to feed upon, she was desperate to return to her den. To protect her young. And to avoid the bright light of a sun that had recently risen. But she was trapped. She had been unable to locate a way out of this strange lagoon. There was only the way she had come in, from above, in the sunlight. In the air.

The rhythmic thrumming grew louder. Her body swelled with seawater and she finally revealed herself, filling much of the tank's volume with her own loose form, her great arms uncoiling, still seeking a means of escape. She saw something move on the other side of the glass, but ignored it, pushing her body toward the base of the exhibit. Her sudden movement lifted a wall of water up and sent a wave over the side of the tank, where it crashed down inside the vacant viewing passage below.

The noise, now overhead, throbbed into the water. Ached between her eyes.

Feeling below her, one of her arms met with a small hole. No. A series of holes. She felt water flowing into them.

There was some sort of obstruction blocking a larger hole. One that might accommodate her. She thrust the tip of one arm into the metal grate and tore it free with a muffled clang, casting it aside. Below the grate she felt a round opening. It might be large enough.

The tips of a few of her arms entered the hole first, and quickly met a ninety-degree bend, with narrow tunnels leading in opposite directions. Unthinking, the lead arms wriggled quickly in one direction, and began pulling her colossal form after them.

Overhead, the noise grew louder.