Fangtooth

Chapter 29

“So he’s safe,” Bruce said to the police officer standing before him.

The officer whose nametag identified him as Powell nodded, then after a moment, the lashes above his brown eyes bristled with confusion and his boyish face took on a look of anxiety. “There’s been a lot of strange reports coming from this area lately about things seen around the coast.”

Bruce looked across at Erin, who was sitting staring through the bar window. “Do you want to start?” he said, knowing she had more knowledge of the situation than he did.

“Don’t listen to them. It’s all poppycock,” Graham said before he took a swallow of his brandy.

“Miss?” Powell looked at Erin. “Do you have any information that might be relevant?”

Erin turned to face the officer. She rubbed her hands and folded her arms across her chest. “I can tell you what I believe, but whether you believe me is another matter.”

“Go on.”

Erin told Powell about the creatures, and her assumptions about over fishing, pollution and chemicals.

When she finished, Powell laughed.

“I told you,” Graham said, grinning.

“You didn’t see those things,” Bruce spat. “If you had, then you might not be so quick to ridicule.”

“I can see all the monsters I want on late night television,” Graham said, chuckling.

“And I suppose you’re an authority on sea beasties?” Powell asked Erin.

“Actually, yes. I’m a marine biologist.”

Powell’s smirk faded and he licked his lips. “Well, erm, can you substantiate your claims? I mean, fish can’t breathe out of water.”

“Actually, there are some fish that can breathe out of water for short periods. Like Mudskippers and Snakeheads.”

Graham snorted and wiggled his hand to simulate downing an imaginary drink. “If you ask me, I think they’ve had one too many, officer.”

Sara sat next to the bar, nursing a glass of orange juice. Next to her sat Duncan. Both of them remained quiet throughout the exchange. Neither of them had seen the Fangtooth, but at least they had the good sense to listen.

Erin seemed oblivious to Graham’s ridicule. “I need to contact the research vessel I’m stationed on,” she said. “There’s equipment on there I might need, and I need to warn them of the situation.”

Powell scratched his chin. “To be quite honest, miss, I don’t know what to believe, but your story, well, it is a bit farfetched. Mutated fish!”

“Yeah, this isn’t Sellafield, you know.” Graham chortled.

“Believe me, I know how it sounds. But if you don’t do something, radio it through, then it’ll be too late.”

“Too late? Why?”

“Because these creatures, whatever they are, they’re hungry.” She exhaled slowly, as though composing herself. “If they are a mutated form of Fangtooth, they’ll live in small shoals. In the day, they stay in the depths, but at night, they rise to feed by starlight. They sense their prey by using contact chemoreception; basically they taste their prey in the water, relying on luck to bump into something edible. But I don’t know how they react on the surface. Perhaps their eyesight has evolved, too, because the one we saw certainly didn’t seem to have any problem locating us.”

“That man on holiday, he was attacked in the day,” Bruce said.

Erin nodded. “That’s what concerns me. If they have mutated, it’s not just in the physical sense, but in the—”

“I’m not going to listen to any more of this rubbish,” Graham said.

“Just shut up,” Duncan snapped.

Graham turned his one good eye on Duncan and scowled. “This is my bar, and I’ll say what the hell I like. I’ll certainly not have these outsiders come in here telling fanciful tales. It’s hard enough getting customers in as it is. Since the fishing fleets have been disbanded, I hardly get anyone in. I never thought I’d miss those trawler men with all that cash to throw around after being paid, but I do. So I’ll be damned if I’ll lose what little livelihood I’ve got left.

“Officer, are you going to stand there and let them carry on this ridiculous conversation?” Graham asked. “Can’t you do something before I throw the lot of them out?”

“And what would you have me do, sir? Arrest them?”

“That would be a start.”

“On what grounds? Storytelling?”

“Ah, so at least you agree it’s only a story.” Graham grinned, an expression his one eye made appear sinister.

“I really don’t know what to believe, but I’ll call through to have someone check the coast out.”

Graham rolled his eye and clucked loudly. “They’ll have you believing in little green men next. I don’t know what the world’s coming to when a man of the law can be made a fool of.”

Powell walked to the corner of the room and started talking into his walkie-talkie. Bruce went and sat next to Erin.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Erin forced a smile. “I’m glad your son’s safe.”

Bruce couldn’t help wondering for how long, though, if what Erin had said was true. “So am I. But these creatures, are they really coming ashore to eat?”

“That would be my guess, yes.”

Bruce looked at the clock above the bar, which read 9:30. He had never been truly afraid before, had not known what real fear was, until he had seen Jack being terrorized by the creature. The feeling hadn’t subsided. He needed to rescue his son, needed to wrap his arms around him and hold him tight.

Powell returned to the middle of the room. “Okay, the coast guard is going to send a patrol boat to check the area out.”

“You’d be better sending the navy,” Zander said as he stormed into the bar. “They have fuckin’ big guns.”

Jack walked in behind Zander, followed by Jen and another young lad with a cut on his forehead.

“Jack!” Bruce jumped up, ran across the room and embraced his son. Shazam jumped to her feet and bounded across the room, barking excitedly.

Jack returned the hug, and then said, “Okay, there’s no need to suffocate me.”

Bruce could see he was embarrassing Jack, but he didn’t care. He was just glad that he was safe.

“I take it this is your son,” the officer said.

Too choked to reply, Bruce nodded and squeezed his son harder.

“Daaaad,” Jack wheezed.

Eventually, Bruce relaxed his hold. “I thought I was going to lose you,” he said, his voice raw with emotion.

Jack stroked the dog’s head. “You can’t get rid of me that easy.”

“And you are?” Powell asked Zander.

“Trent Zander, skipper of the Storm Bringer. Graham, pour us a double whisky.” He stomped to the bar and leaned against the counter.

“Well, I’m going to have to ask you a few questions.”

“I’ve only come to drop these kids off, so I haven’t got time.”

“Then you’ll make time. I need to know what’s going on. So either we do it here, or I take you down to the station.”

Zander laughed. “It’ll take more than one of you to stop me from leaving, and for your own good, I’d advise against trying.”

Powell looked rankled, as though unfamiliar with disobedience. “Mr. Zander, that wasn’t a request, it was an order.”

“There’s not a man alive who can order me to do anything,” Zander said. He accepted the whisky as Graham handed it to him, and downed it.

“I need to know what’s happening.”

“I’ll tell you what’s happening. There’s a fucking great shoal of killer fish out there, and by God, I’m going fishing.”

Before Powell could stop him, Zander stood up straight, nodded at Jack, then ran out of the bar.