Operation: Loch Ness

- 14 -

Seton continued to chant. The beast moved forward, not straight toward them, but showing all three humps side on, cruising in a zigzag fashion that was bringing it, slowly and cautiously, across the lake. It raised its head only to bark at the last syllable of each repetition of the chant.

Banks saw the strain show on Seton’s face, pain etched in hard lines at the side of his eyes and at his mouth, but the older man kept up the chant in perfect time, and the beast continued to move ever closer, its bark now sounding almost excited. The sheer bulk of it as it swam caused the whole surface of the lake to ripple and sway, sending green and black shadows dancing in the stalactites in time with its languid movements.

Banks turned to the others just before the beast came into range.

“Right, lads, this is it. No hesitation, no fucking about, we take this bastard down fast then we can bugger off home to the mess for that pie and a pint I missed at the start of this shitstorm. Plugs in.”

The three of them shoved the soft plugs that protected their hearing deep into their ears.

“For Cally,” Wiggins shouted, and both Banks and Hynd nodded.

“For Cally.”

Seton’s voice faltered and failed at the last, fresh spittle of blood showing at his lips. But he’d done his job, and the beast had cruised forward so that it was almost directly below them. Banks smelled it strongly now, musk and blood and heat. It looked up, directly at him, and barked, twice, not so much excited now as angry.

“Aim for the head, and fire,” Seton shouted.

Remembering the thing’s reaction to the floodlight at the castle, Banks turned on his gun light and shone it direct at the beast’s eyes. It yelled, a high-pitched squeal, and was still squealing as all three of the squad pumped three rounds each into its head.

Even then it didn’t go down, but using its back legs and tail, launched up toward them, sending a splash of cold water across them from the knees down. It scrambled frantically, tearing chunks of rock from the edge. Banks stepped back and succeeded in putting another two shots above its eyes, but still it came, finally grabbing hold of the ledge with its front feet and hauling its whole length up to loom over them.

“Say goodbye to your bollocks, you wanker,” Wiggins shouted, and shot it three times in the heavy sack that hung, silhouetted and framed against the shimmering of the lake beyond. Banks and Hynd concentrated on the head, even as the maw of its mouth opened, showing the white, six-inch canines. Blood ran from numerous wounds in its face, and its left eye had popped, gore running down its cheek.

It looked straight at Banks, gave out a bark that was more a shriek of anger and pain, and lunged forward, mouth open, thick pink tongue lolling on the left side, dripping bloody saliva. Banks stood still long enough to put three shots down its throat then rolled away, clearing Hynd’s view enough that the sarge was able to put two in its good eye.

The whole cavern, still ringing and echoing with the impact of the shooting, rang again, even louder as the beast gave out one final, piercing shriek, its back legs scrambling for hold on the ledge as its weight shifted.

The three men stood in a line and all put three more shots into the huge head, splattering what was left of the eyes in a spray of fluid and blood. The beast’s head went up, it overbalanced, and finally tumbled backward and into the water with a splash that sent ripples the length of the lake and shadows skittering and running across the walls and roof of the chamber.

Wiggins stepped forward to the edge and sent three more rounds into the beast as it started to sink.

“That’s for Cally, fucker.”

The whole chamber fell quiet as the echoes faded and the ripples on the surface slowly stilled until the dead beast lay, just below the surface, in a once again flat, calm lake. The three men stood, weapons still aimed, looking down until they were sure the beast wasn’t going to make a final resurgent attack. The water was slowly tingeing red all around the body, and after a few minutes, it was obvious the creature was truly dead.

Banks took out his plugs. His ears rang, and they would for a while yet, but he wasn’t deaf, and heard Wiggins clearly enough.

“Fuck me, we’ve killed Nessie,” the private said. “That calls for a fag.”

Banks took two smokes when offered, lit one for himself, and took the other to where Seton sat, slumped at the base of the Pictish cross.

“Job’s done. It’s dead,” he said as he handed the smoke over and lit it for the older man when Seton put it to his bloodied lips. “How are you doing, wee man?”

“Bruised, battered, and bewildered,” Seton said out of the corner of his mouth. “But I guess I’ll live a bit longer yet. It’s a damned shame we had to kill the beast though.”

“It had to be done,” Banks replied, “after what went down back at the castle. And after those BBC men in the chopper, and Cally, and the wee lassie and the other missing woman and those campers from Foyers and that poor bloody polar bear in Kincraig and… ”

Seton put up a hand to stop him.

“I understand. I really do. But it was unique, a legend, a one of a kind thing we’ll never see the likes of again.”

“Don’t be too sure of that, wee man,” Wiggins shouted from along the ledge. “We’ve got incoming, Cap.”

They came from the far end of the loch, swimming fast and each leaving a v-shaped wake behind it. There were six of them, smaller than the one they’d just killed, but Banks gauged that each was at least 15 feet nose to tail, and they all showed the same distinctive three humps in the water. They formed a rough arrow-wedge as they swam, pointed directly at the ledge where the squad stood.

“Juveniles,” Seton said, with a degree of awe noticeable in his voice.

Banks saved asking how that was possible for later.

“We’re too exposed here to hold off an attack. Back to the stairwell, lads. We can control the terms of engagement from there. Seton, get behind us and up the steps a ways.”

The smaller beasts reached their dead kin just as Banks began to back away from the ledge. They swam around the corpse, as if confused, then, as if a silent command had gone through them, raised their heads as one and stared straight at him. He saw the same look in their eyes he’d seen in the big one minutes earlier; anger more than fear, and more than a little hunger.

At his back, Seton shouted out the old Gaelic command.

“Dhumna Ort! Dhumna Ort!”

The beasts ignored him and leapt forward and upward, throwing themselves out of the water and scrambling up the sheer rock face. Banks put three bullets in the left eye of the closest one, sending it back down to splash on top of its mother, then had to retreat fast, herding Seton ahead to where Hynd and Wiggins were covering them in the doorway of the stairwell.

“Get up those fucking steps when you’re told, auld man. These buggers aren’t listening to you. I don’t think the kids have had any schooling.”

He got Seton into the doorway and turned, just in time to see the beasts clamber over the ledge and come at them. He shoved his earplugs in deep again and raised his weapon as the beasts barked excitedly in unison.