Primordial

Chapter 9

Aston emerged into a bright morning feeling a bit sorry for himself. He felt sorry for Dave too, the four of them had decimated the cameraman’s stash of beer the night before. It had been fun, but they’d all be paying for it now. He sipped hot coffee and nibbled on a bacon sandwich, willing the caffeine and grease to work quickly.

Slater called his name and he turned to see her striding across the deck, fresh as a spring flower, makeup impeccable. Dave and Carly trailed her and Aston was pleased to see they looked as bad as he felt. Misery was best when shared. What inhuman capacity Slater had was a secret he’d like to learn.

“Mister Aston, after the grisly discovery during yesterday’s dive, has your focus on this endeavor changed?”

He winced at her. “Really? We’re doing this now?”

“Best to keep everything as real-time as possible. Keeps the responses true and balanced.”

He shook his head. “I think the discovery only highlights how little we understand of what’s happening here. Science demands we gather data before jumping to any conclusions.”

“But what are your personal feelings?”

“The same as my scientist’s feelings. We’re going to start mapping the lake bed today, so let’s see what that throws up.” Without waiting for more, he took a huge mouthful of sandwich and grinned at her with bulging cheeks.

Slater couldn’t help her own smile spreading. “You’re incorrigible. Let’s go then.”

The bridge had a large table behind the drive controls and Holloway and Laine spread a detailed topographical map across it. While the land around the lake was marked in accurate gradients, the water itself was a blank space.

Holloway used a Sharpie to mark an X on the shore. “This is Sweeney’s camp.” He marked a circle a bit further south. “This is the wallow. And this is more or less where you found all that’s left of Sweeney.” As he tapped the pen to make a dot a few yards into the lake, Gazsi grunted.

They looked up, Aston flicking a questioning eyebrow. The first mate looked around the group before shaking his head and turning back to the wheel.

“You talk to Olli?” Aston asked Slater.

“Yeah. He said not to worry about it. Gazsi will do as he’s told, and Makkonen told him to shut up and drive the boat.”

Holloway used a clear plastic rule to mark out a grid across a large section of the lake. “We’ll start traversing here,” he said. “As we map the lake bed and take sonar, we can try to get an idea of maybe where something large might move.”

Makkonen, looking over Holloway’s shoulder, pointed. “Start here?”

“Yes, please.”

The captain went to stand beside Gazsi and the boat’s engines gunned. As they tracked back and forth it quickly became apparent that several parts of the lake, even this close to shore, were far deeper than they had anticipated.

Aston sat watching the sonar screen, occasionally pulling paper readouts off a printer and examining them. “This is weird,” he muttered.

Dave’s lens swung into view and Slater said, “What have you found?”

Aston blinked slowly, took a breath. Thankfully the coffee and bacon had started to do their job, but he still didn’t feel great. And even without a hangover, this incessant camera intrusion was never going to be okay.

He lifted a section of printout for the camera to see. “These are indicating several deep channels even among the already deeper water. And some of these pings are echoing as if there are caves or passages running surprisingly deep very near to the shoreline.”

“And what does that mean?” Slater asked.

“It means,” Laine interrupted, “that there are plenty of places for a creature or creatures to hide. Big creatures.” He looked to Aston. “Yes?”

Aston nodded, but was busy watching Gazsi. The first mate was distinctly uncomfortable at the news. As Aston opened his mouth to ask what was upsetting the man so much, Gazsi turned and stalked from the bridge.

With a frown, Aston turned back to the camera. “Regardless, one thing is made very plain by these readings. Finding anything in a lake this size, of such massive and varying depths, is going to be harder than looking for a needle in a haystack.”

Laine barked a laugh. “Nonsense! A needle in a haystack doesn’t leave a trail to be followed.”

“A trail of body parts?” Aston challenged.

“Faith, ladies and gentlemen!” Holloway said, loud and strong like a carnival barker or a tent church healer. “Faith and science combined, in fact. We will most certainly find something. I know it!”

But the day passed in a slow, excruciatingly dull pattern of motoring back and forth, scanning and recording data. Nothing interesting beyond strange geology interrupted the drudgery of the work. As the day wound down, despite the lack of progress, Holloway’s enthusiasm was undiminished.

“Tomorrow’s another day!” he announced pointlessly as the light began to fail late in the evening.

Aston wished he could have a glass of whatever the billionaire was drinking.

Gazsi crept along the deck while the ship slept. The lake lapped against the sides, gentle caresses in the moonlit night, but the serenity of his surroundings did nothing to settle his upset. He was no fool and he’d had enough. Makkonen paid him, but not sufficient for this. These bloody fools would all get themselves killed and he wanted no further part of it.

Gazsi knew well the legends of the lake and he had good reason to believe them. On two separate occasions he had seen things he couldn’t explain, movement in the water of something far bigger than fish. His uncle claimed to have seen the great monster up close, and that man had no reason to lie. Gazsi was happy, though always cautious, to work the lake, but to actively seek the creature? To disturb it and invoke its wrath? That way lay nothing but violent death, he was sure.

Gritting his teeth, working as carefully as possible, he slowly lowered the tin dinghy to the water below. He winced as it knocked against the boat a couple of times as he hung over the side and dropped into it. Not wanting to draw the attention of anyone on board, he ignored the small outboard motor in favor of the oars. Besides, no telling when that Slater woman would go on another of her late night strolls. Gaszi didn’t trust her, not one bit.

He headed almost directly for the shore, aiming to round one small cove for an easier landing. He only wanted dry land beneath his feet. He didn’t mind a long walk through the forest to get home if it meant he was away from these idiots and their mania. They had found a human foot, for god’s sake. What more proof did they need? Proof not only of the thing’s existence, but of their absolute helplessness in its presence.

The lake was still and silent but for the soft splash of his oars under a wide vault of sparkling stars, the gentlest of breezes cool. With his back to the shore as he rowed, Gazsi stared across the vast expanse of water, a black mirror in the night. A moment of swell made his heart hammer. What the hell was that? Something had moved, about a hundred yards from him, like a serpent it twisted a huge S in the still surface then vanished. A strange sound echoed out, drilling through the silence. A long, low whistle, unlike any bird Gazsi had heard. He was a born and bred lake resident, hadn’t even holidayed far away. He knew the land and the wildlife intimately. It was why he had no trouble believing the monster stories. They were not just tales to scare children.

The disturbance rose again, and a shallow hump arced across the surface, this time only fifty yards away. It couldn’t be. Gazsi racked his brain for a rational explanation. He knew that in a lake such as this, converging ripples, upon colliding, often gave the impression of a moving hump. But this was something different. It had to be fifty feet across or more, twisting with a serpentine grace that was mortifyingly hypnotic. As it coiled, it split the reflective surface of the lake into a rapidly expanding set of wavelets before it sank away again. Then that whistle once more, penetrating in the darkness.

“I just want to go home,” Gazsi whispered, again and again. It became a mantra, each utterance lending force to every pull on the oars. The cool breeze at his back froze the sweat that ran in rivulets down his neck. An invisible hand seemed to grip his throat. He kept on, rowing harder, careless now of any noise he might make. He wanted only to be on land.

He rounded a spit and headed for the shore, a touch more comfortable since he was out of sight of the Merenneito. They would find the dinghy again easily enough and there were a couple of inflatables on board to get them around to fetch it back. In his haste he jumped into the water a little too soon, gasping as he sank to his waist before his boots hit the bottom. No matter, cold and wet was nothing to be worried about. He hauled his way out and dragged the small boat up onto the mud, ensuring it was well clear of the water, and took a couple of steps toward the trees when the whistle sounded again.

“What the hell…?”

It was coming from somewhere nearby. What kind of creature made a sound like that? He racked his brain for birds, migratory species maybe, not regular residents. Had he ever heard this call before?

Movement ahead in the dark caught his attention and he squinted into the shadows as the low, lancing sound came again. He tried to pierce the inky gloom between the trees. Was that a person he saw there, the silhouette of a man, black against the deeper darkness? Surely not.

Don’t be an imbecile! he chided himself, embarrassed to be jumping at shadows like a child. He was off the boat, away from those crazy monster hunters, and he was off the water, safe on land. He started to draw a deep, settling breath when a soft splashing caught his attention.

His blood ran cold as the splashing increased and he heard water sluicing onto the mud of the lake shore behind him. A tiny voice buried deep in the recesses of his mind urged him to run, but his feet were frozen to the ground. A heavy slap, like a giant foot stomping into the wet silt, echoed back off the trees. Gaszi’s knees threatened to fold, his entire body vibrated with tremors, as another slap followed the first, then a sucking draw, as of something massive being dragged through the mud.

Gazsi was sure he saw the shape of a man slip back into the darkness between the trees as the slap drag sounded once more. Jaw subtly chattering, sobs threatening to burst from him, Gaszi slowly turned his gaze back to the water. He saw a wide expanse of shining gray and his scream died in a ragged gurgle as blackness descended over him and huge, glistening white teeth clamped down on his abdomen. He had a moment of rational thought, in which he struggled to comprehend what the moonlight had revealed to him, before razor sharp teeth severed his spine.