Monsters In Our Wake Read online

  MONSTERS IN OUR WAKE

  J.H. Moncrieff

  Copyright 2017 by J.H. Moncrieff

  www.severedpress.com

  Dedication

  To Water Protectors everywhere

  Chapter One

  I hadn’t seen a person in over seventy years, and that’s the way I liked it. People were the nastiest sort of creatures: destructive, messy, irritating. Even though I avoided direct contact with them, evidence of their existence was always creeping into my home, and into the homes of my friends. Thankfully, I had a stronger hold on my temper than most, or they would have had to deal with me long before now.

  As much as I didn’t want to see people, it would have been much worse for them to see me. Let’s just say most of them wouldn’t have gotten over it for a long, long time. That’s if they survived, which wasn’t likely.

  We could tell a confrontation was coming. The first clumsy explorations of my home had made me laugh, but I was more concerned than I let on. However, I knew there was no point in panicking. What would be, would be.

  The shock waves had been the worst, or so we’d thought. I was awakened by a blast that shook my home to its foundations and made my ears bleed. To say it put me in a bad mood would be an understatement of seismic proportions. My wife had burst into the lair, screaming, but while I could see her mouth moving, I couldn’t hear a single word. Her ears were bleeding as well, and watching the dark fluid stream down her cheeks brought an awareness of what was happening to me.

  My wife hadn’t been the only one screaming. The blue whales shrieked in pain and fear, their navigational bearings disrupted by the aftershocks. They had no idea where they were, poor little things. My wife had put aside her own fear to rush above and comfort them. I stayed below, watching as the very walls shimmered in front of me, wondering what all this meant and what I was going to do about it. We’d had earthquakes before, of course, but nothing like this. This was manmade, and I knew it. I could smell it.

  Several years had passed since that wretched day, and I had let myself be lulled into complacency. However, if I am to be truly honest, I suppose I never fully left the horror of that moment behind me. I had known all along that something even more terrible was coming—that it was only a matter of time until my family would face a new threat to our way of life.

  I rarely rose to the surface. There was no good reason to, and in any case, I loathed the sun. It dried my skin and blinded me. Better to stay in the cold, dark depths where few dared to venture. The other creatures left me alone, and except for taking enough to sustain my family, I left them alone. It was a peaceful arrangement that had worked well for hundreds of years. I saw no reason to alter it.

  However, being absent was not the same as being unaware, although I had often wished it were. I was aware of most things that took place on the surface of my ocean, so when the humans began to bring their miserable ships into our territory, no one had to tell me. Their presence was obvious when they were still hundreds of miles away. Their dull minds, their clumsy, awkward movements, the racket they made—just the thought of humans was enough to make me shudder. Clearly, I had stayed below the surface for too long. Not only had the rumors of my kind died out decades before—now my very existence was in doubt. I had become a fictional boogeyman. Which was fine with me, but it was obvious that the humans’ ignorance couldn’t be allowed to continue. Sooner or later, they were going to discover what they were dealing with.

  We are not ignorant creatures. I knew why the humans were stumbling around my territory. I could smell it, you see—the oil that flowed beneath my floor. It had always been there, and as humans took over the world with the tenacity of a virus, I knew they would eventually use their bumbling, inefficient methods to sniff it out for themselves. But I forced this unwelcome thought out of my mind and concentrated on other things, pleasant things, pretending the possibility didn’t exist.

  I did suggest every millennium or so that we move, but the wife wouldn’t hear of it. This was our home, the home of our great and powerful ancestors, and the home of our child. In any case, the cursed fuel was everywhere. And with it came the humans. Any escape we achieved would be temporary at best.

  The day the first drill was lowered, I snapped it into several dozen pieces. I must admit I did it without thinking—destroying it required the minutest flexing of my jaws, and I smiled to think of how much I must have just cost them. Any joy I felt was fleeting, though, for I knew they would return. My wife frowned as the shattered pieces drifted down to litter our floor, and when she looked at me, I could see the worry in her eyes.

  “What are we going to do?” she asked, and I reassured her as best I could, but the truth was, I had no clue. While I could drift around, snapping drills into pieces all day long, eventually stronger measures would have to be taken. There were many more of them than there were of us, and if our great ancestors had been as wise as everyone claimed, they would have solved the problem long ago instead of occasionally snacking on a few sailors. Even if I tore their precious ship into slivers of metal and ripped each human being upon it apart, I’d only slow the process. Swarms of humans would come, armed with weapons of increasing destruction. And while I wasn’t afraid of their little guns and rockets, which were mere fireworks to us, I was concerned for my fellow sea creatures, who would be obliterated in the scuffle.

  I laughed at the humans’ dismay when they saw their nasty probe turned to scrap metal, and I resolved to do the same to every drill they plunged into my beloved home, be it one or ten or a thousand more. The humans had the gift of plentitude, but I had two things they did not.

  Wisdom and patience.

  Infinite, infinite patience.

  Chapter Two

  Flora Duchovney was hiding below deck when she heard the commotion. Of course, she’d never acknowledge she was hiding, just like she’d never confess she still had a problem working for the company. It was hard enough being the only woman on board without admitting to any sensitivity. Sensitivity wasn’t popular here; she’d figured that out right away. Along with showing concern for anything but profit, it was cause for immediate derision. Even though she’d theoretically been hired for her geological expertise, she’d learned early on that her opinion wasn’t welcome. It was best to keep her mouth shut and look the other way. It was a matter of survival, really. Perhaps when she returned to the mainland, she’d call some journalists and toss them a few tidbits. Nothing that would lead to her, of course, although she was certain the men would instantly know who had betrayed them.

  She’d wait until she cashed her check. Zach came first. He always did. The ocean may have been her first love, but Zach was her deepest.

  Flora had heard the men sound angry before, of course—the majority of them were always angry. It was a lousy job, and while it paid well, the knowledge that you were making ungrateful people rich was a tough pill to swallow. In that one small way, she understood them.

  This time, however, was different. The men were shouting at each other, and the language was enough to turn the air blue. What if something was wrong with the barge? She hadn’t felt anything out of the ordinary, but what if they were sinking? They were in the middle of the South Pacific, with nothing but cerulean water stretching in every direction. If they sank, she’d never see Zach again. The thought hastened her footsteps as she hurried up the stairs.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  The captain turned on her, his face a florid red that warned of hypertension. He’d be dead in a few years if he wasn’t careful, but the knowledge brought only temporary comfort. “I thought you said the path was clear. I thought you said there were no obstructions.” As he screamed at her, flecks of his spittle struck her face. She r
esisted the urge to wipe them away.

  “It was. It is,” she said, feeling at a loss. The men glared at her. She took an unsteady step toward the cabins. “What happened?”

  “What happened is you don’t know shit. There is an obstruction, and since you can’t tell your ass from the ocean, we’ve just lost millions. Not to mention several days’ time.”

  “I assure you, Captain—there was no obstruction. My surveying was accurate. The information I gave you was correct.” Flora could hear the waver in her voice, and she forced herself to straighten her shoulders and rise to her full height, which wasn’t much compared to the rest of the crew. She couldn’t weaken in front of these goons. No matter what happened, they must never suspect they’d gotten to her.

  “Then how do you explain this?” Apostolos thrust a piece of jagged metal at her—metal that dripped with seawater, enhancing the strong metallic smell. She had no idea what it was, but she retreated another step, proud she hadn’t flinched when he’d flung whatever it was at her face.

  “I—I wish I could. Can someone please tell me what’s going on?” She glanced around the group, but didn’t find a single ally. The eyes that glared at her were unanimously cold. Every face was sunburned and windburned a dusky red, and none were clean-shaven. Men discarded such niceties very quickly when they were miles away from civilization. She thought of Lord of the Flies and suppressed a shudder.

  Finally, a voice of reason chimed in. “That’s what’s left of our drill, Ms. Duchovney. We hit something.” His name was Tim—or maybe Todd? She couldn’t remember. It started with a T, in any case. He looked younger than the rest, and maybe that made him less of a Neanderthal. She could only hope.

  “I don’t understand. There was nothing to hit. This…this isn’t rocket science, gentlemen. We’re in the middle of the ocean. We’re too far away from shore for any reef, and the survey was clean. You saw the results.”

  Apostolos spat and threw the hunk of twisted metal at her feet, making her jump. A few of the men smirked, and she hated them for it. “This is the only result I care about, Ms. Duchovney. The rest of it ain’t worth shit, and as far as I’m concerned, that includes you.”

  The captain pushed past her, cursing under his breath, leaving her alone with the rest of the crew.

  “Did—did anyone feel it hit anything?” She groped for answers like a blind woman, hoping for a glimmer of something that would make sense. She’d studied the results carefully. There had been no obstruction—she was certain of that. There was nothing below them but clear blue water.

  And oil.

  Lots and lots of oil.

  “Nothing. Everything was going as planned, and then suddenly the drill shattered. You see what’s left of it,” Tim or Todd said. There couldn’t have been more than ten inches.

  “But that’s impossible. Steel doesn’t shatter. If you’d hit something, the drill would have stopped. You’d feel the obstruction,” Flora said, determined to plead her case even though she knew her words were falling on deaf ears. She couldn’t explain what had happened, but she was certain she wasn’t to blame. Nothing in the survey could account for this. Actually, nothing in her career could explain it. “Steel doesn’t shatter,” she repeated.

  “I know, but it did. That piece there? That’s all we could save of it. I guess the rest is at the bottom of the ocean,” Tim/Todd said with a shrug.

  “What about sonar? Did anyone check?”

  He flushed scarlet. “That would have been the smart thing to do. Unfortunately, we didn’t think of it. I know it was clear when we started drilling.”

  Muttering curses, most of the men headed below deck, no doubt to drink themselves silly.

  When they were gone, she retrieved the metal. It was cold and shockingly heavy. What could have destroyed it so thoroughly?

  The loss of the drill was a terrible setback. It would take time to construct a new drill string—too much time, and that was only if the necessary materials were on board. Flora knew from her training manual that crews were often prepared to replace segments of the string, but not everything at once. If they had to return to the mainland, more precious days would be wasted. It might be weeks before she was reunited with her son.

  She forced the thought out of her mind. She didn’t have the luxury of getting upset—at least, not now. Although she was at a loss just as great as anyone else on the ship, she was the best person to formulate the answers.

  As she turned the twisted chunk of metal over and over in her hands, she saw what looked like great gouges in the steel. Pulling the fragment closer, she ran her fingers along the deep grooves, cutting herself.

  Flora hurried to the side of the boat, sucking the blood from her finger as she studied the ocean. It was deceptively calm, like an endless mirror. She loved days like this, but even they were not to be trusted. The ocean could change in a matter of minutes, crushing small craft before it smoothed out again. An endless cycle of life and death.

  How could she tell these men the truth? She couldn’t. They wouldn’t believe her. Worse, they would laugh at her.

  Still, her knowledge of biology had given her the impossible answer. Impossible, but nonetheless real.

  Those were tooth marks on the metal. Tooth marks from a creature not yet identified by science. Nothing known could have snapped a solid piece of industrial steel into so many pieces.

  There was something out there. Something unknown. Something that could shatter metal with a single bite.

  “Where are you?” she whispered as her eyes scanned the ocean. Not a single ripple appeared to answer her, but she felt something had heard her just the same.

  Shivering, she rushed to join the men below decks.

  She could use a drink.

  Chapter Three

  The men groaned when they heard her step on the stair. Thor Anderssen couldn’t understand why they’d taken such a loathing to the scientist. Having a woman on board was a good thing, as far as he was concerned.

  “That’s all we need—a bloody fucking chaperone. Maybe she’ll scold us for being too loud.” Frank said the last two words in a squeaky falsetto, setting off a chorus of guffaws. Thor had noticed the sailor was in a particularly foul mood that day, but then again, they all were. Working on the barge was miserable hard work, and the destruction of the drill string would set them back by at least a week. Most of the men had families at home they were looking forward to seeing, and the delay had made them furious. Thor had no one waiting, which made it a little easier. The only person he could disappoint was himself.

  “Take it easy, guys. She’s not so bad,” he said.

  Flora cleared the last step as the words left Thor’s mouth. The smile on her face faltered, and he could see her eyes were watery. As shitty as the men were feeling, he knew she must be feeling worse.

  He pulled the last chair out from under George’s feet. The big man grumbled and swore, but Thor ignored him. George he could handle—he was more snarl than bite, but some of the others he wouldn’t mess with.

  As she picked her way through the group to take the seat he offered, she looked like a frightened deer with her huge dark eyes. Thor wanted to shake her, to tell her not to act so damned timid and scared all the time. He was sure it was difficult being the only woman on ship, but these guys were animals. Acting like prey was a good way to get yourself killed.

  “Would you like a beer?”

  He was surprised when she nodded. Every other time they’d knocked back a few, she’d barricaded herself in her cabin. The only private cabin on the ship—not even Apostolos had his own. It was another awesome decision on the part of the company, perfectly maximizing the resentment.

  Thor handed her one from his stash.

  “Thanks…Todd?”

  He grinned. I wish. “Thor,” he corrected, ignoring the laughter from around the table. He’d heard it before. As her eyes widened, he held out a hand in a futile attempt to hold off the inevitable. “I know, I know. I don’t lo
ok like a Thor.”

  Maybe the name had made more sense when he was a kid, when his hair had still been blond, but he’d been bald as a bat when he was born. Perhaps it had been wishful thinking on his parents’ part.

  “It’s not that,” she said. “It’s just—”

  “It’s my cross to bear, is what it is. It’s actually quite a common Scandinavian name, but then those damn movies had to come out, with that Australian guy.”

  “Hemsworth,” a guy named Liam said. He was a fellow geek, another engineer. Between them, they brought the musculature on board down by several levels. “His name is Chris Hemsworth.”

  “Whatever.” Thor snorted to convey his deep disgust at the thought of an Australian portraying one of the most kickass Nordic gods of all time. “It certainly ain’t Thor.”

  “So, we’ll be needing a new survey then, milady?” Apostolos shouted across the table, setting off another batch of groans.

  “Not necessarily,” Flora said, and Thor choked on his beer.

  “What the hell kind of shit are you talking, lady? Your fucking drill site has set us back a week, maybe more. You want we should try it again?” Frank glowered at her in a way that suggested if she’d been a man, she’d already have a black eye. Thor wondered if it was worth sticking his neck out to calm the man down. Frank could break him in half with one fist, but the old sailor seemed to respect him. Most of the time.

  “The site is fine.” Flora cleared her throat and looked around the table. “There is no obstruction. Nothing permanent, anyway. But we still might want to move on.”

  Thor jumped in before the others could ask the question in a less civilized manner. “I don’t understand. What do you mean, there isn’t an obstruction? What did we hit?”

  Flora sighed. “We didn’t hit anything. Something hit us.” She withdrew the metal from her pocket. Frank growled when he saw the remains of the drill string. No one would miss that her hands were trembling, but Thor was relieved she’d found her voice.