Sligger Island Page 7

  “That’ll help,” said Danny. “We can cook it in the fire. It’ll be just like having grilled frog legs. Let’s see if we can get some more.”

  The others agreed. The more food they could amass, the better. Patiently, they stood facing the quiet marsh. Soon another dark head appeared in the duckweed. Everybody threw their sticks at it, and the barrage was successful. Another hurt frog convulsed in the water as the group rushed in to collect it.

  They had three kills before the hunt was over. Once the frogs stopped showing themselves, the group decided to quit. They would take the meat they had gathered back to the fire and finally eat.

  A bustling was heard in the tall grass nearby.

  The crew zipped their heads toward the sound, their pulses racing. Fearing one of the sliggers was roaming, they froze. “Oh shit,” Mitch whispered, “that better not be…” He dared not finish his sentence.

  The grasses parted and a brown pelican emerged from its cover.

  “Hey,” Danny said softly, “that could make for good eating too.”

  “Hell yeah,” said Mitch, bringing his tree limb to his shoulder. “Lemme try.” The others stepped back and gave him room to throw. Mitch took aim and heaved his spear toward the bird. He missed, and the pelican hurriedly took flight to distance itself from its predators.

  “Dammit!” Mitch cursed. “Sorry, guys. My bad.”

  Mason had a hopeful thought. “Hang on, let’s see if it has a nest in there.” He led them to the tall grass and searched it. Sure enough, there was a nest made from some of the grass. And resting inside were three large, white eggs. “Bingo,” he said.

  “Sweet,” said Danny. “More protein.”

  “How are we gonna cook eggs?” asked Eaver.

  Mason smiled. “We’re not.” He then cracked one of the eggs open and poured the contents into his mouth.

  “Gross,” said Eaver, wrinkling her nose. “I’ll take some frog, thank you.”

  Danny decided he would be brave and join Mason in eating a raw egg. “Like I said, protein.” His throat fought him as he tried to swallow the orb of yolk, but he managed it down. “Oh god, that is gross.”

  Keeping their makeshift spears, the group brought their frogs and the last egg to the beach. They soaked the sticks in the ocean water to keep them from burning up. Then they pierced the skins of their catch and held them in the fire to be cooked.

  Once the skins were charred and crispy, the crew figured the frogs were ready for eating. They pulled their meals back from the flames and inspected the steaming amphibians. The food did not look appealing.

  “So, do we just…” began Mitch. He stopped his sentence when he saw Eaver peel some of the skin away with her fingernails to expose the meat underneath. “Okay then.” He followed her example and found a good place on his frog to take a bite. The group ate as much of the animals as they could, then tossed the remains into the fire pit.

  “I have to say that was pretty damn good,” said Eaver. “I was starving.”

  “Feel better now?” Mason asked, affectionately draping his arm around her.

  “I do. That’ll hold me over for a while.”

  Something moved in the distance, causing vegetation to rustle.

  Stiffening, the group turned their heads in that direction. “Shit,” Danny whispered. It’s a sligger, coming to kill us.

  A seagull waddled out from the brush and nonchalantly continued searching the ground for food.

  Relief washed over the crew. “Oh, sweet Jesus,” Mitch exhaled. “For a second there…”

  “Yep,” said Mason, “me too.”

  Mitch clenched his fists. “If only we had the guns. We could totally wipe ‘em out if we had one of the semi-autos.”

  Eaver tilted her head. “Would they still work after they were wet?”

  “Yeah,” said Mitch. “The cartridges are watertight.”

  “Why don’t we go try to find them?” she proposed.

  Mason frowned. “You mean swim out there and see if we can find them on the ocean floor?”

  “Why not?” she replied.

  Danny had a reason. “Because those sliggers could be swimming in the water out there.”

  “Could be,” said Eaver. “But they definitely are here on the island. And tonight they’ll come out looking for us. I’d much rather have a gun or two to defend us with.”

  The logic was sound. Despite their fear of what horror might be awaiting them in the deep, they all agreed the plan was not a bad one. The chance of finding weapons underwater was worth taking.

  They were going swimming.

  CHAPTER 14

  The water was fairly warm when the group waded in. Everybody had removed their shirts and left them at the beach to stay dry. Without the extra weight of wet cotton on their bodies, they would be able to swim a little easier. They still wore their shorts and shoes, however, and Eaver had kept her bra on.

  It was almost calming to feel the caress of the ocean water around them. But once they were far enough from shore where they could no longer touch the ground below, they felt dreadfully vulnerable. As if the ocean now had them completely in its grasp.

  “This is creepy,” Mitch remarked, looking into the murky water all around. “We can’t see a thing in this water.”

  “Nope,” said Eaver. She knew the currents were stirring enough sediment and organic grit in the ocean to make it cloudy. “This won’t be easy, but maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  They swam toward the spot where Danny’s boat had struck the shallow reef. It was about two hundred yards out, so the crew tried to pace their energy getting there. Some of them used the breaststroke to move, others used the backstroke. These strokes would make them slower, but would exhaust less of their strength than swimming freestyle.

  When the group arrived at the crest of the reef, they could feel its rough surface under their feet. They stood atop it for a while to rest, manipulating the water with their arms to stay in place.

  “Should we start here?” said Mason. “Maybe the currents washed everything against the reef here.”

  “Sure,” Eaver shrugged. “Gotta start somewhere.” She took a deep breath and rolled under, the tips of her feet splashing the surface before disappearing.

  “Alright, everyone fan out a bit,” said Mason. “And good luck.” He filled his lungs and pulled himself into the depths. Danny and Mitch did the same.

  Being underwater was eerie. Mason opened his eyes to test visibility, seeing nothing but cloudy green. The murk got darker quickly as he dove deeper. He used his hands to search the unknown before him. Following the rock outward, he felt nothing but coarse rock and sand. When his lungs ached for more air, he kicked to the surface for a new breath.

  The group spent half an hour diving the area, swimming blind, careful not to scrape against the jagged reef. By that point they were fairly convinced no guns had drifted there. Eaver looked at the others with humble eyes.

  “I guess the boat and guns are still out there a ways,” she said. After a pause, she added, “We’ve gotta go out farther, where the boat sank.”

  “Are you crazy?” said Danny. “The boat probably went another hundred yards after we hit, so Lord only knows how deep the water is where we sank.”

  “I don’t care,” Eaver replied. “We still have to try. Unless you all have a better idea.”

  They did not. Reluctantly, they swam farther out to sea. By the time they arrived at the place they guessed the boat went down, they were already tired. But the potential prize kept them motivated. At least for a bit longer.

  After a few dives, the group surrendered. The water was simply too deep for them to reach the bottom. Defeated, they began their arduous swim back to the island.

  By the time they were back on land, they were exhausted. They lumbered to their dry shirts and pulled them back on. Then they plopped down on the sand.

  An ocean breeze kicked up, pressing against the group on the beach. They sat lifeless, deflated. Their dire s
ituation had left them feeling isolated and helpless, and the lonely whisper of the gale sweeping in from the south only made it worse. Nobody spoke for a long time.

  Eaver found herself gazing at Mason, noticing his sunburned face was as red as his hair. She feared they would never make it off the island.

  “I’m worried about Cappy,” she finally said.

  Mason slowly turned his head to face her. “Are you shittin’ me?”

  “I mean it,” she confessed. “Poor ol’ Captain Purrbucket, all alone in the house, and only a little bit of food and water.”

  Mason stared incredulously. “In light of everything that’s going on here, and the seriousness of our own situation, you’re worried about the damn cat?”

  “Poor Cappy,” she moped.

  “Bless your heart,” Mason said sarcastically. “You’re a peach, Eave.” The rest of the group managed smiles listening to the couple’s exchange.

  “I’m not out of bounds, baby. Of course I’m still scared to death thinking about if the sliggers come back.”

  Mason squirmed uneasily. “More of a when, not if. Now that they know we’re here, they’ll definitely come for us again.”

  “What I want to know,” said Mitch, “is where the fuck did they come from?”

  “I’ll bet that underground Nazi submarine has something to do with it,” said Danny.

  “You think they genetically created the sliggers?” Eaver asked.

  “Maybe not specifically. But I’m sure they were doing something unnatural in that lab of theirs. Biological experiments, probably. And whatever waste they had was put in that big, plastic barrel.”

  Mitch was skeptical. “Those things couldn’t have grown in that barrel.”

  “No. But that barrel did bust open after the fire, or explosion, or whatever happened.”

  Mason suddenly grasped what Danny was thinking. “Right! And all that waste from the experiments leaked out into the ocean water. Then it would just be a matter of time before some sea life started eating it.”

  “Okay,” nodded Mitch. “I could see that happening.”

  “And then that sea life was affected by what they ate,” said Eaver, “and it changed ‘em. Maybe after so many generations… they mutated into sliggers?”

  Mason had an issue with that. “But that doesn’t explain how they have features and characteristics of different animals. Denise – y’all know, the marine biologist living in the Dermonts’ old house – tested tissue samples and they came back showing DNA from multiple known sea creatures. How could they have mutated into something that has the features of different animals?”

  Danny raised a finger. “What if the affected animals ate the other affected animals?”

  “Ah,” Mason said, arching his eyebrows. That theory made more sense. “And then, after generations of eating mutated animals, the DNA kept changing until something finally evolved to become the monsters we have now.”

  “I’ll buy it,” said Eaver. “Whatever was in that waste barrel was surely not natural. Lord only knows what the Nazis and the Japanese were cooking up in that sub to unleash on America.”

  “Nothing chemically toxic,” Mason remembered from Denise’s account of the test results. “At least nothing the labs were able to detect.”

  Danny shifted in his seat. “Maybe the Nazi scientists were messing around with hormones, or gene splicing, or something like that. Maybe they were going to try to introduce something new and horrible into our lakes and rivers, cripple our food chain. Who knows…” He yawned and stretched. “God, I’m tired.”

  Mason yawned too, an unavoidable reaction to seeing Danny do it. “We need naps,” he stated. “There’s no way we’ll stay alert if we don’t get some sleep.”

  “Take a nap, baby,” Eaver said. “We can take shifts; Mitch and I can keep watch while you and Danny sleep for a spell.”

  Danny loved the idea. He was already closing his eyelids. “Sounds good to me,” he grinned, lying back and covering his eyes with his arm. “Wake me in an hour and I’ll switch with you.”

  “Why don’t you go ahead and sleep a bit, Mitch,” said Mason. “I’ll take first watch with Eaver.” Mitch was agreeable to that, and he curled up on the sand to try to fall asleep.

  Mason and Eaver sat still, quietly watching their companions nap. The waves rolling ashore and the ocean breeze provided a gentle soundtrack. But the couple kept their ears open for any sounds made by possible attackers. After about an hour, Mason woke the napping pair and had them take watch while he and Eaver slept.

  Another hour passed. Danny and Mitch gently nudged their friends to wake them from their slumber. Mason was groggy. The short nap had done him some good, but he was still thoroughly exhausted.

  “Look,” said Mitch, pointing out to sea. “We’ve got a storm coming.”

  Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Eaver peered into the distance. There was a substantial storm approaching from the southwest. “That’ll cool things down,” she commented.

  Mason agreed. “Looks like it.” He saw a tall cluster of dark-gray clouds, almost black at the bottom. The group could tell by the wall of water joining the cloudbank to the ocean that heavy rain was coming their way.

  Danny was concerned. “If that rain hits us, we won’t be able to keep a fire lit.”

  “That’s true,” said Mason, “but it’ll be dark soon, so nobody would see our smoke in the sky anyway.”

  “I get that, but I’m more concerned about when those things come back out.” Speaking his fear out loud caused him to shudder. “We’ll be defenseless against them without fire.”

  “Wouldn’t matter if we had fire,” Eaver pointed out. “Didn’t do us any good when they attacked us last night.”

  “Right,” said Mason. “We weren’t safe even with the fire.” He looked to the woods. “Climbing up the trees was what saved us. They couldn’t get us up there.”

  “I don’t know if I can take another night squatting in a tree,” Eaver admitted. “I’m so tired, I’m afraid I’d fall asleep and drop right into their laps.”

  Mason thought for a moment. “Well, you have a point there. And I’m sure the trees are the first place they’d come to hunt for us, since that’s where they saw us last.”

  “So what, then?” asked Mitch. “Go hide up that hilltop there?”

  The others turned and studied the lone peak. The rocky sides were steep, but manageable. They could get up there easily enough.

  “Maybe…” Mason slurred, contemplating whether the creatures would look for them up there. “It’s possible being higher would keep us downwind so they couldn’t smell us. They might not find us there.”

  “I’m game,” said Eaver. “We’ll try a new spot.” She returned her glance to the oncoming storm and cringed. “But we’ll get soaked in that rain.”

  “We could try to get some branches or something for shelter,” Mitch suggested, facing the wooded area.

  Mason nodded. “Yeah. And maybe something we can make into more spears. Just in case.”

  The group ventured back into the woods. They searched for any attainable oak or cypress branches that had substantial growth on them. The denser the greenery, the better cover it would provide. Getting soaked in the rain would not kill them, but it would surely make them cold and miserable. Any cover they could find would make their night more agreeable. They also needed to break off a couple of straight, sharp branches to use as spears.

  It did not take long to gather the branches. The crew made sure to drink some more water from the marsh before dragging their branches out of the woods. They emerged from the trees, stopped on the beach, and took a moment to study the peak. The left side, facing the open sea, was the steepest. The best side for climbing would be the one overlooking the wooded flatland.

  “Okay,” said Mason. “Let’s do this.”

  The group rounded the peak until they were at the base of the southern face. The slope did not look bad from that angle. Mason started up the rocky
hillside, one hand dragging his rustling branch while the other hand held his makeshift spear. The others followed his steps. They climbed until they were as high on the rocks as they could go.

  Then they fashioned their branches to provide some semblance of shelter, looked out over the island below, and waited for dark.

  CHAPTER 15

  “Dammit, girl, where are you?” Sherrie cursed her phone, looking down at the lifeless screen.

  The frustration in her voice caught Cinch’s ear. The old cook popped his head around the corner. “You still tryin’ to call Miss Eaver?”

  Sherrie turned to meet eyes with him. “Yeah. And it’s still going straight to voicemail. I don’t like it, Cinch. Not one bit.”

  “Aw, she’s just bein’ young, havin’ time wit’ her man,” he offered.

  The concerned mother did not share his optimism. “No, something’s wrong.”

  “Dere has to be a good explanation,” he assured, unable to imagine any tragedy befalling Eaver.

  “Cinch, she should’ve returned my calls by now,” said Sherrie.

  “What if her phone is broken?”

  “Then at the very least she should’ve come over to check in.”

  The Creole chuckled. “You gave her de weekend off, and you still expect her to come to de restaurant?”

  Sherrie sighed; maybe he was right. “Well, when you put it like that, maybe I’m fussing over nothing.”

  “Dere you go.”

  “But this still isn’t like her, Cinch,” Sherrie protested. “She talks to me every day. She’s always been very close to her momma.”

  “Maybe too close,” the cook winked. “De kids are grown up now, and have dey own path to make.”

  Sherrie gasped, a hand flying to her chest. “I beg your pardon! A daughter always has time for her mother, especially if that mother is lil’ ol’ me.” She could only feign the shock for a moment before a giggle broke out from her lips.

  Cinch chuckled with her. “Come on, let’s finish cleaning so we can go home.”