Deeper (34 page)

Ward kept
looking at the tape.
 
Eventually he
turned it off and started lecturing his students about what they had just
seen.
 
The scary thing to me was that
they listened.
 
After everything that had
happened, after seeing those damned fish men up close and having a few of their
friends mauled or killed by the monsters Ward had introduced them to, they
still listened.
 
I used to wonder how
things like the Reverend Jim Jones wiping out a whole cult with poisoned Kool-Aid
could happen, but I looked at those kids while he was talking to them and I
stopped wondering.
 
I took the tape form
the recorder and headed to my room.

I didn't make
it fifteen feet before Ward was in my face.
 
"What are you doing?"
 
It wasn't really a request for information; it was more like a demand to
explain myself.

"I
figured I'd make you a copy of the tape."

That took the
wind out of his sails.
 
He was all ready
to start another fight with me — and I would have let him, because then I would
have had a reason for beating the little shit to death — and I went and said
something sensible.

He nodded
impatiently and then went back to his classroom.
 
I was good.
 
I didn't punch him in the back of his head.

I made four
copies of the tape.
 
I kept the original
for myself and an extra one, too.

The rest of
them I gave to Parsons.
 
He could decide
if Ward needed one, but I wasn't going to do a goddamned thing to help that
little bastard.

A little
before noon, the divers got all dressed in their gear and went into the
water.
 
I stayed behind and then changed
my mind.
 
I didn't go diving.
 
I went out to the reef proper and took a
walk.
 
I didn't go alone.
 
I brought a nice .45-caliber pistol with
me.
 
I made sure it was loaded.

You'd think
there'd be something, some sort of evidence that the creatures had crawled all
over the black stone reef, but there wasn't any
.
All
that proved anything ever happened there was a sort of negative vibe and that
might have just been my imagination.
 
The
rock was just rock, and the ocean was just the ocean.
 
It was a little weird to realize that there
were caves under my feet and, at the very least, there were people swimming
somewhere below me.
 
I wished I had a
nuclear bomb.
 
I would have happily shot
one down into the depths and watched everything around me vaporize if it meant
I could kill all of the monsters I'd watched doing their religious dance and
shuffle where I was standing right then.

I was merrily
envisioning the flesh and bones of the Deep Ones boiling away in a radioactive
firestorm when I heard the sound of the waves splashing around me change.

I turned and
looked and saw one of them climbing out of the water.
 
It was looking right at me, and I recognized
it by the healing slit on its throat.

Live and
learn:
 
I reached into my shirt pocket
and slipped on a pair of reflective sunglasses.
 
I didn't know if it could talk to me if I was unwilling, but I knew it
had to look into my eyes to do it.
 
Can't
see my eyes, can't start a dialogue, that's what I figured.

The thing stood
looking at me, water dripping from its scaly hide, and made low croaking noises
in its throat.
 
My hand slid over to the
pistol grip.
 
I looked down at its leg
and saw the small tracking device was still dangling from the scales at the
back of its calf.
 
Imagine my surprise.

Meanwhile, the
bulging eyes on the thing's face looked directly at my hand near the pistol in
my waistband, and it let out a warning hiss.

"What the
fuck do you want?"

It bobbed its
head a few times and dropped something on the shore.
 
Whatever it was, it flashed a brilliant
golden shade as it fell.
 
I thought hard
about pulling the pistol and firing into that sick thing's chest until it fell
over dead.
 
I ached to kill it.

And while I
was thinking about taking it out, it turned and took two steps before it dove
into the water again.

I waited a
minute or two before going to see what it had dropped on the shore.
 
It wasn't hard to find, not too much was gold
and shiny on that black rock.

When I looked
at Belle's dead body I only looked as far as her face.
 
I didn't bother with her fingers, so I didn't
notice that her wedding ring was gone.
 
That was what I found waiting for me, hand delivered by the fish man that
was supposed to be exchanged for her.

Just a simple
piece of gold with a very fine engraving of our initials and the date we got
married on the inside of it.
 
I could
still see the marks, but they'd been distorted.
 
I guess one of the fish men had decided they liked the look of her ring
and tried to wear it after they took it from her.
 
The metal was stretched thin in a few spots.

I held the
ring for several seconds, looking it over and feeling my rage grow hotter
again.

Maybe the
thing was teasing me; maybe it was trying to tell me something.
 
Maybe it was simply doing what it could to
honor its part of the bargain we'd struck.
 
I didn’t care.

All it did by
showing me what I'd missed was
make
me angrier than I
had been.
 
I went back over to the
Isabella
.
 
I had things to plan and prepare for.

*
         
*
         
*
         
*
         
*

I spent the
earlier part of the afternoon on the
Marianne
with Buddy.
 
The instructions for what I
wanted him to do were easy enough to follow, and he had no problem handling
them.
 
Then I had to get back to the
Isabella
in item to make lunch.

I went the
easy route and made hot dogs with all the fixings.

While I was
serving everything up, Charlie kept looking at my old crabbing boat and the
obvious physical changes that were taking place.
 
He shot me several questioning looks and I
ignored them.
 
If he wanted to know what
was going on, he'd have to ask me out loud and when there was no one else
around.

So he waited,
and when the situation looked right, he pulled me aside.
 
"What the hell is going on, Joe?"

"I'm
serving lunch."

"Don't
fuck with me.
 
What are you doing to the
Marianne
?"

"Getting her set up."

"For what?"
 
He was trying to be patient.

I looked at
him for a few moments and covered by taking a bite of a chili dog with extra
onions.
 
Here's the thing:
 
Charlie was one of my best friends in the
world, but just lately it hadn't really seemed that way.
 
He was too busy hanging with his new pal,
Martin, a lot of the time.
 
Charlie I
trusted.
 
Martin Ward I did not.
 
So the problem I had was trying to figure out
where his loyalties lay.
 
Does that sound
harsh?
 
Maybe, but considering he hadn’t
even expressed his condolences on Belle getting murdered, I had my doubts.

Finally, I
gave him an answer that was partially the truth.
 
"Not sure if you remember this part,
Charlie, but I had to bury my wife a couple of days ago."
 
Did he flinch?
 
Yeah, like I'd slapped him with a
jellyfish.
 
"So I figure if I'm
gonna be out here, I'm going to have a few defenses in place on my boat.
 
Things to stop those
fuckers from just climbing on board and doing whatever they want."

Charlie looked
back at me the same way I guess I'd been staring at him.
 
"You don't trust me anymore, Joe
?:

"Not that I don't trust you, just that I don't like all of
your new friends."

"What the
hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Do the
fucking math, Charlie."
 
I dropped
my lunch in the trash can.
 
Suddenly, I
wasn't all that hungry.

Charlie looked
away first, his face flushed red and his hands clenching into loose fists.
 
Was I worried about him hitting me?
 
No, I knew him better than that.

"He's a
good man, Joe."

"I'm sure
he is."
 
I shook my head.
 
"He still got Belle killed.
 
So we're not going to be friends."

"He
didn't get Belle killed."

"Really?
 
How do
you figure?
 
His pet fish got caught and
then my wife got taken so he'd let it go."

Charlie shook
his head and looked at me, his face made miserable with grief.
 
"No, Joe.
 
I was the one that caught the fish man,
remember?
 
It was me.
 
So it's my fault."

Charlie isn't
one to cry in public.
 
He never was.
 
When his parents died, he showed nothing but
the proper
New England
stoicism.
 
He didn't cry out loud and collapse at the
funeral.
 
Instead, he stood still and
thanked everyone for their concern and then he got a little sloppy at the wake,
but he never broke down in tears, not until most everyone else was gone.

So he didn't quite
start crying when he said those words, but he came very close.

Me?
 
I was too busy reeling from the comment.
 
It never occurred to me that he might feel
partially responsible for Belle's murder.

I looked
around at the group of exhausted divers who were eating dogs and drinking sodas
and then I pulled him away from the main group and into the hallway.

"Listen
to me, Charlie.
 
Are you listening?
 
Because I don't want to
discuss this with you again."
 
He nodded, still too hurt or ashamed to look me in the eyes for more
than a second.
 
"You might have
caught it, but Ward was the one that took it off this boat and locked it in a
lab for study.
 
You might have helped
keep it here, but he's the one who took it inland.
 
He's the one who started taking his blood
tests and his skin samples.
 
I said my
wife was missing and all he cared about was keeping his pet fish."

"I was
still there, Joe.
 
I should have done
something."

Now it was my
turn.
 
I wasn't completely innocent in
this myself and I knew it.
 
"I
should have never let you bring that goddamned thing on the
Isabella
.
 
I should have made you let it go.
 
I should have stopped Belle from coming here,
or sent her on her way.
 
There's plenty
of blame to go around, Charlie, but in the long run, it was Ward.
 
He's the one that's been trying to talk to
these fucking things.
 
He's the one who's
been hiding things since this started."

"What do
you mean he's been hiding things?"

"You can
check with Diana, but I'm betting he knew those Deep Ones of his were in this
area and still alive.
 
He's supposed to
be an anthropologist, but he has all sorts of doctors and labs waiting in the
wings, including his own people ready to rush genetic tests.
 
Tell me he didn't know what he was getting us
into."

He wanted to
say something.
 
I know he did.
 
He wanted to defend Ward, or maybe just put
more of the blame on himself or less on me, but it wasn't an easy thing for
him.
 
I'd made my points very
clearly.
 
So, instead, he tried to get
back to the original subject.

"What's
going on with the
Marianne
?"

"I'm not
taking any chances with those fuckers, Charlie.
 
I know Ward wants to have a meaningful dialogue with them but I don't
trust them to keep their word and I just plain don't trust them.
 
So I'll sit back and be prepared.
 
When the
Isabella
docks tonight, I'll be staying out here on the
Marianne
.

"Fine.
 
Then I'll
stay with you."

"Nothing doing."
 
I shook my head.
 
Did I like the
idea of Charlie with me?
 
Yes, because I
knew if there was ever a problem, he'd have my back.
 
But as far as I knew this was a one-way trip
I was taking later that night.

"Why not?"