Hungry Darkness: A Deep Sea Thriller (3 page)

Chapter Five

Emilio looked down at the moon shining over the water and inhaled deeply. Being out here, with the breeze caressing his face and the moon above him looking like a piece of magical low-hanging fruit, was almost enough to make him forget about the trouble at home.

Sarita, Emilio’s daughter, was almost three years old before she began to babble her first words. Their other three children, Carlitos, Eva, and Elias, were perfectly fine, but everyone kept telling them there was something wrong with Sarita, something they couldn’t spot while looking at her beautiful face and disarming smile. Finally, they’d taken her to see a doctor in Belize City. The man, who wore a lab coat so white it didn’t look like any color Emilio had ever seen before, told them Sarita needed to see a speech-language pathologist in order to overcome her delayed speech. Not talking as a baby was fine, but not talking as a toddler was seen as an impediment. That was only the beginning of what had turned into a nightmare.

Emilio had always been able to put food on the table, but with four kids and no health insurance, every time he had to visit a doctor and buy an antibiotic his finances took a hit that had him scrambling for months. Now that Sarita had to see her new doctor regularly for therapy, the first thing that had gone out the window was regular trips to the grocery store. Whatever they ate came from their garden, from a neighbor who traded them meat for fish, or straight from Emilio’s fishing line.

And there he was, sitting on a gently rocking boat above one of his favorite channels in the reef waiting for a big tarpon to swallow the crab at the end of his line.

While tarpon were usually fish only targeted by tourists because they put up a hell of a fight, Emilio was there simply for the meals he’d get out of his catch. An adult tarpon can measure 8 feet or longer and weigh anywhere between 200 and 300 pounds, and he could get a lot of filets from an average-sized fish—poach it, pick the meat off the fish’s huge bones, and use it to make fish cakes. Everyone in the house loved his fish cakes, and he could also box a few and use them to trade Reynaldo, his next-door neighbor, for a few eggs and some rabbit or chicken meat.

The water was calm and the current not too strong. Emilio knew the tarpon would be coming and going through that channel during the night, so it wouldn’t be too long before one spotted his bait. Then the fight would be on. Before, he usually tried to avoid fishing for tarpon because it was a lot of energy spent for a fish that wouldn’t bring in any money, but with every penny going to help his daughter, he was willing to jump in the water and beat any 200-pound beast to death with his bare hands if that’s what it took to put food on the table.

Emilio closed his eyes for a second and lifted his face to the breeze while throwing up a silent prayer to whatever gods flew around the top of the ocean at night. He was lowering his head again when something bumped against the underside of the boat. Emilio instinctively looked around before grabbing an oar from the boat’s floor and plunging it into the dark water to test the depth. The chance of his anchor coming lose and letting him drift into the shallow spot of the reef was slim but not impossible.

The wooden oar sank. The fisherman’s hand followed it into the warm, moving, impenetrable darkness. He hadn’t hit the reef. That meant something had struck the boat.

Emilio reached down again to grab his waterproof flashlight from between his legs. He felt something hit the boat again, this time with enough power to knock him forward. He fell to his knees, his hands forgetting the flashlight and flying forward to stop him from falling.

Suddenly, on all fours inside his boat with the star-sprinkled dark sky above him, a sea made of black ink underneath him, and something smacking his vessel around, Emilio wished he had a bigger boat. He wished he had stayed home that night instead of trying to turn his stress-induced insomnia into a few extra hours of fishing, and hopefully, a few meals. He wished he had someone else in the boat with him. But more than anything, he wished he was home and in his bed, his wife sleeping soundly next to him, and his four little angels snoring in the next room.

The third hit came while Emilio was trying to get up. He had moved back into a kneeling position and picked up the flashlight. He wanted to shine it around, try to see into the water around him instead of only being able to see blackness with occasional slivers of shaking moonlight. The blow rocked the boat again, but instead of the usual back-and-forth that usually followed, the boat developed and increasing list to starboard. Then Emilio spotted something hanging onto the side of the boat.

His hands started shaking, but Emilio was able to turn on the flashlight and aim it at starboard. In the round light, what looked like a giant pink snake with splotches of white and green was clinging to the side of the boat and apparently trying to flip it. Emilio panicked. He reached back and used his right foot to kick at the thing. It was much harder than he expected. He kicked again. The thing moved, half of it rising up and reaching toward him. That’s when Emilio saw the two rows of enormous suckers. He wasn’t looking at a weird snake, he was looking at a gigantic octopus’ arm.

His mind reeled. There was a fileting knife somewhere. No. No time to look for it.

The motor!

He could turn it on and beeline it straight to shore.

Something pulled on his left leg. Emilio went down hard, his right shoulder cracking against the wooden seat near the bow. He screamed, but the hit had taken a lot out of him, and what came out was more like a grunt than a scream.

The arm around his leg slithered up a few inches and then tightened. The bones snapped. The sound filled Emilio’s head for a second. Then the arm yanked his body and pulled his lower half out of the boat. Then it began pulling again, slower this time.

Emilio tried to grab on to the boat, but the thing pulling him under was too strong. A second arm slithered up his back, its suckers becoming attached to his skin. Emilio could feel them pulling off chunks of flesh in a few places. The huge arm reached Emilio’s arm and pulled it away from the boat with the same ease with which he pulled bait fish out of the ocean with a flick of his wrist. With half his body already underwater, the fisherman bent his right arm and used it as a hook by sticking it under the seat in the middle of the boat, praying the wood wouldn’t crack from the pressure after so many years of sun and saltwater. His right hand and forearm became the only things keeping him out of the warm water.

Emilio was screaming, but he was short on air. An arm that had come straight out of the water was wrapping itself around his head. It was going to cover his mouth.

The next pull was the last Emilio felt. His shoulder popped out of its socket and the flesh and muscle keeping it glued to his body tore with a loud crunch. Blood flew into the night air like drops of shadow. The arm slapped him in the face, curled around his head, and squeezed.

Emilio was dead before his severed arm hit the bottom of the boat with a thud no one was there to hear.

Chapter Six

Gabriel Robles could hear his phone buzzing. He kept expecting it to stop and then hear the beep that told him he had a message, but whoever was calling apparently really needed to get a hold of him because they just kept calling back every time it went to voice mail. Finally, irritated and with a full bladder that was demanding attention with the same insistence as the caller, he reached out, grabbed the buzzing apparatus, and swiped his finger across the screen without even checking the number.

“Yeah?” Gabe’s voice belonged to the zombie of a man who had died in the middle of a serious bout of laryngitis. He could feel something crusty nested on the right corner of his mouth. The sun coming through his window told him it was late morning, but with no clients scheduled until 2:00 p.m., there was no reason to be up before noon.

“Good morning, may I speak with Gabriel Robles?”

The woman at the other end of the line sounded jovial, fresh, not like someone who’s been hitting redial for ten minutes. Also, the fact that it was a woman who spoke with a very professional demeanor and not some frat guy wanting to go diving was unexpected and made Gabriel clear his throat and abandon a bit of the acidity he had planned to use in his delivery.

“Speaking.”

“Great! How are you today, Mr. Robles?”

“I’m…just getting up. Who is this, and how may I help you? If you want to schedule a fishing you can go to the website and—”

“No, sir, this is not about a fishing or diving tour. My name is Rebeca Gonzalez, and I work with the Belize Tourism Board. We’re calling you today because we’d like you to come to our offices as soon as you have a chance. We have a job proposition for you. Unfortunately, I’m not at liberty to discuss details over the phone,” said Rebeca.

“A job proposition?”

“Yes, Mr. Robles, our director, Mr. Surez, would like to meet with you as soon as possible. Our working relationship would be mutually beneficial and includes doing something directly related to our office. Unfortunately, as I mentioned a minute ago, that’s the extent of the information I’m allowed to give you over the phone. Would it be possible to schedule you for an appointment today or tomorrow? Time is of the essence.”

Rebeca spoke a mile a minute. Gabe’s sleep-addled brain was having a hard time keeping up, but he understood the basic idea of what was happening in relation to himself: he was broke, and these people were offering him a job. He pulled the phone away from his face and looked at the white numbers at the top of the screen. It was only 8:24 a.m. In his boat, he could be in the docks in front of King Street in about 35 minutes, and the walk from there to the Belize Tourism Board office was just two and a half blocks. Gabe had made the trip dozens of times to renew his licenses.

“Hmm, Rebeca?”

“Yes, Mr. Robles,” she sounded eager to write his name down somewhere and scribble a time next to it, so Gabe went for it, hoping to sound like someone who was willing to help a possible client and not like a desperate man in need of money, breakfast, and a trip to the bathroom.

“I don’t have to be at the dock until this afternoon, so if your boss has time to meet this morning, I can be there at…say 10:30 a.m.?”

“That would work, Mr. Robles. Do you know where we are located?”

“Yeah, I’ve been in there many times.”

“Great! If you decide to use a water taxi, we’ll gladly reimburse you if you bring a receipt with you.”

“Thanks, but I’m taking my own boat.”

“Perfect. I’ll be waiting for you in the lobby. Thank you for agreeing to meet with us on such short notice, Mr. Robles. We appreciate your time and consideration.” Rebeca’s voice was like a big smile in Gabe’s ear.  He wondered what she looked like. Knowing he would found out soon reminded him he needed a shave.

“My pleasure. I’ll see you guys at 10:30 a.m.”

“See you here, Mr. Robles. Have a wonderful morning.”

Rebeca hung up before Gabe could add anything else. His brain was now full of questions. They mixed in with the last remnants of the fog his unexpected wakeup call had caused. Then he remembered this was a government office, so if he got the gig, the pay would surely be decent.

Gabe felt the pressure in his bladder kick up another notch and reluctantly sat up the rest of the way and placed his feet on the cool tiles. The day had begun way before schedule, but the possibility of money at the end of the tunnel was enough to make him get up instead of giving in to temptation and burying his face in the pillow once again.

On the way to the bathroom, he replayed the conversation he’d just had in his head. Rebeca had said “Time is of the essence.” He tried to recall a time when he’d heard someone use that phrase outside of a movie. He kept at it while he urinated and then washed his mouth and face. He couldn’t come up with a single instance of someone using that phrase in casual conversation.

Chapter Seven

Gabe lived in a tiny 8-unit building called Macaw Apartments. For years he’d moved around, trying to find places that focused on serving the local population instead of the tourists that came to Caye Caulker to stay for a week or two. His one-bedroom apartment was less than a thousand dollars per month and came with cable, a decent bed, a sofa, fully functional kitchen, and a six-drawer wooden chest with four working drawers. Despite the less than stellar condition of the place and the fact that it was slightly over what he wanted to pay, Gabe had decided to live there because Asunción, the woman who owned the place, allowed him to use a huge utility closet to keep his diving and fishing gear at no extra cost. On top of that, the place was also relatively close to three different docks, so he always found a place to leave his boat that didn’t have him walking for half an hour to reach his place.

The sun was shining as Gabe made his way down the three blocks that separated him from the dock at the end of Estrella Street. He knew he had a full tank of gas, so getting to Belize City and back would be no problem, but that meant he would have to fill it up again before leaving for the reefs with his 2:30 p.m. group. The price of gas was getting ridiculous, so he hoped whatever was waiting for him at the Belize Tourism Board office quickly translated into a decent chunk of change.

***

By 10:02 a.m. Gabe was off the boat in Belize City and halfway up Dean Street. His stomach had also woken up and had growled a few times on the way over, but breakfast was something he could take care of once the real business was over. He knew a good place near the dock where an old lady with no teeth cooked some mean eggs.

At the end of the street, he turned left on Regent Street and made his way to a yellowish two-story building with old windows and a few water stains creeping their way down from the roof. They made the walls look like the faces of Goth ladies with their mascara running. The letters BTB were painted on the side of the building, along with a toucan perched on the second B. The whole thing was as tacky as anything else in Belize City. Gabe guessed tacky was something tourists enjoyed.

Gabe pushed the white doors of the building’s main entrance open and was surprised at the blast of cold air that hit him in the face and wrapped around his arms. Despite the building’s less than stellar exterior, the lobby was as nice as any other government building in town, and now that he was here about a job instead of giving them money so they would allow him to do his thing and help them make even more money, Gabe noticed that even the plants looked like someone was paying attention to them regularly.

A short woman with a headful of long brown curls, a button down white shirt, and a grey skirt that ended a few inches above her knees stepped forward and smiled at Gabe with a mouth full of shiny pearls framed by the fullest pair of lips he had seen in a very long time.

“Mr. Robles?” Her voice was even sweeter than it had been on the phone. Gabe returned the smile as he took his sunglasses off and stretched out his right hand.

“Good to meet you, Rebeca. Please call me Gabe.”

“Good to meet you, Gabe. Thanks again for coming down here so fast,” she said, the smile never wilting from her face.

“To be honest, I’m curious. I’ve been working with tourists for about a decade but I’ve never received an email or call from this office that didn’t have to do with renewing my tourist guide license.”

“Well, what we want to discuss with you today is something of a different nature, Gabe. Please follow me, Mr. Suarez is waiting for us in his office.”

Rebeca turned to the left and started walking toward a hallway with too-bright halogens hanging from the ceiling and beige carpet on the floor. Gabe admired the woman’s calves and the way the skirt hugged her curves. She had some meat on her bones, and that was the type of woman that always got Gabe in trouble. He realized he’d be happy to get into trouble with Rebeca. He wondered if she’d like to join him for a cup of coffee sometime. Or maybe a little trip to paradise on his boat.

They reached the last door on the left and Rebeca knocked and opened a second later without waiting for a reply. Gabe followed her in. Rebeca waited for him to step into the room and closed the door behind them.

Mr. Suarez was a tall man with a heavy midsection and broad shoulders. He had longish salt-and-pepper hair and a matching goatee that needed either a trim or the chance to become a full beard. He stood up from his chair and smiled at Gabe from behind a wooden desk littered with papers, photos, pens, and a desktop computer with a huge flat monitor that made Gabe think the man probably spent most of his time watching movies in the office instead of working.

“Mr. Robles, great to have you with us. Thanks for coming,” said Suarez while leaning a bit over the huge desk and offering his right hand.

Gabe took Suarez’s hand and shook it firmly while thanking the big man for the invitation. They went through the usual pleasantries. Then the man let go of Gabe’s hand and sat back down, signaling for Rebeca and Gabe to take a sit in the two matching chairs in front of his desk.

“The reason we asked you to come in today is because, the way we understand it, no one knows the water around Caye Caulker as well as you do, Mr. Robles. Is this correct?”

This was the first important thing to come out of Suarez’s mouth and Gabe was already feeling like he was in a job interview.

“I don’t know if no one else knows the waters around our little chunk of land better than me, sir, but I was born and raised in Caye Caulker, and I’ve spent most of my time diving and fishing in those waters, so I’d say my knowledge of them is…above average.” Gabe smiled at the man, hoping his little act would convince him he was both knowledgeable and humble: the perfect man for whatever job the big man had in mind.

Suarez returned Gabe’s smile with the right side of his mouth. “Very well, Mr. Robles. If that’s the case, then I guess you’re familiar with everything that swims in those waters.”

“Yes, sir. I am.”

“Are you also familiar with Giant Cave?”

“I think everyone working or living in or around the waters of Caye Caulker is familiar with Tarpon View and Giant Cave, Mr. Suarez.”

“Well, Mr. Robles, the reason you’re here today has something to do with Giant Cave.”

Suarez stopped talking and looked at Gabe, who looked back at him and didn’t know what to say. The man had not asked a question, so there was no reason for him to add anything. Instead of talking, he nodded. It was enough to get Suarez to go on.

“I’m going to show you something,” said Suarez while leaning forward and turning his computer screen so Gabe could see it, “but first you’re going to have to sign a confidentiality agreement. This doesn’t mean that you’re accepting the job, Mr. Robles, just that you’re aware that what we discuss in this office is between the three of us and no one else, and if you speak of it to anyone, you risk going to jail for it. Right now, think of this conversation as one that’s happening between you and the upper ranks of the Belize government, not just between you and me. Is that clear?”

The big man behind the desk had quickly gone from a friendly smile and simple questions to threatening Gabe with hard time and trying to intimidate him with talk about the government. This was either something big, or these people had no idea how to treat a potential employee. Gabe had no problem keeping his mouth shut, and the only thing he was really concerned about was of the job he was going to be offered paid enough to match al the hush-hush surrounding it. 

“My business is taking tourists on diving and fishing trips, Mr. Suarez,” replied Gabe. “Anything else is not really my business, so I will happily sign any confidentiality agreement you want me to and give you my word that this conversation will remain between us regardless of its outcome. If you know about me without talking to me, then that means you’ve talked to someone else about me. I hope that person also told you that I’m not one to be discussing anyone else’s business with anyone.”

Suarez seems pleased. The smile returned to his face, lifting once again only the right side of his mouth. The man looked down at his desk and moved some papers around before finding what he was looking for. He pulled a document from under a few others, placed it on top of everything else, and turned it around so that it faced Gabe. Then he placed his index finger next to a dotted line at the bottom of the document.

“I’m glad to hear that. Now please sign here and we can get down to business, Mr. Robles.”

Rebeca’s hand darted into Gabe’s field of vision. She was holding out a black pen. Gabe took it. Her nails were long and painted a strange shade of purple that Gabe had never seen on nails before. The pen was heavy and obviously expensive. He thanked her and signed on the line. When he looked up, Suarez was busy looking for something on his computer monitor. Gabe could see it was entirely covered by icons.

“Ah, here it is,” he said, and turned to face Gabe again.

“I don’t know if you knew this, Mr. Robles, but an American named Nick Ayres recently received a grant from the National Geographic to explore Giant Cave. Ayres wanted to be the first one to explore the entire cave system, and he wanted to have a film crew with him while it happened. More than a scientist, Ayres was the kind of ego-driven explorer who cares more about seeing his name in big letters than about helping science reach new frontiers. Were you in any way familiar with Ayres’ efforts?”

“No, sir,” replied Gabe.

“Well, this man somehow got that grant, bought a boat, recruited a crew, and got the necessary permits to dive into Giant Cave. Unfortunately, it was the last thing he did. Last Friday the Coast Guard received a call from Ayres’ captain. Apparently the divers had been deep in Giant Cave when there was some commotion, and communication was lost. The captain decided to give them a few minutes. Those minutes ended up turning into a few hours. When it was clear the divers would not be returning because they had surely run out of oxygen, the captain made the call. The Coast Guard interviewed everyone involved and sent in a rescue team of three divers to see if they could find the bodies. Instead of the divers, the rescue team found some busted equipment and…hold on…” Suarez again looked down and rummaged through the papers covering his desk.

“Here it is,” he said, picking up what looked like an official report with the Belize Coast Guard Service logo at the top. “They found a broken mask, a knife, two cameras, one of them broken, and a pair of scuba tanks that had been crushed by something. No sign of the divers. The Coast Guard retrieved the footage from the working camera. That’s what you’re about to see, and it’s the thing you can’t talk to anyone else about.”

Gabe could think of nothing to say, so he remained quiet and nodded at Suarez the same way he’d done before. He was beginning to feel like a bobble head.

Suarez turned the monitor toward Gabe another inch or so, grabbed his mouse, and clicked twice on a QuickTime file.

The large screen was filled with a close up of a greenish rock. There was no sound. It was obvious the images had been shot underwater. The yellowish light and floating debris which seemed to be floating there instead of moving with a current, immediately told Gabe he was looking at the inside of the cave. The cameraman was taking his time panning down the rock. Then the shot moved as if the man had sneezed or been surprised by something. The shaking quickly stopped, and the shot became smooth again. The camera moved away from the rock, unhurriedly panning left. Then a huge tentacle flew at the screen and made Gabe jump back. The camera jerked away abruptly and plunged into darkness.

“What was that?”

“We don’t know, Mr. Robles. That’s part of why…”

“Could…could you play it again?” Gabe wasn’t a fan of interrupting people, but he had to take another look at what he had just seen. If this wasn’t some really twisted joke, then whatever had knocked that camera away from that diver was a monster plucked straight from a horror movie.

Suarez clicked on the tiny arrow at the bottom of the screen. The short scene played again in front of Gabe’s eyes.

“Is there a way to slow it down?”

“Sure thing,” replied Suarez. He clicked play again and then hit something on the keyboard the second the camera jumped a little. Gabe watched the clip again, this time in slow motion. The thing flying toward the lens resembled an octopus’ arm, but it was way too big. The meat around the suction cups was the same dirty green as everything else in the cave, but the suction cups themselves were white and stood out very clearly in the camera’s light. Gabe had nothing to compare it to, so he had no idea of its real size, but in slow motion it was clear that it was huge because as it moved closer, the entire lens was easily covered by a single suction cup which Gabe guessed was about the size of a large plate.

“As you can see, Mr. Robles, what we have on our hands is a very…peculiar problem.”

Gabe peeled his eyes away from the screen and saw Suarez was stretching a meaty paw his way. In his thick fingers was a piece of paper obviously ripped from a newspaper. Gabe took it and read.

The short piece stated a fisherman from Belize City named Emilio Carrasco had gone missing, his boat found drifting between Caye Caulker and Caye Chapel. And fisherman gone missing was not huge news because the waters could get rough sometimes, and a man in his late forties out in the ocean by himself at night was not a worthy contender for the plethora of events that could happen. Gabe looked up and Suarez as he handed the paper back.