He should tell her anyway, Aaron thought. The woman is in shock. He promised himself that he’d go directly to Moni after he captured some photos of the monstrosity in the lagoon and showed them to the authorities. Until then, he could only drop on his knees and pray that she keeps out of the fray.
“I think you know by now that Mariella isn’t safe yet. None of us are,” Aaron said. “Jailing the Lagoon Watcher hasn’t ended this. So whatever you do, keep a close eye on Mariella. Make sure she doesn’t act, you know, strange.” As if she had ever acted normal, he thought. “And don’t go near the lagoon. The stuff in there is nastier than we thought.”
“That’s good advice. You should follow it too… Please.”
Aaron glanced at the full body wetsuit in his back seat and then replied, “You got it.”
“Good,” she said with a sigh. “I’m sure we’ll have a lot to talk about later. See ya.”
She hung up before he got out a goodbye.
Around the time they crossed the Sebastian Inlet marking the ocean’s final lifeline into the lagoon, Aaron wished he had followed Moni’s advice. He had expected the smell, even though it reeked worse than ever, but something about the channel of water made him feel as if a spider had crawled up his neck. He didn’t see any fish splashing, and the only birds that approached the lagoon flew like drunks. Not only were they the only craft on the water, no one who lived along the lagoon dared venture into their backyards or leave their windows open. Some of the houses looked abandoned. In some cases, the backyards had been ransacked, with the fences, piers and anything with iron or fuel stripped away.
His fluttering stomach pleaded with him to turn the boat around. The little baddies in the lagoon had killed cops and firefighters; a surfing student wouldn’t stand much of a chance. Of course, none of them had known the source of what they were up against-not that Aaron had any idea how he could take advantage of that knowledge.
But who would step up if he chickened out? Aaron didn’t know another jabroni stupid enough to dive into the heart of the toxic lagoon, and photo the tiny terrors in their nest.
As Aaron adjusted the hood on his wetsuit, Professor Swartzman undid a button on the collar of his polo shirt to air out his hairy chest on this already-steamy morning. The professor had swimming trunks on, just in case, and they had a spare wetsuit in the skiff’s trunk, but Aaron knew that he wouldn’t jump into the water if he could help it. Seeing those bizarre life forms in the rat last night had left Swartzman speechless. The way he freaked out when they left their dead host, Aaron figured his professor wouldn’t even let his toes got wet.
Aaron didn’t have an opt-out card, but he was cool with it. Since he started at the institute, Swartzman had always invited other students on his missions-sometimes going back to them twice-before getting around to Aaron. He never got the prime slots for dolphin study, or the week-long jaunts in the Caribbean. That’s why he got stuck on sea turtle duty. This time, the professor invited Aaron, and didn’t bother with anyone else. It could have been that Swartzman finally had confidence in his totally awesome scientific skills but Aaron didn’t get caught up in that delusion. Even if the professor had invited the other students, only Aaron had the balls to jump into the lagoon with the invaders.
If I pull this off, I won’t be a last resort any more. I’ll be a first-teamer. When my dad asks me why he’s paying my tuition, I’ll show him my name on a published research paper and make him eat it.
“Make sure that your wetsuit covers your entire body. I mean 100 percent,” Professor Swartzman said as he studied the water rushing by the skiff while they pressed on northward. Instead of its usual soupy dark green, the lagoon had grown yellowish and what resembled a yellow fog swirled through the water. “You don’t want those unclassified organisms getting in there.”
He didn’t use the word “unclassified” very often. The man had a biology encyclopedia lodged in his brain, but no one had a better name for those things besides the Lagoon Watcher’s “cyborgs” comparison.
When he strapped his wetsuit hood tightly against his scuba mask, Aaron figured that the body invaders wouldn’t get him. He worried more about their big, toothy friends.
“I’ll be as dry as a nun’s cooter in this suit,” Aaron said. “And if anybody tries unwrapping me, I got something for them.” He patted his speargun. Aaron had fooled around with it on his own and nabbed a catfish, but Swartzman hadn’t let him officially take one on the water until now.
“If you need any backup, I’ve got this.” Swartzman pointed to the rifle strapped to the side of the skiff. Aaron doubted his professor had actually fired one of those before. If he did, the kickback might throw his putty-strength body overboard.
“You sure you can handle that bad boy?”
“Well…” The professor pushed his sunglasses further up his nose. “I didn’t think you could handle these missions at first. The dean initially forced me to take you along so you wouldn’t flunk. And go figure, you’re the most valuable student we have when it comes to the most important investigation in the institute’s history. If a lollygagger like you can pick up this job so quickly, an old man losing his sea legs can fire a gun when he has to.”
The smile stuck on Aaron’s face until they passed beneath the Eau Gallie Causeway. A few minutes later, the professor cut the motor and the skiff drifted to a stop. The time had come.
Aaron made sure his scuba mask was air tight, and then slipped on his flippers. He tethered the speargun, and the underwater camera to his belt. Then he took few deep breaths of the concentrated oxygen in his tank.
Having finished his mental checklist, and passed the professor’s inspection, Aaron sat on the edge of the skiff with his flippers dangling just above the yellowish water. Before every other dive in his life, Aaron hadn’t hesitated for a second at that point. Back then, he couldn’t wait until he dove underwater, and soared through the blue overtop gardens of coral or sea grass. This time, Aaron choked. The blood vessels in his head swelled and pulsated. He had a feeling that something lived down there that he wasn’t meant to see.
He had no idea what the Lagoon Watcher had meant by a “colony” in the depths of the channel. Trainer hadn’t explained how he had found it, or whether he had gone down there himself or simply lowered a camera. Aaron would have preferred the latter option, but the professor said it wouldn’t work. The last time a research mission tried that in an infected section of the lagoon, the rope came up sans camera.
That story didn’t make Aaron feel any better about his chances.
“Are you feeling okay?” Swartzman asked.
“I’m fine,” replied Aaron, who noted that he didn’t ask him whether he still wanted to go through with this. Despite his nerves, Aaron was glad he didn’t ask. Moni needs this. She won’t be safe, and Mariella won’t be cured until he flushes the cyborgs back to wherever the hell they came from.
“Keep a sharp eye out up here, prof,” Aaron said. “I’ll be back in a jiff.”
He popped his mouthpiece in, and dropped into the lagoon. Immediately, he found that the changes on the surface were nothing compared to what had occurred below. Instead of sea grass, and a sandy bottom, he found the underside of the lagoon lined with what resembled blurry, yellow stained glass. When he brushed his gloved hand against it, it didn’t give. He smacked it harder. The smooth surface didn’t vibrate. He noticed the sand shifting beneath the glass. He wished he could sample that dirt. If he could, Aaron would bet his left nut that it contained a ton of sulfur and iron.
Aaron snapped a few photos of the strange lagoon bed. He knew that wasn’t the main attraction, though. For that, he skimmed along a foot off the bottom until he came to a slope where the lagoon floor descended from a depth of seven feet down to twelve feet. Without following the slope down, Aaron couldn’t see far enough through the hazy yellow water to view the bottom of the channel.