She went over the side and found herself next to Drake. “Well, we’re here, and at least we’re alive,” he said glumly.
Emma’s head spun left and right. “We’ve got to get out of the water.”
“We will.” He trod water beside her. “But we need our equipment.”
“No, you don’t understand.” She grabbed at him. “Something… ” She coughed out some water. “… lives in here.”
Drake stared for a second or two before he got it. “Jesus Christ; everyone goddamn swim!”
He yelled as he watched the balloon start to sink. “Hurry, get away from the bag when it starts to go down. It’ll snag you and take you with it.”
Drake trod water for a moment as he watched his men set off, pushing packs before them, or stroking one-armed. Andy and Helen were already swimming away strongly. But Camilla was struggling and looked like she barely knew how to keep afloat let alone swim.
Emma headed for her, but Drake headed her off. “I’ll get Camilla, you get to the shore. You’re bleeding. Go.”
She felt her lip, and the sting of the cut there — blood in the water — bad news. She started to swim, now feeling vulnerable in the open lake. The sun shone down strongly, but below her, there was nothing but a deep, dark blackness. Added to that, it was brackish and warm—blood warmth, she thought morbidly.
They were strung out in the water, separated now by a good 100 feet. Some of the soldiers were close to the bank, and in fact, it looked like Brocke had already clambered up and dropped off his package.
She was mid-way. Behind her, the balloon was just a colored lump at water level, already being dragged down by the basket. Debris littered the surface.
Well back, she saw that Drake now had Camilla on his back. The woman had her arms around his neck and the big man breaststroked with her along for the ride.
“Dammit.” Emma hovered in the water. Even further back, Juan splashed, only just staying above the surface. He held his bandaged arm up, as though trying to keep the already-soaked bandages dry. But even from where she floated, she could see that the gauze was leaking red.
“Just damn swim.” She grimaced, and then turned about, indecision wracking her. She was about to try and swim over to get him, when she heard splashing behind her. Emma spun, eyes wide.
Brocke grinned and motioned with his head. “Head in, Emma, I got this.” He winked. “Used to be the state swim champ.”
She felt relieved, and before she could even thank him, the young soldier put his head down and powered on.
“Keep moving!” Drake yelled to her, spitting water as he tried to keep himself and Camilla afloat.
Emma nodded and was about to turn back, when she spotted the large, dark lump on the surface. She felt a shock run right through her body.
She prayed it was something that came down with them and had floated away but knew that was a lie. She froze, and all she could do was watch.
The thing was big, and she had no idea what was still below the surface, but the one thing she was sure of was that thing didn’t come from their balloon and sure as hell wasn’t there when they came down.
Emma continued to stare, and her chin began to tremble even though the water was like a warm bath. Then, to her horror, the small island began to sink, ever so slowly, and just as the lump vanished, it was immediately replaced by the familiar V-shaped water pattern of something moving just beneath the surface. And its destination was clear — straight at Juan.
“He-eeey!”
She forced her body to unlock, and then launched herself high in the water, waving madly to Juan and to Brocke. Everyone else was on the bank now and could only watch. Drake caught up to her and turned.
“It’s going for them,” she spluttered.
Drake pushed the woman off his shoulders and Camilla immediately latched onto Emma. The soldier then dragged his M4 rifle off his back and hung in the water, arms up and the gun pointed.
“Goddamnit, no shot.” He turned to Emma. “Get to the bank, we can’t do shit here.” Then he spun to his remaining men on the water’s edge, yelling so loud it echoed across the lake.
“Give Brocke some cover. We got company.”
It both heard and felt the impact through the water. It sensed the thing that struck was large, so for the first few seconds, it slid below the surface to hide.
The freshwater mosasaur was a smaller variety to its giant sea-going cousins, but was still nearly 40 feet long, squat, and powerful. It had four paddle-like flippers that were the last vestiges of limbs, plus a scythe-like tail akin to that of a dolphin. It was a powerful water hunter, and an expert ambush predator.
It knew that the thing that landed would be either a threat or food. And as no attack came, it decided it might be prey instead of predator.
Then it began to feel the thrashing of smaller creatures on the surface, and gently rose up to investigate. Though the huge lake had many varieties of fish, it supplemented its diet by also taking the land-based animals that wandered too close to the water.
It saw the thrashing bodies, strung out in a long line, leaving a large mass behind. Its long tail thrashed and propelled it forward, with just the top of its head showing. As it approached, it moved into attack-ambush mode and dropped down another foot, so the only telltale sign was a V-shaped wave on the surface as it closed in.
When it was within 50 feet of the creatures, it then smelled the blood in the water — rich, salty, and nutritious. The things were edible. It selected its target and began to accelerate.
Brocke reached Juan and pulled the man close. “Gotcha, big guy. Gotta get outta here now.”
Juan held up his torn hand and arm, still spluttering. “Can’t swim, can’t.”
Brocke grabbed him and immediately saw the idiot had one of his huge cameras still hanging around his neck. He grabbed it and ripped it up and over his head, tossing it over his shoulder where it splashed and vanished.
“Hey.” Juan’s eyes widened.
“Shut up.” Brocke grabbed his shirt. “Listen, there’s something in the lake. You swim, and you don’t look back. Understand.”
“Something in the water?” Juan’s brow furrowed and his head snapped around. “Shit.”
Brocke pushed him at the shoreline. “Just swim.”
Juan threw one arm over, and then the other that resulted in a shortened deformed stroke from his wounded arm, but at least he was moving. Brocke hung back for a moment, letting his face sink to nose level and his eyes just on the surface. He looked along its top, scanning about. He couldn’t see anything. He knew that might not be a good thing.
He felt his testicles start to shrivel and knew there was nothing but deep, dark water underneath them.
“Fuck it, I’m outta here.” He started to swim as well.
He kept his head above the water as he stroked this time. He didn’t want to outpace Juan, but he also wanted to see and hear what was going on. Maybe, he hoped, the thing was spending its time investigating the balloon as it sank. Maybe, he hoped even harder, it got caught up in the rigging and was being dragged down to the bottom.
He looked ahead to Juan who was now only 10 feet in front of him. The man’s wounded arm was still bandaged, and the blood that had soaked it had now washed away… into the water.
Please, I hope whatever this thing is, it’s not like a shark who can smell the blood in the water, he prayed.