He laughed out loud. One thing was for sure: he gave thanks every day he was home, alive, safe, and in one piece.
Drake whooped loudly and pulled on the rope, forcing the main sail in tighter and lifting Nellie’s hull a fraction more to squeeze a few extra knots from the sleek boat.
His gut tingled from the thrill, but then the boat slowed so suddenly he lurched forward, nearly slipping to the deck.
“What the hell?”
The boat gradually continued on and there hadn’t been any loud or ominous sounds from below as if he’d hit some sort of submerged object like a log or crate or even sandbar. But he did feel like he had hit something. The only thing was, it felt more like he had hit a pillow.
Maybe it was weed, he thought, and looked over the side, and then saw half of a massive jellyfish go past.
“Je-zus,” he whispered. The thing must have been 10 feet across. He continued looking out the back and saw another half appear — his boat had cleaved the gigantic thing in two.
“A monster.”
Drake had heard there were large jellyfish in the freezing waters to the north that could grow to three feet across and weigh 100 pounds. But this thing would have been five times that.
“Weird.” He sailed on, spending another hour tacking back and forth before heading back into the sailing club.
He kept the Nellie in the small club boatshed most days, but today with the weather good, he’d leave it tied up on the water so he could get back out first thing tomorrow morning.
He quickly grabbed his gear, tidied up, flushed down the sails, ropes, and deck with fresh water, and then climbed out to stand on the sun-warmed wooden pier to tilt his face into the sunshine and just absorb its warmth.
Life was good right now, and he wondered how his best friend, Ben, was getting on. He hoped he and Emma had found their little piece of paradise as he had found his.
He had everything he wanted. Nah, almost everything; he lost Helen, and now and then he missed her terribly. He wished she were here now so he could tell her about the jellyfish. He sighed, feeling the sun warm his cheeks. Time moves on, he thought, and sometimes things, get left behind.
Drake finally opened his eyes and turned to the clubhouse that had a bar and restaurant, and then faced the long stretch of beach to the south. The sun was just starting to sink, making the tide line glow orange. A few sand pipers on long legs waited for waves to draw back so they could race down to peck at small crustaceans that became momentarily exposed, and then striding back up as another waved lapped in at them.
While he watched, a large wave came in and the few pipers went to turn to outrun it when a section of the wave lifted and threw itself forward, like a watery hand.
It completely covered one of the birds, slapping down on it, and Drake then saw that the watery hand was actually one edge of a huge jellyfish like he had seen out on the water. The thing had trapped one of the birds and was slowly pulling it back into the surf-line. Revoltingly, he could still see the bird through the jelly body as it vainly struggled.
Drake turned about, hoping to see someone else to point the weird occurrence out to, but no one was there.
“That is fucked up.” He quickly pulled out his phone to try and get a picture, but in the next few seconds, the massive jellyfish and the trapped bird were gone.
Weirdest thing, he thought. He’d ask someone about it at the club tonight.
CHAPTER 07
Andy stopped paddling and let the rustic boat glide forward as their estuary stream opened out to a larger body of water. At the narrow mouth, the water surged a little as if the pond was a tad higher, and to enter, Andy would have had to either paddle hard or get out and drag his boat up into the bigger body of water.
If he did have to get out, he’d do it on the bank rather than wade in the water. Mainly because a while back the water had lost its clarity, and where he was now it was tepid, brown, and like weak coffee. It wasn’t stagnant and the discoloration was more likely from the amount of rotting vegetation and tannins in the pond, and also the fact that it probably only got fully flushed out after a heavy rain.
None of this concerned him. But what did was he had seen the water lump at the far end when the body of something large came to the surface. It could have been a freshwater mosasaur, one of the many primitive crocodile species, or even a turtle the size of a small car.
If he tried to drag the boat from the water, the turtle he might be able to out run. But anything else and he’d be fish food.
Shit, he whispered.
“Gluck.”
Andy looked down at the small flying reptile.
“Somebody home?” Gluck had its head tilted to have one ruby red eye fixed on him.
He sighed and nodded. “Yeah, there is somebody home, and somebody that’s big.” Andy lent his forearms on the gunwale. “We can’t go in there. They’re home, and believe me, I’m betting they would love to meet us.”
He continued to watch for many more minutes before coming to a decision. He cursed again, knowing it was going to cost him time and ramp up the risk. He began to paddle in to the closest bank.
Andy nosed into the reeds, making something slither away and vanish into the murky depths, and then the boat grounded and held.
He set about dragging it up higher to beach it, and then climbed back in to gather his things together into a satchel he’d made from woven fibers like the primitive tribes in Papua New Guinea. He’d drawn on his knowledge of ancient tribal craft, and had also managed to self-learn how to make a form of animal hide rustic boots, trousers, and vest. He had gourds for fresh water, now empty, and lastly, into the bag went Gluck who immediately settled down.
He knelt in the boat and took one last look toward where he had seen the large shape. His eyes narrowed as he scanned along the water’s now-still surface. There was no breeze, and just the zumm of insects from the reed beds. The sun warmed the water and the bank, and he smelled the fresh silt, plants, and a dozen other odors. If he hadn’t seen the thing come to the surface briefly, he would never know it was there.
He knew that big crocs like the Deinosuchus or Mourasuchus lived around this area at this time and could potentially follow him out of the water. But they were big, up to 40 feet, weighed many tons, and would be slow. And as the jungle looked dense here, they’d give up quickly.
He grimaced. There was one thing that could follow and catch him, probably before he even went a dozen feet, and didn’t mind hunting in water.
“Please don’t be a Titanoboa.”
He continued to watch for a few more minutes, wishing his sister, Helen, was here to ask. She was the real expert on the giant snake’s behavior.
There was something else he wanted to ask her: why did the snakes only seem to inhabit the plateau top? In all the time he’d been here, he’d never seen one away from the tabletop mountain. What was it about that site that they preferred? A mystery for another day, he thought.
Andy turned back to the jungle. There were trees that might have been mighty banyan with massive roots interspaced with ferns, bracken, palms, and all manner of weird tongue-like plants. Fungi grew from the bark in shelf-like plates of orange, brown, or brick red. And everything glistened like it was damp.