Gritting his teeth, working as carefully as possible, he slowly lowered the tin dinghy to the water below. He winced as it knocked against the boat a couple of times as he hung over the side and dropped into it. Not wanting to draw the attention of anyone on board, he ignored the small outboard motor in favor of the oars. Besides, no telling when that Slater woman would go on another of her late night strolls. Gaszi didn’t trust her, not one bit.
He headed almost directly for the shore, aiming to round one small cove for an easier landing. He only wanted dry land beneath his feet. He didn’t mind a long walk through the forest to get home if it meant he was away from these idiots and their mania. They had found a human foot, for god’s sake. What more proof did they need? Proof not only of the thing’s existence, but of their absolute helplessness in its presence.
The lake was still and silent but for the soft splash of his oars under a wide vault of sparkling stars, the gentlest of breezes cool. With his back to the shore as he rowed, Gazsi stared across the vast expanse of water, a black mirror in the night. A moment of swell made his heart hammer. What the hell was that? Something had moved, about a hundred yards from him, like a serpent it twisted a huge S in the still surface then vanished. A strange sound echoed out, drilling through the silence. A long, low whistle, unlike any bird Gazsi had heard. He was a born and bred lake resident, hadn’t even holidayed far away. He knew the land and the wildlife intimately. It was why he had no trouble believing the monster stories. They were not just tales to scare children.
The disturbance rose again, and a shallow hump arced across the surface, this time only fifty yards away. It couldn’t be. Gazsi racked his brain for a rational explanation. He knew that in a lake such as this, converging ripples, upon colliding, often gave the impression of a moving hump. But this was something different. It had to be fifty feet across or more, twisting with a serpentine grace that was mortifyingly hypnotic. As it coiled, it split the reflective surface of the lake into a rapidly expanding set of wavelets before it sank away again. Then that whistle once more, penetrating in the darkness.
“I just want to go home,” Gazsi whispered, again and again. It became a mantra, each utterance lending force to every pull on the oars. The cool breeze at his back froze the sweat that ran in rivulets down his neck. An invisible hand seemed to grip his throat. He kept on, rowing harder, careless now of any noise he might make. He wanted only to be on land.
He rounded a spit and headed for the shore, a touch more comfortable since he was out of sight of the Merenneito. They would find the dinghy again easily enough and there were a couple of inflatables on board to get them around to fetch it back. In his haste he jumped into the water a little too soon, gasping as he sank to his waist before his boots hit the bottom. No matter, cold and wet was nothing to be worried about. He hauled his way out and dragged the small boat up onto the mud, ensuring it was well clear of the water, and took a couple of steps toward the trees when the whistle sounded again.
“What the hell…?”
It was coming from somewhere nearby. What kind of creature made a sound like that? He racked his brain for birds, migratory species maybe, not regular residents. Had he ever heard this call before?
Movement ahead in the dark caught his attention and he squinted into the shadows as the low, lancing sound came again. He tried to pierce the inky gloom between the trees. Was that a person he saw there, the silhouette of a man, black against the deeper darkness? Surely not.
Don’t be an imbecile! he chided himself, embarrassed to be jumping at shadows like a child. He was off the boat, away from those crazy monster hunters, and he was off the water, safe on land. He started to draw a deep, settling breath when a soft splashing caught his attention.
His blood ran cold as the splashing increased and he heard water sluicing onto the mud of the lake shore behind him. A tiny voice buried deep in the recesses of his mind urged him to run, but his feet were frozen to the ground. A heavy slap, like a giant foot stomping into the wet silt, echoed back off the trees. Gaszi’s knees threatened to fold, his entire body vibrated with tremors, as another slap followed the first, then a sucking draw, as of something massive being dragged through the mud.
Gazsi was sure he saw the shape of a man slip back into the darkness between the trees as the slap drag sounded once more. Jaw subtly chattering, sobs threatening to burst from him, Gaszi slowly turned his gaze back to the water. He saw a wide expanse of shining gray and his scream died in a ragged gurgle as blackness descended over him and huge, glistening white teeth clamped down on his abdomen. He had a moment of rational thought, in which he struggled to comprehend what the moonlight had revealed to him, before razor sharp teeth severed his spine.
Chapter 10
Aston rose the next morning cranky for no readily apparent reason. He’d had trouble sleeping, tossing and turning throughout the night, plagued by disquieting dreams. He walked to the boat’s prow in the soft light of dawn and leaned against the rail, cupping his hands around a steaming coffee mug. Mist drifted across the still surface of the lake, snaking around like dragons as restless as he felt. Was it perhaps the strange discoveries that had him so antsy? He was having more trouble laughing off Holloway’s enthusiasm for the beast they sought with every new thing they learned.
Low clouds striped the soft pink skies, a large vee of migrating geese traveled overhead. In the early stillness he easily heard the papery hiss of the breeze through their numerous feathers even though they were a good hundred feet above him.
Aston sighed, shook his head. There would surely be an explanation for all this that was a lot more mundane than Holloway might like to think. In this remote location, with the stories of the locals circling their minds like hungry sharks, it was easy to imagine the most outrageous explanations. The truth was always far more boring than fantasy. Local legends arose precisely from that boredom, from a need for something greater, something to set this place apart, make it not just another isolated shithole with nothing special to offer.
But if they were on the trail of something earth-shattering… If they really did discover a new or previously-considered extinct species, it could be incredible. And it could do wonders for Aston’s career, his profile, his chances of future funding. Or, of course, it could ruin him and make him a laughing stock in the scientific community. In truth, he was looking forward to an end to this whole farce.
“Morning,” a low voice greeted him.
Aston turned to see Makkonen standing by the bridge, brow creased in a frown.
“Morning,” Aston said. “Everything all right?”
The captain shook his head. “Gazsi isn’t on board.”
“What?” Aston stepped across deck to look along the side and the tin dinghy harness was empty. He looked back up to Makkonen. “Where’s he gone?”
“No idea. Deserted, I think.” Makkonen grimaced. “Wouldn’t have believed it of him.”
“You mean he’s run away? Just like that?”
Makkonen nodded. “It looks that way.”
Aston cursed, not sure whether he was annoyed or impressed with the first mate’s actions. “I noticed he didn’t look very happy yesterday.”
“He wasn’t,” Makkonen confirmed. “He’s superstitious and easily spooked, believes all the rumors and stories. When you brought that foot on board he was really upset.”