“That’s no good.”
“At least we haven’t hooked another dead baby.”
I nodded. Early on, after we’d just set up shop inside the hotel, Jimmy had accidentally hooked a dead infant with his fishing rod. It must have been in the ocean for quite some time, because it fell apart as he reeled it up onto the roof. I can still see it in my mind—one tiny arm hanging by a thin shred of muscle or tendon, fish bites pocking the white, bloated flesh. That had left all of us shaken, even the hard cases like Taz, Ducky, and Juan.
The old man sniffed the salty breeze. “Listen, Kevin, I’m sorry about your mate. He was a good lad, Jimmy was.”
“Yeah, he was. Thanks, Salty.”
“It’s a real shame what happened to him.”
I was quiet for a moment, considering my words carefully. “Salty, I like you. And more importantly, I respect you. But do you really believe that was what got him? A fucking Kraken?”
“Of course I do, boy. Saw the proof with my own eyes, same as you did.”
“Granted, it looked weird, but I still don’t see how a tentacle could have done that.”
“Hurricane Agnes, nineteen seventy-two.”
“Huh?”
“Hurricane Agnes,” he repeated, and then spit over the side. “It come roaring up the East Coast, raising hell in the Carolinas, Virginia, Maryland—even as far inland as central Pennsylvania. I was still in the Navy then. At the time, I was assigned to an LPD, the U.S.S. Miller, out of Pier Six in Norfolk. I was too smart to be a bosun’s mate, and too dumb to be a radioman, so they put me on the signal bridge.”
He gazed out over the waves as he talked. I followed his glance in time to see a school of dolphins frolicking over what had once been an on-ramp to Interstate 83. I’d driven over that ramp many times, before the rains.
“The hurricane, she come out of nowhere and headed up the coast like a banshee. They put all of us that wasn’t in dry dock out to sea, double-time. I’d drawn the unlucky watch, while my mates stayed below. I was huddled up in the signal bridge, cold and wet and miserable and thinking about home.
“We were off the coast, somewhere near Little Creek, trying to outrace the storm. I was out of cigarettes, but a friend of mine, Danny Ward, who worked down in CIC, dipped Copenhagen, and the CIC center was on the deck below me. Figured I’d nip below, bum a pinch from Danny and be back up topside before anybody was the wiser. I stepped out, struggled in the wind, and the ship rolled on me. Thank God there was a rail or I’d have gone over the side, into the drink. Instead of falling into the ocean, I slid into the rail and held on for dear life while the ship rolled with the wave. That was when I saw it.”
Something silver flashed in the water in front of the dolphins. A school of fish. I tore my eyes away and focused on Salty.
“I didn’t see all of it—don’t think I could have. It was that big. I was clutching that rail, waiting for the deck to hold still, when I spied a huge form—gray and pale and slick. It wasn’t a whale, which is what I thought at first. The thing rocketed up out of the water and I stumbled back. It just kept going up and up—a tentacle the size of an oak tree. It waved in the air, and then darted towards where I was standing. I crawled back as far as I could go, and it crashed into the rail a second later. The rail bent under its weight. The thing wriggled around, feeling the deck, searching for me like a big old rubbery worm. I screamed, but nobody heard me. It crawled closer. Then the ship rolled again, and it was gone, disappearing back into the spray. I’d never been more scared in my life.
“I learned later, from another mate of mine, Greg Blumenthal, that they’d picked up a large object coming toward the ship. But nothing else ever came of it. Nobody mentioned it again and I never told anyone, either. Not even Greg or Danny. Never breathed a word, until now.”
I was quiet, not knowing what to say or how to respond. Salty slicked his wet, thinning hair back across his scalp and smiled at me. The rain ran down his face in rivulets.
“You understand why I’m telling you this, Kevin?”
“I’m not sure, but I have a good idea.”
“Guess you think I’m senile, huh?”
“No.” I shook my head. “To be honest, Salty, I don’t know what to think. But I don’t think you’re crazy, if that helps.”
“Well,” he shrugged, and turned away. “There it is. That’s my tale. Do with it what you want. I’ve got to get some more tackle and bait.”
Another bird landed on the roof, just a few feet away from us, begging for fish guts. I stomped my boot to scare it away, but Salty stopped me.
“Don’t. It’s an albatross.”
“So?”
“You need to respect it, lad. Bad luck if you harm it, or scare it away.”
I smiled. “Why is that, Salty?”
“The poem. The one by that Coleridge fella. An albatross is good to have when you’re at sea.”
“True.” Then I surprised him with my own knowledge of nautical legend. “But did you know that the assistant navigator on the Titanic was named Albert Ross?”
Salty grunted. “Is that a fact?”
“It is indeed. Guess he wasn’t so lucky to have around.”
“I don’t get it.” He frowned.
“Albert Ross,” I repeated, slowly. “Albatross. Get it now?”
Salty laughed, loud and boisterously. Then he walked away, splashing through the puddles and was almost across the roof when he turned and called to me again.
“One other thing, Kevin. That tentacle I told you about…”
“Yeah?”
“The suckers had teeth in ’em. Sharp little teeth. They weren’t suckers at all.”
“What were they?”
“Mouths. The suckers were little mouths.”
He disappeared through the door.
Nate sidled up beside me. He’d been quiet until now, keeping his distance and eavesdropping on us.
“You believe that shit?” he asked. “The old man has clearly lost his mind. Don’t tell me you buy into that fish story?”
I shrugged. I didn’t care much for Nate. He was pompous and arrogant, and even after all this time, still carried himself as if he were better than most of us. Somehow, the fact that his fully tricked-out Audi, brand new condo, and enormous expense account were gone hadn’t fully settled on him yet.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Probably not, but then again, I never believed the story of Noah, either, and now look around us.”
His laughter was sharp and brittle.
“I’m guessing you don’t believe him?” I asked.
“Of course not,” he said. “For Christ’s sake, Kevin! A giant tentacle with mouths for suckers? The rain is one thing, but that? It’s crazy.” He shook his head.
“Stranger things have happened, man. And you heard what Lee said yesterday. There are such things as giant squid. This could be some sort of genetic mutation or something.”
“Maybe. But it’s more likely that old man is just nuts. Alzheimer’s, I’m guessing. And if he is, then what’s to stop him from hurting himself—or one of us? Are you willing to take that chance? What if he snaps and goes after one of the kids?”
“Oh, come on!” Anger welled up inside of me. “Senility doesn’t make somebody fucking homicidal.”
“He’s talking crazy, Kevin!” He snorted, clearing his sinuses, and then spit out over the roof. We watched the falling wad of phlegm as it dropped toward the water below.
“So,” he said, changing the subject, “let’s get back to you and Lori. Tell me this—is she any good in the sack?”
“What the fuck? Does everybody need to know every minute detail between the two of us? Are you people that starved for gossip?”