Ryan Lockwood - Below

After determining the basic scenario of the previous night, the sheriff’s deputy asked tougher questions. He asked the captain to explain his relationship with the missing yacht owner, to detail the situation at hand. The captain’s story was brief, and rather puzzling, Val had to admit. It didn’t seem possible for every one of those kids to go missing as fast as he claimed they had, in calm seas. Off the top of her head, she couldn’t really think of any plausible explanation for the disappearance of so many.

“Have you searched for them in the daylight today?” the deputy asked.

“No. I did as your dispatcher instructed, and remained here. We’re at approximately the same location as we were last night. You have vessels out searching for them, though, don’t you? The water isn’t that cold, and if we find them soon enough…”

“Of course, captain. The Coast Guard has two boats in the area right now, and officers in Avalon have been dispatched to search the coastline. We’ll let you know as soon as we learn anything.”

“I know what I’ve told you may seem impossible, but ask the others—they’ll tell you the same. Many of them were drinking heavily… or otherwise not in their right minds. These kids today, you know how they are. But Fernando was sober. He’s my first mate and handles bartending and other duties. He’ll corroborate my story.”

“We’ll be sure to get his statement, Captain. Now, was this a usual practice? To allow your passengers to swim in the open ocean at night?”

“Of course not.” The captain’s face turned red. “You have to understand the vessel’s owner, Bobby Flynt. He’s a young actor. You’ve probably heard of him? He did that big vampire film that came out last year. Well, he often wants to do things that I disagree with, but as my employer…”

“Go on.”

Val felt the tension as the lawmen stared at the heavyset captain, waiting for more. She felt a sudden urge to leave. “Excuse me, gentlemen. Is there a head nearby, Captain?”

“Sure. The second door on the right.”

“Thank you.”

Val walked off, grateful to leave the others to the interrogation. She wasn’t sure how she was going to help in this process. The poor old skipper was already having the worst day of his life.

Even for a yacht, the washroom was enormous, with fixtures much nicer than Val had in her bathroom at home in Monterey. After washing her hands, she shut off the decorative chrome faucet and dried her hands. As she opened the door to leave, she thought she heard a muffled sob. She paused in the doorway for a moment, listening to the men talking in the dining room. There. She heard it again, behind her. She turned back into the bathroom and slowly pulled aside the striped shower curtain.

Hiding behind the curtain in the large tub was a beautiful, deeply tanned young woman, almost completely naked. She was curled into a fetal position, her head turned to the wall away from Val. Long, damp hair covered her face.

“Miss? Are you okay?”

The woman shuddered and pulled her arms tighter around her folded legs. Val reached down and touched the woman’s hair lightly. Without warning, she let out a terrible scream and swung her fist awkwardly at Val’s hand. Val jumped backward and stumbled against the toilet.

An instant later, Joe burst through the doorway. Val noticed that his hand rested on the pistol at his belt. The L.A. deputy sheriff ’s head appeared over his shoulder. Both men took on concerned expressions when they saw the girl in the tub.

After wrapping a towel around the young woman and offering her much gentle coaxing, Joe and the others managed to persuade her to leave the tub and join the group in the main cabin. The girl was handed a warm cup of tea. Then the questions started. As when talking to the captain, they got her name, her profession (unemployed, from the Valley), and her age (twenty), before moving on to the big questions.

“So tell us what happened last night,” Bailey said.

She paused, then looked right at Val as she answered. “They took them.”

“Who took them?”

“I don’t know. These things. They pulled them underwater, and they never came back.”

She told her story in a quiet, wavering voice. Val suspected the cops from L.A. were simply writing off her strange story as the effects of hallucinogenic drugs. But to Val, whose stomach sank further as the girl’s story unfolded, it was all too clear. Despite everything Val thought she had known about Humboldt squid, she quickly became certain that they were dealing with another attack.

Val could tell Joe realized as much from the looks he gave her as the statuesque brunette described what had happened. How when they had gone swimming the previous night, vaguely glowing shapes had suddenly materialized in the water beneath them after the hull lights had gone out. Her story didn’t flesh out many details, as she had understandably gone into a full panic upon seeing the faces of the people around her disappear under the waves, one by one, their arms violently thrashing at the water as they went under. Yet Val knew of only one thing that could be responsible.

Apparently, the girl had somehow gone untouched in the frenzy and, finding herself near the transom, lunged back onto the boat and rushed unnoticed past the drunken dancers into the safety of the cabin. They couldn’t be certain, because the poor girl couldn’t remember anything after the terrifying scene in the water.

When they finished with her, they allowed her to lie down and rest while they spoke with the remaining passengers. By the time they had finished speaking to everyone at the end of the day, only the girl’s story offered any clues to the disappearance. All the other kids had been too busy partying.

One thing that everybody sober enough to remember agreed on was that the hull lights had been off only for a few minutes. The group in the water had disappeared very quickly.

Late in the afternoon, Deputy Bailey stood on the top of the yacht with Val. Joe was also there, making some notes in a small pad, but the crime tech and the other passengers were belowdecks.

“I don’t know, doctor,” the deputy said. “A vague description of some underwater lights sure doesn’t single out these squid as the explanation for what we’re dealing with here.”

“I don’t know, either. But have you got a better explanation ? The Coast Guard still hasn’t found any survivors, have they?”

“No word yet.”

“If we could get my scuba gear, maybe I could dive down here, look for evidence—”

“Ma’am, you’ve already done enough. And nobody’s going into the water, especially if our current theory is that a pack of squid is in the area killing people. I’m going to get this boat in to shore now. These people have been through enough.” The deputy walked aft, leaving Val and Joe alone.

“Val, how long can you stay here in Southern California ?” Joe looked tired.

“Well, I’ve already been here for over two weeks. I hadn’t really set a return date, though.”

“I was hoping you might stick around. We might need more help with this.”

“I can probably stay for another week, but at some point I need to get back to my research. It’s what pays the bills.”

“I understand. Any help you can provide would be appreciated. Hey, Val—what happened with you and Sturman, anyway? He never returned my phone calls, either.”

“I don’t know, Joe.” Val looked toward the emerald-green mountains rising on the south end of the scrubby island, backlit by the late-afternoon sun. “I wish I did.”

Sturman focused his drunken gaze on the two matching parrots, willing his eyes to merge them once again into a single bird. It was no use. No matter how hard he tried, the double vision kept winning out and the bird split into a blurred pair standing on the bar. The big red birds cawed and bobbed their heads up and down happily. Sturman was distinctly aware he was being mocked.