Paul Zindel - Loch

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Loch said.

Zaidee took her father’s hand. “I’m sorry, too,” she said. “But Daddy, we’ve got to know your answer to our question.”

“Yes,” Loch agreed. “I mean, suppose one of the creatures just happened to be swimming by The Revelation , and Cavenger ordered you to go to the harpoon gun and shoot the thing. Would you?”

Dr. Sam got up, threw the rest of his dinner in the garbage. He had never lied to his kids before, and he wasn’t about to start now. “I’m paid to follow orders,” he said. “End of discussion. Now, what was it you guys had to tell me today on the yacht?”

Zaidee and Loch looked at each other.

“Nothing,” Zaidee said.

“Right,” Loch agreed. “Nothing.”

Zaidee was asleep by the time Dr. Sam went in to say good night to his son. Loch was sitting up in his bed, surrounded by his drawings of the Waheela, Tazelwurm, and the other cryptids. He was putting the finishing touches on a drawing of the Rogue.

“That’s a good sketch,” Dr. Sam said.

“Thanks.”

“It’s got a lot of detail. I didn’t notice the crustacean jaw formation, or the cavities on its snout.”

“I guess I had a closer look,” Loch said.

Dr. Sam sat on the edge of his son’s bed. He saw another sketch Loch had already finished and picked it up. “What’s this?”

“Nothing,” Loch said. He usually got around to telling his father everything he and Zaidee did, even if it was something Dr. Sam had forbidden. This time he didn’t like the feeling in his gut that he couldn’t trust his father enough to tell him about Wee Beastie and the waterfall.

“It looks like a young plesiosaur,” Dr. Sam said, studying the drawing.

“I figured since they’ve been around over a million years, they probably had some kids along the way.” Loch took the sketch back. “Dad, they’ve got some kind of nostrils or blowholes. That means they’re mammals, right? They’ve got to surface to breathe?”

“They’re reptiles,” Dr. Sam said, “but they might have evolved a system to filter air out of water through an auxiliary gill system. There’s one type of South American frog can stay underwater its whole life because it’s capable of breathing through its skin.”

The phone rang, and Dr. Sam went out to the kitchen to answer it. Loch overheard his father’s brief utterings of “yes” into the phone and knew he had to be talking with Cavenger.

“What’s up?” Loch asked, coming out to the kitchen.

Dr. Sam opened another can of beer. “Cavenger got the keys and code for the salmon grid. Wants me to check it out in the morning, make sure some novice from State Fish and Game doesn’t suddenly feel like running a test and opening the grid. It’d give the plesiosaurs clear sailing straight back to Lake Champlain.”

“What’s with that grid?” Loch wanted to know. “Why’d they build it in the first place?”

“Half the salmon spawning grounds in the country have been wrecked by damming and mill operations,” Dr. Sam said, sitting back in the nook. “Now they’re having a lot of success getting salmon to swim back up rivers. The grid acts as a kind of big fish ladder and man-made spawning ground.”

Dr. Sam got up at dawn and set out in the Volvo. Loch and Zaidee were still asleep when the phone rang at nine. Loch jumped up and grabbed it.

“Hello?” Loch said, trapping the phone in the crook of his neck as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Did I wake you?” Sarah asked.

“I guess so,” Loch admitted.

Zaidee staggered by, heading for the bathroom. “Oh, God, it’s her, isn’t it?” she muttered. “I’m warning you, don’t trust anybody who wears four-inch-high clogs.”

Loch motioned his sister to zipper her mouth. “Were you able to get any wheels?” Loch asked.

“One of the company jeeps,” Sarah said. “I’ll be right over.”

“Bring your snorkel mask and fins.”

“What for?”

“You’ll find out,” Loch said. He hung up, grabbed a glass of orange juice from the refrigerator, and went to the open bathroom door. Zaidee was foaming at the mouth with toothpaste and glaring at him.

“I think we’ve got to trust her,” Loch said. “We’re really going to need the jeep.”

“If that spoiled brat does anything to hurt Wee Beastie”-Zaidee gagged, spitting her toothpaste out into the sink-“she’s one dead dork.”

Sarah drove the jeep off the main base, pulled onto the south lake road, and shoved the stick shift into high gear. She was traveling at a good clip when she spotted Loch and Zaidee walking toward her on the shoulder of the road. She waited until she was close, then braked the jeep hard, screeching it to a stop next to them.

“What’s up?” Sarah asked, peering over the top of her favorite sunglasses.

“First stop is North Alburg,” Loch said, grabbing the roll bar and swinging himself onto the seat next to her. “The Grand Union.”

Zaidee spotted the double Gs on the thick silver rims of Sarah’s glasses. “Nice shades,” Zaidee remarked, as she got into the back.

“Thanks.” Sarah threw the jeep back into gear and picked up speed along the south road until the fork to North Alburg. There she turned left and headed straight over Snake Mountain.

“Can I drive?” Zaidee asked, the fringe of her bob rippling in the breeze.

Sarah rolled her eyes at Loch. “Is she kidding?”

“I know how to drive,” Zaidee said, insulted. “My dad lets me drive the Volvo all the time.”

“In circles around the trailer,” Loch kidded.

“It’s still driving,” Zaidee said. She spotted a canvas pocket behind the front seat and lifted its flap. “Hey, you’ve got a CB radio.”

“All the company jeeps have them,” Sarah said.

“Great.” Zaidee perked up. “I could use a little entertainment.” She took the CB out, pulled up its telescopic antenna, and flipped the power switch. There was a lot of static as she turned the tuner knob. Finally, the voices of a couple of truckers came in loud and clear. “Hello,” Zaidee said into the mike, pressing the broadcast button. “Hello. This is The Big Z, The Big Z … ”

Nobody answered.

In twenty minutes they were over the mountain and in the small town of North Alburg. Sarah slowed the jeep as they traveled down the main street past a black-and-white-shuttered church with a high steeple, a post office that doubled as a newsstand, and a Mobil gas station. At the very end of the street were the huge glass windows of the Grand Union supermarket. Sarah turned the jeep left into the front lot and parked.

“What are you getting?” Sarah asked.

“You’ll see,” Loch said, getting out.

“You’re both acting very strange, is all I can say,” Sarah told Loch. “Very strange.”

Sarah followed Loch and Zaidee inside. Loch grabbed an empty grocery cart and pushed it toward the back of the store. He stopped at the fish department. A man in a white smock was busy stocking an iced counter.

“You’re the manager?” Loch asked.

“That’s me.” The man smiled.

“I called this morning from Lake Alban, about buying fish,” Loch said. “Remember?”

Sarah thought she was hearing things. “You’re getting fish?”

“Yes, fish.” Zaidee emphasized “fish.”

“Like I told you,” the manager said to Loch, “our new delivery comes in tonight, so you can have a good break on what’s left.”

If there was one thing Loch knew, it was all the different kinds of freshwater and saltwater fish. “Give me three of the sea bass,” he told the manager as he moved along the counter with its neat display of fish laid out on the ice bed. The manager tore off a big piece of waxed paper, laid it on the scale, and started piling the fish on it.