Anton Strout - Dead Waters

“From what Godfrey told me, you think Mason Redfield is in alignment with these creatures,” the Inspectre said, “that he traded his help in raising them for the secrets to youth for himself. Saddening, but I am heartened to hear that one of those is still somewhat dormant.”

“I hope,” I said. “For all I know, Professor Redfield’s been providing her with a student a day and George was just one on a long list of monster snack Lunchables. I don’t know how regular a feeding schedule Scylla is on, but Godfrey and I think the ceremony could possibly happen as early as tonight.”

“We should strike now,” Connor said, “before either the creature can rise or the overworked members of the Enchancellors bog this case down in red tape.”

The Inspectre checked his watch. “Meet me in half an hour at the docks,” he said. “I have a few things I need to take care of first for this. Things of a volatile nature.” Without another word, Argyle Quimbley left the room and Connor followed him out.

“Don’t worry,” I said, turning to Jane. “We’ll take care of this tonight.”

“Yes,” Jane said. “ We will.”

“Wait, what?”

“I’m coming with you,” she said.

“Definitely not,” I said. “Not in this condition, not the way you were affected last time we were on the water out there.”

Jane slugged me in the arm. “Enough of the male macho bullshit,” she said. “I’m coming. This is happening to me . If there’s a chance we can get answers or do something about this thing, I need to be there. End of discussion.”

“Fine,” I said. “Hell hath no fury greater than a woman marked.”

Within the hour, the four of us had made our way back to the boat and headed out onto the East River as a heavy rain broke out over the city. All of us crammed into the boat’s small wheelhouse as the growing storm raged even heavier on the river, pitching our boat back and forth with the ferocity of an ocean voyage. Jane wanted to stay out in the storm, and even though I had pulled her in, she still stood by the cabin door with her head out in the rain, her hair soaking wet. It calmed her and kept her from freaking out too much, so I let it slide.

“You think the ram’s going to stay on?” I asked Connor, who was manning the wheel once again.

“I’m not worried about the ram,” he said.

“Oh, no?” I adjusted my Indiana Jones-style satchel out of the way as Jane ducked her head in and moved to stand closer to me.

“No,” he said. “I’ve got bigger things to think about, like keeping the rest of the boat together right now, at least until we get to the bridge. Then we get to worry about if this summoning ritual is really happening.”

Jane squeezed my arm. “I shouldn’t have come,” she said.

“Seasick?” I asked.

Jane shook her head. “No,” she said. “I know what I said in the office, but it was out of frustration. I just wanted this mark off of me so bad, but that was just plain selfish. I’m putting us all at risk again by being here. What if I can’t help but get sucked into her ritual?”

“Relax,” I said, rubbing her shoulders. “You won’t this time. You’re stronger than that.”

“I won’t relax,” she said, shrugging me off. “Last time we were out here, I could have killed you and Connor. Now I’ve got the Inspectre to worry about.”

“My dear,” the Inspectre added from the other side of the cabin where he held on to one of the interior railings to steady himself, “please don’t worry about me. I’ve dealt with greater horrors than what’s happening to you. Fear not. Rest assured we will get that woman in green to release her hold on you.”

Jane didn’t look too sure about that, but nodded anyway. “I hope so,” she said. “For Simon’s sake, if not mine.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “Even though I’ve dated a lot of girls in my time, you’d be my first aqua-woman.”

Connor shook his head. “Way to be reassuring, kid.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Jane asked, impatient. “I take it from the tarp on the front of the boat that we’re packing a little extra cargo this time.”

“A little insurance,” the Inspectre said. “Blasting caps, detonation cords, underwater charges, and a slurry composition of explosives . . .”

“Explosives?” Jane repeated. She turned to Connor at the wheel. “Can you control the roll of the ship a teensy bit more, please? I’d like to get to the bridge in one piece. Piece , as in singular.”

Connor cranked the wheel of the ship. “Believe me, no one’s going to be happier than me if we can keep the boat from capsizing,” he said, “but don’t worry. Those explosive materials need something a little more powerful than the roll of the ship to set them off.”

“Good,” Jane said, “but what are they for?”

“My idea,” the Inspectre said. “I read the report about unearthing those aqua-zombies. If we encounter any more, we’ll be able to take care of them this time.”

“Unearth?” Jane asked. “Don’t you mean unwater?”

“Whatever,” he said. “Either way, we’ll be ready for them.”

“Brilliant,” she said.

“That’s not the only reason,” Connor added at the wheel.

“No?” Jane asked.

“No,” I said. “Connor has a theory.”

He steadied the boat before looking over at us. “We blast up some of those sunken ships,” he said. “It may just help me in freeing up some of those spirits still lingering on the bridge that died at the hands of both those creatures.”

The Hell Gate Bridge came into sight though the pouring rain. The entire expanse was covered with a sea of ghosts, and out on the middle of the bridge was Professor Redfield himself.

“Looks like a double feature so far,” I said. “The ghosts of all the shipwrecks and the professor to boot.”

“Looks like we have a little company for me,” the Inspectre added.

“Crowded tonight,” Connor said. “When we get up there, mind your footing or prepare to be skunked by a ghost.”

“That’s the least of my worries,” Jane said.

“Just get us to the shore safely,” the Inspectre said. He clapped Connor on the shoulder and went back to staring out into the storm.

Connor angled toward Wards Island on our left, but he wasn’t heading for the docks we had landed at before.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Trying not to puncture a hole in your F.O.G.gie boat,” he said, wrestling with the wheel. “We’re going to need it if we can’t stop the ritual up on the bridge. If I go for that broken old dock, we’re going to tear apart with the roll of these waves. I’ve got to go for a deeper part along the shore. I’ll need you to jump off and secure us to something more solid.” He took one hand off the wheel and pointed off toward another section of Wards Island. “Those trees there, for instance.”

I ran out of the wheelhouse. The storm rained down on me and in seconds I was soaked though, but I was still determined. We needed to tie off. I ignored the sting of rain in my eyes and worked my way around the outside of the cabin to the casting line at the front of the boat. Connor brought up the left side of the boat against the shore, and when we were close enough, I leapt for it. I hit the ground and ran for the closest and heaviest tree I could find. I tied the line to it as best I could while Connor killed the engine and the three of them came ashore to the island.

I stared up at the underside of the Hell Gate Bridge and whistled.

“Well?” Jane asked.

“The climb looks treacherous,” I said, “especially in this downpour.” I looked over at the Inspectre, who was using his sword cane to steady himself as the last one coming off the boat. “You sure you don’t want to skip this part, sir?”