Extinct (10 page)

CHAPTER 11

“I can’t believe Daddy did that,” Carolyn said. “Yes, I can, too.”

When Alan didn’t say anything, she set her wineglass back on the wicker table and looked across its top. “Are you thinking Paul should go?”

“He’s your son.”

“But you’re thinking he should?”

“If it bothers you, you shouldn’t let him.”

“
Alan,
you are thinking he should. Alan, it would worry me to death.”

“You want me to agree with you, or answer you?”

She frowned, but said, “Answer.”

“In my opinion, if Paul is with other boys he will be pulled into what they’re doing. It can’t do anything but help, even if it only pulls his mind off Dustin and Skip for a couple of days.”

Carolyn groaned and stared out over the marshland.

“And you know your father wouldn’t even let him put his toe in the water. He’d be watching him every minute.”

She looked directly into his eyes. “Have you been talking with Daddy? That’s the second time you’ve said something like he did.”

He smiled and shook his head no.

“You do sound just like him.” She frowned and stared out across the marshland again. “So I’m going to be the Wicked Witch of the West.”

THE PRESIDENT CASINO, BILOXI—11:00
P.M.

Leonard caught the blond staring at him out of the corner of his eyes. She was about the size he liked, not more than five-four or so if she hadn’t been wearing heels—about his size. He smiled to himself and added four more hundred-dollar chips to the two he already had laying on the numbers out in front of him.

Around him several others watched his play. Spread out in every direction around the roulette table, a heavy crowd even for Friday night packed the President Casino. More than one woman had looked good in the mixture of soft and bright lights of all colors in the casino, but none quite with the upper-body structure of the blond, Leonard thought. He had first noticed her on the other side of the table. Now she stood at the end nearest him. He added a little more scent to the bait, juggling some five-hundred-dollar chips in his hand and flashing his big diamond-studded pinkie ring in her direction. She looked, too.

He smiled to himself. Years ago, when he had turned fifteen and had received his driver’s license, his father had walked out of the house with him to the shiny new Mercedes sitting in the drive.

“Son,” his father had said, “I want you to know that when you drive out of the driveway in this automobile, there’s going to be people you never met who look on you with distaste—they don’t have a shiny new Mercedes. Certainly most didn’t have one when they were fifteen years old. Now their feelings don’t bother me none when I been acting right. But, sometimes, when I get in a little hurry and don’t treat people working in my oil company just right, I get to thinking about all those who’ve hit a lot of dry holes in life. Wasn’t their fault, just dice didn’t turn up on the right side for them when they rolled them. That certainly don’t mean you treat them bad. So remember those people, be polite when you drive around them, and don’t give anybody a dirty look if they’re driving too slow. You get my gist?”

Leonard had been eternally grateful for that advice. Upon hearing the words he had immediately known he was
somebody.
Since then he had always thought about those people his father had talked about. Especially the women. He started noticing right away that not many of them drove Mercedeses, either. And most looked his way when he drove by.

So that is what he had been doing since then in life. Driving by in his Mercedes, so to speak. And taking full advantage of it. Without looking at the blond, he flashed his pinkie ring again.

The croupier dragged his stack of chips off the table.

Leonard put out a little more scent.

*   *   *

The thump-thump-thump of the rotor blades and the roar of the motor reverberated in Ensign Douglas Williams’ ears. The cargo compartment vibrated as if it were, about to break into pieces. He stared out the wide opening in the helicopter’s side at the trees whipping past below in the increasing darkness. The craft would transfer him to an F-16 at Andrews and he would be in south Florida before dawn. Then there would be the boat ride to the spot where the tooth had been found. He had seen where a front now approached the area. If it got there before he did, he knew there would be hell to pay—even if Vandiver was his uncle.

*   *   *

The blond pulled off her high heels and hopped down into the sleek black speedboat berthed at the north end of the Broadwater Marina. Leonard poured her a vodka and grapefruit juice out of the jar from the cooler at the center of the boat.

“Mixed it myself,” he said.

She was more interested in the ring on his pinkie held out from the bottle. That was what he was counting on—never leave them enough time to think about anything but the bait. It was like keeping the line taut after you had a fish hooked. His daddy had given him that bit of advice, too. He turned and stepped between the front seats to the ignition.

The motor roared.

He smiled at the blond.

“Get it, Leonard,” she said.

He intended to.

*   *   *

Carolyn held her hand behind her on the doorknob. Alan stood in front of her, the moon at his back. “When am I going to get to pay you back for the steak?”

“In a few days, maybe. You know we’re going to have to take Paul with us at least once after having already invited him.”

“Oh, now you’re planning on me taking you out more than once. Well, you are nice looking—I’ll think about it.”

She smiled, leaned forward, and pecked him on the cheek.

He raised his hands to the sides of her shoulders.

She shook her head.

He lowered his hands. “Thank you for going out of your way for Paul,” she said.

He hoped there was more to him in her mind than only his being nice to Paul. And knowing her for only a day and a half, he was surprised he felt so strongly about it—yet he did.

He thought about that more than once on his way back to Biloxi. What attracted him so? A beautiful woman—but those could be found in a lot of places. A strong woman—in today’s society many women both raised a child and held a job. And he had dated both beautiful women and those with strengths of all kinds. Yet he had never experienced the feeling he had now.

And he really couldn’t believe he was thinking this way.

He smiled and thumped his fingers against the steering wheel in time with the voice of Faith Hill pouring out of the radio.

*   *   *

The shiny black speedboat came across the moonlit waters from the direction of Biloxi. Ahead of the craft, the blocky shape of Fort Massachusetts loomed shadowy and dark. Leonard cut the steering wheel sharply and the craft leaned on its side and raced for the east end of Ship Island—actually two separate main islands since Hurricane Camille had slashed a wide gap through the original structure’s middle. They went past the gap and toward the long eastern segment, devoid of structures, deserted and dim in the moonlight.

“So this is where you wanted me,” Stella shouted over the roar of the motor. “Suits the hell out of me.”

Leonard liked her attitude. Feeling the vodka more than he realized, he shouted back, “You’ve really got balls.”

Stella looked at him, and then laughed loudly.

As he slowed the boat and angled it toward shore, the craft’s bow caught a wave and cold spray flew high over the windshield, soaking them both. Stella screamed her laughter and yelled, “Go, Leonard.”

He yelled back, “Go, Stella.”

She laughed and drank the last dregs from her glass.

*   *   *

Carolyn stood in her bedroom looking at the sheet of paper Paul had placed on her pillow. Right beneath the broad strokes of her father’s handwriting, where he listed the items that would be needed for the camping trip, was the small printing carefully done in Paul’s hand:

please. I have ben good.

CHAPTER 12

Leonard moaned a last time and rolled to his back. Stella pulled a corner of the blanket across her body. “Whewww!” she said.

“Give me a moment to rest and I’ll be raring again” he said, proud of his effort so far.

She reached for the bottle of vodka at the side of the blanket and raked her arm in the sand. She sat up, holding the blanket across her heavy breasts and looked at the back of her arm. “I can’t stand that gritty feel,” she said. “It was on the blanket, too. You sandpapered my back.” She moved her hand across her shoulder and brushed what sand she could from her skin.

“Wipe it off,” she said, and turned her bare back to him. He reached up and swiped at her shoulders. “Arrrg,” she said, jerking away from his touch. “You have more on your hand than I do on my back.”

She came to her feet, pulling the blanket with her. He stood and pulled his pants up. He had never had the time to take them completely off. He dusted some of the sand off his belly.

Stella suddenly laughed, dropped the blanket, and ran down the beach into the water, jumping the first wave, then getting hit by the second one—up to her waist in the water one moment, then the water dropping to her knees. She waded farther out. Leonard continued to brush his stomach.

“Come on,” she said, looking back at him across her shoulder and making a big sweep of her arm. “The water’s fine.”

A large wave burst around her chest and broke on the shore behind her, its white foam glistening in the fight of the moon.

Leonard walked to the edge of the sand and looked out across the water. They were on the south side of the island fronting the Gulf, and wave after wave rolled in. Wave after wave for as far as he could see. He listened to the wind whistling, felt it blowing against his high forehead, and whipping his tousled hair at the very top of his head. A wave breaking offshore made a particularly loud crashing sound.

“Leonard.”

Stella was up to her shoulders now, standing part of the time, floating when a swell passed by, lifting her and then lowering her again.

“Come on, Leonard!”

He didn’t think so.
In fact, it was starting to make him a little nervous that Stella was out there.

“Stella.”

*   *   *

Stella smiled and threw back her wet hair as she rose high on a wave, higher than the beach, its brilliant white sand glistening like snow.

She went down and came up with the next wave—and the beach began to dim. She looked toward the sky and saw a thick cloud beginning to pass across the moon. The water around her began to pull gently at her legs. She looked over her shoulder into the night turning into a black void behind her. An unnerving feeling passed over her.

“Leonard.”

He shouted something back, but his words were lost in the crashing of the waves along the beach. She leaned forward and began to paddle slowly in its direction, purposely not stroking too fast, afraid too quick a pace might jolt her nervous feeling into something even stronger. But with her body flat in the water now, she no longer felt the pull at her legs and she began to relax as she stroked.

It came up behind her. If it had been daylight, the clear water would have shown its fifty-foot length, its wide pectoral fins set straight out toward the side as if for balance, and its towering dorsal fin fully three feet out of the water.

Its head remained under the surface, directly behind her and a few feet under her body.

*   *   *

Leonard relaxed when he caught a glimpse of Stella coming closer toward shore. He smiled and took a long drink from the vodka bottle. The moonlight began to penetrate the trailing edge of the cloud now and Stella’s blond hair, even her white shoulders, began to reflect the illumination.

Behind her, something black began to rise out of the water.

Leonard’s eyes widened in shock.

The bottle fell from his hand.

The shape made a sudden lunge forward. Stella was swallowed whole from the rear to the front. No sound. A last glimpse of her blond hair. The great mouth closed.

The creature, dark and glistening, lay unmoving as the waves crashed around it and against it, its black, round eyes staring directly at Leonard.

Too paralyzed to move, Leonard nearly passed out. With a superhuman effort, he took a step backward. Another step. His body trembling as if he were standing naked in a hundred-degree-below-zero wind, he finally managed to turn—and ran.

“Aaaarrrgh!”

Sprinting through the night, still screaming though he didn’t realize he was, he crossed the sand. His boat was pulled up on the beach on the island’s Sound side. He jerked the small anchor out of the sand and threw it wildly toward the rear of the craft. He hit the bow so hard with his shoulder he nearly dislocated it. His feet digging into the sand, he pushed the boat backward out into the Sound.

He felt a chill as he sunk to his knees in the water, and he vaulted into the boat. Fumbling for the ignition, he finally found it, turned the key, and slammed the gear into reverse and jammed the throttle full forward.

The prop pulled so hard it momentarily lifted the bottom of the motor away from the boat. Then the craft leveled and shot backward, waves building behind it, slamming hard against its blunt shape and pouring water over the stern.

Leonard yanked the throttle back, jammed the gear forward, slammed the throttle forward again, turning the wheel at the same time. The boat tilted on its side and turned in a sharp arc. Leonard straightened the craft toward the dim lights of Biloxi and hit the throttle with the heel of his hand, but it wouldn’t go any farther forward.

His eyes still wide with terror, his heart racing like a machine gun, he looked over his shoulder at the island quickly starting to fall away. The bow hit crossways on a wave, causing the boat to yaw left and back sharply to the right, slamming his side into the hard fiberglass, nearly throwing him out of the craft into the water. He hung onto the wheel so hard his hands instantly cramped.

*   *   *

The creature finished its run along the Gulf side of Ship Island and turned into Camille Cut. It moved quickly at first, then shuddered to a stop as it grounded on its belly. With a mighty sweep of its crescent tail, it lunged forward, scraping off the sandy bottom into deeper water.