The Montauk Monster (15 page)

“Robert, look out!” Dalton yelled.

The big man turned just in time to wrap his arms around the leaping beast as it barreled into his chest.

This one resembled a wild hog, with short, stocky legs ending in cloven hooves. Its snout was long, like a dog’s, but the animal was devoid of ears. The bulk of its body was massive. Robert smashed onto the deck, the massively thick creature plowing into his chest with a jarring crack.

Robert still had the presence of mind to bring his arm up and shoot into the beast’s belly. It twitched, then dove for his face. With a clamp of its jaws and quick jerk of its neck, Robert’s entire face was removed as easily as pulling off a blood-soaked bandage. The torn flesh flicked from its mouth, landing wetly by Dalton’s feet. Robert’s body convulsed under the weight of the nightmarish animal.

Gunfire filled the air. Dalton jumped.

Meredith limped forward, both hands on the Glock, firing again and again until it was empty. Each blast opened a dark, meaty chasm in the creature’s side. Its dead weight flattened Robert’s body, crushing his lungs.

Dalton said, “I have to get him out from under that thing.”

Meredith grabbed his arm, hard. “You can’t go near them. Look.”

White and red foam spilled from the animal’s mouth, flowing over Robert’s face and neck like lava. His legs and arms twitched, fingers flexing and trembling. They heard the fizzing of acid as it ate away his flesh. The stench coming from the dead animal, carried by a briny breeze, brought a ball of vomit to Dalton’s mouth. There was no warning. Only enough time to pitch his head over the side of the ferry and let it all out with a hot rush.

Meredith must have felt the same. She turned quickly, covering her nose and mouth with her hand.

His ribs aching from the sharp convulsions, Dalton looked over to see her make her way up to the pilothouse. Robert’s body had gone still, his chest immobile. Still not sure that he was done getting sick, he followed her. It was a mercy to move from being downwind of the dead creature and Robert’s dissolving face.

Meredith was already starting the ferry by the time he got inside.

“You know how to drive this thing?” he said.

She sucked her teeth, scanning the various controls. “I’m pretty sure I can figure it out. I grew up on boats. This one’s just a little bigger than most.”

He noticed the tears building under her eyes. Robert had meant something to her at one time. He still did, beyond being a source of information on her obsession. He put a hand on her shoulder and felt the tension release.

The sky was rippling from a rich, cloudless blue to a beautiful coral. It wouldn’t be long until night fell. And with that, a return to bedlam. They had to get back before sunset.

The ferry rumbled as Meredith backed away from the dock. Turning the wheel sharply, she pointed it away from Plum Island.

“I have to warn you about one thing,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“I’m good at getting boats moving. I really suck at stopping.”

“Give me a pack of Marlboro,” Jake Winn said, laying a twenty on the scratched counter. He eyed the foil packs and mini-bottles of energy-booster drinks and pills. “You ever take any of these?”

The gas station attendant, an enthusiastic kid named Marcus, who always seemed to have more energy than a golden retriever puppy, plucked a little silver packet from the rack behind him. “I use these when I have a paper due and for big tests. They keep me up without the huge crash.”

“You do good on those papers and tests?”

“Three-point-eight GPA so far, Officer.” When he grinned, Winn saw black bits of Oreo caught between his teeth.

“You sold me. I’ll take three of those.”

“They have you guys doing double duty?” Marcus asked, fishing change out of the register drawer. “I guess that makes sense. Something feels weird today.”

If you only knew half of it, kid
, Winn thought, shoveling the change in his pocket.

He didn’t want to freak him out any more than he already was, so he said, “Just getting prepared for my lady friend to visit.” Winn shot him a conspiratorial wink. Marcus broke out with another Oreo smile and winked back.

Winn stepped out of the frigid gas mart into the waning humidity of the day. Because the beaches had been closed, Main Street was packed with people, all of them clueless as to what to do with their time. Ever since word had gotten around that the beaches were closed, every tourist in town had nowhere else to go. With the local and tourist populace crammed into one space along the main thoroughfare, there had been plenty of witnesses to the arrival of strange caravans of SUVs, vans and even a military transport truck, filled with soldiers in battle fatigues.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept, but he damn well wasn’t sacking out until he had a better idea of what was going on. His boss had told him to go home and recharge five hours ago, so basically he was working unpaid overtime. The money didn’t matter. He looked all over for the CDC van but couldn’t find it. The troops were stationed out near the lighthouse, along with throngs of tourists. He watched the soldiers try to blend in with the day-trippers, some taking the tour, others walking on the beach or navigating the stone walkway that encircled the bluff.

To anyone who wasn’t looking for clues, they looked like a group of reservists out for a little R and R.

Nothing was adding up.

Standing on the corner two blocks from the start of Montauk’s quaint Main Street, something else caught his attention. At this time of day, there should be tons of cars swarming in for an overpriced seafood dinner at any one of the little restaurants that dotted this end of the island. He hadn’t seen one since he’d pulled into the gas station.

Was there an accident on the Montauk Highway clogging up the lanes? He didn’t have his squad car, so it was possible he’d missed the call.

Walking to his Ford Explorer, he opened the door and froze at the sound of an approaching vehicle. A tall, white Winnebago came to a screeching stop at the red light.

Don’t get many of those
, he thought. Montauk was a getaway filled to bursting with little motels harkening back to another era. RVs were not a preferred mode of kicking back for vacation here.

Winn strode to the driver’s-side window of the Winnebago and looked up. He was surprised to see a man in a suit, no tie, behind the wheel. He’d expected a middle-aged man in a Tommy Bahama shirt with a zaftig wife at his side, leaning over to hear what the policeman had to say. His iron gray hair was swept back, wet with gel.

The man in the suit saw him, smiled and rolled down the window.

“You’re just the man I was looking for,” he said. He had a very noticeable lisp and the eyes of a fallen minister.

“How can I help?” Winn said, letting any information come
to
him, rather than peppering the man with questions and arousing suspicion.

“Our GPS died on us about twenty miles back. We’re looking for Shadmoor State Park. I assume that’s where everyone else is.”

Everyone else?

Acting like he was in on things, Winn pointed down the road. “Sure. You just stay straight. You’ll see the signs for the park about four miles from here. Take the turn into the park slow. It cuts in at a sharp angle. These tubs aren’t good at cornering.” He offered a phony laugh.

“Sounds simple. Thanks. I assume we’ll be seeing more of each other. My name is Don Sorely.” He reached his hand out the window. Jake took it, returning a firm grip.

“Jake Winn, Montauk PD.”

“Well, thanks again. I’m sure you’re busy as a one-armed wallpaper hanger.”

The light turned green and Don Sorely drove away in his Winnebago. The way it hung low to the ground, Winn knew something heavy was inside. He made sure to catch the license plate as it passed.

Above the license numbers it read: OFFICIAL.

Beneath them was something even more intriguing.

FEMA.

So now Montauk was playing host to the CDC, DARPA, the military and FEMA.

He jumped into his Ford, gunning it to the station. He was reporting for duty and he wanted answers.

The ferry’s engine struggled mightily as they chugged through the churning waters of Plum Gut. Meredith pinned it as fast as it could go. After what she’d witnessed, she could care less about destroying the government-owned ferry. Her only goal was to get to the mainland as soon as humanly possible, somehow docking it without killing her and Dalton.

Robert’s body slipped off the deck, along with the Montauk monster, when she crossed the wake of a passing yacht. Dalton, who had been staring at the body, had informed her of the impromptu burial at sea. Her stomach somersaulted and she had to clamp her teeth to hold down her breakfast. Robert had been a great guy. He’d never caught on to the fact that she’d seduced him at the oyster fest only once she’d found out he ferried Plum Island employees.

He’d turned out to be a pretty good catch, though he could be intense at times. His seven-year stint as a marine had hardened him in ways that she knew would make him difficult to figure into long-term plans. She’d never pushed him for information on the infamous testing facility; just pried little bits here and there.

She’d broken things off as gently as she could when she realized he was falling hard for her and she wasn’t on the same wavelength. He’d taken it like a man, and they’d managed to keep in touch over the years.

And now he was gone.

Killed by the very thing that drew her to him.

She wondered if there was a VIP section in hell for people like her.

“The dock should come up in a few minutes,” Dalton informed her, breaking her from her ruminations. “You were kidding that you’re not good at stopping, right?”

Keeping her eyes pinned to the way ahead, she said, “I wish I was. Knowing me, we’re going to hit the dock hard. Just be prepared.”

He looked around the pilothouse. “Well, it’s not like there are any seat belts around here.”

“Then I suggest you go limp when we get to the dock. That’s how drunks survive car accidents.”

Dalton wiped a hand over his face. “I could use a drink right now.”

“You and me both.”

Meredith noticed the setting sun with leaden dread. They’d literally walked out of the frying pan and were heading into the fire. But it was a fire she wanted to face. She’d spent too much time stuck behind a desk. Tonight, she wanted to make a difference. Hopefully all those years trying to dig for answers would come in handy.

It hadn’t been enough to save Robert.

“There it is,” Dalton said, pointing.

The area around the dock was mercifully empty. The ferry plowed through a succession of waves, heading for an inevitable collision.

“You should probably slow down.”

Meredith turned on him. “If I slow down now, we’ll drift. I’ve been fighting a current the last few minutes. Once I know we can slip right in, I’ll cut the motor and hope for the best.”

“Hope for the best?” Dalton’s face turned waxen.

Her face crumpled and her shoulders fell forward. “It’s all I’ve got. Would you rather I say ‘pray for the worst’?”

Dalton sat uneasily in the seat next to her. “No, I like hope better. I just realized I left my cell phone in the car. I can only imagine how many messages I have from Campos. With things this bad, I’m sure he’s been trying to reach both of us.”

“You maybe, not me. Don’t know how much he thinks a cripple can help tonight.”

He fixed her with his sincere gaze and said, “You might be the one person that can make sense of all of this. Don’t sell yourself short. We need you more than ever tonight.”

She smiled, brushing her fingers across his cheek.

Why do you have to be so damn young
? she thought.

The ferry dock came into view. She pulled back on the throttle, feeling the large boat break free from the fast-moving current. When she got to within a couple hundred feet of the slip, she cut the engine entirely.

She turned to him and said, “Remember, loose as a drunk.” Trying to convey more confidence than she felt, she reached out to hold his hand. He eagerly took it.

The ferry silently but quickly slid into the slip as if she’d been doing it all her life. The only problem was the speed. She never figured out how to reverse the thrust and slow down properly so docking was as soft as bouncing into a pillow.

With a resounding crash, the ferry plowed into the waterworn woodwork of the dock. The hull of the ferry gave way with a rending of metal that could be heard for miles.

Meredith and Dalton were expelled from their seats. She hit the wheel hard, bearing the brunt of the blow with her breasts. The wind exploded from her lungs. She collapsed on the floor, gasping for air.

Dalton didn’t fare much better. He catapulted over the console, dinging his head against the window. Somehow, the glass didn’t crack. He crumpled into a heap on the floor, his body slamming into the wall as the ferry came to a gut-wrenching stop.

A succession of waves buffeted the ferry. The bow had ripped right through the dock and was wedged within the thick planks of wood. It was as good as dropping anchor. Only a tsunami could free the damaged boat from its final resting place.

Meredith rose to her feet and huffed a weak cheer. She kept a hand across her chest, feeling the dull ache in her breasts. Dalton got up on wobbly legs. He already had the makings of a world-class bump on his forehead.

“I told you I sucked,” Meredith said. “But at least we’re alive.”

“That remains to be seen,” he replied, touching his head and wincing.

The accident had drawn the attention of every living soul within shouting distance of the Orient Point ferry landing. They both looked out the window in time to see a stream of humanity come rushing.

She pulled Dalton by the arm. “Come on. We need to get out of here before we’re penned in by a horde of Good Samaritans.” Grabbing her crutch, she managed to hobble down the narrow stairs while still clinging to Dalton. He jumped over the rail and held his arms out to her.