Cryptid Island Read online

  “What the hell you doing?” one of the sailors shouted, struggling with the ramp and having to drop it.

  “Sorry, mate,” Allen apologized, keeping his head down so no one could see his face. “Lost track of the time.” He gave the men a dismissive wave and ducked through the hatch.

  The narrow corridor was dimly lit, branching off into more passageways leading deeper inside the cargo ship. Every time Allen saw one of the crew, he would reverse direction or dart around a corner so as not to be seen. He wanted to call out Laney’s name, hoping she might hear him and answer him back but then he would be giving himself away.

  He stepped through a hatchway onto a catwalk overlooking a section of the engine room. Hot steam billowed up from the propulsion power plant.

  Allen could feel his body absorbing moisture as it reacted to the humidity, his clothes clinging to him like damp washrags.

  He dodged into another passage, which led to a gloomy cargo hold.

  A foul smell assaulted his nostrils. He could see silhouettes of various sized animals moving about in small and large cages. The creatures reacted to his presence with snarls and anxious cries.

  Allen continued on, reaching an apparent dead end. He climbed another set of metal stairs back up to the next level to an open hatch leading out to the main deck.

  “Get your hands off me! Let me go!”

  It was Laney.

  Stepping through the oval hatchway, Allen followed the sound of his wife’s voice. He dashed down a row between the tall cargo containers.

  The front doors had been left wide open on a twenty-foot long sea van.

  “Let me go!” could be heard deep inside the dark metal box.

  Allen rushed inside, groping his way to the back. His hand touched the rear wall just as his boot kicked something on the floor. He reached down, picking up a flat device as it emitted, “Get your hands off me,” from a tiny speaker.

  “What the—?” Allen turned. A bright light shone in his face.

  “Seems Connors was right about you,” a man’s voice said from behind the flashlight.

  “Who are you? Where’s Laney?”

  “I am Captain Millry. You have illegally boarded my vessel. Therefore, you must be detained. Close the doors.”

  “No, he’ll die in there,” Laney shouted from outside.

  “LANEY!” Allen yelled. He bolted toward the light.

  The heavy doors swung shut, locking him inside.

  12

  HIGH SEAS

  Allen wasn’t certain of the precise time. He knew it was daylight outside as a thin shaft of sunlight was shining into the dark shipping container through a dime-size rust hole just above his head.

  Reaching up, he’d extended a three-foot long tendril of himself through the chink, which stood erect like a radio antennae; instead of receiving a transmission signal, the sapling was soaking up sunlight so Allen could convert light energy via the photosynthesis process into organic fuel.

  He’d considered threading himself gradually through the vent to escape but wasn’t sure of the outcome or if he would even be able to reform back into his original shape, as he had never attempted it before. He decided to leave the option as a last resort.

  The garments he’d been wearing were on the container floor. He had absorbed every drop of moisture from the damp clothes. It was necessary to allow his body to breathe freely.

  He wasn’t too worried about the lack of water or sunlight. He figured the egress would allow him to put enough of himself on the rooftop of the shipping container to sponge up the wet sea air and absorb the sun’s rays.

  Allen was more concerned about Laney. He knew his wife was smart and resourceful. He feared for her safety in the company of the unscrupulous sailors.

  As none of the crewmembers had gotten a good look at him, they had to assume he was like anyone else and in time would require provisions. There was nothing Allen could do at the moment but wait for someone to open the steel doors so he could stage an escape and rescue Laney.

  And that is exactly what he did.

  He sat in the corner of the shipping container—and waited.

  ***

  For two days, Laney was confined to her quarters and not permitted to leave the cabin. The captain had paid her a visit to check in on her. When she demanded to be released and reunited with her husband, the captain assured her they would once they reached port.

  A ship’s steward brought Laney her meals, which consisted mostly of longanisa and rice, chicken adobo, or lumpia. Whenever she tried to get information out of him, the short Filipino man would give her a toothless grin and shake his head like he didn’t understand her, though she had heard him speaking perfect English in the passageway to the sailor standing outside, guarding her door.

  Laney was taking a nap when her compartment tilted suddenly, tossing her out of her bunk. She flew across the room, slamming into the small table by the bulkhead. The floor heaved in the other direction and she was thrown against a metal cabinet.

  The room pitched forward and then back, throwing her off her feet. It was like trying to stand up in a roller coaster car as it barreled into steep turns, thundering up and down the tracks.

  She heard the lock click. Her cabin door swung open.

  “Hurry, come with me!” yelled the sailor. He held onto the doorjamb, reaching out to Laney.

  She stumbled across the floor. She grabbed his hand. “Where are we going?”

  “Topside.”

  “Why, what’s happening?”

  “We’ve hit a bad storm.” The sailor staggered down the passage, banging up against the bulkhead as he held onto Laney. Each time the ship lurched violently, the hull around them groaned, followed by pounding booms from the outside waves.

  They clung to the railing, climbing up the steel stairs to the upper deck. Seawater splashed in through the open hatchway, drenching Laney and the sailor.

  Stepping outside, Laney could see the giant white caps on the rolling waves, some higher than the top lip of the ship’s funnel. The bow plunged and the vessel dipped into a deep trough like the sea was swallowing them up.

  As the winds howled and the waves crashed onto the main deck, rivers of saltwater gushed between the cargo containers like a flashflood rushing through a city’s streets.

  Laney spotted the captain and a few of the crew preparing to launch a lifeboat.

  She turned to the man next to her and shouted, “Are we abandoning ship?”

  “There’s been a breech in the hull,” he replied, ducking as another powerful wave slammed into the hull, sending a raging torrent across the main deck.

  Laney clung to a cleat on a mast to stop from being swept overboard as the ship drastically tilted in a 45-degree angle. She was certain the ship was going to capsize but it slowly uprighted and began to lean the other way.

  She heard muffled screams and saw the captain and his men being swept over the side into the choppy sea.

  Suddenly, the cargo ship rose on the crest of a mammoth sixty-foot wave. She heard a thunderous boom then a giant crack split the main deck apart. “Oh my God!” Laney screamed.

  “That monster wave broke the ship’s back,” the sailor shouted, holding onto a halyard on the other side of the mast. “We have to get to the lifeboat!”

  Laney watched in horror as the bow section separated and drifted into the turbulent sea. The shipping cargo containers slid against one another but managed to stay with the damaged vessel.

  Her heart sank knowing Allen was trapped with no way to get out. She watched as the ravaged section floated further away. Some of the compartments on the different levels appeared to be sealed. She prayed there was enough buoyancy to keep the wreck afloat until help could arrive.

  “We’re going down!” the sailor hollered.

  Laney had been so preoccupied worrying about Allen, she hadn’t realized the stern section of the ship was rapidly sinking.

  “We have to go!” The sailor grabbed Laney by the ha
nd. They staggered like a couple of drunks as the deck shifted and waves crashed over them. As soon as they reached the open lifeboat, the sailor boosted Laney aboard.

  She watched as he struggled to release the block from the tackle clamping down on the rope suspending the boat. The sailor gave it a strong yank. He lost his balance. He fell over the side, plummeting into the ocean.

  Laney looked up as the block gave way. The rope raced through the pulley, dumping the small whaleboat into the rough sea.

  She knew she needed to get clear of the sinking vessel before it sucked her down with it. She spotted a set of oars. She rigged them in the holders.

  Sitting on the bench seat and facing aft, she dipped the paddles in the water. She put her shoulders into it and rowed like her life depended on it.

  The stern section of the ship stood on end. Air bubbled out from the hulking metal as it began to submerge, creating a powerful whirlpool.

  Laney could feel the lifeboat being drawn toward the swirling current.

  Leaning forward and pulling back with all her might, she rowed as hard as she could and kept doing so, until the boat finally broke free of the undercurrent threatening to suck her under with the doomed ship. She gazed over the gunwale hoping to see at least one other survivor in the water, but it was too dark.

  Praying the lifeboat was seaworthy to ride out the storm, Laney crawled under the canvas tarp stretched over the bow and curled up with a life preserver.

  13

  ADRIFT

  By the afternoon of the next day, the ocean waves had subsided as the storm had dissipated and moved southward. There were no sightings of a ship or land anywhere on the horizon. The sky was a magnificent cloudless blue dome.

  Laney felt as though her entire body was bruised from being slammed against the inside of the hull for all those hours. She had pulled everything out from under the canvas tarp in the process of conducting an inventory.

  Besides the life jacket she was wearing, there were five more. If the lifeboat was to sink, and the need arose, she could tie the life preservers together to form a crude raft.

  A single bucket was useful for scooping up tiny fish and bailing water, and would make for an adequate latrine.

  She looked inside the waterproof green bag labeled with the ISO first aid symbol of a white cross. It contained standard medical supplies: adhesive bandages, tape, gauze pads, disposable nitrite gloves, butterfly closure strips, alcohol swabs, hydrogen peroxide, anti-seasickness tablets and a tube of UV protection ointment. She applied the sunscreen to her face and arms to prevent her fair skin from becoming sunburned.

  Laney wore a khaki sun hat she’d found tucked in the bow to ward off the scorching sun. She’d donned a pair of sunglasses from the kit to protect her eyes from the water’s glare, which could result in blindness much like staring for long durations with the naked eye at a white landscape of snow.

  She had a compass but no idea which way was the nearest shoreline.

  Inside an orange box was a flare gun with two red flares and two smoke flares. She had never shot a flare gun before. After reading the straightforward instructions on the side of the box she felt she was prepared to fire a projectile in the event she sighted land or a passing ship.

  She was disappointed the lifeboat didn’t have a distress beacon, a shortwave radio, or a GPS navigation device, which would have increased her chances of being rescued.

  Laney was confident she had ample food. A cardboard box contained cans of high-calorie rations—and thankfully a can opener—enough provisions to last six people for one week or one person for six weeks. A small block of chocolate was wrapped in aluminum foil to contain the confection if it melted.

  She’d discovered a seawater desalination kit and a rainwater-collecting device. She wasn’t overly worried about running out of water right away as there were 6 one-gallon jugs on board.

  She also had a foul weather poncho, a waterproof flashlight, and a Swiss Army knife.

  Laney stowed everything that needed to be out of the sun back under the bow tarpaulin. She grabbed the block of chocolate. She used the Swiss Army knife to cut herself off a piece. She put the sweet bit in her mouth, resting it on her tongue. She allowed it to slowly dissolve and slide down her throat.

  Afterwards, she took a Dramamine. She washed it down with a swallow of lukewarm water from a jug. She slipped under the shade of the tarp. She closed her eyes, letting the gentle rocking of the boat lull her to sleep.

  ***

  The boat shook with a loud boom.

  Laney woke up, scrambling out into the bright sunlight. She removed her sunglasses from her shirt pocket. She put them on.

  The boat was swaying roughly so she had to grab the gunwale so as not to fall over. She could hear water lapping against the hull.

  She peered over the side. She didn’t see anything in the water the lifeboat might have hit. Sitting on the bench seat, she turned halfway around to her right. She turned back the other way to make a complete 360-degree sweep. All she saw was a colossal circle of flat ocean.

  Something bumped the keel. The stern lifted up, bouncing back onto the surface. Laney grabbed onto the oar holder to stop from being thrown out of the boat.

  This time when she looked over the side, she saw a humongous dark shape pass beneath the boat. Laney estimated the lifeboat to be sixteen feet in length. The great white shark was nearly twice that size.

  The deadly predator swam just below the surface. It headed away from the boat.

  A minute later, the triangular-shaped dorsal fin emerged a hundred yards out, cutting back through the water toward the lifeboat.

  Laney pulled an oar out of the holder. She crouched with the paddle ready. She figured if she could bash it in the head, the great white might back off and leave her alone. She waited as it made its next pass. She raised the oar and jabbed at its face through the water.

  The shark opened its mouth, grabbing the oar in its serrated teeth. Fearing she would be pulled over the side, Laney released the oar. The 4-ton beast plunged into the blackening depths.

  Laney cursed herself for being so stupid. It would be near impossible to maneuver the lifeboat with only one oar. Instead of dissuading the mighty fish, she had only provoked it. Now she had given it a real reason to attack.

  The great white punched through the planked hull with its head like a silver bullet ripping through a paper target.

  Laney fell back against the transom. Water rushed into the boat through the three-foot wide gap left from the smashed-out boards. She watched in horror as her survival gear floated out with the jugs of water. The case of canned goods sunk right away.

  “No, no!” She lurched over the bench seat, grabbing for anything before it slipped out into the open water. She snatched the orange case containing the flare gun.

  She stood in the boat. The water level had reached her knees. She was sinking fast. She removed the flare gun from the case. She inserted a red flare.

  The great white shark was circling back to the boat.

  White Death in a sea of blue.

  Water poured over the transom.

  The shark came alongside—opened its monstrous mouth.

  Laney aimed and fired.

  Red phosphorus burst out of its cavernous gullet.

  The massive creature rolled onto its back and slowly sank.

  Laney put the flare gun back in the waterproof case.

  The lifeboat was completely filled with water. Laney jumped in, swimming toward the life vests. She gathered them up before they could drift away. She cinched them together forming a larger flotation device. She was able to grab a water jug as it floated by.

  An hour ago, she had high hopes of survival; now, not so much.

  ***

  Laney drifted for days on the ocean currents before Butros Jabeen and his crew spotted her some miles off the coast of Madagascar. She was dehydrated, suffering from hypothermia, and her body had tiny bites all over where the fish had tried to feed on
her.

  She counted her lucky stars to be alive.

  As did the pirates that rescued her.

  14

  BLOOM

  Allen stood on the shipwreck, staring at the barren island. Stone beaches stretched up to sloping ridges of black lava rock. Hot vapors steamed up from the earth’s crust in a rising gray plume out of the conical mountainous peak.

  The portside bow section of the ship’s hull was crushed against the shoreline boulders, along with a few shipping containers. Most of the twenty-foot long sea vans had slid off the deck, visible in the surf or resting on the ocean’s bottom.

  Allen’s container was the only one still on the main deck.

  The doors stood wide open, exposing the interior of the metal box, which was lined with moss-green fungus and bulging with plant life. The overgrown vegetation’s budding root systems had expanded onto the main deck, creeping into every crack and crevice. Thick vines slithered through portholes and hatchways, wrapping around railings and stanchions like a conquering invading army of serpents.

  Allen glanced down at his chest, legs, and feet. He was amazed by the way his body had changed once he’d been exposed to plenty of sunshine and the moist sea air.

  When Allen first stepped out of the shipping container, he looked like he had been dipped in a sticky substance and rolled in corn flakes from head to toe. When he touched his brittle skin, pieces would crack off like autumn leaves falling off a tree.

  But now his humanistic body was covered with a bouquet of tiny purple flowers and white baby breath.

  He heard scampering feet. Another animal had escaped from the cargo hold making its way off the wrecked ship onto the boulders to the stony beachfront.

  A bird glided down to perch on Allen’s shoulder like a pirate’s parrot.

  It was a tern.

  Allen could hear soaring gulls gibbering high up in the sky.