Sea Beast

Tom and Rachel take a weekend cruise that should be relaxing and fun—until monsters from the depths of Lake Michigan rise to attack.

Sea Beast, Part One

Rachel was swimming in Lake Michigan off the side of the Sea Beast, a 44-foot cruiser with four bedrooms, two cockpits, and a sun deck in the bow. Two other women swam with her, laughing, staying close to the hull, while Rachel’s long legs kicked in the water.

            I was supposed to be working, but Rachel in a bikini always distracted me.

            Robert Conroy came up behind me, holding a beer and smoking a cigar. In his fifties, with thin, steel-gray hair and a blunt jaw. “Anything yet?”

            “I did a quick search. Your brother’s room was locked.” I watched Rachel slither under the soft waves. “Is he still up there?”

            “Yeah. Making sure we stay close to the girls.” One of them was Conroy’s wife, Cecile. The other was his brother Jim’s girlfriend, a young blond named April. Rachel had jabbed her elbow at me more than once when she caught me checking her out.

            “I’ll have to get into his room. If you want.”

“I’ll see.” Conroy was a co-owner of his brother’s boat, so it was at least semi-legal for me to poke around.

Something caught my eye in the water.

            No, not Rachel, as much as I liked watching her in a bikini. This looked like a fin. A long, narrow fin, maybe ten feet from front to back, undulating side to side. I could see something large and dark just under the surface.

            “Rachel!” I waved. “Get out of the lake!”

            I don’t know if she heard me. But the other two women did. Cecile, hanging onto the ladder off the starboard side near the stern, turned in the water and saw the fin.

            “What the—” She grabbed the ladder and started pulling herself up. April followed, so close I thought she might pull Cecile off the rungs. 

            Rachel twisted around in the water, saw the fin, and then dived down, swimming hard toward the boat.

            The fin didn’t follow. It curled in a half circle, then slid slowly beneath the surface of the water.

            Conroy helped his wife into the boat. “Jim!”

            I helped April, hoping Rachel wouldn’t notice. She turned and leaned against the rail, panting, peering at the crisp blue water. “What is it? I don’t see anything.”

            “It was—” I pushed her aside, as politely as I could, when Rachel came up the ladder. “Are you all right?” I grabbed a towel. “Did you—feel anything?” Rachel’s at least partly psychic. And that fin hadn’t looked like anything natural.

            “I felt it on my foot!” She stamped a bare heel on the deck. “It was long and rough, and big. What the hell was that?”

            “I don’t know.” But it was gone. For now.

Conroy had hired me two days ago. “Tom Jurgen, right?” He shook my hand in his office in one of the tall buildings in downtown Chicago—one with a wide view of the lake.

            That’s me—Tom Jurgen, ex-reporter, now a private detective. “What can I do for you, Mr. Conroy?”

            “It’s my brother James. Jim.” He sat down behind his long mahogany desk.  The office was big, filled with books on real estate and framed photos of boats, large and small, old and new, between the bookcases. “I’m worried about him.”

            “Worried about what?”

            “He’s my kid brother. He lives on a boat—I own half of it. He used to work with me.” He gestured around the office. “But a few years ago he just quit, and I don’t know what he does anymore. I’m afraid he’s into drugs.”

            That might be a break from my usual routine of cases involving vampires and demons from hell. On the other, getting involved with drug dealers might be even less conducive to maintaining my anxiety levels. “What do you want me to do?”

            “He takes us out on the boat every other weekend in the summer. I want to bring you on Saturday, if you’re available, and you can search the boat for drugs. It’s okay—like I said, I’m half-owner. And I don’t want him arrested. I just want to know what he’s doing.”

            Sounded simple. Which usually meant it wouldn’t be. “You could do the search. It’s be cheaper than hiring me.”

            Conroy shook his head. “He’ll know if I’m doing anything like that. I can distract him while you check the boat out. It’ll be Saturday and Sunday, but it’s big boat. Sleeps eight. And the weather’s going to be nice.”

            I looked out at the lake, calm and blue. I could do with a quiet weekend on the water. “Can I bring a friend?”

We met at the Grant Park harbor at 11 a.m. on Saturday. Rachel wore shorts and a Chicago Blackhawks T-shirt, carrying a bag with clothes for the weekend. “Is that it? Wow. I’ve never been in anything bigger than a canoe.”

            Rachel’s my girlfriend. She lives upstairs from me, and she helps me on my cases. She’s somewhat psychic, which works out when I’m dealing the monsters and demons. I hoped this wouldn’t be one of those cases.

            Jim Conroy looked, predictably, like a younger version of his big brother, but his hair was still mostly black and his bare shoulders were brawnier. “Hi. Tom?” He took Rachel’s pack and mine on the short gangplank. “Welcome aboard the Sea Beast.”

            Robert Conroy and his wife were already aboard. Conroy wore a blazer without a tie, and his wife Cecile, about halfway between his age and Jim’s, wore a wraparound skirt and a light sweater.

            A blond woman came up from below, in white shorts and a red bikini top. “Are we ready?”

            “Help me cast off. This is April, my girlfriend. Tom Jurgen, and uh . . . Rachel?” They shook hands. “Nice to have you aboard.”

            Rachel jabbed me in the ribs as April bent over to start untying the boat from the dock. “What are you looking at?” She gets territorial whenever another woman’s in sight.

            “N-nothing.” I turned around to look at the lake.

            A few wispy clouds hovered in the sky, and the sun was beating down on the water. Cecile took us down to show us our room. Tight, but workable for one night. “We’ll have to share the heads.” She pointed to one door, and then another. “That’s what they call it on a boat.”

            The engines started up. I climbed the stairs to the main deck and then another set of stairs to the upper cockpit, where Jim had one hand on a steering wheel and the other on a throttle, backing the boat up, then navigating slowly past the other boats tied up in their slips or maneuvering out to the lake.

            His brother stood next to him. “Where are we going?”

            “Down to Benton Harbor. A couple of hours.” He tapped the GPS. “This will get us there. If it gives out, I’ve got maps. On paper, even. We can stop to go swimming. I’ve done this a dozen times, remember?”

            “I know.” He patted Jim’s shoulder. “You’ve really done good with this boat.”

            Jim nodded, “It’s my home.” He peered through the window.

            “What do you do otherwise?” I fished for sunglasses in my shirt pocket.

            “Favors. Odd jobs for friends.”

            “Kind of like Travis McGee?” A fictional “salvage expert” who lived on a boat, in a series of detective novels I’d devoured as a teenager.

            He grinned, recognizing the name. “My role model.”

            “Tom’s a reporter.” Conroy glanced at me. Since I used to actually be a reporter, it was the easiest cover story we could come up with.

            “Cool.” Jim steered us out of the harbor. “We’ll head out for a few hours, have some lunch . . . Hey, April, bring me a beer? You guys?”

            “I’m fine.” I don’t drink much these days. April brought up beers from a cooler on the rear deck and sat down in the co-pilot’s chair.

            Rachel joined us. She’d already changed into a black bikini with a white cover-up. “So, life on the water, huh?” She had a beer too. “How’d you guys meet?”

            “Right here.” April tapped a foot on the deck. “There was a party. I came with some friends. He called me the next day. I don’t even remembering giving you my phone number.” She slapped Jim’s shoulder. “The usual. How about you two?”

            “Oh, I was living upstairs from him, and some of my friends were making noises.” Rachel winked at me. “He came upstairs to check it out, and we sort of—clicked. The usual.”

            It was almost true. Except for leaving out the vampires.

            Cecile Conroy came up, also in a bikini that, uh, looked nice. “I’m going out on the sun deck up front, Rob.”

            “Oh, me too.” April swigged her beer. “You ‘re okay, right, Jim?”

            “Absolutely.” He grinned.

            Rachel joined them. In a few minutes, they were putting sunscreen over their skin on the front deck, laughing with each other. At least now I could watch April without Rachel assaulting me.

            What? I’m a guy. But Rachel looked better than either of the others.

            “So.” Conroy took the seat that April had left behind. “Everything going okay, Jim?”

            “Fine, Rob.” He turned the wheel slightly. “Why ask?”

            “These odd jobs—I just worry about you.”

            “Relax, Rob. I’m not stupid.” He laughed. “I’m just not an office guy like you. But I did pretty well at the firm, didn’t I?”

            “One of the best.” He sipped his beer. “I never understood why you left.”

            “For the open sea.” Jim chuckled, shifting the wheel again. “Or the open lake, I guess.” He looked at me. “What about you, Tom? What do you like about being a reporter?”

            I thought back. “Finding things out. On land or sea or wherever.” I was still doing that now.

            The land disappeared behind us. A few boats sailed by. Jim kept one eye on the GPS and his other one on the lake. He finished his beer but didn’t ask for another one, even when his brother went down for more.

            We bounced gently on the water. After half an hour I went down to use the head—“That’s what you call it, right?”—but really I wanted to do a quick preliminary search. With Conroy talking to his brother and the women up front, I figured I had a few minutes free.

            Conroy’s small cabin was open, but the other one—Jim and April’s—was locked. I swept the galley, looking in the small refrigerator, checking the freezer, running my fingers under the drawers, and looking under the sink. Nothing. I searched both of the heads, used one for its original purpose, and went back up to the cockpit.

             The women came back to the aft deck. “It’s just a thing I bought,” April was saying. “It really does work.”

            Cecile snorted. “I’ll have to borrow it from you.”

“I’ll show it to you later.” They laid down on deck chairs, sipping beers. I took off my sunglasses and winked at Rachel. She ignored me.

Conroy went down to the galley and brought up another cooler full of sandwiches, vegetables and fruit. He set it next to a big locker at the stern marked “LIFEBOAT,” and then headed back up to the upper cockpit, a sandwich in his hand. “I can take the helm, Jim. If you want.”

            I unbuttoned my shirt. Rachel sat next to me, smelling like sunscreen and sweat. Jim came down and set next to April.

            I leaned over to whisper in Rachel’s ear. “Is Jim okay?”

            “He’s a little high, I think. But I smelled the dope on his breath when we shook hands.” She stretched her legs and closed her eyes. “You want me to touch him?”

            “Uh, no.” Jim had his shirt off, and his chest was . . . somewhat more muscular than mine. “That’s all right. Thanks for asking.”

            She smiled. “Anything for the team.”

            April rose up and walked toward the steps leading back down stern. “I want to go swimming.”

            “Sounds good.” Jim headed for the cabin. “I’ll cut the engine. Wait a few minutes.”

            The motor went off two minutes later. The boat kept surging forward through the water, but it finally slowed and began drifting in quiet, gentle circles on the soft waves.

            Conroy came down. “Okay. Just stay close.”

            April jumped for the ladder. Cecile followed her. Rachel gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. She didn’t use the ladder—she hurled herself off the side of the boat, laughing until she hit the water.

            Conroy came up behind me as I waited for Rachel to come up for air. “Anything yet?”

            That’s when the big fin came up.

Sea Beast, Part Two

Cecile huddled with her husband. “What’s going on?”

            “I don’t know.” Conroy looked at me. “What was that?”

            How should I know? I looked at Rachel. “Anything?”

            “Not—not from here.” She pulled the towel around her shoulders. “Down deep. Long ago.” She leaned down, shuddering. “And it’s coming back.”

            “What is she talking about?” April pulled on a T-shirt. The breeze was chillier now, and thicker clouds were closing in.

            “Jim?” Conroy leaned back. “Stop the boat!”

            “It is stopped.” Jim came out of the cabin. “What’s going on? April?”

            “It was down there.” She flung her arms around his neck. “It almost touched me.”

            “Take us back.” Conroy tugged on his brother’s shoulder. “Right now.”

            “We’re halfway there!” He pointed a finger across the water. “We can get to Benton Harbor in just an hour or two—” 

            Something bumped the boat from beneath. April screamed.

            I made my way to the railing, Rachel behind me, still dripping. The deck rocked under our feet.

            It wasn’t the monster with the long fin. I saw a wide, triangular dorsal fin, white on three sides and red on top, across the back of a creature bigger than a beluga, but not as huge as a humpback. It cut through the water for a moment, gliding ahead of the boat. I never saw its face. A tail with three fins slapped the surface, splashing my face as it dove down and disappeared.

            “We’re gonna need a bigger boat,” I whispered.

            Rachel slugged me. “I was going to say that.”

            Jim had dashed up to the cockpit, Conroy behind him. April was sitting cross-legged on the deck, hyperventilating. Cecile looked at the water, shading her eyes.

            Rachel and I followed the brothers.

            Jim’s fingers were roaming around the screen of his GPS navigator. “It’s not working. Why isn’t it—”

            Even the compass was spinning out of control.

            “Just get us out of here!” Conroy, like his wife, scanned the horizon for signs of more monsters.

            “All right.” Jim reached for the starter. “The tanks are full. I can use the maps. We can . . .”

            The engine was silent.

            “What the hell?” Jim tried again. “This can’t—I just had maintenance last month!” He pounded the wheel. “Hang on.”

            Jim and Conroy went back down. I hugged Rachel.

            “I don’t need comfort.” But she didn’t pull away.

            “I do.” I let her go. “What was it like?”

            She shrugged. “At first just like a fish swimming past my leg.” She held onto my hand as the boat rocked mildly on the water. “Then it was a big fish. Something felt wrong. I rolled around, and then you were shouting at me, and I saw that fin going past me—10 feet long, 20 feet? Nothing natural from Lake Michigan.”

            “So what do you think? Mutant? Monster? Creature from the Black Lagoon?”

            Rachel shook her head. “It doesn’t belong here. Maybe from another dimension or something.”

            I sat down behind the wheel. “This was supposed to be a fun weekend.” I always seem to attract stuff like this, more now than before. “I’m sorry.”

            “Hey.” She slapped my shoulder. Lightly. “Keeps thing spicy.”

            We went down to the aft deck.

            Jim and Conroy had pulled open a hatch in the deck, and they were down in the hold, looking at the engines. Cecile had a bottle of water in her hands, slumped on a deck chair. April was leaning against the railing now, gazing out at the lake.

            After ten minutes the Conroy brothers climbed up out of the hold. “I don’t get it.” Jim slammed the hatch, grease on his hands. “There’s nothing wrong! I had this checked out a month ago.”

            “So we just drift?” April stood up, her legs wobbly.

            “We sure as hell can’t row.” Conroy looked like he wanted to slam a fist into his brother’s nose, and frustrated that he couldn’t find a good reason to. “He’s right. The engines should work. Let’s try the other cockpit.”

            The boat had a lower cockpit for bad weather cruises. They headed down.

            I looked at Rachel. “What do you think?”

            “I’m not going down there.” She pointed a bare toe at the hatch. “Bilge water? Plus, I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout no engines, Miz Scarlett.”

            I didn’t blame her.

            Cecile followed her husband down to the lower cockpit. April kept staring at the water.

            Cecile came up a few minutes later, shaking her head. “Idiots.”

            I looked at Rachel, and then I went down.

            Jim and his brother were arguing. Voices low, but angry. “Are you just high, or what? We’re drifting in the middle of Lake Michigan!”

            “You checked out those engines!” Jim jabbed a finger at Conroy’s chest. “If you can fix them, go ahead! I’m telling you—”

            “So we’re stuck?” I leaned against the door. Trying not to look as scared as I felt.

            Jim dropped his arm. “I have to use the head.” He pushed past me.

            Conroy shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense. He’s right. There’s no reason why the motors aren’t turning on. And those monsters . . .”

            “Yeah.” I stared through the window at the water.

We met on the aft deck to talk.

            “I’ll take another look.” Jim sat in a chair on top of the hatch, drinking a beer. “Maybe there’s something . . . but I don’t know.”

            Clouds gathered overhead, shrouding the sun and casting long black shadows across the water.

Cecile peered at the horizon. “Where are we?”

            “Somewhere in the middle of the goddamn lake.” Conroy held a beer too. “But we can’t come up with a position without the GPS, and we won’t even be able to see the stars!” He leaned back and stared into the darkening sky. ”And we can’t move. We can’t even drop the anchor. There’s nothing for it to hit at the depth we’re in.”

            “So what are we going to do?” April had pulled on a T-shirt and pair of shorts. She sat on the deck again, her legs crossed.

            “There’s a box of flares in the lifeboat locker.” Jim had put on a long-sleeved blue shirt. “We’ll use those. Someone will see us.”

            “How much food do we have?” Conroy glanced at the cooler of sandwiches.

            “There’s that, and there’s stuff in the galley.” April pointed to the stairs. “I packed enough for three days. Just to be sure.”

            “At least we’ve got plenty of water.” I was watching the lake.

            “At least we haven’t seen any . . . monsters in a few hours.” Cecile pulled a towel over her shoulders. “Maybe they’re gone.”

Or maybe we’d drifted away from wherever they lived. It was a nice thought.

            But Rachel ruined it. “They’re close. Watching us. I can feel it.”

            “What?” Cecile leaned forward, skeptical. “What are you, psychic or something?”

            “Yeah.” She nodded as if sharing her Zodiac sign. “As a matter of fact. At least a little.”

            Everyone stared—not at her, but at me. What? “It’s true. You’d better listen to her.”

            “Oh god.” Cecile laughed. “You find the most interesting friends, Rob.”

            Jim lurched up. “I need to use the head again.”

            Conroy watched him go. Then he turned on Rachel. “Who are you, again?”

            “Rachel. I’m a graphic designer. Vegetarian. I drive a Prius.” She cocked her head to think. “What else do you want to know? I won a spelling bee in second grade. I think I still have the certificate somewhere at home.”

            April stood up from the deck and put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m vegan too. Except I like fish. Figures, huh?” She giggled and swaying on her feet, as if drunk, although she hadn’t had more than one beer since crawling out of the lake.

            “I need the head too.” I let April take my chair. “Be right back.”

            Down in the cabin I waited in front of a closed door. There was one other head toward the bow, but I wanted the one Jim was using.

            Before someone else came down, Jim opened the door, wiping a hand across his cheeks. “Oh. Hi.”

            “Hi.” I let him step through, and then closed the door behind me.

            My hunch paid off. The counter next to the sink was narrow, but I found at least a few specks of white powder on the brown surface. I smelled it, tasted it—but I’m no cop. I had no idea what cocaine smelled or tasted like.

            I did find a rolled-up scrap of paper in the garbage. With some traces of white stuff on the inside.

            Yes, even while surrounded by sea monsters somewhere in the middle of Lake Michigan, miles from land, I was still doing the job I’d been hired for. Go me.

            When I stepped onto the deck again, Jim had the hatch open. “I’m going to take another look. I’ll figure it out.”

            Conroy groaned. “I’d better help.”

            “Just a moment. Rob?” I motioned him back toward the overhang of the upper deck.

            He finished his beer and followed me. “Yeah?”

            I kept my voice low. “I think I found what you wanted. In the head. What you wanted me to look for.”

            “Oh my god.” He clenched his jaw. “We’re stuck out here in the middle of nowhere, and all you want—”

            “Just keep an eye on whatever Jim does down there. If he’s high now, he might make mistakes. That’s all I’m saying.” I glanced at Rachel. “I want to get home just as much as you do.”

            He blinked. “Right. Sorry.”

            Conroy headed back down into the hold.

            Rachel had gotten a pair of jeans and her Blackhawks shirt, and Cecile sat wrapped in towels. April wore sweats and a T-shirt over her bikini.

I walked to the rail. The sky was growing darker. I had no idea what time it was, or how long we’d been drifting. I leaned down to stare at the mild waves.

            A claw reached up.

            I jerked back. The claw dropped away. I glanced back, but none of the women had seen my jump. Rachel and April were talking quietly. Cecile looked as if she was nodding off to sleep.

            I turned again, keeping my head way back. A small whirlpool seemed to be forming off the stern. I braced for another appearance of the claw, my knees shaking. My eyes darted around. I’d seen enough horror movies—and lived enough of them in real life—to know that sdanger could come up anywhere, from any direction, wherever I was looking.

            I looked close and far away. Then I spotted it.

            An island?

            “Hey!” I waved an arm. “Is that—”

            The engines started again. The boat lurched, and I almost fell on my butt. Rachel caught me. “You okay?”

            “Yeah.” I tried to catch my balance as the deck shifted under my feet. “There’s a—”

             Jim came through the hatch, shaking his head. “I didn’t do anything. It just started up.”

            Conroy was right behind him. “Who cares? Let’s get going!”

            We crowded into the lower cockpit. Cecile stayed behind, and Rachel stayed with her. Jim put one hand on the throttle and the other on the steering wheel, then cursed. “Shit. The GPS still isn’t working.”

            And the clouds covered the stars.

            “Look!” I pointed. “There’s an island over there.”

            Jim leaned forward. “Yeah. I see it.”

            “So what?” Conroy looked ready to grab the wheel and take over. “Are we going to camp out?” Maybe I shouldn’t have told him about the cocaine.

            “We can drop anchor and stop drifting.” Jim nosed the boat forward. “In the morning I can take a reading. This still works.” He held his arm out. His wristwatch, which looked like something an astronaut would wear with all its buttons and dials, was still ticking. “We’ve got maps, and I know how to use a sextant.”

            Something was killing all the electronics on the boat. Except the watch. The motors had only started working when—

            Whatever was going on, someone or something wanted us to go to that island.

            April put a hand on Jim’s shoulder. “Am I Ginger or Mary Ann?”

            “I think the question is, who’s Gilligan?” He smiled.

           

The anchor held about 100 yards off the island, which we could barely see as the night set in.

            We set watches. Jim would sleep in the lower cockpit. Rachel and I took the first watch on the aft deck. Conroy and his wife went to their cabin. April stayed with Jim.

            I ate a sandwich. Rachel sipped a beer. We changed places often, keeping an eye on all sides of the boat.

            “So what do you think?” I slouched in a deck chair.

            “April wants to be here.” She kept her voice low.

            “I wondered.” She’s been terrified by the creatures at first, but she’d calmed down enough to make a “Gilligan’s Island” joke once we got close. “Did you get anything else from her?”

            “She’s kind of closed off. She told me she loves the water and boats. She loves swimming. I get the feeling she’s mostly with Jim because she likes his boat.” She glanced toward the steps down toward the cockpit where Jim was sleeping—or whatever—with April. “But that’s not a feeling, just from what she told me. She doesn’t . . . give up much.”

            “What about the others?”

            “Rob is annoyed, and scared. Cecile is just scared. Jim is . . . antsy. Maybe because of the, uh, you know . . .” She lowered her voice again. “The coke? Or maybe something else.”

            Sometimes it’s useful to have a girlfriend who’s a psychic. Especially if she’s as cute at Rachel. “Not much I can do with my awesome private eye skills here. Sorry about dragging you out here.”

            Rachel walked over to give me a quick punch in the arm. “Stop saying that every time.”

            “Ouch.” But it didn’t really hurt. “I should have said I’m glad you’re here. If only because I got to see you in a bikini.”

            She planted her fists on her hips. “You’ve seen me naked. What’s the difference?”

            I shrugged. “It’s a guy thing.”

            She sighed. “Jerk.”

            We have a complicated relationship.