both as pale as the grave. A bulbous eye in a conical head, its jellied surface alien and trembling. Another electric flash and a beak appeared at the center of a ring of suckers six inches in diameter.
A beak?
Again Cordon seemed to read Joe’s thoughts. “It looks more like the mouth of a parrot than a weapon for a squid, eh? And the suckers, those have teeth, too.” A deep sigh as the man watched in admiration. “Within that rubbery flesh, to find something so hard, so
sharp
—it is a miracle of nature, don’t you agree?”
Joe couldn’t tear his eyes from the churning water. “How many are there?”
Cordon shrugged. “Hundreds. Maybe a thousand.” A tentacle flashed out of the water, snapped like a whip. It must have been four feet long. “They are big, these squid. As big as a man, some of them.”
Joe nodded absently. “What the fuck are they doing?”
“Feeding, of course.” Deep laughter echoed over the ship. The two men guiding the net glanced toward them. Something about their expressions made Joe uncomfortable, like they were in on a joke that wouldn’t translate into his language.
“But the lights?”
“Ah, that is best part.” Cordon pointed to an eerie green light bobbing amidst the flashes of white, its dull glow steady even as it was jostled back and forth. Then he pointed at another ten feet away, a steady beacon amidst the strobing chaos. “You see those lights, the green ones?” They reminded Joe of the plastic glow sticks kids carried on Halloween, or the chemical flares people kept in their cars for emergencies. “The flares were placed into the water before we got here, to attract the plankton that squid like to eat. The squid eat the plankton, and we eat the squid.”
But Joe wasn’t looking at the little green lights. He was trying to focus on the blue and white strobes, the sudden bursts of energy followed by utter blackness. “But the other lights,” he asked, almost worried he was hallucinating. “The glow…”
“These are
Humboldt
squid, and they are…” Cordon hesitated, frowned until he found the word. “
Bioluminescent.
They make their own light when they are aroused, or when they are feeding. Squid are vicious predators, as you can see.”
Joe stole a glance toward the men by the net. They were laughing again at some private joke but Joe couldn’t hear them. The thrashing of the squid pushed all other sounds past hearing.
Joe took a step away from the railing and immediately regretted it. The sway of the boat was subtle but still there. He tightened his grip, wondering if the railing was wet from the damp air, the ocean spray, or his own sweating palms.
“OK,” he said, almost shouting to be hard above the roar of the feeding frenzy. “Here we are. Can we discuss our arrangement now?”
“Our arrangement?”
“Like you said, there’s no wires. Can we talk business?” Joe almost said
please
. A thousand tentacles waved, coaxing him overboard, the tiny teeth surrounding each sucker glinting green. A gelatinous eye came into view and froze. Joe would have sworn it was staring right at him, wondering what he’d taste like deep-fried.
“You said so yourself,” pressed Joe. “We’ve got no company out here.”
Again the laughter, a deep baritone that made Joe’s skin crawl. “But we
do
have company.” Cordon clapped his hands.
Two more crewmen emerged from the forward cabin, carrying a third man slung between them like a bag of laundry. The man on the left was tall, the man on the right short, so they progressed in a crazy zig-zag pattern that heightened Joe’s sense of the boat’s lateral motion. The guy in the middle was average height, but his feet dragged as the two men hustled him toward the stern. When the ungainly trio reached the back of the boat, Joe felt his body explode in sweat.
Sammy Dunlop.
The name leapt into Joe’s head like a childhood memory.
Sammy, a.k.a. “The Hound” to his friends and enemies, and Joe had been
A beak?
Again Cordon seemed to read Joe’s thoughts. “It looks more like the mouth of a parrot than a weapon for a squid, eh? And the suckers, those have teeth, too.” A deep sigh as the man watched in admiration. “Within that rubbery flesh, to find something so hard, so
sharp
—it is a miracle of nature, don’t you agree?”
Joe couldn’t tear his eyes from the churning water. “How many are there?”
Cordon shrugged. “Hundreds. Maybe a thousand.” A tentacle flashed out of the water, snapped like a whip. It must have been four feet long. “They are big, these squid. As big as a man, some of them.”
Joe nodded absently. “What the fuck are they doing?”
“Feeding, of course.” Deep laughter echoed over the ship. The two men guiding the net glanced toward them. Something about their expressions made Joe uncomfortable, like they were in on a joke that wouldn’t translate into his language.
“But the lights?”
“Ah, that is best part.” Cordon pointed to an eerie green light bobbing amidst the flashes of white, its dull glow steady even as it was jostled back and forth. Then he pointed at another ten feet away, a steady beacon amidst the strobing chaos. “You see those lights, the green ones?” They reminded Joe of the plastic glow sticks kids carried on Halloween, or the chemical flares people kept in their cars for emergencies. “The flares were placed into the water before we got here, to attract the plankton that squid like to eat. The squid eat the plankton, and we eat the squid.”
But Joe wasn’t looking at the little green lights. He was trying to focus on the blue and white strobes, the sudden bursts of energy followed by utter blackness. “But the other lights,” he asked, almost worried he was hallucinating. “The glow…”
“These are
Humboldt
squid, and they are…” Cordon hesitated, frowned until he found the word. “
Bioluminescent.
They make their own light when they are aroused, or when they are feeding. Squid are vicious predators, as you can see.”
Joe stole a glance toward the men by the net. They were laughing again at some private joke but Joe couldn’t hear them. The thrashing of the squid pushed all other sounds past hearing.
Joe took a step away from the railing and immediately regretted it. The sway of the boat was subtle but still there. He tightened his grip, wondering if the railing was wet from the damp air, the ocean spray, or his own sweating palms.
“OK,” he said, almost shouting to be hard above the roar of the feeding frenzy. “Here we are. Can we discuss our arrangement now?”
“Our arrangement?”
“Like you said, there’s no wires. Can we talk business?” Joe almost said
please
. A thousand tentacles waved, coaxing him overboard, the tiny teeth surrounding each sucker glinting green. A gelatinous eye came into view and froze. Joe would have sworn it was staring right at him, wondering what he’d taste like deep-fried.
“You said so yourself,” pressed Joe. “We’ve got no company out here.”
Again the laughter, a deep baritone that made Joe’s skin crawl. “But we
do
have company.” Cordon clapped his hands.
Two more crewmen emerged from the forward cabin, carrying a third man slung between them like a bag of laundry. The man on the left was tall, the man on the right short, so they progressed in a crazy zig-zag pattern that heightened Joe’s sense of the boat’s lateral motion. The guy in the middle was average height, but his feet dragged as the two men hustled him toward the stern. When the ungainly trio reached the back of the boat, Joe felt his body explode in sweat.
Sammy Dunlop.
The name leapt into Joe’s head like a childhood memory.
Sammy, a.k.a. “The Hound” to his friends and enemies, and Joe had been
Similar Books
