Loch threw up his hands in disgust. “You’re a geek!” he yelled at Randolph. “A grade-A, U.S. prime geek!”
Loch came out of the trailer as Dr. Sam and Cavenger pulled up in the Volvo. Dr. Sam had heard the gunshots. “What happened?”
Loch shrugged as he sat down on the trailer steps. “Randolph just assassinated my bedroom.”
Sunlight reflected from the back of Cavenger’s balding head as he strolled away from all the shouting and accusations. His small, deep-set eyes stared out toward the lake while Dr. Sam conducted the interrogation. Loch, Zaidee, and Sarah stuck to their story that they had been at the grid feeding an otter and hadn’t wanted Randolph and his men to shoot it.
“That was no otter,” Randolph kept repeating.
“It doesn’t matter,” Cavenger said finally. “Whatever it was, we’ll net it on tomorrow’s sweep.” He turned to Dr. Sam. “Let’s go. We have a lot of work to finish at the base.”
Cavenger put Sarah in the back of the Volvo and got into the front passenger seat. Dr. Sam got behind the wheel and started the engine. He rolled down the window for a parting shot at Randolph. “You stay off my property.”
“Your property?” Cavenger laughed. “I pay the rents around here.”
As usual, Dr. Sam said nothing. He just drove off.
Randolph and his men left right after Dr. Sam and Cavenger, leaving Loch and Zaidee alone at the camp. Zaidee walked out and sat on the rinky-dink dock at the spot where they had put Wee Beastie back into the lake. There was no sign of the creature anywhere. She started to cry. Loch walked over to her and sat down.
“Don’t, Zaidee,” Loch said. “We’re not going to give up.”
“They’re going to catch Wee Beastie tomorrow,” Zaidee said. “They’re going to kill him.”
“No,” Loch said. “There’s got to be something we can do. We have to think of something …”
“Wee Beastie could still be right out there,” Zaidee said. “Maybe he didn’t swim very far.”
“He’ll be okay,” Loch said. “I’m sure he’s finding his mother.”
He hadn’t meant to say the word “mother.” It was a word they both tried to use as little as possible.
“They’ll trap them all tomorrow,” Zaidee wept. “Wee Beastie will be harpooned or shot or caught in those big metal nets and die.”
Loch stood and looked out past the shallows to the dark edge of the deep water. By now the shadows of the pines were thrust far out onto the lake as the sun began to drop behind the mountains. “You’re right,” he told Zaidee. “Wee Beastie could still be hanging around. I have to look for him.”
Zaidee stopped crying. “Are you going out in the boat?”
“No,” Loch said. He turned and climbed the slope to the U-Haul.
Zaidee ran after him. “I want to go with you,” she said.
“You can’t,” Loch said. “If I meet one of the big ones, we’ll … have problems.”
“Don’t go,” Zaidee pleaded. “The sun’s going down. It’s too dangerous.”
“I’ll be okay.” Loch opened the combination lock and threw open the heavy metal door of the truck. He jumped up inside and lifted the canvas cover from the Jet Ski. He moved the ski out onto the truck elevator platform and lowered it to the ground. Zaidee helped him push it to the lake.
“I’ve got to get something,” Zaidee said, heading up to the trailer while Loch fueled the Jet Ski from the boat’s reserve tank. By now the shadows from the mountains themselves began to march on the lake. Only the sky was afire with the stark reds and yellows of sunset.
Zaidee ran back down as Loch started the Jet Ski. “Here,” she said, thrusting the laptop at him. “This will let you know if he’s around.” Her voice dropped. “If anything’s around.”
“Great,” Loch said. He flipped the laptop open, turned it on, and strapped it onto the seat behind him. He’d have to twist around to look at it, but it was better than nothing.
“I want to go with you,” Zaidee said.
“Not this time,” Loch told her.
“I could hold the laptop and watch the screen.”
“You’d be too heavy. I need the speed.”
Zaidee knew he was right. “Well, you are going to need this,” she said, reaching out to the computer and bringing Crashers up on the screen. “If Wee Beastie sees you, maybe he’ll follow you back.”
“Maybe,” Loch said, tousling his sister’s hair. He kicked the ski into gear and started away from the dock.
“Be careful,” Zaidee called after him.
Loch skimmed slowly across the shallows out onto the black water. He knew it would be light for ten or fifteen minutes more. A breeze was coming down from the north. The wisps of the night fog were already forming in the center of the lake.
He turned to check the game screen. There were no telltale static lines.
Farther out the breeze was stronger, whisking off the tops of the waves into streaks of white. He saw a floating log off to his left and another to his right.
Why so many logs? he thought. Any logs that had been washed out of the log pond during the storm should have all drifted to the south shore by now.
He kept his speed low, calling around him, “Hey, fellah, it’s all clear now. … Where are you, little fellah?” He put on the ski’s headlight and leaned forward to check the surface ahead. “It’s safe now, Wee Beastie,” he called into the breeze. “All the bad guys are gone-”
Loch turned sharply to avoid another log. He thought he had missed it entirely, but the motor on the ski stalled. He tried the automatic start. The motor turned over right away, but when he put it into gear it sputtered and stalled again. He knew the symptoms. It meant a branch or weeds were caught in the front intake. Whatever, he’d have to get into the water to clear it. “Nasty,” he moaned as he checked to make certain the ignition was turned off and the motor in neutral.
There still were no static lines on the laptop as he slid over the side into the dark, cold water.
The chill of the deep lake was numbing even in summer. He trod water and held on to the ski’s running board to keep his head above the surface. With his right hand he reached around to the front of the ski and blindly felt below the waterline for the clogged intake, as he had done many times before. He located the clog and pulled at it. Part of it came loose, and he lifted it into the headlight to get a good look at it. It was a leafy stem of a water plant. He threw the stem clear and reached back underwater. The rest of the clog seemed less leafy, as though it were soft, thin lake grass attached to a clump. He pulled the clump back and forth, trying to loosen it from the intake. Whatever it was, it was really jammed. Loch had to jump the grip of his left hand from the running board to the front plastic bumper to get the leverage he needed.
Finally, the clump loosened. It was heavier than he expected, but he floated it to the surface, closer to the blazing light of the headlamp. At first he thought it might be some child’s waterlogged ball caught in the lake grass, but as he lifted it into the light he saw a pair of eyes in a bloated, half-eaten human face staring out at him. The bottom half of the mouth was gone, leaving two gold front teeth to protrude and shine down from the upper slab of bone.
Loch yelled and threw the grisly head of Jesse Sanderson as far away from him as he could. Then he pulled himself quickly through the water, grasped the running board, and hauled himself back up. He noticed a thick, jagged line, growing larger, cutting across the game screen. He swung himself squarely on the front of the seat and pressed the start button.
CHUG. CHUGGG. The motor coughed but wouldn’t kick over. He turned the headlight off, letting the full power of the battery go to the starter. It was very dark now. The screen of the laptop glowed eerily behind him. He pressed the start button. The motor gurgled and chugged again.
Loch smelled gasoline. He had flooded the engine. It would have to sit a second.
The static line on the laptop filled the screen now.
Loch heard the sound of water moving in front of him. It was too dark to see, but he felt the ski undulate from what seemed to be a single large wave. He moved his hand to the headlight switch. Battery or no battery, he had to see what had surfaced. He flicked the switch. The light cut through the night. A huge black mass lay in front
