“The detective is responding to your e-mail pretty quick,” Aaron said. “Good. Maybe he can send a chopper and get us out of here.”
“That’s not Sneed.” Swartzman checked his phone with one hand as he steered with the other. “It’s my tracking alert for the sea turtle we tagged. You know; the one with the purple tumor. It’s come within a thousand feet of us.”
“The infected sea turtle? Dude, that’s not good.”
“I wouldn’t worry. It’s coming down from the north at 30 miles per hour. That’s blazing fast for a turtle, but it doesn’t have a propeller like we do.”
As Swartzman revved the skiff up to 55 miles per hour, Aaron wondered how long their propeller would last in the increasingly acidic water. He heard the acid chewing away all around the boat, especially on its metal.
“Maybe we should just find a dock somewhere around here,” Aaron said from his seat in the rear, just in front of the engine. He clung to the railings so the choppy water didn’t toss him. “How about someone’s backyard?”
“The acid releases have been confined to small areas,” Swartzman said from behind the console. “I doubt this one goes past the causeway up ahead.”
“But they’re stronger this…”
Aaron forgot his point when the professor’s phone sang that Beatles tune again. Swartzman checked it. His jaw dropped.
“What?”
“That’s a healthy sea turtle all right,” Swartzman said. “Too damn healthy if you ask me.”
He swerved the boat to the right so hard that Aaron nearly catapulted over the rail. Glancing behind them, he saw a dark green shell cross their wake. It headed off their turn. The professor pulled the skiff the other way, but the sea turtle didn’t react like a lumbering armored car like it should have. It burst from the water as if it were a missile with its flippers extended in flight. The purple tumors formed a grisly mask over its face and neck. They smothered its eyes, but no physical vision guided this creature. It honed in on Swartzman. Screaming, he turned and hunched over. The reptile smashed his hip with its infected snout. Aaron reached across the skiff. By the time his hand made it far enough, Swartzman had careened into the acidic water under the weight of a near 400-pound sea turtle that carried a thirst for the iron in his blood and the brain in his skull.
“Hold on!” Aaron screamed as he scrambled to the console and steered the boat around. They had landed 40 feet from the point of impact. He spotted it by the fumes rising from the lagoon as if a fresh batch of frozen fries had been dropped into a fryer.
Professor Swartzman had been the only teacher who showed any faith in Aaron. Sure, he had his selfish reasons, but he had recognized his talent and given him a shot. Aaron realized that most of his scientific knowledge, and the most fun he’s had on missions, came from the man with the infectious enthusiasm for marine biology. His father didn’t care how he did in his life’s passion, but Swartzman did. Aaron thought he could please his professor. He thought he’d be grateful that they reached the spotlight together by cracking this case. Instead, it’s come to this…
Aaron slowed the skiff so it came to a drift along the site where Swartzman had landed. He didn’t see the turtle. He didn’t see the professor either. He spotted one of his shoes bobbing in the water. It looked like it had been taken for a stroll over burning coals.
He should have looked away then. He should have given up. Soon, he would wish that he had.
Aaron peered into the depths of the lagoon as it grew clearer from the acidic concentration. He recognized his professor’s brown eyes gazing back at him through the blurry water. They weren’t surrounded by eyelids. Swartzman’s face had been stripped to its bare muscle and bone. Aaron saw the muscles and tendons of his jaw framing his teeth and gums. When he opened his mouth to scream, his tongue melted. His hair had whittled away, along with the skin on his scalp. Aaron saw his professor’s breastbone and the cartilage between his ribs. His intestines fanned out like tentacles and then burst open, splattering their gooey contents into the lagoon. Swartzman’s arms dangled through the water as the acid boiled their lean meat alive. Finally, his microscopic tormentors decided that he had suffered enough. Swartzman’s head tumbled off his shoulders and plunged to the bottom of the lagoon. His blood was consumed before a drop could reach the surface.
Chapter 41
Aaron heaved everything in his stomach over the side of the boat. The stench of his own vomit bounced back in his face as the acidic water feasted on it and spewed out the revolting fumes. He crumbled onto the floor of the skiff and buried his head in his gloved hands. Feeling the slight sting from the acid residue, Aaron recoiled and wiped himself off with the towel, which had also been burned.
He couldn’t escape it. It surrounded him. They surrounded him. Just when Swartzman started believing in Aaron, he found out that he should have never relied on him. He had failed the man who trusted him with his life. No. Failed wasn’t a strong enough word. He had ruined him. He had obliterated him. The brilliant mind that had sparked so many amazing discoveries had been delivered into the hands of the monsters he had fought against. Swartzman’s head would become the mantelpiece of their colony. The mini cyborgs he had studied would rule his brain.
“I screwed up.” His voice choked with tears. “Oh, I screwed up big time.”
As he sat on his ass and listened to the acid munching on his boat, Aaron chided himself for not reacting faster. If he had shot the turtle with the rifle instead of cowering in the back of the boat, Swartzman would still be with him.
Aaron could hardly move. He knew sitting in the decaying boat would land him besides Swartzman as part of the colony. Moni would be left with Mariella, while not knowing how dangerous she is. He’s the only one Moni trusts. And with Swartzman gone, no one else with a shred of credibility can reveal the truth about the lagoon.
Aaron got behind the steering console. He cast one more glance into the water.
“Moni, I won’t let this happen to you.” The words made his heart tremble.
He pulled his hood down over his head, and strapped on his scuba mask in case the deadly water splashed him as he raced toward the shore. He had more business on the mainland, but he was closer to Merritt Island so he turned the skiff east and headed for the slim southern portion of the island and its numerous docks. He wouldn’t spend one more second on that horrid water than he had to.
Aaron aimed for a dock at the end of a pier that led right onto the street fronting the single row of homes. They had paid a pretty penny to enjoy water views on both sides, but he doubted that many members of the Lexus crowd had stayed behind when both bodies of water started stinking and defacing their yachts. He hoped at least one of them stuck it out at home. After what he had just witness, he needed a bathroom so bad.
He nearly dumped one in his wetsuit when he saw what emerged from the lagoon and blocked his path ashore. Its horse legs lifted its grotesque body out of the shallow water fifteen yards from the end of the dock. It had the muscular thighs of a stallion, but the scaly snout and toothy jaws of a gator at the end of its long horse neck. As if the legs weren’t enough, it had a pair of pale human arms awkwardly jutting from the base of its neck like parts on a Mr. Potato Head toy that didn’t belong. The black, rodent-like nails on its fingers didn’t fit either but they gave Aaron the impression that the cyborgs didn’t give this mutant arms so it could shake hands. It didn’t have a tail for swatting flies either. Instead, its creators had played pin the venomous snake on the horsy’s ass.
Now, Aaron regretted taking Mariella horseback riding. At least he hadn’t brought her to the zoo with the lions and elephants. This horse-gator-man-snake looked nasty enough with less than fifteen seconds to think about it. Even with his skiff charging at 30 miles per hour, the beast stood there like, “Bring it on, punk.”
He popped his mouthpiece in and turned on his oxygen. Then he realized that diving into the water moments before impact wouldn’t work out too well. The mutants usually came in teams and the cyborgs had no shortage of backup. They would have another genetically altered baddie waiting for him underwater. If he bailed this far from the dock, he wouldn’t make it.
Aaron eyed the rifle. He doubted it would slow a creature boasting the size of horse and the constitution of a gator for long.
He could try steering around it. That hadn’t worked with the possessed sea turtle. Those juiced-up horse legs could probably run down a Ferrari. If he felt like seeing Moni again-not to mention catching a wave on the bonsai
