Thirty

Theo

"Listen," Theo said, cocking his ear toward the cave mouth. "Vehicles. The SWAT team is here."

Molly glanced to the back of the cave. From the light of the colors Steve was flashing she could see that the pilgrims had surrounded the Sea Beast and were stroking his scales. She turned back to Theo. "You've got to stop the helicopters. Call them and stop it."

"Molly, it's not the news helicopters that will hurt him, or us. It's those guys who just pulled up." Theo peeked out the mouth of the cave and saw two four-wheel-drives parking down on the marine terrace, about a hun-dred yards from the cave mouth. Of course, he thought, they still think they need cover.

Molly brandished her broadsword, holding it only inches from Theo's stomach. "If he's hurt, I'll never forgive you, Theo Crowe. I'll track you down to the ends of the earth and kill you like the radioactive scum that you are."

"That Kendra or Molly talking?"

"I mean it," she screamed, almost hysterical now. Steve roared from the back of the cave.

"Don't go nuts on me, Molly. I'm doing my best. But the only thing your pal seems likely to do is eat me. He doesn't seemed real motivated by anything else."

Molly slumped to her knees and hung her head as if someone had sucked the energy out of her through a valve in her boot. Theo fought the urge to comfort her, afraid that if he even touched her shoulder the Sea Beast might attack him.

Then it hit him. He flipped open his cell phone and dialed the Head of the Slug.

Mavis

Mavis Sand had spent a lifetime making mistakes and learning from them, and that perspective made her feel as if she knew what was good for people better than they knew themselves. Consequently, Mavis was a meddler. Most of the time she was content to use information as her tool of choice and rumor as her means of delivery. What someone knew - and when they knew it - controlled what they did. (The Spider, pulling digital strings from his basement web, had exactly the same philosophy.) Today she'd had a heap of problems dumped on her, none of them directly hers, and she had been pondering them all morning without much luck in coming up with a way to manipulate the information to solve them. Then the call came from Theo, and it all clicked: Theo was right, they could use the monster's instincts to get them out of the cave, but if she played the mix right, she could solve a couple of other problems as well.

She put down the phone and Catfish said, "Who that?"

"It was Theo."

"That ol' dragon ain't et him yet? Boy must be livin a charmed life."

Mavis leaned over the bar, close to Catfish, took his hand in hers, and began squeezing. "Sweetie, put on your friendly persuasion hat. I need you to run down to the pharmacy and pick up something for me."

"Yes, ma'am," Catfish said, wincing as the bones in his fingers compressed under her grip.

When the Bluesman was gone, Mavis made a quick phone call, then went to the back room and dug through boxes and filling cabinets until she came up with what she was looking for: a small black box attached to a long cord with a cigarette lighter plug on the end. "Don't worry, Theo," she said to herself. "I put my life in the hands of machinery a long time ago, and I'm doing just fine." She giggled and it came out sounding like the starter cranking on a fuel dry Ford.

Catfish

A Bluesman hates to be told what to do. Authority rankles him, inspires his rebellion, and plays to his need to self-destruct. A Bluesman doesn't take to having a boss unless he's on a chain gang (for the chain gang boss ranks below only a mean old woman and a sweet young thing in the hier-archy of the Blues Muse, followed closely by bad liquor, a dead dog, and the Man). Catfish had a boss who was a mean old woman: a distinct and disconcerting turn of the Blues screw that might have driven a lesser Bluesman to shoot hisself, get shot, get hold of some bad liquor, or bust up his guitar and take a job down to the mill. But Catfish hadn't taken nigh unto eighty trips around that cruel, cruel sun without gaining some per-spective, so he would go to the pharmacy as he was told. He would talk to the fish-fucking white boy with the combed-over hair that waved in the air like the sprung lid on a bean can. And when he was done, he would pick up his pay from the mean old woman who was holding it hostage and he would get his wrinkly Black ass out of this town and go nurse his heartbreak on the moving trap that was, is, and always shall be the road.

So Catfish strolled a rolling Delta moonwalk of a stroll (redolent of sas-safras and jive) into Pine Cove Drug and Gift, and the four blue-haired chicken women behind the counter nearly tumbled over each other trying to get to the back room. Imagine it: a person of the Dark persuasion in their midst. What if he should ask for a vial of Afro-Sheen or some other ethnic-ally oriented product with which they were totally unfamiliar? Why, the smoke alarms would melt, screaming like dying witches, when their col-lective minds steamed to a stop. Do we look like thrill-seekers? Wasn't it enough that we had to put up that sign reading NO HABLA ESPANOL and acknowledge the existence of thirty percent of the population, even in the negative? No, we shall err on the side of safety, thank you, and in lieu of sand in which to bury our heads, we shall head into the back room.

Winston Krauss, who was counting fake Zolofts behind his glass wall, looked up and saw Catfish coming down the aisle toward the counter and immediately regretted that he hadn't installed bulletproof glass. Still, Winston was a man of the world, and you don't indulge the fantasy of molesting dolphins without becoming familiar with the ways of people of color, for that is who dolphins prefer to hang out with, when they aren't hanging out with the Cousteaus, or so it appeared on the Discovery Channel. He stepped out of his booth and met Catfish as he reached the counter.

"Good day, me brother-mon, ye," Winston said in his best island dialect. "What can I be gettin for ye?" And there was that welcoming smile, only a dreadlock and a white sand beach short of a travel poster.

Catfish squinted, removed his fedora, ran a hand over his shining scalp, stepped back, turned his head to the side and studied the pharmacist for a moment, then said, "I will slap the shit out of you. You know that?"

"Sorry," Winston said, coughing somewhat, as if trying to dislodge the errant Jamaican from his throat. "What can I do for you, sir?"

"Mavis down to the Slug sent me up to ax you somethin."

"I'm familiar with her medical records," Winston said, "You can have her call me if she has a question."

"Yeah, she don't want to call you. She want you to come down to see her."

Winston adjusted his bolo tie. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to have her call me. I can't leave the store."

Catfish nodded. "That what she thought you'd say. She say to ax you if she can have a big jar of them sugar pills you selling instead medicine."

Winston glanced at the back room where his staff was huddled like Anne Frank and family, peering out through the crack in the door. "Tell her I'll be right over," Winston said.

"She said to wait and come with you."

Winston was visibly sweating now; oily beads rose on his scalp. "Let me tell the staff where I'll be."

"Hurry up, Flipper. I ain't got all day," Catfish said.

Winston Krauss shuddered, hitched up his double knits, and waddled around the counter. "Ladies, I'll be back in few minutes," he called over his shoulder.

Catfish leaned over the counter to where he could see the row of eyes peering out of the crack and said, "I be back in a few minutes my own self, ladies. I needs some medicine what can help me with this huge black dick I have to carry around. The weight of it like to break my back."

There was a collective intake of breath so abrupt that the drop in pressure sprung the barometer on the wall and made Catfish's ears pop.

Winston Krauss turned and scowled at Catfish. "Was that really necessary?"

"Man's got to look after his reputation," Catfish said.

The Sheriff

Burton had them cover him while he moved down through the rocks and across the marine terrace to the Blazers. He found Sheridan crouched behind the fender, his M-16 trained on the cave entrance.

"Rough morning, Sheriff?" Sheridan said, showing a hint of a smile at Burton's disheveled suit.

Burton looked around at the other team members, who were all staring through rifle scopes at the cave entrance. "So we only have five?"

"Morales is coaching Pee-Wee Football today. The others are on regular duty. We couldn't pull them off."

Burton scowled. "As far as I know, they only have the one weapon, but it's a fully automatic AK. I want two men on either side of the cave mouth, one down in that crevice where I was pinned down can deliver the gas, followed by concussion grenades. I'll stay here with a sniper rifle to take out anyone who gets past the entry crew. Shoot anything that moves. Let's go, five minutes. On my mark."

"No gas," Sheridan said.

"What?"

"No gas and no concussion. You wanted us here without checking in. That stuff is kept in the locker at County Justice. We just have the body armor and our own personal weapons."

Burton looked around at the other men again. "You guys all have your own personal M-16s, but no grenades?"

"Yes, sir."

"So I have a standoff? I had a standoff before, Sheridan. A standoff doesn't do me any good. Come with me." He pushed a fresh clip into his 9 mm. and turned to the others. "Cover us."

Burton led the SWAT commander to a spot in the rocks just below the cave mouth. "Crowe?" Burton called. "You've had enough time to consider my offer!"

"Offer?" Sheridan asked.

Burton shushed him.

"I haven't decided yet!" Theo shouted. "We've got thirty people in here to discuss it with and they're not being cooperative."

Sheridan looked at Burton. "Thirty people? We can't shoot thirty people. I'm not shooting any thirty people."

"Five minutes, Crowe," Burton said. "Then you have no more options."

"What's the offer?" Sheridan whispered to the sheriff.

"Don't worry about it. I'm just trying to get the subject separated from the hostages so we can take him out."

"Then we'd better have a description of the suspect, don't you think?"

"He's the one in handcuffs," Burton said.

"Well, aren't you the fucking hero?" Sheridan shot back.

Skinner

Skinner watched from the front seat of the Mercedes as the Food Guy was loaded into the back of the Suburban with the cage in it. The Bad Guys hadn't even left the windows cracked. How would the Food Guy breathe? He wouldn't be able to sit in the front seat and put his head out the window either. Skinner was sad for the Food Guy.

He crawled in the backseat of the Mercedes and lay down to nap away his anxiety.

The Head of the Slug

The first thing Catfish saw when he came through the doors of the Head of the Slug was Estelle standing at the bar, and he could feel the crust peeling off his heart like old paint. Her hair was down. Brushed out, it hung to her waist. She was wearing a pair of pink overalls that had been splattered with paint over a man's white T-shirt - his T-shirt, he realized. She looked to him like what he always thought home was supposed to look like, but as a Bluesman, he was bound by tradition to be cool.

"Hey, girl, what you doin' here?"

"I called her," Mavis said. "This is your driver."

"What I need a driver for?"

"I'll tell you." Estelle took his hand and led him to a booth in the corner.

Winston Krauss came through the door a second later and Mavis waved him over to the bar. "Son, I'm about to make you the happiest man in the whole world."

"You are? Why?"

"Because I like to see people get what they want. And I have what you want."

"You do?"

Mavis stepped up to the bar and in low, conspiratorial tones, began telling Winston Krauss the most titillating, outrageously erotic tale that she had ever told, trying the whole time to remember that the man she was talking to wanted to have sex with marine animals.

Over in the corner booth, Catfish's modicum of cool had melted. Estelle was smiling, even as tears welled up in her eyes. "I wouldn't ask you to do it if I thought it would put you in danger. Really."

"I know that," Catfish said, a gentleness in his voice that he usually reserved for kittens and traffic cops. "It just that I been runnin from this my whole life."

"I don't think so," Estelle said. "I think you've been running to this."

Catfish grinned. "You gonna take them old Blues off me for good, ain't you?"

"You know it."

"Then let's go." Catfish stood up and turned to where Mavis and Winston stood.

"We ready? Y'all ready?" He noticed that the front of Winston's trousers had become overly tight. "Yeah, you ready. You sick, but you ready."

Mavis nodded, a slight mechanical ratcheting noise coming from her neck, "Take the second turn out, not the first," Mavis said to Estelle. "From there it hugs the coast, so there's no hills."

"I have to go get my mask and fins," wailed Winston.

Thirty-one

Molly

"Has it been five minutes yet?" Molly was sitting cross-legged, her sword held across her knees. Theo jumped as if he'd been poked with an ice pick, then checked his watch. He crouched by the cave mouth, listening for the sound of either salvation or death.

"About a minute left. Where the hell are they? Molly, maybe you should find some cover."

"What cover?" She looked around the cave. It was an open chamber; the only cover would be the darkness in the back of the chamber.

"Get behind Steve."

"No," Molly said. "I won't do that." She heard a voice come from the back of her mind. "Get to cover, you daffy broad. What, do you have a death wish?"

"I have abandonment issues. I'm not going to turn around and abandon someone else," Molly said.

"What?" Theo said.

"I wasn't talking to you."

"Fine, die. What do I care?" said the narrator.

"Bastard," Molly said.

"What?" said Theo.

"Not you!"

"Molly, how did you get those guys to come out and drag me into the cave before?"

"I just told them to."

"Well, take their clothes back to them and tell them to get dressed."

"Why?"

"Just do it. And tell them to hang on to Steve's sides and not let go, no matter what he does."

"Now who's nuts?"

"Molly, please, I'm trying to save him."

The Sheriff

Burton checked his watch. "That's it. Get into position. We're going in."

Sergeant Sheridan wasn't so sure. "They have thirty hostages and we don't have any recon of their positions and we don't have a full team. You want to take this guy out with thirty witnesses?"

"Goddamn it, Sheridan, get your men in position. We go on my signal."

"Sheriff Burton." Theo's voice from the cave.

"What?"

"I'll take your offer," Theo said. "Give me five more minutes and I'll come out. We can all leave together. The others will come out after you're gone."

"You just want him anyway, right?" Sheridan said. "He's the only one that can hurt the operation."

Burton turned it over in his mind. He'd been determined to take out the constable and the woman, but now he had to rethink things. If he could get Crowe away from the others, he could dispose of him with no witnesses.

Burton's cell phone rang. He flipped it open. "Burton," he said.

"You shouldn't have made disparaging comments about my weight, Sheriff," the Spider said.

"Nailsworth, you piece of sh - " The line went dead.

Suddenly the sound of a wailing Blues guitar came screaming over the marine terrace. Burton and the SWAT team turned to see an old white station wagon driving along the edge of the terrace, next to where it dropped to the beach.

An inhuman roar rose up out of the cave, and when Burton looked back to the cave all he saw was a huge reptilian face coming at him.

Winston Krauss

Winston sat in the back of the station wagon, steadying the Marshall amplifier that was screaming out the notes from Catfish's Stratocaster. The amp was plugged into Mavis's black box and a cord ran over the seats into the cigarette lighter, next to where Catfish was playing. After the first few notes, Winston's hearing had shut down due to temporary deafness, but he didn't care. He could hardly believe his luck. Mavis had promised him the biggest sexual thrill of his life, and he had doubted her. But now he saw it. It was the most gorgeous creature he'd ever seen.

Steve

The feelings of self-pity, jealousy, and heartbreak were new to him, but the response that welled up in him when he heard the sound of his enemy was more deeply imprinted on his lizard brain and it displaced all the newer feelings with rage and the imperative to attack.

He stormed out of the cave with pilgrims hanging on his back by the ridge of armored plates that ran down his spine. Two layers of protective covering slid over his eyes, shortening his vision, but it was the sound that guided him anyway, the sound that carried the strongest association with the enemy. He flashed bright crimson and yellow as he charged over the rocks, kicking aside the vehicles and shedding pilgrims as he made his way to his enemy at the shore.

Theo

Molly stood in the cave entrance, screaming for Steve to stop. Theo grabbed her around the waist and pulled her away just as the Sea Beast, dangling pilgrims, charged past them. She elbowed Theo in the forehead, stunning him for a second, and she made for the cave entrance. Theo caught her outside on the rocks and held her.

"No!"

Theo wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms to her side, and lifted her off the ground, then held her kicking as he braced for gunfire. But none came.

Burton was climbing to his feet just below them, focused on the Sea Beast as it passed. "Shoot that thing! Shoot it! Shoot it!"

The SWAT commander had rolled out of the way and come up with his weapon ready, but with people hanging all over the beast, he didn't know where to shoot, so instead let his weapon fall to his side as he stared in amazement.

Burton drew a pistol and began running after the Sea Beast. Below, two of the SWAT team had already broken into a run from behind the Blazers just as the Sea Beast bowled them over. The other two were pinned underneath one of the crushed vehicles. As they fell, each pil grim jumped to his feet and ran after the Sea Beast, who was making a beeline across the grassy terrace toward the white station wagon.

Theo watched as the car stopped, Blues slide notes still screaming out of the back, and Estelle Boyet crawled out of the driver's seat and ran around to the back. The guitar playing stopped for a second as the passenger side opened, and out stepped Catfish Jefferson, holding a Fender Stratocaster.

"Let me go!" Molly screamed. "I've got to save him! I've got to save him!"

Theo yanked her back toward the cave. When he was able to look again, someone he didn't immediately recognize had crawled out of the station wagon, and Catfish handed him the guitar.

Sheriff Burton was running after the Sea Beast, waving his weapon around, trying to get an angle to shoot without hitting one of the pilgrims. He stopped, dropped to one knee, steadied his aim, and fired. The Sea Beast roared and whipped around, throwing the last of the pilgrims into a tumble in the grass.

Molly whipped her head back into Theo's chin at the same time she drove a heel into his knee. Theo let go of her and she rushed over the rocks and down toward the monster.

Catfish

Estelle had brought the car right to the edge of the drop-off to the rocky beach. Catfish looked at the surf beating on the rocks below, then at his guitar cords coiled in the front seat, then at the rocks again. They just might be long enough. But the dragon was going to get to them before he could find out.

"Hurry!" Estelle shouted.

Catfish stood mesmerized by the charging monster, not a hundred yards away.

"Go," he said weakly, "get yourself out of here."

"No!" said Winston Krauss. "You promised."

There was a gunshot and the Sea Beast whipped around in his tracks, bringing Catfish to his senses. "Let's go," he said to Winston. Then he looked at Estelle over the top of the car and winked. "You go on. This ain't your time."

Catfish played a few notes on the Stratocaster and then ambled after Winston to the surf. The pharmacist ran into the water up to his knees, then turned around. Catfish was having trouble climbing over the rocks to the water while keeping the guitar cord from catching.

"That's far enough," Catfish said. He walked into the surf and stood next to Winston, keeping the guitar high to keep any spray off of it.

"Give it," Winston demanded.

"You ain't got a lick a sense, do you?"

"Give it," Winston repeated.

Catfish played four bars of "Green Onions" on the Strat, the notes still blaring out of the amp in the station wagon, then draped the strap around Winston's neck and handed him a guitar pick. "Have fun," Catfish said.

"Oh, I will," Winston said, a lascivious grin crossing his face. "You know I will."

"Play!" Catfish said as he turned and ran up the beach. He saw Estelle already making her way away down the shore away from the commotion. Behind him, the sour, rattling notes began to emanate from the amp in the station wagon as gunshots filled the air.

Molly

The sheriff fired three more times as he backed away from the Sea Beast, missing not only the monster but the entire North American continent. Molly threw herself sideways from a full run into the back of Burton's knees and cut his legs out from under him. She came up in a crouch, putting herself between Burton and the Sea Beast. The sheriff thought he heard the song "Green Onions" and shook his head to clear a hallucination. The Sea Beast roared again and the sheriff vaulted into a crouch, ready to fire, but instead of a sea monster in front of him, he saw a woman in a leather bikini. He looked over his shoulder and watched the Sea Beast snap up the white station wagon in its jaws and toss it aside. The guitar sounds stopped and the Sea Beast slid over the bluff to the beach. Seeing that the danger was gone, he trained his sights on the woman. People were streaming by him on either side after the monster, wailing like a crowd of banshees.

Molly looked over her shoulder and saw Steve going into the water, then turned back to Burton. "Go ahead, you prick. I don't care."

"You got it," Burton said.

Winston Krauss

He was just beating on the guitar strings now, but it didn't matter. The amplifier wasn't working anymore and this beautiful creature was coming to him. Winston was so turned on he thought he'd explode. She was coming to him, his dream lover, and he yanked the guitar from around his neck, ready to receive her.

"Oh, come on, baby. Come to papa," he said.

The Sea Beast charged into the water, throwing spray fifty feet in the air, then snapped his jaws over Winston, severing the pharmacist's body into two sleazy pieces. The Sea Beast swallowed Winston's legs and roared, then snapped up the remaining piece and dove under the sea.

The Sheriff

"I don't think so, Sheriff," Sheridan said.

Burton looked over his shoulder without taking the gun off Molly. Sheridan had his M-16 trained on the sheriff's back. "Don't fuck with me, Sheridan. You're in this with me."

"I'm not in this. Lower your weapon, sir."

Burton lowered the pistol and turned toward Sheridan. Molly started to leap forward and the SWAT commander pointed the M-16 at her. "Right there," he said. She stopped.

The pilgrims were all standing at the shore now, wailing as they looked out. Molly gestured in that direction and Sheridan nodded. She ran toward the shoreline.

"What now?" Burton asked.

"I don't know," said Sheridan, "but no one has been shot here, and I have a feeling that there's going to be a lot of attention around this event, so no one is going to get shot."

"You wimp."

"Whatever," Sheridan said.

"Hey, Burton!" Theo Crowe was running down the hill toward them. "You hear that?"

When they looked up, Theo ducked behind one of the wrecked Blazers and pointed toward the southern sky. "Film at eleven."

Burton could hear them now: helicopters. He looked to the south and saw the two dots coming over the horizon. Two of the SWAT team members were topping the next hill. They had started running when the monster first came out of the cave. The other two were still pinned under one of the overturned Blazers. He turned back to Sheridan. The big cop was watching the approaching helicopters. "Game over," Sheridan said. "Guess it's time to start thinking about my deal with the D.A."

Burton shot him in the face, then broke for the far side of the rocks to his Eldorado before the others had time to figure out what had happened.

Theo

Theo came up behind Molly and touched her lightly on the shoulder. When she turned, he could see tears streaming down her cheeks. Then she re-turned to staring out to sea with the others. She said, "All I ever wanted is to feel special. To feel like something set me apart."

Theo put his arm around her. "Everyone wants that."

"But I had it, Theo. More by having Steve in my life than when I was making movies. These people felt it, but not like me."

The two helicopters were coming in close now and Theo had to speak right into her ear to be heard over the thumping blades. "No one's like you."

There was a stirring in the water just past the surf line, and something was rising in the kelp bed. Theo could see the purple gill trees standing out on the Sea Beast's neck. He was heading toward shore. Theo tried to pull Molly closer, but she broke loose from him, jumped off the bluff, and ran into the surf, scooping up two baseball-sized rocks as she went.

Theo went after her and was halfway across the beach when she turned and looked at him with eyes filled with such pleading and desperation that it stopped him in his tracks. The helicopters were hovering only a hundred feet over the beach now. The wash from the blades kicked up sand in the faces of the onlookers.

As the Sea Beast approached shore, only his eyes and gills above the water, Molly threw one of the stones. "No, go away! Go!" The second stone hit the Sea Beast's eye, and he stopped. "Don't come back!" Molly screamed.

Slowly the Sea Beast sank below the surface.

The Sheriff

The speedometer on the Eldorado was approaching sixty when Burton topped the last hill before the cattle guard. He had to get to the airport and use the open ticket in his briefcase to join his money in the Caymans before anyone could figure out where he had gone. He'd planned for this all along, knowing he might have to make a run for it at some point, but what he hadn't planned was that there would be two Suburbans and a Mercedes parked just over the top of the hill.

Before he could stop himself, he hit the brakes and wrenched the wheel to the left. The tires dug into the pasture and sent the Eldorado up on two wheels, then over. There was none of the slowing of time or compression of events that often happens in accidents. He saw light and dark, felt his body being beaten around the Caddy, and then the crash of smashing metal and breaking glass. Then there was a pause.

He lay on the ceiling of the overturned Eldorado, peppered with pieces of safety glass, trying to feel if any of his limbs were broken. He seemed okay, he could feel his feet, and it didn't hurt when he breathed. But he smelled gas. It was enough to remind him to move.

He grabbed the briefcase with his escape kit and slithered out the broken back window to find the Eldorado half-perched, half-smashed over the front of a white Suburban. He climbed to his feet and ran to the truck. It was locked. Sheridan, you prick, you would lock your truck, he thought. He didn't notice the people handcuffed inside the K-9 cage in the back.

The Mercedes was his last chance. He ran around it and yanked opened the driver's side door. The keys were in the ignition. He climbed in and took a deep breath. He had to calm down now. No more mistakes, he told himself. He started the Mercedes and was turning to back it down the hill when the dog hit him.

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