After the thrilling conclusion to "The Beast of Trash Island," Steve Metcalf's horror-suspense novella, all that's left is the epilogue. The rescue ship that James saw on the horizon finally makes their way to the abandoned Aqua Tom ...
Epilogue, Numerous
"GOOD LORD," Commander Wiley said, his face turning ashen. He wheeled on the two men examining the sphere. “Get away from that thing,” he screamed.
But it was too late. Both men were now running gloved fingers through the blood at the base of the sphere. One of the men had wiped his finger across the top of a specimen vial to capture as much of the liquid as possible. When the commander called out to them, they both paused in their actions and stood to face him. Both the commander’s and Beaumont’s faces were ashen. They had just watched Jerry’s entire body get absorbed into the sphere in what seemed like horrifying slow motion.
Filmed by Jerry’s girlfriend, Alma, the video showed not only the slow disintegration of Jerry, but the chaos that was going on around the yacht. In the frantic motion, they could make out almost a dozen people running to and fro before the phone got knocked out of Alma’s hand and slid to a rest near a bench.
They were running the video back a second time now, with more sailors crowded around them. Normally, Commander Wiley would be uncomfortable with this break in hierarchy, but, for now, he hardly noticed.
“Did you see that?” Beaumont asked. “Back it up about five seconds.”
The commander ran his finger along the slider at the bottom of the image and stopped. It started playing again.
“There,” Beaumont called.
The commander immediately pressed the pause icon on the screen. “Dear God,” he said.
“We have to get off this ship,” Beaumont said.
The clarity of the screen belied the motion of the image. Commander Wiley had paused the playback just as Alma was moving her phone from left to right. Immediately after that, she would have re-centered the recording on the second half of Jerry being swallowed up by the black sphere. Right now, however, was a bigger clue about what happened to all of the passengers of the Aqua Tom.
It was an image taken off the stern of the boat. In the distance, perhaps ten yards away, was an enormous, black tentacle glowing in the combination of the moonlight and the ship’s lights.
***
The men on the Aqua Tom worked with the men on the Pendragon to attach seven mooring lines to various cleats on the yacht—one on the bow and three breast lines down each side. It was a quick-and-dirty solution, but they wanted to salvage the ship and further investigate what had happened.
They were shocked to find James’, Micah’s and Ai’s equipment room. The generators were still running and the different pieces of machinery still worked. One man, Hickson, was shuffling through a sheaf of paper and saw the printout with a Post-It note on it. Written in Ai’s crisp, clean handwriting was the title “Event-1.” Hickson flipped through several black-and-white images showing the enormous object rising out of the depths directly beneath the yacht. He quickly put the papers back in order and shoved the file under his arm. He left the room and immediately sought out his commanding officer.
There were men shouting various orders and directions as they finalized preparations to tug the Aqua Tom clear of the trash vortex. Hickson found Commander Wiley standing at the stern of the boat, gazing out upon the ocean.
“Sir,” the younger man said. “I think I’ve found....”
“Sshh,” said the commander in barely a whisper. “Look.” He didn’t move, but the commander indicated a direction to Hickson.
Hickson turned his attention away from the stack of papers he was holding and followed the senior man’s gaze.
At first he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be looking at. It was nearly nine o’clock in the morning. The spring sun was starting to warm things up and it was glinting off the various bits of plastic and other debris in the vortex. Hickson shielded his eyes with his free hand and peered out over the water.
Slowly, it came into view.
Or, rather, they.
The Navy men hadn’t noticed them before, perhaps because they didn’t know what to look for. Now, however, the oddity was readily apparent. There were dozens, maybe hundreds, of black spheres scattered around Trash Island. Some were half submerged, some bobbed along on large pieces of wood or chunks of plastic. But now, once you knew what you were looking for, the spheres were everywhere.
“What does it mean?” Hickson asked.
“It means we’re doomed,” the commander said.
Amidst the commotion on the main deck of the Aqua Tom, the black sphere finally moved. It cracked open like a leathery egg and eight tentacles began spilling out with deliberate slowness.
The End
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