The creature was nowhere to be seen.

  Time to make like a tree and leave.

  Celeste struggled with the ship’s wheel, the boat listing with the additional weight, yet the vessel started moving away from the falls.

  A thump pounded over the water, like a massive cow farting. The Maid of the Mist vessel catapulted from the haze, launching off the crest of a knot of whitewater, the ship tumbling in the maelstrom.

  Alex had just enough time to realize he was screwed before the ferry arced over the river, its blue bottom sailing above Alex’s head. It grew dark for a heartbeat, the boat blotting out the stars, moon, and lights. Then it crashed into the river forty feet from the Mists Edge, bodies flying into the water as it tumbled and was sucked downstream.

  The knot of water and the shockwave from the ferry slammed into the Mists Edge’s transom and bow, and the vessel was buried in frothing whitewater. The boat spun, almost flipped over, but Celeste worked the wheel like a pro. Water drained away and one of the engines sputtered and stalled.

  Alex eased along the gunnel and into the pilothouse. Celeste had done great, but piloting in rough water with an engine offline required experience and patience, and he couldn’t ask the college student to do that. If something went wrong, she’d blame herself.

  Celeste gripped the wheel, her eyes locked on the roiling river, rocks rising out of the darkness on both sides of the channel. He reached out a hand to tap her shoulder and call her off, then pulled it back. It was shaking. Alex stepped back and let Celeste pilot the swamped vessel, his nerves tap-dancing on his spine.

  When the Mists Edge was in the current, and the tourists had settled down, Alex took the wheel. “Thanks. You ever consider getting your captain's license?”

  She smiled. “Not before today, but now I’m thinking planes.”

  Alex smiled.

  The extra passengers crowded into every empty section of the deck, along the sides of the boat, between the rows, and several small children were being held protectively by acting parents that might have to hold onto the kids just a little longer. He gazed back upstream, the rear pilothouse window fogged, but he could still see the Coast Guard boat easing out of the mists. Alex wondered how many kids had become orphans on this day.

  The Mists Edge had passed beneath the Rainbow Bridge, and Alex was messing with the control console, trying to restart the downed engine, when the boat hit a boulder.

  Tourists screamed and Javon went down, splashing in the two feet of water that covered the deck. The Mists Edge spun, and the boat was pressed to the stone by the current. The Niagara surged over the side, covering the passengers in whitewater. Those not strapped in clung to seat legs and anything they could, and several of the seated passengers were letting the rescued hang onto their chest straps.

  Blue, white, and red lights streamed along the river’s edge, and police, fire rescue, and border patrol vessels streaked up the river toward Alex’s position. The womp womp of a helicopter chopped through the night—a bit late—and as the river surged over the side of the boat Alex’s stomach dropped out his ass.

  The Mists Edge was flexing and moaning, the pressure of the Niagara forcing the vessel into the boulder. One of the rescued tourists lost his grip and went overboard, but another passenger managed to grab his hand. For an instant, Alex thought the guy might make it out of the water, but the Niagara surged and washed the man away, leaving his would-be rescuer hanging over the side, staring downriver into the swirling blackness.

  For the second time in the last hour, Alex called in a Mayday.

  The emergency vessels tore by, their boat wakes slamming into the Mists Edge and moving it slightly, but the vessel wasn’t freed from the watery vice. The screech of tearing metal pierced the night, followed by the shrieks and wails of passengers.

  The Mists Edge was breaking apart.

  A Coast Guard rescue boat peeled off from the main armada and screamed toward their position. After some brief instructions via radio, the captain of the coastie vessel wedged his boat behind the boulder and used it to brace his bow as Alex’s passengers were ferried onto the Coast Guard vessel. As each person left the Mists Edge it got lighter, and the boat started to shift and move.

  Alex grabbed the Mossberg and flung it over a shoulder, slipped on his backpack, and slid open the pilothouse door. Water rushed into the cabin again, but this time he didn’t bother closing the door. He headed for the bow, trudging through the flooded boat, the deluge of the river twisting and flexing the Mists Edge. He grabbed the lead line the coasties had set, and with water pounding his back he stepped up onto the gunnel, jumped to the boulder, and leaped into the arms of a waiting guardsman.

  The sailor let go of the lead line and the rescue boat backed away, its hull scraping on stone, its twin 200HP Johnson outboards clawing at the water and catching the current. The Mists Edge, as if waiting for its captain to get to safety, bent and rolled with a final scream of ripping metal as it was sucked beneath the Niagara River.

  Alex watched his life roll by in the whitewater, the Mists Edge bouncing off rocks as it was swept downriver. He rolled his shoulders. The end of Mists Edge River Tours had come, and strangely, Alex didn’t feel a thing. Not happy, or sad, or scared. Sometimes people need a kick in the ass, and maybe the sea scorpion’s arrival had been his.

  24

  The disaster on Labor Day Eve claimed the lives of thirty-three people, and eleven corpses were still missing. All holiday events had been canceled, and despite the decline it would cause to the holiday tourist haul, the river, bridges, and walkways along the river’s edge were closed indefinitely. There were murmurs that the closure might mean the end for the iconic Maid of the Mist tour company. Like Alex, the bigger operation had been struggling to make ends meet before the beast’s arrival and only ran one boat six months out of the year. Alex figured it was the first death blow for all river tours.

  The cities of Niagara on both sides of the river churned like beehives smacked with a stick. It was all-hands-on-deck, and New York and Ontario PD, Park Police, fire rescue, Coast Guard and Border Patrol all joined the search as the river and adjacent areas were locked down. With nothing to do except play video games, and eat and drink, most of the tourists cut their losses and fled. When the morning of Labor Day dawned bright and sunny, there was already a line of cars heading out of town on Riverway Road.

  Alex sipped his coffee and worked his phone, the Niagara rushing by to the west. No callbacks from Dixon and Perry, nothing from Silverfish, and even Wahanu hadn’t returned his call. Lilly was at work, and so was Gabe. It was like everyone had moved on and he’d been left behind. He liked the feeling, and he had to ask himself if that was odd. He was adrift, the black abyss of the unknown stretching out before him, and yet he sat and sipped his latte, nerves steady as a fighter pilot. Didn’t seem right.

  His phone buzzed. It was Katelyn.

  “Where you at?” she asked.

  “Bean Boy down on the river’s edge,” he said.

  “Don’t know the place.”

  “Used to be Tito’s Pub.”

  “Ah, out off the parkway.”

  “Yup.”

  “Mind if I join you?”

  He hesitated. Why did she want to see him? He was out of the monster game, and didn’t want back in. Lilly wouldn’t love it—though her tension toward Katelyn had eased since they’d pounded chardonnay together. What would he do if Katelyn wanted more? If she cared for him more than he thought? Or maybe she just wanted a recommendation for a doctor, or an auto mechanic. She was recently back in town after being gone for years, and maybe—

  “You there? No big deal if you want to be alone, I just… I thought maybe you could tell me about last night. Nobody here is talking, and most of us were in the park or above the falls and didn’t see shit, except the fireworks show. The feds have gone silent, and I want...”

  He stayed silent.

  “I need someone to talk to.”

  “I’ll be here, got no place to go,” he said, and it felt awesome.

  A blue police Zodiac with a gray aluminum pilothouse roared up the river throwing spray. Everyone was searching, watching, but Alex believed they’d seen the last of the creature, at least in his lifetime. He didn’t feel guilty or upset at his failure. He didn’t create the beast, and he’d done his best to make its existence known and done everything he could to save lives. What bothered him was not believing his father. All those years of looking down on the man that had brought him into the world, and Alex couldn’t help but feel that if he’d listened to his father, been more proactive, perhaps many of the deaths could’ve been avoided. He wished he could see his father one more time. Tell him how sorry he was. How he’d been right about everything.

  “Yo,” Katelyn said. She was in uniform, and she looked amazing, her hair pulled back, mirrored cop shades, her badge shining in the early morning sun. She sat across from him, her back to the river.

  “Hey, didn’t see you pull in.”

  “You looked a little… lost,” she said.

  “Just thinking about dad. How if we’d all listened to him maybe all those people would still be alive.”

  She said nothing as she stared at the table.

  “You O.K.?”

  She shrugged. “I feel the same, I guess. At least you saved some folks. All I could do was listen on the radio.”

  “Last I checked you weren’t in charge of deployment.”

  She said nothing.

  “So why are you really here?”

  Her eyes flicked up from the table and met his. “Your wife is a wonderful woman.”

  He nodded.

  “Do you still love her?”

  The question knocked him back. It was a question people rarely asked themselves, let alone another person. “Yes,” he said. “But our lives and relationship are far from perfect.”

  “The grass is always greener…”

  “Yup, like that.”

  “I think I’m going to transfer out. Maybe back downstate. I miss the beach,” she said.

  “Understandable.”

  “Is it? I’m struggling to remember why I wanted this job.”

  Amen. He said, “Not unusual. I think everyone goes through something similar.”

  “Did you?”

  “Every day. And it’s much worse when finances come into play. At least you’ve got a steady check and benefits. Without Lilly, I’d be on the street.”

  “Not the street,” she said.

  Their eyes locked and Alex looked away.

  They sat in uncomfortable silence for a time, the cry of gulls, the gurgle and pop of the rushing river, the gentle push of the wind, and the rumble of cars like a finely tuned band. Alex sipped his coffee, and Katelyn stared at a speck of dirt on the table.

  Katelyn’s radio squawked and she shut it off. “I guess the feds screwed the pooch on the not appearing after August 28th thing,” she said.

  He hadn’t thought about it since the events of the prior night, but as his memory churned and he recalled the spectacular fireworks display he recalled his theory. “Maybe, maybe not. It sounded like World War III in the gorge last night and the explosions could’ve raised the dead.”

  She stared at him, her mouth falling open a crack.

  “Sorry, poor choice of words, but you get my point.”

  “A scared cornered animal. Just like you said.”

  “Who knows? And does it matter?”

  She hiked her shoulders.

  “Any idea how long they’ll keep everything closed?” he asked.

  “I’ve heard two weeks, but it’s pure rumor. If the creature doesn’t appear, and there are no further incidents.”

  He said nothing. Other than Lilly’s overtime being cut because there’d be no drunk tourists face planting on Old Falls Street, it was no longer his problem. All he planned to do was wait on his insurance check, which was the only ray of sunshine breaking through a very dark cloud.

  “Any idea what you’re going to do?”

  It was his turn to shrug.

  Three days slid away. Alex was bored and playing Xbox, his laptop open to the local job listings in case Lilly made an appearance, when Dr. Silverfish called.

  “Professor,” Alex said. “How are you?”

  “Feeling like crap. I wish we’d done more.”

  “Like what?”

  She said nothing, her sigh echoing over the line.

  “I assume this isn’t a social call?”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  He waited.

  “Have you seen Katelyn?”

  “A few days ago, why?”

  “I don’t want to get dragged into this mess, especially after what happened… I’m sure you understand.”

  He said nothing.

  “I overheard some of my colleagues talking, and I heard something… odd.”

  Alex waited.

  “Professors Raynor and Kallesi are doing a study over at Hyde Park Golf Course.”

  Where had he just heard the name of the golf course? He’d played there once at a special tournament. Shot a 141 and picked up his ball six times. Not a pleasurable experience. Because he’d been silent so long, he said, “Studying what?”

  “Gill Creek River and the pond on the western side of the course. Something about pollution and conservation, the depth of the water, I’m not sure. But they were talking about odd sensor readings.”

  Alex lifted an eyebrow. “Like yours?”

  “No. Not that deep.”

  “Odd is a big word for three letters—like big—see what I did there?”

  She sighed. “I see where you’re going. I don’t know what the readings were, or why they thought them odd.”

  “Did they call the cops?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.”

  “They must not be very concerned then.”

  Dr. Silverfish said, “Or they don’t want to be the harbinger of doom. Or they don’t think the readings are relevant. To them four extra birds pooping in the pond is odd.”

  “O.K.,” Alex said. “So you want me to tell Katelyn?”

  “Can’t see how it would hurt.”

  “Famous last words,” Alex said. “Thanks. I’ll let you know what happens.”

  “No need, I’m done with the sea scorpion. Thank you for all your help and hospitality. See you around town,” she said, and killed the connection.

  He considered calling Agent Dixon, but hesitated. He stared around his living room, eyed his father’s Mossberg where it rested propped in a corner. How much longer could he just sit around? And the beast… if there was still a chance to get it, maybe it would be worth it, but Alex understood Dr. Silverfish’s hesitancy. He was certain everyone wanted to forget about the deaths, he sure did, and with no signs of the creature it was easy to move on. Only the young kids who stayed in Niagara might live to see the next year of the beast, and sixty-six years is a long time.

  But his father’s voice, which in the past had laughed and cajoled him from the beyond, reminded him that he had known, just like Alex did, and that drew Alex on. It was a purpose. Something to focus on. The right thing to do.

  He called Katelyn and she picked up on the first ring and he debriefed her on his conversation with the professor.

  “I bring that forward and it turns out to be nothing I’ll be washing the Goat Island garbage cans for a year,” she said.

  “Pretty much what the doc said.”

  “So why’d you call?”

  He waited.

  She waited.

  Damn. He cleared his throat. He’d called her, but still he waited. When he could wait no longer, he said, “Thought maybe we could check it out.”

  “How?”

  He’d remembered where he heard the name of the golf course. “Gabe said the tunnel system runs under the golf course. We’ll take a look around, and if we discover anything we’ll call in backup.”

  “Yeah, because that’s what you’ve done before.”

  Alex said nothing.

  “There a pump house there? Or an access pit?” she asked.

  “Simple question for the manager of the golf course or Dirk.”

  “I’ll call you back.”

  25

  Katelyn didn’t call that day, or the next, and when she finally did get back to Alex two days later, he was angry, unmotivated, and nasty. “I’m sitting here waiting and you ghost me? What the hell? You can—”

  “Shut it,” she yelled. “I got called in for a double and everything is on lockdown. It took me some time to connect with Dirk.”

  “Really? How am I supposed to believe that? You’re telling me he didn’t take your call?”

  “You done?”

  “I guess.”

  “There is a service pit on the golf course and I know where the entrance is. The door is on the back side of the raised green on the twelfth hole along the river. You know the one I mean?”

  “I’m not much of a golfer.”

  “Anyway, nobody knows it’s there. No fence. No cameras. Just a key lock and Dirk loaned me the key.”

  Alex laughed to himself. “Mr. Tough Guy doesn’t want to come with?”

  “Let’s just say I clarified the terms of our future relationship, or lack thereof, on our little date.”

  That news made Alex’s stomach go warm, but he said nothing.

  “You want to go now? I’m off today.”

  It was 10:18 AM and Lilly wouldn’t be off the morning shift until 3 PM. “Sure. Pick me up?”

  “See you in fifteen.”

  Katelyn checked in with the general manager at the Hyde Park pro shop and told him close to the truth. She was checking the tunnels with a city worker.

  “City worker?” Alex said as they strode through the thick copse of trees behind the catering facility. Spots of sunlight dotted the path, and the screech and howl of children playing floated from the ball fields behind the high school, which sat on a hill to the east of the course.