“You do spend a lot of time on the river,” Iggy said.

  “Which is of course why we’re here,” the professor said.

  “Anyone want more food? Or can I put it in the fridge?” Lilly asked.

  Everyone declined and Alex helped Lilly clear the table, fending off requests to help. When they were done, Alex topped off everyone’s glasses with their preferred wine, and said, “Shall we head into the living room and get started?”

  The professor nodded.

  11

  Alex, Lilly, and their guests sat in the living room, the TV dark, Alex’s father’s life on display. Professor Silverfish was most interested in the journal, and she scanned it as Iggy went through copies of newspaper articles. There were also hand-drawn maps, Native American carvings, stones, the water bottle containing the sample, and his dad’s Indian head penny. Pictures were laid out on the table like pieces to a puzzle that when assembled showed a fuzzy picture.

  As the professor and her assistant perused the documentation Alex filled them in on what he’d seen and heard on the river. The odd substance, the sound, the mound of whitewater surging at the boat. “We took a sample of the stuff,” Alex said.

  Dr. Silverfish held the plastic bottle up to the light, the brown sludge within swirling in the greenish water. “I’ll bring it back to the university and have it tested.”

  “That was my hope,” Alex said. “If you have any questions on any of this other stuff, just ask, though odds are I won’t know the answer.”

  “This is something,” Dr. Silverfish said as she pointed at a yellowed black and white photo taped into the journal. It showed two men standing on a pile of rubble, a dark cave mouth silhouetted behind them. “Notes say it was taken by Jasper Redding, and the two men in the picture were brothers, Tony and Tim Grippi. They discovered the cave?”

  Alex nodded. “That was their story, anyway, and that picture is their proof. The Grippi family gave that picture to dad at Tony’s funeral many years back. He and dad were friends.”

  “The three of them worked the dewatering project?”

  “Yup. Jasper worked one of the borehole drills up-top, but I don’t recall what the Grippis did.”

  Iggy looked up and said, “What were they doing at the bottom of the falls on the scree pile?”

  Alex hiked his shoulders. “You’ve got to understand. This was all before terrorism was a real threat in the United States. Security consisted of temporary fencing and skeleton patrols. Tourists were wandering on the dry riverbed at one point and crawling over the talus like it was a playground.”

  “Says here that’s why the feds were in such a rush to close up the tunnel,” the professor said.

  “So everyone thought. Again, no solid proof, just conjecture and extrapolations,” Alex said, but his skepticism had lost much of its bark and all of its bite.

  “Your father’s notes say the three men noted a smell, and heard, and I’m quoting now, ‘rasping and scratching akin to a huge cockroach scuttling over the floor,’” she said.

  An awkward silence before Lilly said, “The wine is wonderful, and now I feel like an idiot having never been to their tasting room, since it's only seven miles from here. More?”

  A chorus of yes pleases.

  “These Attawandaron cave images are amazing, and the fact that they were drawn seemingly without knowledge of each other… seems like a confirmation of some kind,” Lilly said when she returned with two bottles of wine.

  “Native American myths and tales travel like the wind. Doesn’t mean that much,” Dr. Silverfish said. “But all this evidence can’t be pushed aside.”

  “It’s just all so hard to believe,” Lilly said.

  “Yup.” Iggy tossed a photocopy of an ancient newspaper article on the table. The headline read: Does Niagara have its own Jack the Ripper? He said, “It’s dated September 19th, 1953. It documents the stories of five missing women, all of whom disappeared along the river’s edge without a trace. No bodies or other identifying items were recovered and the local police and border patrol on both sides of the river suspected foul play.”

  “Again, not huge,” Dr. Silverfish said. “The border was wide-open back then. People used Niagara as a jump-off point to leave the country. Many saw the draft coming, some were just hiding from who knows what.”

  “What is hard to deny, is that thirty-eight people went missing that year, and only nineteen corpses were found. In a normal year, we have about twenty-five deaths attributed to the falls, but it’s rare that a body isn’t recovered,” Alex said.

  “So you’re saying 1953 was an outlier? Statistically speaking?” the professor said.

  Alex nodded. “And there’s more.”

  “A lot more,” Iggy said. “Look at this baby.” He laid an old magazine on the table. It was wrapped in protective plastic, its cover faded. It was an issue of FATE Magazine, and the cover depicted a night photo of the falls, yellow and red lights painting the falls crimson.

  Dr. Silverfish’s eyes went wide. “I’ve never seen one of these. I mean, I’ve seen the cover and there’s a summary on the net, but I’ve never held the issue, read the actual article. May I?”

  Alex nodded.

  The professor peeled off the protective plastic covering, then paused. “Should I be wearing gloves and—”

  Alex put up a hand. “It’s worth five hundred bucks, so be careful with it, but I don’t think gloves are necessary.”

  The doctor opened the issue gingerly, and two pictures dominated the center spread. One showed a capsized boat on the scree pile, its flat bottom turned up, the falls streaming onto the wreck. The second image was blurry. It showed the same vessel, except the photo had been taken upriver and the boat was still right side up. A dark shadow surged from the river and a long dark line hovered above the vessel. His father claimed it was the creature’s tail, but Alex had never believed until he’d seen a similar thing with his own eyes.

  Dr. Silverfish scanned the article. “The crew said they were attacked on the upper river. Massively varying accounts, but the central story is consistent. Whatever happened, some unseen something sank the vessel, and it went over the falls.”

  Iggy said, “Similar situation in 1883, by all accounts.” The graduate student had continued in the journal where Dr. Silverfish had stopped. “Your father did a lot of research on a boat called the SS Trident. The vessel was a wooden, triple mast steam-powered scow commissioned by the US Navy and later sold to the Ralo, Dennsion, and Clap Company. The new owners stripped the scow’s masts and used the ship as a dredging vessel on the upper river.

  “Amazing stuff. Listen to this account; ‘we was pulling the till and sucking sand when we heard this strange sound. Like noth’in I ain’t ever heard. A buzz like a swarm of bees. Then the smell—I done worked in the sewers, and when I say it was the worst thing I ever smelled, I ain’t lying. Then the ship twas shaking, the sea surging over the sides like it was being lifted from the river. A mouth appeared in the whitewater, all teeth and fangs. Then the captain gave the abandon ship order, and I was lucky to get to shore as the boat went over the falls.”

  A clock ticked, the wind whistled through a cracked open window, the distant rumble of the falls always beckoning.

  “Teeth?” Dr. Silverfish said.

  “That’s what it says,” Iggy responded.

  “People see all kinds of strange stuff when the adrenaline, panic, and fear start running,” Alex said.

  “I don’t know,” Lilly said. “Both those accounts were pretty dang close. Was there an unusual number of missing persons that year like 1953?”

  “The records for back then are basically nonexistent,” Alex said. “Dad didn’t find much, but as you can see by his notes, there were rumors.”

  “That had been passed down for a generation or two, so who knows how much truth was left,” Dr. Silverfish said.

  Alex nodded as he remembered playing telephone in his sixth-grade class. Mrs. Oberbier had whispered, “The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain” into Clarice Witherspoon’s ear, and by the time the message had been passed ear-to-ear to the entire class, the final person in line recited the message as, “The food in Spain is best when it rains, but only on certain days.”

  “So, if we assume there is a creature, or creatures, your theory is it comes to feed on this sixty-six-year cycle?” Lilly said.

  “That is the working hypothesis,” Dr. Silverfish said.

  Alex said, “The feds dropped by to talk to me this morning.”

  The tick of the clock, the push of air through vents.

  “Wahanu, also.”

  Dir. Silverfish’s cheeks went red. “I should have mentioned they stopped to speak with me as well.”

  “The FBI!” Lilly blurted. “Maybe we should have started with that.”

  “Why?” the professor asked.

  “If the FBI is looking into this, surely there are things we don’t know,” Lilly said.

  That sat out there like a steaming turd in the center of a crowded room.

  Alex said, “I’ve never believed in any of this. I always thought dad got caught up in the moment, added up all the things he’d seen and heard, and came up with a tale that he believed was the exact truth. So much so he tried to get everyone around him to believe. Now… after what’s gone down this week, I think all that’s left to do is try and get proof that whatever this thing is exists so we can get help. Without proof… well, there’s an article or two in the pile about my father. One calls him eccentric.”

  Lilly said, “Dr. Silverfish, clearly you have the most knowledge and experience here. What do you think this thing is?”

  “I came to see your husband because I’ve been getting unusual readings from the sensors below the riverbed and at the base of the falls. Movement consistent with shifting rock, but given what we’ve discussed here, I think it's connected to our creature,” the professor said.

  “Pretty thin,” Alex said.

  “Not really,” Dr. Silverfish said. “The description of the creature does match the fossil records—somewhat—of a known species of Sea Scorpion.”

  “Say what now?” Lilly held up a copy of one of the Attawandaron cave drawings. “You’re saying there are fossils of this?”

  Dr. Silverfish nodded. “Jaekelopterus is a genus of predatory eurypterid, a group of extinct aquatic arthropods. Fossils of Jaekelopterus have been discovered in deposits all along the fossil record. They could be twenty feet long, and roamed the sea when the dinosaurs ruled. They didn’t have these, however.” She pointed to the two lobster-like claws on the beast’s front appendages.

  “So, you’re saying it's a dinosaur?” Alex said.

  “I’m saying there is a fossil record to support creatures that look like our scorpion. Generations of the creatures may have survived here because of the unique conditions.”

  “Again, damn thin,” Alex said.

  “But possible,” Iggy said.

  “And as we’ve seen here,” she pointed to all the documents, photos and the journal. “The life cycle of the beast is well documented, and from a scientific perspective there are many examples that fit our facts.”

  “You mean the cicada stuff?” Lilly said.

  “Not just that,” the professor said. “There are many other examples. The horseshoe crab, for instance. Our monster looks like a prehistoric sea scorpion, mixed with modern Maine lobster or horseshoe crab, most likely both. The depictions and descriptions describe a long, segmented armored carapace that tapers down to a rear attack spike similar to a horseshoe crab. The Jaekelopterus’ closest living relative is the horseshoe crab, which as you know is a common crab found in shallow muddy waters all over the globe.”

  “That explains why our beastie is a bottom feeder,” Iggy said. “Seas cover seventy percent of the Earth, and it’s believed there are countless species in the depths we haven’t discovered.”

  “Horseshoe crabs have been around so long they’re classified as living fossils,” Dr. Silverfish said.

  “If any of these images do it justice, the creature is definitely an apex predator,” Alex said.

  “So this thing—again, we’re accepting this crazy idea for purposes of discussion—this thing can walk on land?” Lilly asked. “Because, horseshoe crabs do.”

  “Possibly. It’s believed prehistoric sea scorpions could,” the professor said.

  “It can breathe our air?” Lilly said.

  Dr. Silverfish shrugged.

  “That’s why I’m checking the reservoir and the area around it,” Alex said. He emptied his wine glass. Had he just said that out loud?

  “What do you mean?” Dr. Silverfish asked.

  Yes, he had said that out loud. He’d been caught up in the moment.

  Dr. Silverfish said, “I was thinking of searching in there myself. New information has come to light.”

  “That’s why we’re going over to Gabe and Ginger’s tomorrow?” Lilly said, and she looked none too pleased.

  “Who’s Gabe and Ginger?” Iggy asked.

  “I’m coming with you,” Dr. Silverfish said.

  “You most certainly aren’t,” Alex and Iggy said in unison.

  Then Alex to Iggy, “Friends who share a property line with the park.”

  Iggy, realizing he’d spoken when he was only supposed to be seen, put a hand over his mouth.

  Dr. Silverfish focused her laser eyes on the grad student, and he wilted like lettuce in the hot sun. When she shifted her smoldering gaze to Alex, he was prepared.

  “We’ve got like zero leads and we’re most likely going to spend the entire afternoon and into the night wandering around getting eaten by bugs.”

  Dr. Silverfish smiled and said nothing. A cat that had swallowed a canary face if Alex had ever seen one.

  Lilly said, “Dr. Silverfish, before the conversation derailed you mentioned a new development?”

  The professor’s smile widened.

  “You’re not going to tell us?” Alex said.

  “Not unless you let me come with you.”

  Alex didn’t want her to come, but it wasn’t because he thought there was any real danger. It was more about the size of the group. The more people, the more noticeable their party would be. And if Silverfish came, Lilly might want to join in, Ginger. Since he had little to go on, he took a chance. “Fine. You can come.” He turned to Iggy. “Just the doctor. We can’t have a crowd crawling around in the park after dark.”

  “No way I’m—”

  “I appreciate the dedication and concern, Iggy, but you’re sitting this one out,” said Dr. Silverfish.

  A pause in the conversation. Lilly filled wine glasses, Alex munched on a cookie, and Iggy peered at Dr. Silverfish like he didn’t know her.

  “I know you heard about the hole out in the park,” the professor said.

  Alex didn’t know how she knew that. He hadn’t gotten around to mentioning it, but it wasn’t exactly a secret, and it didn’t matter anyway. He said nothing.

  “The entrance to the tunnel… the hole, wasn’t… isn’t on the shore. It wasn’t on land at all,” Dr. Silverfish said.

  “Of course,” Iggy said. “On the bottom of the reservoir.”

  Dr. Silverfish nodded.

  That would certainly explain why Alex and Gabe hadn’t found anything the first time out. He hadn’t searched the lake itself, though he’d watched the shoreline for mud tracks and other signs of the beast’s passage.

  “It’s settled then,” Dr. Silverfish said. “Me, Alex, and this man Gabe will go into the park tomorrow and see what’s to be seen. What time?”

  “If you want to eat, be there at three,” Alex said. “I’ll text you the address.”

  “I want to be out there at dusk,” the professor said.

  “Why’s that?” Alex said.

  “Just a hunch.”

  “Until tomorrow then,” Alex said as he pushed to his feet.

  12

  The farce of a barbecue at Gabe and Ginger’s didn’t start until 3 PM, and that left Alex to stew in the juices of the prior night’s discussion. He’d originally viewed the meeting with the professor as an ending, a wrapping up of his father’s affairs. Instead, it became a beginning. Even the FBI was in on the act, which wasn’t surprising since they’d been around in 1969 if his father’s descriptions were to be trusted. At this point, what choice did he have? He’d been sucked into the vortex of his father’s obsession, and where it would end, he didn’t know.

  What bothered him most about the meeting with the professor—and he hadn’t even realized it until he woke drenched in sweat, morning sunlight angling through the curtains. Nobody had brought up the topic of size, as in how big was the creature? Accounts varied, and with the picture and drawings it was difficult to discern scale, so he ran his own experiences through his mental filters yet again. He estimated the stinger he’d seen hanging over the river was no more than ten feet, but he was certain he hadn’t seen all of it. Whatever he and Gabe had seen by the pumphouse was smaller and didn’t fit with the huge knot of whitewater that was sans spike. The tales told of the beast growing as it fed, but the professor hadn’t mentioned that, or anything about the size of the creature.

  He called Celeste, who was running the show and waiting for Alex’s fill-in. He told her he’d stop by after he hit Russo’s Deli, and then he checked in with Gabe.

  “Yo. What’s up, my brother?” Gabe said.

  “Change of plans. Would you mind if Lilly and I bring a guest tomorrow?”

  “You introduced Lilly to your girlfriend?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Who?”

  “Professor Silverfish from the university. She’s kind of working on the same thing,” Alex said.

  “Kind of?”

  “You know how scientists are.”

  “As long as she’s not a vegan the more the merrier. I assume she’s joining us on our trek?”

  “Yeah.” Alex filled Gabe in on what the professor had said about the hole being in the water.