Emily Windsnap and the Monster From the Deep (7 page)

The next thing I knew, Shona had grabbed one of my hands. She pulled it away from my head. “We have to get OUT OF HERE!” she was yelling in my ear. “QUICK!”

I’d forgotten how to move. My tail, my arms, everything had turned completely stiff.

“Come
on
!” Shona yanked my arm, pulling me with her. My body jackknifed into action and we hammered through the tunnel as an explosion erupted in the water behind us.

I turned around to see the end of the tunnel crumble and dissolve. Rocks fell and bounced in the water, scattering sand and bubbles everywhere, clouds bunching and spilling across the seabed like lava.

Something was reaching out from the tunnel, feeling around. Oh, God! What
was
it? A huge tube, slimy and dark green, almost as thick as the tunnel itself. One side was rubbery and shiny, then it flipped and twisted over and its underside was
gray and covered in black spots. They looked like giant warts. In between them, great thick suckers grabbed onto the wall like the suction cups on the soap holder Mom keeps in the shower, only about fifty times bigger — and a hundred times uglier.

That was it! That was what I saw in my mind only moments ago — and now it was here, for real, in front of me!

The tube flapped and flicked about, maniacally batting and thwacking against the sides, reaching out farther and farther toward us. An icy stake of terror pinned me to the spot.

The siren noise shrieked into the cave again as the tube thing moved around in the tunnel, feeling its way along. Getting closer!

Someone was screaming and screaming.

Shona shook me. “Emily, you have to pull yourself together!” she yelled. The screaming stopped. It had been me. She pulled me through the water. “Just swim for your life!”

We threw ourselves along the tunnel, working our arms like windmills in a tornado. I tore brief glances behind us as we swam. The tube lashed out, extending toward us like a giant worm, ripping at the tunnel walls and doubling my panic.

Propelling myself faster than I had ever swum in my life, I flung my body through the passage until I finally made it to the open space. The rock was collapsing around us as we swam.

The thing was reaching out of the tunnel toward us! No! Its end was tapered and blood red, and covered with brown hairy strands swirling around as it felt its way through the tunnel. It slid farther and farther out as we dashed across the cave to the next tunnel, the one that would get us out of here.

CRASH! THWACK!
Slamming against the roof of the cave, the walls, the ground, the monster worm was destroying the cave, little by little. We were almost within its reach.
Swim! Swim! Faster!

As we heaved ourselves into the next tunnel, I glanced behind me again. The giant worm wasn’t on its own. There were at least three others, maybe more, all searching and feeling around the cave walls, crashing through the water, reaching out toward us. Slimy, scaly tentacles. What
was
it? A giant octopus?

A scream burned silently in my throat. Shona had virtually disappeared. She was ahead of me, but the water was murky with swirling pieces of rock and debris.
One more corner, one more corner,
I
repeated to myself again and again as I plowed down the long narrow tunnel.

I threw myself at the end of the tunnel. Nearly out! I was panting and gasping, my energy slipping away. And then a tentacle spun out, coiling itself down the tunnel. It touched me!
Arrggghhh!
Rubbery slime grazed my arm. My speed instantly tripled.

A moment later, I was out. Out of the tunnel! Back outside in the channel between the cliffs. Sunlight.

Shona was there, panting and heaving.

“It touched me! It touched me!” I screeched.

“Keep moving,” she said.

But I looked back. And this time I saw something I hadn’t noticed before.

“Shona!”

“I told you, keep —”

“Look.” I pointed at the wall. How had I not seen it before? Carved into the wall. A trident. Neptune’s trident! The huge pitchfork he carries everywhere with him. Instantly, an image flashed into my mind: the last time I’d seen Neptune. Standing in front of him in his courtroom, his booming voice issuing orders that no one would ever dare to disobey, the trident held out — the instrument that could create an island or a storm with a single movement.

“Keep moving,” Shona said again. But her face had turned white.

We swam on, scattering shoals of tiny yellow fish as we pounded through the creek. Back into the lagoon, and out through the hole on the other side. Turning to close the curtain of reeds, I noticed the wooden plaques again. They were covered in algae, but there was something underneath. I rubbed at the algae, brushed reeds away — and I could see it. Another trident. We’d been trespassing in Neptune’s own territory!

What had we done?

Shona was ahead of me. I caught up to her without speaking. Swimming in silence, I could hardly believe any of this had really happened. Everything was totally still and quiet. No movement at all. We stopped, listened.

“It didn’t follow us,” I said lamely. “We’re safe. It’s okay.”

Shona looked at me. There was something in her expression that I’d never seen before. A hardness in her eyes. “You think, Emily?” she said. “You really think so?”

Then she turned and swam on. She didn’t say another word all the way back.

My whole reason for coming to the lagoon, to secure Shona’s friendship and my place on the island — all my hopes, and I’d done completely the opposite. I had no words either.

Well, I don’t know about you, but this is not MY idea of a luxury cruise!

Swimming pool? I don’t
think
so. Nonstop food and drink? Uh, hello? Enormous ship? Yeah, right!

We’ve been conned. Our vacation of a lifetime, full of “magic” and “enchantment,” turns out to be two weeks on an old wreck of a sailing boat with me, Mom, Dad, and some old guy to drive us. Fabulous.

There’s absolutely zilch to do. We’ve been out at sea for — well, I think it might be two days, but it’s hard to tell since there’s nothing to distinguish one deadly boring second from the next. I’ll never forgive my parents for this. Especially Dad. Why did he have to see that stupid magazine?

And guess who’s left to entertain herself all day while her parents go back to being totally wrapped up in themselves?

He’s the only one who’s enjoying himself. Mom’s spent all her time inside so far, cooking or sleeping
and occasionally turning green and rushing over to the side to be sick. Why I thought it might be different I don’t know. When will I learn that nothing nice
ever
happens to me?

I wish one day it would. Just once.

Even the captain looks like death warmed over most of the time. Just stands at the wheel looking out at the sea. Not that there’s anything else to look at. He hardly talks to any of us. He must be at least fifty, so it’s not as if I want to talk to him. But he could make a little effort.

Dad doesn’t seem to realize that the rest of us are having the most awful vacation in the world. I wish he’d pay some attention to Mom, but he’s too busy running around with a fishing net, getting all excited about the stupidest things. Like now, for example. I’m lying on the deck reading a magazine — well, trying to read. It’s not exactly easy while you’re careening up and down and having to watch out for water splashing all over the place. Dad’s on the deck next to me, leaning over the edge with a pair of binoculars. He’s wearing bright yellow shorts, and his back is bright red to complement them.

Then he leaps up. “Mandy, love. Come and see. Quickly!”

I put my magazine down. Maybe he’s spotted the cruise that we’re really supposed to be on. Perhaps this was just a joke and we’re on our way to
start our real vacation on a real ship! I look out to sea. “There’s nothing there, Dad.”

“Wait. He’ll do it again soon.”

Turns out he’s seen a turtle. A turtle! Well, excuse me, but BIG DEAL!

I decide to go inside. It might be even duller in there, but at least Mom won’t try to convince me that I’m having the time of my life.

Only something stops me. I squeeze past the captain, and I’m about to open the cabin door when I catch a glimpse of something. Not just a stupid turtle. A . . . well . . . a kind of nothingness. Just ahead of us, it’s all dark. The sea looks black and shiny, and the sky above it is suddenly filled with heavy clouds. Great. That’s all we need now, a thunderstorm.

I look at the captain. He’s taken off his cap. He rubs his eyes.

“What is it?” I join him at the wheel.

“Look!” He’s pointing to a load of dials. They’ve got numbers on them, but they’re changing too fast to make any sense.

“What do they mean?”

He bends down to study the dials more closely. “They should stay pretty much constant,” he says. “Might just be a loose connection.”

“What about that?” I nod toward the compass. The pointer’s spinning around like mad.

The captain wipes his cap across his forehead. Beads of sweat bubble down his face. “I don’t know what’s going on,” he says, his voice quivering. “It happened once before. It’s — we need to get away from here!”

The boat’s heading toward the darkness. And I don’t know why I haven’t thought of this before now, but I suddenly remember a comprehension test we did in English, about the Bermuda Triangle. It was called “The Ocean’s Graveyard,” and it was about all these ships that sailed into the Bermuda Triangle never to return.

The Bermuda Triangle. Is that where we are?

I glance across at Dad on the back deck. He’s still staring through his binoculars.

“Dad.”

“Hang on, I think there might be another one in a sec.”

“Dad!”

He puts his binoculars down. “What?”

I point ahead, at the darkness. We’re getting closer and closer. It’s as though we’re being pulled along, toward where the water’s lying motionless and black.

Dad turns around. “Mother of . . . what’s that?”

We gaze in paralyzed silence as the boat slowly begins to pick up speed, gliding toward the glassy blackness.

I don’t notice Mom coming out from below deck, but at some point I’m aware that she’s there, too. We’re slipping over to one side as we careen through the water.

“We’re going to drown,” Mom says suddenly. Almost calmly.

“Not if I can help it!” The captain grabs at the wheel, flinging it around as hard as he can. But it hardly makes any difference. His cheeks are purple. “Hold on!” he yells.

We’re edging closer toward the silent black water. It’s pulling us sideways, drawing us in like a magnet. We’re slipping farther and farther to the side. Bits of spray spatter the deck. The boat starts to rock.

Mom’s fallen onto her knees. The captain’s lurching at the wheel. I’m gripping the mast. I reach out to Mom. “Get hold of my hand!” Spray lashes against my face as the boat leans farther and farther over to the side. Mom reaches out, our fingertips almost touching before she slips back across the deck.

“Maureen!” Dad lets go of the rail to reach out for Mom. He’s holding her in one arm, gripping the rail with his other hand. He’s got his arm around her — at last. I didn’t want it to happen like this.