Creatures

A meteorite travels through space. It speeds through the dark, silently breaking through the junk in its path. The giant, rough rock pierces the atmosphere and roars to life, burning and breaking apart. It rips through the night sky, slowly deteriorating to reveal a jagged sphere with pointed tips.

Below, the ocean shifts out of synch. The wind and the full moon pull at its surface.

​​Now no bigger than a golf buggy, the meteor crashes into the disturbed sea, spraying water high in the air and sending ripples in all directions.

Enveloped in a new silence, the space rock rolls through the water like a submarine on a mission.

---

The sun fills the sky and stops the ocean’s discord with the moon. Gary's net rocks gently over the glittering surface. Nets hang on either side of the vessel and seagulls circle overhead. He looks out across the deck. Stocky, rugged, and certain.

“The nets ready?”, he shouts.

The two men look across at him, Ray a tall thinner man about a decade younger than Gary, and Dale fresh out of high school with barely a hint of facial hair.

“Finishing the last tie-downs now captain, I’ll give you a shout as soon as we’re done”, Ray yells back.

Gary nods and waddles back into the cabin. Ray turns to Dale and continues showing him the final stages of the net preparation, including last adjustments with a second check over knots. “Okay mate, that’s pretty much it. Now that we know for certain everything is properly tied down we’re ready to yell out to the Caption to drop the nets. Which is pretty simple.” He puts a hand around his mouth and looks towards the cabin, “Ready to drop the nets captain.”

Gary gives him the thumbs up from the cabin entrance. Ray looks back at Dale, “That’s pretty much how we set the nets. We’ll do about two or three catches per day out here.”

“Why so far out?”, Dale asks.

“The further you go out the bigger the fish, less human activity out here”, Ray says while taking a packet of Winfield Blues out of his pocket. He opens the lid and places a cigarette in his mouth, “Obviously there’s still more you need to know”. He lights the cigarette, “That’s why you’re with me for the next two weeks”.

The fishing nets drop into the ocean, plummeting deep down and spreading. Gary turns on the ignition and the little boat roars to laborious life. He pushes the throttle forward and the boat begins moving.

“Gary gave me a set of keys a while ago, for emergencies. I’ll give that pair to you while I’m on holiday”, Ray says.

“How long have you been doing this?”

“About seven years now. If I win the lottery I’d quit today”, Ray says. He looks across at the shell of a man standing by the wheel, resentment rises. “But I’ll probably end up taking over the old boat when he packs it in, and someone has to take over for me.”

Gary joins them at the back of the boat with his thermos and starts pouring two cups, “Coffee?”

“How do you know when to bring the nets back up”, Dale asks.

“You’ll know”, Gary places a hand on the rod next to him and closes his eyes. “They speak, they always have”.

Dale realizes that asking more questions from a man around fish most of his day would probably just lead to more ambiguous answers. He looks out at the ocean and also thinks this probably wasn’t the best choice for work experience.

Ray rolls his eyes and flicks his cigarette into the ocean. He turns away from the group and the old man’s theatrics.

One of the rods bends down towards the water. The seagulls flying above suddenly go into a frenzy, crying out in stress. They scatter, leaving the men and their boat alone in the ocean.

Gary frowns, “Something’s not right.”

“Must be a shark in the water”, Ray shrugs.

“No”, Concern fills the wrinkles of Gary’s face.

The rod starts bending back even further, to the point the vessel begins veering to one side.

“Run and turn off the engine”, Gary shouts at Ray.

The boat shudders and comes to a stop, anchored by the weight in the nets. Gary stares at the rod. It bends unnaturally down to the ocean below.

“Bring up the net”, Gary shouts. Ray hesitates. Dale looks to the tall man, his previously dismissive demeanor replaced by reluctance. And fear.

Ray slams a hand down onto a button like it were a rodent with a death sentence. The pulley starts cranking and the bent rod rights itself as the rope begins pulling up out of the ocean. Ray walks over to join the others.

They watch as the net emerges with its jagged, spheric bounty.

---

The cool sensation fills his throat as the bitter, golden liquid runs down to his stomach. Ray swirls the beer in its glass and thinks. Sandra watches him as she cleans her twentieth glass, “How were the waters today, Ray?”

“A little choppy, but not too bad.”

“You saw the meteor?”

Ray stiffens.

“It’s all over the news darl, half the town has already been out looking for it”

“I’m in bed early most nights, you know that Sandra.”

“Good thing there’s still the six o’clock report”, Sandra gestures up at the television hanging in the corner.

Ray looks over at the screen, “Scientists have been out on the ocean for the last 15 hours to see if they can possibly find the mysterious meteor that crashed down to earth early this morning. With a high reward to anyone with information of its whereabouts it seems the hunt is on along the east coast”, the reporter says.

“Heard it’s a pretty sum” Sandra laughs and walks off.

Ray slowly moves off the barstool and leaves the pub.

---

The little boat rocks gently at its dock. It’s quiet, the only sound the rhythmic waves reaching the shore. The clouds block out the stars and the moon, Ray’s only light the artificial glow of the bulbs along the pier. He walks slow and considered, but his heart is pounding. He’s never stolen before.

He checks over his shoulder more than he should. He knows he’s alone. He knows he’s alone on Gary’s boat.

Ray unties the boat from the dock and pushes off. He looks at the spheric mound sitting on the deck, covered in a tarp.

He unlocks the cabin door, switches the engine on, and hits the high beams. He’s not usually the one driving when it’s dark. He doesn’t know the water like Gary. The guilt rises in his stomach but is quickly drowned out by the pounding in his ears.

Cautiously he steers the boat away from the dock and out into the bay.

Unknown to Ray, a green light gradually spread out across the deck from under the tarp outside the cabin. It pulsates like a gentle heartbeat. The tarp suddenly flattens, pieces of the rock bursting out and scattering across the floor. Beneath the tarp, something moves slowly towards the edge of the sheet. It crosses to one side and then dashes out into the dark.

Ray scans the shoreline for somewhere discreet to dump the rock and call in his find. He spots a piece of land, cupped by rocks and water. No lights, no civilization. He steers towards the shore, and at that moment he hears something smash behind him.

Ray turns and sees the glass window of the cabin door has been smashed. He looks around in a panic, unable to find the cause. He turns back to the switchboard and switches off the engine. Everything is quiet as the boat rocks gently in the water. He walks over to the cabin door, opens it, and discovers the scattered rock and flattened tarp. He panics, hot bile rising in his throat. He freezes. He hears a low growl behind him. His back feels naked and vulnerable. Reluctantly, slowly, he turns.

His scream rises out of the boat and gets lost in the void of the black sky and the rush of the waves. Nobody saw him. Nobody heard him.