Murky Water

"The sign says they don't open 'til noon on Sunday," said Agent Johnson, impatiently.

"We have an appointment," responded Agent Sanders. "10 o'clock sharp."

He reached out and knocked on the glass doors again. There did not appear to be a doorbell.

"Maybe there's a rear entrance," Agent Johnson suggested. "You know, for deliveries?"

"The Director said to meet him here."

Agent Sanders peered through the door but saw no lights or any other sign of life. The Miskatonic Aquarium could have been an abandoned building. He was beginning to lose his patience as well.

After a third series of knocks, there was finally movement inside. The door was clumsily unlocked and a man opened it. Relatively tall, but somewhat hunched over, he wore a navy blue turtleneck shirt and matching slacks. He peered at them through thick framed glasses with large pale eyes.

Since the man at the door didn’t say anything, Agent Sanders volunteered, "We have an appointment with the Director. Is Mr. Marsh in?"

"I am Marsh," the man replied in a soft and unassuming voice. "Jeremiah Marsh."

"You are the Director?" asked Johnson skeptically.

"You were expecting someone else?" asked Marsh.

"No, no" replied Sanders, "It's just ..."

"We were expecting a suit," interrupted Johnson.

"Oh. I see." Marsh replied. "Here at the aquarium, we all wear this uniform." He gestured at his attire and the agents noticed that he was wearing large white sneakers under his slacks. "We're a team, you see. Just like... well like the army, I suppose."

"May we come in," asked Sanders. "I know you will be open for business in a few hours and we have a lot to do."

"We open in one hour," corrected the Director. "Now that the pandemic is over we are back to normal weekend hours. Just haven't changed the sign. Do come in.”

The Director led them to a small, poorly-lit office with a tiny desk and two chairs. He sat down and Sanders joined him. Johnson remained standing.

The Director placed his hands on the desk and folded his fingers, which seemed rather small and stubby compared to the size of the rest of him.

“We’re with the Fish and Wildlife Service,” Agent Sanders began. “Law Enforcement Division.”

“Law Enforcement?” The Director had no eyebrows to raise, but his large eyes grew even wider. “I’m sure that we are in compliance with any regulations governing specimen acquisition. We only work with the most reputable suppliers. Besides, we have not added any new… uh, residents… in many months.”

“We’re not interested in your specimens,” Sanders explained. “The problem - the potential problem - is with the live food. There is an invasive exotic species that has been infiltrating the local marine population and causing a lot of damage to the fishing industry. We think it may be propagating in ovular or larval form.”

“But we are an enclosed environment here,” protested the Director. “How could an aquarium be involved?”

“What happens to the debris from cleaning the tanks?” Sanders asked. “Some of it, maybe all of it, finds its way into the sewer system and from there into the ocean. There may be viable organisms in there.”

“Excuse me for any ignorance,” interrupted the Director, “but wouldn’t that be an issue for the local wastewater processing plant?”

“We’re aware that this may be an area of murky water, if you’ll excuse the pun,” admitted Sanders.

The Director responded with a grimace.

“We have been in touch with the local authorities,” continued Sanders, “and all have agreed that in this case invasive species fall under FWS jurisdiction."

“I am sure you must know what you are doing,” scoffed the Director, “It all just seems rather … trivial.”

“Trivial or not," replied Sanders, “the sooner we complete the inspection, the sooner we are out of your way so you can open for the day. May I see the receipts for your live food purchases? In the meantime, Johnson here can start the visual inspection. More efficient that way.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t have the records here. We’ll have to go to Ms. Gilman’s office. She’s not here - she doesn’t work on the weekends, so I’ll have to do my best to get you what you need.”

The Director snatched up a handful of keys. He passed several to Johnson.

“These are for the access closets. You’ll find them next to the tanks in case you need to take samples of the water.”

Johnson accepted them with thanks, picked up the canvas bag he had been toting and headed out to the main display area. The Director and Sanders headed in the opposite direction down a narrow hallway.

“Seems like you’re the only one here,” noted Sanders. “Don't your people need to prepare for opening up?”

“They’re currently in the back rooms,” explained Marsh “They use the rear entrance and change into their uniforms before reporting for duty.”

They reached an unmarked door and Marsh shuffled thorough the keys until he found one that opened the lock. The office was even smaller than Marsh’s had been, and there was almost no light.

“I can’t see anything,” complained Sanders. “Is there a light switch?”

“Oh, of course, of course.” Director Marsh reached out and flipped the lights on.

To his relief, Sanders could now make out the contents of the room, which consisted of a small desk and a row of filing cabinets.

“Let’s start with this one,” suggested the Director, and they began lifting armfuls of files out of the cabinet Marsh had indicated.”

*****

In the meantime, Agent Johnson had entered the main display room. Might as well start with the big tank. He made his way across the glass viewing area, examining the various lifeforms with expert eyes. He found it a little odd how sparsely populated the main tank was. Hardly any large specimens.

Then he noticed something strange at the bottom of the tank. It strongly resembled food debris - large, partially eaten fish carcasses which were starting to decompose. Very odd in a public aquarium which ought to pride itself on cleanliness. He crouched and leaned directly against the glass to get a closer look.

Suddenly what he thought was a large shadow passed above him. He thought he caught a glimpse of a blue-black torso gliding rapidly to the other side of the tank. It looked like no marine species with which he was familiar. What the hell had it been? Something unspeakable!

Johnson rushed to the access closet still gripping his canvas bag. He shed his jacket along the way. This was no time for niceties - the creature might… he didn’t know - escape from the tank somehow? Not a logical thought, but this was no occasion for logic.

He zipped open his bag and dumped out his scuba gear. He was used to donning his wetsuit quickly, but this time must have been a record. He ripped off his clothing and was encased in neoprene in seconds. As he pulled the mask over his face and began ascending the built-in ladder mounted in the wall he had a sudden thought - he wished he were clutching a spear-gun. Such weapons were not standard issue for FWS staff, even in Law Enforcement. Automatic pistols were sometime issued and he wished he at least had access to one of those. The priority now was to catch the creature, whatever it was.

Johnson reached the top of the ladder and slipped into the tank.

*****

Back in Ms. Gilman’s office, Agent Sanders was making excellent progress. The supply companies were familiar to him and raised no red flags until he came to the folders with some of the more recent receipts.

“What about this company ‘Innsmouth Marine Live Feed?’ I’m not familiar with them.”

“‘Innsmouth?’ They’re just a local supplier.” Director Marsh seemed a trifle evasive.

“Local to where?” asked Sanders. “Where is Innsmouth?”

“Well… Josie, I mean Ms. Gilman manages the suppliers, I’m afraid, so…”

“And you said she’s not in today,” prompted Sanders. “Can you get her on the phone? Surely she’s reachable by cell.”

“I… suppose.” The Director’s reluctance was obvious. “We’ll have to go back to my office.”

Marsh herded Sanders out of the room and carefully locked the door behind them. As they proceeded down the hall toward the Director’s office, all of the lights in the aquarium suddenly went out, plunging the two men into darkness.

Director Marsh was unconcerned.

“It’s a temporary power interruption. Those tend to occur frequently here for some reason.”

“What about the pumps?” Sanders wanted to know. “How will you get oxygen into the tanks? What if there were visitors in the building?”

“The backup generator will start up soon,” assured Marsh. “We are well prepared.”

“I’d better check on Agent Johnson,” Sanders suggested. “He may be disoriented in the dark, especially if he had to enter one of the tanks.”

“Enter the tanks?” echoed Marsh. “Why would he do that?”

“It’s part of the inspection,” explained Sanders.

Just as they reached the main display area, Sanders feet encountered something soft. He bent and retrieved the jacket Johnson had discarded. As he ran his hands over the wrinkled cloth he felt a horrible sense of dread.

There was a rumble and the pumps began to chum again. The lights came on, but at much lower power. They illuminated the room with a dim orangish tint.

“The access closet is this way,” urged the Director, and Sanders followed him, still clutching the jacket.

As they entered the hallway, a dark figure blocked their way, shiny black and glistening with water that dripped into a pool on the floor.

“Johnson!” exclaimed Sanders, partly in surprise, partly in relief. “I see you had to go in with your wetsuit.”

The figure nodded. It was still wearing a diving mask.

“You must have been in a hurry. That suit’s not on quite right.”

Another nod.

“Well we’re pretty much done here. Let me help you get into your clothes.”

The two agents entered the closet and closed the door behind them..

*****

Director Marsh breathed a sigh of relief. As he walked across the display area toward the back of the aquarium, there was a strangled scream from the access closet. The director tilted his head in satisfaction and kept walking. As he approached the darkened rooms at the rear of the building he rolled down the collar of his turtleneck shirt, exposing sets of bright red gills on either side of his neck. Breathing more comfortably, he entered one of the rooms.

Quite a crowd had gathered there by candlelight. Some wore the so-called uniform that matched Marsh’s attire. Many more wore next to nothing over their black scaly skin. At the far end of the room, next to a stone table, slouched a tall form draped in a black robe. A metal tiara of bizarre design rested on the shapeless appendage that served as its head.

The Director approached the robed figure and bowed deeply.

“We are preparing another offering,” he reported with a tone of awed respect.

The creature examined the Director with large bulbous eyes. A red-stained tongue slithered out of its mouth and licked at its toad-like snout. From its lips came a sequence of sounds which no human vocal cords could reproduce.

Director Marsh chuckled. “Yes, he responded in English. “Yes, I agree. The gods are always hungry.”