Chosen
Chapter 3: Denial
"If you don't want to talk about it, then that's fine," said Trakker calmly. "Sometimes that's how we have to deal with things we don't want to accept." After a minute of letting that sink in, he looked over at Burns. "I really was hoping you would tell me, though. There were some rather interesting handprints on Raven's roof and windows.
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The sound of Gator's motor made Burns look up. So that's what scared her off..." The boat slowed and stopped just short of the clutter of the branches blocking the channel.
"Cal, you down there?" came Trakker's voice through the intercom system.
"I see you up there. You're almost right above me."
"You having fun with the fish?" laughed Hayes.
Normally he would have laughed in return, but instead out came a weakly drawled "yes~."
There was a splash above and Trakker came somersaulting down through the water in a diving helmet and air tanks. "Well hello," he said cheerfully unfolding himself. "You are right here." He made his way through the maze of branches down to Raven.
Burns waved at him through the glass.
Trakker swam about and studied the nature of Burns' imprisonment and soon formulated a solution. "If we can blast the trunk off of this tree, we should be able to remove the branches fairly easily, either by hand or by having Gator tow them off, or they might just float off. And maybe a little more pruning will be needed. Otherwise, besides a few dents and scratches, Raven looks like it will be fine."
"There's one spot on the back window where one of the seals is leaking, but beyond that I think you're right," agreed Burns.
"Dusty, you ready to do a little swimming? I think Backlash is Calhoun's ticket out of here."
"You mean I have to get my uniform wet?"
"Soaking. Get Backlash on and dive in. Just watch the branches."
Moments later Hayes was underwater. All of the case masks were sealed to resist water in shallow depths for a few minutes, enough time to get one's bearings and surface, or to perform quick underwater jobs such as this one. "Backlash, fire!" Several blasts from Hayes' mask and the crown of the tree holding Raven had been separated from the trunk. The branches slowly floated upwards as did Raven. It bobbed to the surface and Burns started up the engine. There were cheers for the freed agent.
"See you on land," said Trakker.
"Will do," responded Burns as he took off across the river surface. He noticed his hands were still shaking a little.
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Calhoun Burns picked at the fish on his plate but ate very little. "Not hungry?" Hayes asked.
"Not really. I guess I'm not in the mood for fish tonight." He prodded the barely touched entree with his fork—a whole catfish about a foot long, beautifully fried over their campfire on the beach. Despite the way they teased him about living off of pizza and cheese-bread Hayes had a talent for turning out a good meal from anything set in front of him.
Lopez pushed his empty plate suggestively toward Burns, who immediately got the message and tipped his up, the catfish sliding neatly onto Lopez's plate. "Hey, I'll take some of that," jumped in Hayes, who reached for it with his fork. The two of them divided up the booty.
Burns tossed his empty paper plate under the grill of the firepit, picked up his bottle of beer, and walked off toward the river. Here at São Miguel, a small town upriver from Macapa, the beach was wide and sandy with little grass, and the cottage manager had said that they could walk several miles along the shore. But on coming to a large tree trunk near the water's edge, he took a seat and looked out over the great river. Here it was several miles across and looked more like a lake than a river. In fact, they called it the "river sea". The moon, a few days short of full, had risen in the eastern sky, illuminating the humid haze of the night.
Maybe he had imagined it.
No. It had been there, as real as anything. Frighteningly real. When they'd freed Raven of the tree and he'd gotten the car to shore, her handprints were clearly visible in the thin layer of silt that had settled onto the black chassis. He'd even gone back twice to look at those prints before washing them off in frustration. Thankfully no one else had noticed the mysterious marks.
A slosh in the water caught his attention, and turning to look he saw Matt walking toward him, ankle deep in the river. "It's a beautiful sight, isn't it?" he asked, taking a seat on the tree-trunk as well.
"Yep. Very lovely."
"No matter how many times I see the Amazon I'm always impressed. I was thrilled to find us somewhere right on the river to stay."
"My first time to see it, and I'm still trying to grasp how large it is."
"Biggest river in the world...not in length, but just in volume of water flowing out of it. Nothing else comes close to it.
They sat a while in silence, looking out over the water. Now and then a fish would break the surface or bat would flit about their ears.
Trakker's tone changed. "So, Calhoun. What's bothering you?"
"Hmm? What's bothering me?" He tried to sound nonchalant. Damn. The others had warned him. Trakker always wanted to know everyone's issues—if there was something worrying you, something on your mind, he would pry it out of you just as a starfish forced open a clam. "Eh, just moody. Wishing I'd been able to take Vanessa down too."
"C'mon. What happened, Cal? You came out of that river a different man, and I know it's not about Vanessa either."
"Am I that obvious?"
"Not really, but it is showing. Tell me."
The starfish had latched onto him. Why fight the inevitable?
Burns sighed and looked out over the river, moonlight turning the rippled surface into an ebony field of sequins. "I want to talk about it, but if I do you'll send me straight in for a psychological evaluation. I can't even believe what I saw myself. So I'm just going to pretend nothing happened and I just sat there in Raven waiting for you guys to show up." He stood up with a huff. "I'm just going to move on and I hope you'll do the same. I'll get over it soon enough." He drank the last little bit of his beer, wound up, and pitched the bottle into the river.
"If you don't want to talk about it, then that's fine," said Trakker calmly. "Sometimes that's how we have to deal with things we don't want to accept." After a minute of letting that sink in, he looked over at Burns. "I really was hoping you would tell me, though. There were some rather interesting handprints on Raven's roof and windows. And I'm quite sure they weren't mine or Dusty's. As far as I know, both of us have ten fingers and no claws."
Burns turned quickly to him. "You saw those too?"
"Yes, first when I dove down to check your status and again when we had Raven up on land. I thought at first they were marks from the tree branches, but then I saw there were quite a few of them." He looked searchingly at Burns. "Cal, what was it?"
Burns sat down again and put his head into his hands. "Did you ever see that old horror movie "Creature from the Black Lagoon?"
"Years ago...rubbery fishman monster. Classic."
"It was like that—like the Creature. But it was...it was..it was slender and graceful. I'm sure it was female."
"Female?"
"There was something in her eyes, in the way her face looked. I guess you could call her a mermaid. But she was much more fish...gills...lots of fins. No breasts and no hair." Burns looked over at Matt. "See? Crazy."
"I would be inclined to agree if I hadn't spotted those prints, and there were plenty of them too."
"The thing came right up to the windshield and just floated there, peering in at me. I was terrified at first, but then I could see there was intelligence and emotion in her eyes. And when she put her hand against the glass, I put mine against it, and she smiled at me."
"What color was she?"
"Sort of a rusty red and tan color, but the membranes of her fins were rather yellowy. So were her eyes. And her eyes looked more human than those of a fish. She kept putting her face close to the glass and looking in at me. I felt like I was a goldfish in a bowl. She made these clicking and croaking noises...I could hear them through the windows."
"How long was she there?"
"About twenty minutes...she disappeared when you and Dusty showed up."
"Amazing."
"To say the least. It was all so surreal." Suddenly he snapped out of his reminiscence. "You can't tell anyone. Not even the others," he said worriedly.
"Why not? I think Alex would be most interested in this."
"Because you can't. They'll think I'm nuts, and I'm not."
"We've seen a lot of weird stuff, Cal. You know that. You've read our mission reports. Heck, remember that dinosaur-boy thing. That was also here in the Amazon basin."
He sighed. "Just don't. Please."
"If you insist, I'll keep your secret. Lord knows I keep plenty of them."
"I mean it, Matt. You can't even tell Alex."
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Chosen continues in Chapter 4: "Maria Luiz"
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M.A.S.K. and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of DIC Enterprises, Inc and Kenner Toys. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.
This fic is dedicated to Ben Chapman (1925-2008), Ricou Browning, and Tom Hennesey (1923-2011)
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