The boat swayed beneath us again, and I panicked like a bear caught in a trap.
"What? Do ye no' want tae be wi' me then? Is that it?"
"No, I mean I do, I swear—"
"What's wrong then? Ye're as pale as a ghost, an' ye're tremblin'. Come on, we'll lie down."
"I… I need some air!" Pulling up my jeans, I tore up the steps, the main deck spinning in my head as I half leaped, half tumbled over the stern rail, landing awkwardly on the dock.
"Zachary Wallace, where do ye think ye're going?"
I looked back, the dark waters swirling on either side of me. "I'll call you! I'll come by tomorrow!"
Not waiting for a reply, I stumbled down the boardwalk until I made it back to the parking lot, then kept running until I reached a grove of trees.
Lying back against the trunk of a pine, I closed my eyes, my limbs trembling as I hyperventilated like a frightened deer.
Chapter 10
… in the case of an island, or of a country partly surrounded by barriers, into which new and better adapted forms could not freely enter, we should then have places in the economy of nature which would assuredly be better filled up if some of the original inhabitants were in some manner modified; for, had the area been open to immigration, these same places would have been seized on by intruders. In such cases, slight modifications, which in any way favoured the individuals of any species, by better adapting them to their altered conditions, would tend to be preserved; and natural selection would have free scope for the work of improvement.
Underwater… can't see… can't breathe. Cold, scared. Kick with the free leg, twist and kick, don't swallow. Throat burns, ears popping, suffocating, keep kicking… twist, struggle…
Free!
Swim, kick, my ankle hurts so bad. Gurgling growls… rising beneath me! Oh, God, Zachary… get to the light!
I lashed and kicked, tearing the sheets from the mattress, flinging the suffocating wool blanket from my face as I flew off the bed and barrel-rolled out the front door of the lodge cabin as if on fire.
Breathing, shaking, quivering, the mountain air chilling my sweat-soaked boxers and T-shirt, the cold helping me to awake.
You're okay… you're okay… you're okay.
I looked around, panting. The woods were quiet, the solitude heavy in the predawn light. And then my eyes caught movement.
It was old man MacDonald crossing through the forest. Seeing me, he paused, hiding behind a clump of birch trees.
"Mr. MacDonald?"
He refused to move, which was more than a little bizarre, so I decided to approach — anything to distance myself from the night terror.
"Get back tae yer cabin."
Ignoring his command, I moved closer.
He was dressed in an almost medieval-looking black surcoat, marked by a crimson-colored X that was woven around a heart- shaped emblem.
Splattered across the tunic was fresh blood.
"Mr. MacDonald, are you hurt?"
The old man hurried off, but I quickly overtook him. Grabbing his shoulder, I spun him around, only to be confronted with the business end of a double-edged sword, the gold-plated blade dripping with blood.
"Back off, young Wallace. My business is my ain affair, dae ye ken whit I mean?"
I was in no position to argue.
He stared at me for a long moment, then continued down the mountainous slope to his cabin.
Several hours later, still baffled by the surreal encounter with the Crabbit, I drove the Harley into the parking lot of the Clansman Hotel, then headed for the wharf to meet up with the old man's daughter.
I was armed with a bouquet of freshly cut flowers and a simple plan: Beg forgiveness, give her the flowers, then ask her to dinner in Inverness, hoping we'd end up in my hotel room.
I hesitated, then walked out onto the pier, the daylight easing last night's feelings of dread. As I approached the Nessie III, Brandy emerged from the wheelhouse, dressed in a gray cotton sweat suit. "Well, look who it is? Thanks for a helluva night, lover."
"Can I at least explain?"
"I've a better idea. Why don't ye go make nice wi' my old man, 'cause I want nothin' tae do wi' you!"
"Brandy, wait!" I climbed aboard, quickly presenting her with the flowers. "For you. I picked them myself"
"Did ye now?" She inhaled the bouquet, then tossed them overboard. "I hate flowers. Flowers are what my bastard ex used tae give me while he banged my nurse."
"That won't ever happen with us!"
"Us? There is no us, now get off my boat."
"I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you. We'll spend the day in Inverness. We'll go shopping, have some dinner—"
"I'm no goin' anywhere. I've a sold-out tour scheduled tae leave in forty minutes. Besides, ye cannae just bribe yer way back intae me heart, there's too much scar tissue." She pushed me toward the rail.
"Brandy, just hear me out. You're the first good thing that's happened to me in a long time, and I don't want to blow it."
"Should o' thought about that last night."
"Give me a second chance, I'll do anything."
She paused. "Anythin'?"
Uh-oh …
"Okay. Like I said, I've a full boat intae Fort Augustus. We do a good job, an' most'll book me for their return trip."
"We?"
"Ye said ye'd do anythin', now ye can play first mate. When we get back, ye'll help clean the boat, then ye can take me tae Inverness for dinner."
Before I could negotiate, she removed her hooded sweatshirt, revealing tanned curves barely concealed behind a heart-stopping black floss bikini.
My left brain rolled over as the right sealed the deal.
Forty minutes and a triple dose of prescription pills later, my brain was buzzing like a bee as I undid the Nessie III's bowline, allowing the overcrowded vessel to push away from the dock. There were twenty- three passengers on a boat that legally held eighteen, but for all I could tell, it could have been a hundred.
Too unbalanced to stand, I wedged myself on the starboard-facing bench between an American fellow named Clay Jordan, who was with his German wife and two young sons, and a chatty woman named Bibi Zekl, a bookstore clerk on holiday with her husband, Stefan. In no time, the Nessie III was puttering south along the Loch, all eyes, save mine, focused on the water as we approached Urquhart Bay.
Brandy was in the wheelhouse, playing both boat captain and tour guide. Over two badly crackling loudspeakers she announced, "Welcome to the Highlands. In Scotland, we call lakes "lochs", and the biggest and deepest is Loch Ness, at over thirty-six kilometers long. That's twenty-three miles to our American guests. From Tor Point south, she averages a mile wide, with depths over one hundred and eighty meters, or six hundred feet. Amazingly, Loch Ness is deeper than even the North Sea.
"We're approaching Urquhart Bay on our starboard, or right side. Urquhart Bay is one of the deepest parts of the Loch, descending to depths of two hundred and forty meters, almost eight hundred feet.
"Loch Ness is one of four long, narrow lochs that run diagonally through the Scottish Highlands. Forty rivers and streams, what we call "burns", feed into Loch Ness, with only one, the River Ness, running out of the Loch and into the Moray Firth and the North Sea. Did ye know that Loch Ness holds more water than all the lakes and rivers in England and Wales combined? The water's extremely cold, about five degrees Celsius, and visibility's very poor. This is because of peat, which are particles of soil brought down from the rivers, giving the Loch an acidic taste. Of course, if yer gonnae drink it, we recommend addin' a shot o' cheap Scotch."