Twis Sir Michael Bona that screamed, an' by oor torches' flickerin' light I saw him — his body raised above the edge o' the overlook, caught within the powerful jaws o' the most ungodly creature I could e'er imagine.
It had risen frae the underground river, its enormous head, ten times that o' a horse. Its fangs were sharp an' curved, the largest teeth barbed, positioned ootside its hideous mooth. Nodules covered the top o' the skull, taperin' doon a thick neck, the remains o' its body remainin' hidden in the water.
Grabbin' my sword, I lunged at the beast, inhalin' its horrid stench even as I lashed at its throat. My blade sliced its oily dark hide, but could barely penetrate against its heavy coat o' slime.
Stunned by the blow, the creature released Sir Michael and submerged, its immense tail loopin' oot frae the river an' slappin' wildly at the surface, the icy splashes drenchin' us… an' oor torches.
Cast in darkness, we were at the De'il's ain mercy.
I backed carefully awa' frae the edge, drookit (wet) an' shiverin', unable tae see my ain hand afore my face. Sir Michael lay by my feet, his gurglin' cries drooned in his ain blood.
"We need a flame," MacDonald called out. I heard flints scrapin' against the cave walls behind me, an' then a spark caught fabric, an' we had light.
Sir Michael's wounds were fatal, an' even MacDonald's whisky couldnae comfort oor fallen comrade. I have seen many men die o' battle wounds, but none in so much agony. The beast had crushed Michael's internals, an' his insides were burstin' forth frae his mooth like air frae a bellows, makin' it impossible tae swallow. Blood gushed frae a half-ring of teeth holes, each as big as a man's fist.
We held him doon until he died. MacDonald offered last rites, an' then we lowered his body into the water, an' watched it swept away.
MacDonald divided us after that, three men on the gate, three at sentry, the remainin' two tae rest. Long hours have passed, an' it's noo my turn tae sleep. My body is heavy frae this terrible day, but my mind refuses rest, for now I have seen the De'il — his brood is close, an' I am too feart tae close my eyes.
Chapter 15
I was standing at the shore near the mouth of the Altsigh Burn, watching to see whether any trout were rising when I saw this extraordinary sight. It was the monster's head and neck, less than eight meters from me and it was without any doubt in the act of swallowing food! It opened and closed its mouth several times quite quickly and then kept tossing its head backwards in the same manner as a cormorant does after it's devoured a fish!
After two minutes, it put its head down and a hump and tail came into sight. It submerged, then surfaced again, farther away. I saw no limbs or flippers, but the skin was slick, dark in color, paling along the belly. I'd guess it was at least six meters [19.68 feet] long.
True MacDonald arrived early the next morning, bundles of newspapers tucked under each of his burly arms. He pushed my breakfast cart away from my cell door, then shoved a stack of papers in between the iron bars. "Wake up, Zack, there's work to be done."
I pinched sleep from my eyes, then rolled over in bed to the smell of powdered eggs and bad aftershave. "Aren't you a little old to be working a paper route?"
"No' when my best mate's the toast o' Scotland." He handed me an Inverness Courier. "Go on, take a' look at this."
It was hard to tell which was the more shocking, the photo of me standing on the witness chair, exposing part of my buttocks, or the story's headline.
RENOWNED MARINE BIOLOGIST SURVIVED NESSIE ATTACK
TESTIMONY EXPECTED TO LAUNCH LARGEST SEARCH OF LOCH NESS IN SCOTLAND'S HISTORY.
Dr. Zachary Wallace, the renowned American marine biologist and son of accused killer, Angus William Wallace of Drumnadrochit, shocked the High Court on Monday when he revealed scars left by teeth marks from a bite that nearly severed him in half seventeen years ago. Dr. Wallace, whose testimony has yet to be questioned by prosecutors, barely survived an encounter with a giant squid six months ago in the Sargasso Sea.
Dr. Wallace's testimony is sure to be challenged. The Courier has learned that the marine biologist was dismissed from his teaching position at Florida Atlantic University shortly after the Sargasso accident and has since been undergoing psychiatric treatment.
"What a load of crap! I never said I was bitten, and what's with the psychiatric bit? Yes, I saw a shrink, but that doesn't mean I'm nuts. I went one time and—"
"Whit dae ye expect? This is Nessie news. Since when dae facts count for anythin'?"
"You don't understand, True, this is exactly the kind of nonsense that'll destroy my reputation, at least whatever's left of it."
"Why? It wisnae yer fault ye got bitten."
"I wasn't bitten!"
"Sure, sure, but it's better if ye jist say ye cannae remember. Now start signin' the newspapers, I've customers waitin'."
"You're kidding, right?"
"Hey, business is business. Right now, ye're mair popular than Bonnie Prince Charlie. Strike while the iron's hot, that's what I say." He tossed me a felt-tip marker. "Sign them anywhere but across the headlines. We'll get ten pounds sterling fer each, maybe twelve."
"Unbelievable."
True removed a camera from his jacket pocket. "Now I'll be needin' ye tae drop yer pants. The Examiner offered me two hundred pounds for a clear close-up, but I ken I can get more."
"Forget it."
"Why? Ye mooned 'em for free yesterday."
"I said forget it! I'm sick of everyone exploiting this Nessie crap. And you… you're supposed to be my friend. You're as bad as your sister."
"Brandy… I'd almost forgot. I've a message frae her. Come closer so I don't wake Angus."
I leaned in like a dummy, thinking he was going to whisper it in my ear.
Wump! True's fist caught me flush in the breadbasket, dropping me to the concrete floor.
I sat up, fighting to catch my wind. "You big lummoxe, what the hell was that for?"
"That's for steppin' on my sister's heart. Did I no' warn ye Brandy's been havin' an awfy hard time? Last thing she needed wis mair rejection."
"I wasn't rejecting her."
"Ye led her on, then ran off is what I heard."
"Maybe he's no' man enough tae handle yer sister," Angus said, greeting the day with a burst of flatulence.
"Lovely."
"At least I fart like a man, Gertrude, whit's your excuse?"
"Ignore him," I said. "He's a dead man talking."
"Give it a rest, you two. Brandy's condition's nothin' tae joke aboot. Wis bad enough when Alban kicked her oot, but this last go-around in the States, I think somethin' snapped in her pretty little heid."
"What do you mean?"
"When she first got back, I had her stayin' wi' me. One day I found blood a' ower her sheets. She claimed it wis her woman's time, but I found razors tucked inside the mattress. She'd been usin' the blades tae carve up her legs."
"Jesus …"
True helped himself to my breakfast. "Psychiatrist fella, he called it self-mutilation. Says it's part o' Brandy's whole fear o' abandonment thing. Her mood swings like a pendulum, calm one moment, a storm the next."