“That’s far enough,” Catfish said. He walked into the surf and stood next to Winston, keeping the guitar high to keep any spray off of it.
“Give it,” Winston demanded.
“You ain’t got a lick a sense, do you?”
“Give it,” Winston repeated.
Catfish played four bars of “Green Onions” on the Strat, the notes still blaring out of the amp in the station wagon, then draped the strap around Winston’s neck and handed him a guitar pick. “Have fun,” Catfish said.
“Oh, I will,” Winston said, a lascivious grin crossing his face. “You know I will.”
“Play!” Catfish said as he turned and ran up the beach. He saw Estelle already making her way away down the shore away from the commotion. Behind him, the sour, rattling notes began to emanate from the amp in the station wagon as gunshots filled the air.
The sheriff fired three more times as he backed away from the Sea Beast, missing not only the monster but the entire North American continent. Molly threw herself sideways from a full run into the back of Burton’s knees and cut his legs out from under him. She came up in a crouch, putting herself between Burton and the Sea Beast. The sheriff thought he heard the song “Green Onions” and shook his head to clear a hallucination. The Sea Beast roared again and the sheriff vaulted into a crouch, ready to fire, but instead of a sea monster in front of him, he saw a woman in a leather bikini. He looked over his shoulder and watched the Sea Beast snap up the white station wagon in its jaws and toss it aside. The guitar sounds stopped and the Sea Beast slid over the bluff to the beach. Seeing that the danger was gone, he trained his sights on the woman. People were streaming by him on either side after the monster, wailing like a crowd of banshees.
Molly looked over her shoulder and saw Steve going into the water, then turned back to Burton. “Go ahead, you prick. I don’t care.”
“You got it,” Burton said.
He was just beating on the guitar strings now, but it didn’t matter. The amplifier wasn’t working anymore and this beautiful creature was coming to him. Winston was so turned on he thought he’d explode. She was coming to him, his dream lover, and he yanked the guitar from around his neck, ready to receive her.
“Oh, come on, baby. Come to papa,” he said.
The Sea Beast charged into the water, throwing spray fifty feet in the air, then snapped his jaws over Winston, severing the pharmacist’s body into two sleazy pieces. The Sea Beast swallowed Winston’s legs and roared, then snapped up the remaining piece and dove under the sea.
“I don’t think so, Sheriff,” Sheridan said.
Burton looked over his shoulder without taking the gun off Molly. Sheridan had his M-16 trained on the sheriff’s back. “Don’t fuck with me, Sheridan. You’re in this with me.”
“I’m not in this. Lower your weapon, sir.”
Burton lowered the pistol and turned toward Sheridan. Molly started to leap forward and the SWAT commander pointed the M-16 at her. “Right there,” he said. She stopped.
The pilgrims were all standing at the shore now, wailing as they looked out. Molly gestured in that direction and Sheridan nodded. She ran toward the shoreline.
“What now?” Burton asked.
“I don’t know,” said Sheridan, “but no one has been shot here, and I have a feeling that there’s going to be a lot of attention around this event, so no one is going to get shot.”
“You wimp.”
“Whatever,” Sheridan said.
“Hey, Burton!” Theo Crowe was running down the hill toward them. “You hear that?”
When they looked up, Theo ducked behind one of the wrecked Blazers and pointed toward the southern sky. “Film at eleven.”
Burton could hear them now: helicopters. He looked to the south and saw the two dots coming over the horizon. Two of the SWAT team members were topping the next hill. They had started running when the monster first came out of the cave. The other two were still pinned under one of the overturned Blazers. He turned back to Sheridan. The big cop was watching the approaching helicopters. “Game over,” Sheridan said. “Guess it’s time to start thinking about my deal with the D.A.”
Burton shot him in the face, then broke for the far side of the rocks to his Eldorado before the others had time to figure out what had happened.
Theo came up behind Molly and touched her lightly on the shoulder. When she turned, he could see tears streaming down her cheeks. Then she returned to staring out to sea with the others. She said, “All I ever wanted is to feel special. To feel like something set me apart.”
Theo put his arm around her. “Everyone wants that.”
“But I had it, Theo. More by having Steve in my life than when I was making movies. These people felt it, but not like me.”
The two helicopters were coming in close now and Theo had to speak right into her ear to be heard over the thumping blades. “No one’s like you.”
There was a stirring in the water just past the surf line, and something was rising in the kelp bed. Theo could see the purple gill trees standing out on the Sea Beast’s neck. He was heading toward shore. Theo tried to pull Molly closer, but she broke loose from him, jumped off the bluff, and ran into the surf, scooping up two baseball-sized rocks as she went.
Theo went after her and was halfway across the beach when she turned and looked at him with eyes filled with such pleading and desperation that it stopped him in his tracks. The helicopters were hovering only a hundred feet over the beach now. The wash from the blades kicked up sand in the faces of the onlookers.
As the Sea Beast approached shore, only his eyes and gills above the water, Molly threw one of the stones. “No, go away! Go!” The second stone hit the Sea Beast’s eye, and he stopped. “Don’t come back!” Molly screamed.
Slowly the Sea Beast sank below the surface.
The speedometer on the Eldorado was approaching sixty when Burton topped the last hill before the cattle guard. He had to get to the airport and use the open ticket in his briefcase to join his money in the Caymans before anyone could figure out where he had gone. He’d planned for this all along, knowing he might have to make a run for it at some point, but what he hadn’t planned was that there would be two Suburbans and a Mercedes parked just over the top of the hill.
Before he could stop himself, he hit the brakes and wrenched the wheel to the left. The tires dug into the pasture and sent the Eldorado up on two wheels, then over. There was none of the slowing of time or compression of events that often happens in accidents. He saw light and dark, felt his body being beaten around the Caddy, and then the crash of smashing metal and breaking glass. Then there was a pause.
He lay on the ceiling of the overturned Eldorado, peppered with pieces of safety glass, trying to feel if any of his limbs were broken. He seemed okay, he could feel his feet, and it didn’t hurt when he breathed. But he smelled gas. It was enough to remind him to move.
He grabbed the briefcase with his escape kit and slithered out the broken back window to find the Eldorado half-perched, half-smashed over the front of a white Suburban. He climbed to his feet and ran to the truck. It was locked. Sheridan, you prick, you would lock your truck, he thought. He didn’t notice the people handcuffed inside the K-9 cage in the back.
The Mercedes was his last chance. He ran around it and yanked opened the driver’s side door. The keys were in the ignition. He climbed in and took a deep breath. He had to calm down now. No more mistakes, he told himself. He started the Mercedes and was turning to back it down the hill when the dog hit him.