Crustaceans Read online

  He’s been dicking me around the whole time. Fucker.

  Suddenly Porter was angry, and spoiling for a fight.

  Any fight.

  “Don’t drop it,” someone shouted.

  Porter looked to his right.

  Newman stood off to one side. Four grey-clad workmen gingerly carried a large meshed-steel cage. The crab sat inside, silent, watching proceedings with an unblinking stare.

  The door that Porter had just come through screeched as it swung shut.

  The crab turned its stare in his direction. And immediately went berserk.

  Snick, snick, snickety snick.

  Pincers tore at the steel mesh of the cage. The metal bent. A strand pinged as it was severed. Then another.

  The man at the far corner had seen enough. He dropped his end of the cage. The unbalanced weight was too much for the other three to handle. They staggered, almost comically, around the floor, trying to keep on an even keel.

  “Be careful you idiots,” Newman shouted

  Snick, snick.

  The steel strands parted. One of the pincers pushed its way out, tearing the mesh aside as if it were wet paper. The crab attacked the metalwork with ever increasing frenzy.

  “Screw this,” one of the remaining workmen shouted and dropped the cage. He was off and away down the corridor before it hit the floor.

  The other workmen let go of their end and stepped back.

  The crab pushed its way out of the cage, effortlessly bending the last pieces of metal aside. It stood up high on its legs, raising the pincers above its head and showing its belly.

  Clickety-clack.

  Porter tensed, expecting an attack.

  None came.

  The crab looked straight at him for several seconds before moving. It bent closer to the floor and scuttled to one side, legs clicking on the concrete like the rapid rattle of a pair of knitting needles. It came to a stop next to a metal girder.

  “Catch it you idiots,” Newman shouted.

  One of the workmen walked towards the crab, hands outstretched, appealing to it as if it was a cornered dog.

  “Come on,” he said softly. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  Oh yes, there is.

  Porter would have called out, but an eerie silence had fallen. Every man was transfixed by the sight. The crab once more stood high on its legs and raised the pincers.

  The man moved closer and put out his hand.

  “See?” he said. “Nothing to be scared of.”

  Snick.

  His right arm was taken off just above the elbow. Blood gushed in a high spray, spattering across the glossy photographs.

  Someone screamed.

  The injured man backed away and slumped against a pillar, left hand grasping at the stump, trying vainly to stem the blood that was already pooling on the floor at his feet.

  The crab lifted a claw and banged, hard, on the nearest metal girder, one of the uprights holding up the building.

  Clack, clack, clackety-clack.

  Clack, clack, clackety-clack.

  The noise rang and echoed like gunshots in the enclosed area.

  Porter backed away towards the door.

  I want no part of this fucking nonsense.

  The crab turned its gaze on him. It raised itself to its full height, both claws clacking.

  It launched itself straight at him.

  11

  Shona watched the small crabs closely. They stopped attacking the container and stood still again, pincers raised. All three were slightly tilted towards the left-hand corner of their prison.

  Again? Can they really be listening? Or am I anthropomorphising?

  As if on cue they moved back to the container wall, slightly to one side from their previous position. They beat on the plastic, all in rhythm.

  Clack, clack, clackety-clack.

  Clack, clack, clackety-clack.

  “What are they doing?” Stark asked.

  I have no idea.

  I’m supposed to be the expert, and I have no idea.

  The crabs paused, then attacked the case with renewed vigour. Small pieces of plastic flew in a whirl. Shona studied it closely. It looked like the container would hold them.

  For a while at least.

  She looked along their line of attack, raised her arm, and pointed in the direction.

  “What’s over there?” she asked Stark.

  He had gone pale.

  “Manhattan,” he whispered.

  12

  Porter backed away quickly out the door as the crab scuttled towards him. He made it just in time… it slammed into the other side almost immediately. He grabbed the handle and stood, holding the door closed as the crab assaulted the wood on the other side.

  Splinters flew.

  One of the heavy pincers hit the security glass, sending a network of cracks running through it, turning clear glass to opaque.

  A man-shaped shadow loomed behind the crab.

  With any luck it’s Newman. The fucker deserves to lose an arm or a leg.

  But he could see enough to tell that the man wore the grey overalls of one of the workmen.

  Through the door he heard Newman shout.

  “Get it. Catch it!”

  Snick.

  The noise was loud even through the thick door.

  Blood splashed across the glass and someone screamed, high and long.

  Snick.

  The screaming stopped.

  The crab attacked the door again.

  That was enough for Porter. He let go of the door and ran. Before he was ten yards down the corridor the door slammed open with a crash. He had a quick look back. The crab scuttled out, pincers raised. Fresh blood dripped from the edges.

  Click, click, clickity click.

  Again it saw Porter and made straight for him.

  Fucker’s got a hard-on for me.

  Porter turned and fled. He heard the snicker of its legs on the concrete as it came after him.

  I need a weapon.

  He ran.

  The crab ran faster.

  He began to feel the effects of too many days of hard drinking. His stomach roiled and tumbled. His breath came hot and heavy.

  I’m not going to get far.

  The corridor stretched away to a door at the far end, and he wasn’t convinced he was going to make it.

  Snick.

  He felt it tug at his heel.

  It spurred him on to a spurt of speed, just enough to keep him ahead for several seconds longer. He reached the doorway and barrelled through it. He wasted several seconds looking for something with which to block the door.

  There was nothing available.

  He stood in an aquarium hall, a long thin dark space flanked on either side by the aquamarine glow of large tanks. Several zoo visitors were up the far end of the hall, but there was no one in the immediate vicinity.

  The crab came through the door fast, hitting it with enough force to knock it from its hinges. Further up the hall heads turned at the sound of the crash

  Clack.

  The crab snapped a huge pincer towards Porter. He felt the breeze in front of his face.

  He backed away, keeping his eyes on the crab. He knew that it would only take one mistake on his part and he’d be dead.

  The crab banged loudly on the floor with a huge heavy pincer.

  Clank, clank, clankety-clank.

  An answering set of dull thuds came from a tank to Porter’s right. He risked a look.

  A large octopus, red and warty, thrashed violently, battering repeatedly against the glass. The whole tank shook. The crab turned in that direction. As soon as it spotted the octopus it flew into a rage, pincers clicking furiously. It threw itself at the tank, and with one thwack smashed the glass to small pieces.

  A flood of water gushed across the floor, soaking Porter’s feet up to the ankles.

  The octopus landed with a wet flop, and in one fluid movement wrapped itself around one of the pincers
and made its way down towards the crab’s head. Muscle flexed. The octopus seemed to be on a mission to tear the crab to pieces.

  Porter backed away, but the crab wasn’t finished with him yet. Even as the octopus got a tentacle between a leg and the carapace and tried to prise its shell apart, still the crab lunged towards him. The free pincer clacked, once more just inches from his nose.

  The octopus was now draped all over the top of the shell. It pulsed, like one huge muscle, and tipped the crab onto its back. Legs and pincers waved in the air as the beast tried to right itself.

  Get the fucker.

  But Porter was premature in celebrating. The free pincer found, then tore at, the octopus flesh. Pieces of rubbery tissue flew.

  The crab rolled and righted itself.

  Snick. Snick.

  It methodically tore the octopus into small pieces.

  It looked around, found Porter, and came forward again.

  Porter backed off slowly. He knew he had nowhere to go, and the run along the corridor had taken almost all the energy he had in him. He raised his arms, already knowing they’d be worse than useless to defend him against the pincers. One of the huge claws came for him.

  Crack!

  A blast rang in Porter’s ear. Two security guards arrived at his side, pistols raised. A bullet bounced off the shell, then another.

  The crab stood up to its full height.

  A bullet struck it in the belly. It didn’t leave a hole, but it did manage to knock the creature backward. It righted itself, scuttled sideways, and moved rapidly through the wreckage of the broken octopus tank.

  It was soon lost from sight in the darkness beyond.

  Porter turned away and threw up all over the remains of the octopus.

  When he stood he almost hit Newman who had run in from the opposite direction.

  “What did you do?” the man shouted. Porter thought he looked a prime candidate for a heart attack, red faced and breathing heavily. “Look at this mess. It will take weeks to clean it up.”

  It was only then that he saw the dead octopus.

  He turned on Porter again.

  “You can forget getting any money out of me now. Get out of here, before I call the cops on you.”

  “We had a promise,” Porter said softly. “I delivered my end of the bargain.”

  Newman waved his arms.

  “You delivered a mess that’ll cost me a small fortune. Where shall I send the bill? And where is the crab?”

  One of the security guards pointed at the ruin of the empty tank.

  “It went through that way Doctor.”

  Newman turned on Porter.

  “You’re the crab catcher aren’t you? Get that fucking thing back here.”

  13

  Shona watched the crabs as they tried to fight their way out of the container. She’d studied crabs all over the world.

  But I’ve never seen such ferocity.

  Her father had tried to warn her, but she hadn’t listened. She’d always imagined that his stories were just that… stories, tall tales embellished by whisky to keep a young girl scared and entertained.

  Scared, certainly. But entertainment seems some way off.

  Stark still stood at her shoulder.

  “If those things we saw out on the shore reach Manhattan…”

  His voice tailed off. But he didn’t need to complete the sentence. Shona could already see the scenes in her mind… there would be panic and slaughter on the streets of New York.

  “There’s a fleet of choppers available to us,” Stark said. “But we need to know where to look.”

  Shona still couldn’t take her eyes from the small crabs.

  “Choppers won’t do any good. These beasts like it dark. Dark and cold. Sewers and tunnels are where we should be looking.”

  Stark laughed bitterly.

  “Well that narrows it down,” he said sarcastically. “Manhattan doesn’t have many of those.”

  Stark was a bundle of nervous energy. Shona had seen his type before, men of action, slightly lost when they had nothing to strike out at. But now she was starting to worry that the action he sought was not too far off.

  She hadn’t realised just how close.

  Wilkes came in at a hurry, his face slightly flushed.

  “We’ve got a bunch of hits on the tag cloud,” he said. “Cell phone and internet traffic just spiked. There’s a crab loose in Central Park.”

  14

  Porter’s first instinct was to get into his truck and get the fuck out of Dodge. Then the thought of the cash took hold again.

  And Newman is right. I’m a crab-catcher. Best damned one on the shore.

  He looked Newman in the eye.

  “You’ll pay me if I get it back. Fifty thou’ sounds about right.” Porter said.

  It wasn’t a question.

  “It was twenty. That was to be our agreement.”

  “Agreement? Did our agreement cover you screwing me over? Did our agreement specify I should bend over and let you butt-fuck me? No. I think our agreement has gone the way of that there octopus. It’s fifty thou’ or I walk.”

  Newman looked white around the gills and had barely taken his eyes off the remains of the octopus.

  “Just catch it,” he whispered. “Before it kills anything else.”

  “A deposit would come in handy? As security?”

  Newman gave him a thin smile. He had his composure back.

  “Don’t push your luck. Fifty it is. But I need it alive. And unharmed.”

  Porter turned to the security guards.

  “Where does that go?” he asked, pointing at the space behind the ruined octopus tank.

  The younger of them replied. He looked to be barely out of high school. His face had gone pale, which only served to show up his livid acne.

  “It goes down into the workings. There’s miles of piping and cabling down there. All the way down to the subway. You ain’t getting me to chase that thing through that lot.”

  I ain’t asking you to, son.

  “I need some bait,” Porter said. “Fish is good. Eel is better.”

  Newman looked grim.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Porter looked past Newman to the far end of the hall. A crowd of the public had gathered. Cameras flashed, and two other security guards were hard pressed to hold the crowd back.

  “And get the punters out of here,” Porter said. “Maybe close the zoo down for the day?”

  Newman looked like Porter had just said something disgusting.

  “It’s one of the busiest days of the summer.”

  Porter laughed.

  “My point exactly. If a dead octopus makes you shake at the cost, just think the stink a dead child would cause.”

  Porter hadn’t thought it possible, but Newman went even more pale. He left at a run, barking orders.

  Porter put him out of mind.

  Time to shit or get off the pot.

  “I’ll need a new cage,” Porter said to the young security guard. “And I’ll need it brought in here.”

  “What about out in the open?”

  Porter shook his head.

  “The little fuckers like it dark. They’re sneaky.”

  But I’m sneakier.

  He strode over to the octopus tank and looked through the back. The guard had been right. Behind the tank was a mess of wires and piping. He heard a noise in the far distance; the now instantly recognisable clacking of pincers.

  “I’ll also need a length of chain or thick rope,” he said. “And a winch.”

  “You going to kill it?” the guard said.

  Not if I can help it. Fifty thou’ is going to buy me a whole heap of sunshine.

  The bait arrived in two buckets a couple of minutes later. Somebody had chopped up a large eel.

  Conger, by the looks of it. That should do the trick.

  When the trap and gear turned up Porter set about attaching the bait to the end of the chain links. He
carried it with him and walked through the broken tank. Glass tinkled underfoot and water seeped into his shoes and socks.

  He stood at the far lip of the tank and looked into the darkness beyond. He remembered his own words.

  The little fuckers like it dark. They’re sneaky. But I’m sneakier.

  He walked as far as he could see into the darkness. He put the chain down, checking there would be no snags when he had to haul it in. Crabs were generally stupid when it came to food. Once they found something to eat, they held on tight until they’d actually eaten it. That’s what allowed Porter to catch so many out in the bay.

  And that’s how I’m going to catch this one.

  He went back out into the aquarium hall and threaded the other end of the chain through the open front to the back of the metal cage before attaching it to the winch.

  “What now?” the security guard said.

  “Now we wait,” Porter replied.

  Come to daddy, you little fucker.

  15

  Stark and the team were in the air when the call came in.

  “All units, Code Black. Forty, four, five North. Seventy-three, fifty-eight, twenty-three West. Passenger ferry in trouble. Clear out and take down if necessary.”

  “What’s a Code Black?” Shona asked.