"Thirteen O'Clock"
May. 28th, 2022 05:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dochermes"Thirteen O'Clock"
3/24/1955
I.
"Cool, cool, we love digging us some Charlie Parker," said Seymour into the stand-up mic. He had remained clean-shaven, even keeping his curly brown hair short, but the red-and-white horizontally striped shirt had its sleeves torn roughly off and the knees had long worn away from his chinos. "But the records can always spin. Right now we need to open an ear so we can let in some wisdom from the brainpan of our own.. BELINDA!"
Murmurs of acknowledgement and some scattered applause sounded in the dim smoky cellar. A thin young woman in black tights and a baggy black sweatshirt stepped up to the microphone and adjusted it to her height. Belinda wore her straight black hair back in a ponytail that reached the center of her back, her face was a pale oval without make-up and her blue eyes caught the single spotlight directed at her.
Without preamble she began, "Thirteen O'Clock. The Afterhour. When the cops of reality are off-duty and the laws which govern our universe go unenforced. Anything can happen. You might find yourself walking down a wet cobble street in a merciful fog which hides the new scars on the city from the day's lies and betrayals. You might see the stars spell a warning, you might see shadows with eyes. Anything can happen. You might even find a friend."
After a dazed moment, one pair of hands began to clap and general applause rolled back and forth in the gloom. A voice sang our, "That's our Belinda! Go, chick, just go. Coming up next, Lenny will do a solid on the bongos."
Bowing deeply from the waist, straightening up to flip her ponytail behind her, Belinda stepped down and went back to the round table where her friends sat. Candles stuck in the necks of empty wine bottles gave most of the illumination in THE BEAT DOWN. Waiting for her were her sister Myrna and Myrna's boyfriend of the week, Danny.
"Man, that was far out," Danny said. "Are you writing this jive down? I can see a booklet of your poems being memorized by cats everywhere. THIRTEEN O'CLOCK by Belinda Van Aken."
"No, no, I don't put anything down on paper," she replied. "Did you try the lasagna tonight?"
"Eh, kind of dry," her sister said. "I'd ask them to put a little olive oil on it if I were you." She lit a lumpy cigarettte, took a deep breath and held it, holding the joint out to Belinda without saying anything.
Gratefully, Belinda took a drag and passed the joint over to Danny. Myrna rolled her own, using regular cigarette papers and adding enough to tobacco to mute the marijuana tang. It gave them some deniability.
As she finally exhaled twin plumes from her nostrils, Belinda relaxed slightly. "Have you guys been outside? It IS a weird night. Thirteen O'Clock if I ever saw it. Foggy and damp with no moon, it's the Afterhour I love."
"Speaking of weird," Myrna put in, "Are you eyeballin' that joker by the door?"
Belinda swung around. The BEAT DOWN was a cellar club below street level, with wide cement steps leading up to the door at sidewalk level. One of the round tables up against the steps had a solitary figure sitting there, holding up a coffee mug and scowling as if mad at the world.
As a car outside pulled up, its headlights shown down into the cafe to reveal every detail of the stranger clearly. He was tall and athletic-looking, wearing a white business suit but without a tie. The top button of the dark blue dress shirt was open. A long narrow face under bristly short blond hair regarded the scene with evident anger that was barely repressed.
Not knowing she was going to go over there, Belinda rose and strolled over to stand next to the man. Up close, he looked even odder. He didn't seem more than a teenager himself, certainly under twenty-one. The bony face and deepset cloudy blue eyes had a strange foreign undercast that she couldn't place. High up on his temples, just below the close-cropped white hair, two rounded bumps showed. He glared up at her as if annoyed at being approached by a pretty young woman. She wasn't used to such a reaction.
"Haven't seen you here before," she said.
"You couldn't have. I have never been here before." He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and sat up straighter. "But I must be polite by the customs of your people. Good evening, hello, how are you."
"Mostly good," Belinda replied, pulling out a chair and dropping down lightly with one foot tucked easily up into her lap. "Not from these parts, huh? Ever been in Florida before?"
"No, never. This is part of your world." He held up the mug and managed a wry smile. "This 'espresso' is new. It pleases me. Should I offer you a cup, is that the custom?"
"Sure, why not?" Twisting in her chair, she caught the attention of her sister and Danny, giving them an Okay sign with forefinger forming an O. Then she snagged the passing waitress and gave her the stranger's mug, asking for one for herself.
"That's done," she said. "Tell you what. My name is Belinda Van Aken, I dropped out of Miami U a few months ago because Beat Life called me. Got a handle?"
To his credit, the stranger caught that 'handle' meant name. "Yes. Atron."
"Cool. That your first name?"
"It is how I am addressed. I am Atron Ke [pronounced 'Kay'] of the House of Atron. I have come to this southern end of the Florida State for a reason." Their coffee came and she clinked mugs together before sipping. The gesture amused him.
"You don't seem like the sort of horndog who ambles down here seeking college girls of questionable morals," she said. Studying the stranger at closer range, she was annoyed at being unable to guess his age. Obviously an adult, if only by his condfidence and self-assurance. But beyond that, he could have been anywhere from a mature twenty-five-year to some one in well-preserved middle age, mid-fifties or more.
Before he could respond, Myrna and Danny came over. "What's buzzin' cousin?" her sister asked.
"Flinging the bull hither and yon," she laughed. "Sis, this is Atron. He's not a local. Atron my friend, meet my big sister Myrna and her squeeze Danny."
Half-rising from his chair, the stranger nodded. "Good evening. Perhaps you Humans can help me locate what I seek."
"Us Humans...?! I mean, sure, lay it on us."
Atron leaned closer to the candle in the wine bottle, its flickering light gave his face a diabolical edge. "You may think it a legend. Have you ever heard of the Gilled One?"
"Oh, sure. Absolutely!" replied Myrna.
"As a kid, I got the jitters plenty of nights hearing stories about that weirdo," Danny added. "Seven feet tall. Webbed feet. Claws and fangs, bone plate all over his body. Brrr. They say you only saw him when he was about to pull you out of your boat to drown you."
"Which doesn't make much sense," Myrna said. "If he drowned you, how would anyone know what he looked like? Yeah, the Gilled One is well known in this part of the State. Like Gator Joe or the Skeeter. He's a monster but he's OUR monster."
Atron did not smile. This close, they could see even his eyebrows were whitish-blond. The wide flat face with its thin mouth was not something to invite friendliness. "The sea has many strange legends, and many of them come from more than mere imagination."
"Wait, wait," Belinda interrupted. "I don't wanna be a square. I'm not saying there can't be such a creature. The ocean is a big place. But you've come here to find the Gilled One?"
"More than that," Atron told them with grim intensity. "I believe he has been captured. I intend to free him before it is too late!"
II.
Danny stroked the reddish goatee he had been cultivating and shook his head. "I believe your train has hopped the tracks, daddy. The Gilled One is only for funsies, he's a tall tale, I never heard of anyone actually eyeballing the cat. There aren't even any fuzzy out of focus snapshots."
"I have seen him," replied Atron. His voice was low and hard. His eyebrows had lowered. Suddenly, without feeling threatened personally, the three at the table had the sensation that a large snarling wild animal had entered the cafe. There was that same impression of immense coiled power ready to spring.
Atron noticed this. He made a point of leaning back and holding up his open hands. "Please do not be alarmed. I am, how do you say it, a serious person."
"Uh, fine, okay. Dig it, you mean business." Danny had brought his empty mug over and he held up it to get the waitress' attention. Everyone handed up their cups so she could place them on her tray.
"I'm a wee shy on the folding green," Belinda admitted. "Maybe someone can treat?"
Reaching inside his white suit jacket, Atron pulled out a roll of bills thick as his fist and peeled off a twenty. "Order whatever you like," he offered. "I think you Humans can give me good advice on searching for my target."
"Man! Don't flash a wad like that!" Danny said. "Someone might follow you and smack you over the head to take it."
"They can try," the stranger replied with a remarkably sinister grin.
"If it's not too personal, can I pry a little?" Belinda asked. "Like, what's your gig? How you make a living?"
The refilled mugs came back and Atron sipped his a bit more slowly. "My wealth comes from what is found in sunken ships. Or from buried treasure forgotten by pirates in times past. Giant pearls from killer clams. I believe legally I would be called a salvage expert."
Sitting next to Danny, Myrna whistled. "So cool I can hardly stand it. I read that merchant ship went down in the War, carrying medical supplies that would still be worth millions. It's still listed as unfound."
"I have seen it," Atron told them casually. "After the problem of the Gilled One is solved, I intend to explore what it holds. So. You are local denizens, you have no doubt heard much gossip and rumors. If such a creature were to have been captured, who in this area might have done it?"
Myrna glanced in all directions so obviously that she would caused suspicion in anyone noticing her. "Let's suck some fresh air into our lungs, kiddies." With that, she rose and led them all up the steps outside.
Fifty yards away, the Atlantic was choppy that night from a stiff south-eastern wind. Yet the air felt heavy and oppressive. Faint clouds, no moon and obscured stars made for a dark scene.
"It IS Thirteeen O'Clock," Belinda whispered. "Anything can happen tonight."
III.
The cafe was the last building on the street leading to the beach. Beyond its curb was only hard-packed sand decorated with a few beer cans and a forlorn solitary flip-flop. Everyone noticed Atron staring at the sea and saw him begin to move toward it as if answering a call.
"Hey, daddy-o, THIS way," said Myrna. She reached up a hand to pluck at his sleeve but stopped short. Something about this stranger unnerved them all, although they couldn't say why. The blond man turned and fixed sullen eyes on her as if vexed.
"Up there," she pointed. Next to the coffee house was a building that had been a two-family home at the turn of the century. Now a sign over the porch read CLEAN ROOMS - CHEAP. Beyond it stood a low brick building with huge plate glass windows on which had been painted ARMY-NAVY SURPLUS STORE and in smaller letters USED CLOTHING - EQUIPMENT AND SUPPLIES IN GOOD SHAPE.
"Owned by Marty Rutger," Myrna told Atron. "Army vet, came back a little damaged from some of things he saw."
"Morbid Marty," added Danny. "The store has a cellar that no one ever gets to see. Marty comes upstairs when you enter the joint and he slams and locks that door as if it's full of gold bars."
"People say there might be murder victims down there," Myrna said. "During the tourist season, a few college coeds tend to not be heard from again. It actually happened again a month ago, her parents went around asking everyone questions. Our cops don't put much effort into finding them, they mumble something about students being blotto and going for a swim. I don't think so."
"Yes. I thank you all for pointing me this way." As they stared in horror, the round bumps up on Atron's temples extended, stretching out several inches on stalks before retracting again.
"Man, don't DO that without warning!" Danny managed to choke. "What the... I mean...?"
The blond stranger regarded them as if nothing had happened out of the ordinary. "I do a lot of swimming in deep dark waters," he said. "Be able to sense the unusual has saved my life many times."
"I bet! I will never again say I have seen everything," Danny said.
"Perhaps you young Humans should return to your table inside," Atron Ke warned them. "I sense danger. Blood may spill, heads may roll." He started to stalk along one wall of the stall, toward the rear. "This Morbid Marty does not reside here?"
"No. He has a house on the other side of town. Mr Atron, what do you think is going on here?"
"Dark deeds," he answered. "You three should leave, this is not safe."
"Ah hell no," Danny said. "We're in it for the kicks."
"Yeah," Myrna agreed. "We want to make the scene. Lead on."
The stranger examined a narrow door set in the rear of the building. A naked light bulb burned over that door, illuminating the stretch of beach before the ocean. Without seeming to make any special effort, Atron slapped his open palm above the handle. With a sharp snapping noise, the lock broke and he pulled the door open.
"This cat's not feeble," Myrna whispered to her friends, "And he has those freaky snail horns. What exactly are we dealing with?"
Atron gave them a thin ominous smile. "I am a Gelydra of Ulgor, if that means anything. Sometimes I explore your surface world for some excitement... 'kicks' as you say." Then he stepped into darkness. The three friends followed after only the slightest hesitation.
IV.
"Find a light switch," whispered Danny.
"That will not be necessary," came a new voice from twenty feet away. Overhead fluorescent lights flickered to reveal a bare chamber with unfinished stone walls. In the floor before them, a massive trap door ten feet across rested on the damp floor. And, grinning at them from across the cellar, an obese middle aged man with white hair had them at gunpoint.
Holding the Luger up by his chest with his arm drawn back, Morbid Marty reached behind him and thumbed a red button on a panel on the wall. Machinery hummed, a chain drew back on a winch and rapidly pulled up the trapdoor in the floor.
Atron Ke remained with his arms lowered, fixing a cold predatory stare at his captor. "Your life is already forefeit, Human. To threaten me with a weapon is to thrust your head into a shark's mouth."
"Whatever, you know? Look, blondie, save the flowery talk. I know what you came to find. Take a look."
Stepping closer, Atron saw the opening revealed a pit ten feet across and fifteen feet long filled to the brim with sea water. He sniffed. "Yes. One of the Gilled Ones. The sour stink is unmistakable." Forgetting caution, the Gelydra leaned forward from the waist and peered down into the murky waters. "And yet... I don't see him."
With one leap, Morbid Marty bodyslammed Atron down into the water and dropped the trapdoor with a crash. There was a lock he threw to keep it from being opened from within. "Ha ha haaa," the old man roared. "Now you can play at being a Gilled One yourself." From the corner of his eye, he caught movement and whipped the gun around to cover the three friends. "Oh no, you don't. I got used to shooting people on the outskirts of Berlin. A few more won't bother me."
"He'll drown!" Belinda screamed. "Let him out!"
"I don't think so," the old man scoffed. "That man was dangerous. Couldn't you see it? If I gave him half a chance, he'd have finished ME off. Let's give him some time to try breathing water."
For an unbearable ten minutes, everyone stayed where they were. There was no splashing from the pit, no frantic pounding on the underside of the trap door. Finally, still keeping his gun aimed at the three friends, Morbid Marty sighed. "Thirteen minutes. Not even South Sea pearl divers can hold their breath that long."
Pressing the red button, Marty crouched over the pit as the trap door rose again. "Actually, there's room for you fools in there as well. When you wash up on the beach, you'll like drowning victims.."
A pair of pale hands lunged up and yanked Morbid Marty off his feet down into the water. The struggle must have been brief. An instant later, Atron Ke shot up entirely out of the pit as if he had been launched by a catapult and landed on his feet.
For one eerie second, under the bright fluorescent lights, all the friends could swear they saw a row of three gill slits opening and closing on either side of Atron's neck. Then the slits closed tightly enough to not be discernible even at close range.
"You're alive!" Belinda yelped. "I don't understand."
Sopping wet as he was, Atron shoved the three roughly back against one of the stone walls. "Don't move!" he ordered. "Stay behind me. Don't draw attention to yourself."
From within the water-filled pit, a clawed hand covered with dark green scales came up to clap down on the edge. Its mate followed. With a powerful surge, the Gilled One pulled himself up out of the water and reeled unsteadily as it got its footing.
Seven feet tall but no wider than an average man, the dark-green creature was covered with short hard armor plates. A dorsal fin ran down its back to split at the buttocks and extend down each calf. The huge feet had flippers which ended in claws like those on the webbed hands. On the Gilled Man's rounded head were no visible ears or nose, only two staring goggled eyes and a wide mouth filled with short triangular teeth.
It seemed to be struggling for breath, the mouth opening and closing with obvious effort. Standing by the open door, Atron Ke clapped his hands and whistled. He pointed outside where the ocean was clearly visible. The Gilled One bellowed deep in its armored chest and shambled awkwardly out into the night.
"I was not eager to brawl with that brute," Atron admitted. "It would have been a true challenge. Come on, follow. But at a distance."
In the harsh light from the single naked bulb over the rear door, they watched the beast lumber across the sand. Its shadow stretched out grotesquely in front of it. As the Gilled One neared the water, Atron led the three friends in its path, gesturing for them to not get too close.
Dimly, many shapes could be seen bobbing up and down in the ocean. Dozens of them, the heads and shoulders of a pack of Gilled Ones. When the one who had escaped plunged down into the water, deep roars echoed into the night, then they were all gone from sight with only fading ripples.
"That was too close," Atron said, wringing water out of his suit. "The pack would have torn this town apart and there would be many violent deaths. Bullets only anger the beasts. The Gilled Ones are not gentle at best."
"They.. they came for one of their own?" asked Danny. "They were going to rescue him?"
"Yes. Exactly. When I heard rumors a Gilled One had been captured, I feared his pack would seek him out." The strange blond man turned back to the three he had met only a few hours earlier. "Better that none of you mention this. Men would say you are mad."
Coming up close to Atron, Belinda said, "This sort of way-out thing... you've done it before?"
"Constantly. You've seen a glimpse of the Midnight War, the secret world few Humans know of."
She smiled. "For you, it's always Thirteen O'Clock."
9/15/2020
3/24/1955
I.
"Cool, cool, we love digging us some Charlie Parker," said Seymour into the stand-up mic. He had remained clean-shaven, even keeping his curly brown hair short, but the red-and-white horizontally striped shirt had its sleeves torn roughly off and the knees had long worn away from his chinos. "But the records can always spin. Right now we need to open an ear so we can let in some wisdom from the brainpan of our own.. BELINDA!"
Murmurs of acknowledgement and some scattered applause sounded in the dim smoky cellar. A thin young woman in black tights and a baggy black sweatshirt stepped up to the microphone and adjusted it to her height. Belinda wore her straight black hair back in a ponytail that reached the center of her back, her face was a pale oval without make-up and her blue eyes caught the single spotlight directed at her.
Without preamble she began, "Thirteen O'Clock. The Afterhour. When the cops of reality are off-duty and the laws which govern our universe go unenforced. Anything can happen. You might find yourself walking down a wet cobble street in a merciful fog which hides the new scars on the city from the day's lies and betrayals. You might see the stars spell a warning, you might see shadows with eyes. Anything can happen. You might even find a friend."
After a dazed moment, one pair of hands began to clap and general applause rolled back and forth in the gloom. A voice sang our, "That's our Belinda! Go, chick, just go. Coming up next, Lenny will do a solid on the bongos."
Bowing deeply from the waist, straightening up to flip her ponytail behind her, Belinda stepped down and went back to the round table where her friends sat. Candles stuck in the necks of empty wine bottles gave most of the illumination in THE BEAT DOWN. Waiting for her were her sister Myrna and Myrna's boyfriend of the week, Danny.
"Man, that was far out," Danny said. "Are you writing this jive down? I can see a booklet of your poems being memorized by cats everywhere. THIRTEEN O'CLOCK by Belinda Van Aken."
"No, no, I don't put anything down on paper," she replied. "Did you try the lasagna tonight?"
"Eh, kind of dry," her sister said. "I'd ask them to put a little olive oil on it if I were you." She lit a lumpy cigarettte, took a deep breath and held it, holding the joint out to Belinda without saying anything.
Gratefully, Belinda took a drag and passed the joint over to Danny. Myrna rolled her own, using regular cigarette papers and adding enough to tobacco to mute the marijuana tang. It gave them some deniability.
As she finally exhaled twin plumes from her nostrils, Belinda relaxed slightly. "Have you guys been outside? It IS a weird night. Thirteen O'Clock if I ever saw it. Foggy and damp with no moon, it's the Afterhour I love."
"Speaking of weird," Myrna put in, "Are you eyeballin' that joker by the door?"
Belinda swung around. The BEAT DOWN was a cellar club below street level, with wide cement steps leading up to the door at sidewalk level. One of the round tables up against the steps had a solitary figure sitting there, holding up a coffee mug and scowling as if mad at the world.
As a car outside pulled up, its headlights shown down into the cafe to reveal every detail of the stranger clearly. He was tall and athletic-looking, wearing a white business suit but without a tie. The top button of the dark blue dress shirt was open. A long narrow face under bristly short blond hair regarded the scene with evident anger that was barely repressed.
Not knowing she was going to go over there, Belinda rose and strolled over to stand next to the man. Up close, he looked even odder. He didn't seem more than a teenager himself, certainly under twenty-one. The bony face and deepset cloudy blue eyes had a strange foreign undercast that she couldn't place. High up on his temples, just below the close-cropped white hair, two rounded bumps showed. He glared up at her as if annoyed at being approached by a pretty young woman. She wasn't used to such a reaction.
"Haven't seen you here before," she said.
"You couldn't have. I have never been here before." He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and sat up straighter. "But I must be polite by the customs of your people. Good evening, hello, how are you."
"Mostly good," Belinda replied, pulling out a chair and dropping down lightly with one foot tucked easily up into her lap. "Not from these parts, huh? Ever been in Florida before?"
"No, never. This is part of your world." He held up the mug and managed a wry smile. "This 'espresso' is new. It pleases me. Should I offer you a cup, is that the custom?"
"Sure, why not?" Twisting in her chair, she caught the attention of her sister and Danny, giving them an Okay sign with forefinger forming an O. Then she snagged the passing waitress and gave her the stranger's mug, asking for one for herself.
"That's done," she said. "Tell you what. My name is Belinda Van Aken, I dropped out of Miami U a few months ago because Beat Life called me. Got a handle?"
To his credit, the stranger caught that 'handle' meant name. "Yes. Atron."
"Cool. That your first name?"
"It is how I am addressed. I am Atron Ke [pronounced 'Kay'] of the House of Atron. I have come to this southern end of the Florida State for a reason." Their coffee came and she clinked mugs together before sipping. The gesture amused him.
"You don't seem like the sort of horndog who ambles down here seeking college girls of questionable morals," she said. Studying the stranger at closer range, she was annoyed at being unable to guess his age. Obviously an adult, if only by his condfidence and self-assurance. But beyond that, he could have been anywhere from a mature twenty-five-year to some one in well-preserved middle age, mid-fifties or more.
Before he could respond, Myrna and Danny came over. "What's buzzin' cousin?" her sister asked.
"Flinging the bull hither and yon," she laughed. "Sis, this is Atron. He's not a local. Atron my friend, meet my big sister Myrna and her squeeze Danny."
Half-rising from his chair, the stranger nodded. "Good evening. Perhaps you Humans can help me locate what I seek."
"Us Humans...?! I mean, sure, lay it on us."
Atron leaned closer to the candle in the wine bottle, its flickering light gave his face a diabolical edge. "You may think it a legend. Have you ever heard of the Gilled One?"
"Oh, sure. Absolutely!" replied Myrna.
"As a kid, I got the jitters plenty of nights hearing stories about that weirdo," Danny added. "Seven feet tall. Webbed feet. Claws and fangs, bone plate all over his body. Brrr. They say you only saw him when he was about to pull you out of your boat to drown you."
"Which doesn't make much sense," Myrna said. "If he drowned you, how would anyone know what he looked like? Yeah, the Gilled One is well known in this part of the State. Like Gator Joe or the Skeeter. He's a monster but he's OUR monster."
Atron did not smile. This close, they could see even his eyebrows were whitish-blond. The wide flat face with its thin mouth was not something to invite friendliness. "The sea has many strange legends, and many of them come from more than mere imagination."
"Wait, wait," Belinda interrupted. "I don't wanna be a square. I'm not saying there can't be such a creature. The ocean is a big place. But you've come here to find the Gilled One?"
"More than that," Atron told them with grim intensity. "I believe he has been captured. I intend to free him before it is too late!"
II.
Danny stroked the reddish goatee he had been cultivating and shook his head. "I believe your train has hopped the tracks, daddy. The Gilled One is only for funsies, he's a tall tale, I never heard of anyone actually eyeballing the cat. There aren't even any fuzzy out of focus snapshots."
"I have seen him," replied Atron. His voice was low and hard. His eyebrows had lowered. Suddenly, without feeling threatened personally, the three at the table had the sensation that a large snarling wild animal had entered the cafe. There was that same impression of immense coiled power ready to spring.
Atron noticed this. He made a point of leaning back and holding up his open hands. "Please do not be alarmed. I am, how do you say it, a serious person."
"Uh, fine, okay. Dig it, you mean business." Danny had brought his empty mug over and he held up it to get the waitress' attention. Everyone handed up their cups so she could place them on her tray.
"I'm a wee shy on the folding green," Belinda admitted. "Maybe someone can treat?"
Reaching inside his white suit jacket, Atron pulled out a roll of bills thick as his fist and peeled off a twenty. "Order whatever you like," he offered. "I think you Humans can give me good advice on searching for my target."
"Man! Don't flash a wad like that!" Danny said. "Someone might follow you and smack you over the head to take it."
"They can try," the stranger replied with a remarkably sinister grin.
"If it's not too personal, can I pry a little?" Belinda asked. "Like, what's your gig? How you make a living?"
The refilled mugs came back and Atron sipped his a bit more slowly. "My wealth comes from what is found in sunken ships. Or from buried treasure forgotten by pirates in times past. Giant pearls from killer clams. I believe legally I would be called a salvage expert."
Sitting next to Danny, Myrna whistled. "So cool I can hardly stand it. I read that merchant ship went down in the War, carrying medical supplies that would still be worth millions. It's still listed as unfound."
"I have seen it," Atron told them casually. "After the problem of the Gilled One is solved, I intend to explore what it holds. So. You are local denizens, you have no doubt heard much gossip and rumors. If such a creature were to have been captured, who in this area might have done it?"
Myrna glanced in all directions so obviously that she would caused suspicion in anyone noticing her. "Let's suck some fresh air into our lungs, kiddies." With that, she rose and led them all up the steps outside.
Fifty yards away, the Atlantic was choppy that night from a stiff south-eastern wind. Yet the air felt heavy and oppressive. Faint clouds, no moon and obscured stars made for a dark scene.
"It IS Thirteeen O'Clock," Belinda whispered. "Anything can happen tonight."
III.
The cafe was the last building on the street leading to the beach. Beyond its curb was only hard-packed sand decorated with a few beer cans and a forlorn solitary flip-flop. Everyone noticed Atron staring at the sea and saw him begin to move toward it as if answering a call.
"Hey, daddy-o, THIS way," said Myrna. She reached up a hand to pluck at his sleeve but stopped short. Something about this stranger unnerved them all, although they couldn't say why. The blond man turned and fixed sullen eyes on her as if vexed.
"Up there," she pointed. Next to the coffee house was a building that had been a two-family home at the turn of the century. Now a sign over the porch read CLEAN ROOMS - CHEAP. Beyond it stood a low brick building with huge plate glass windows on which had been painted ARMY-NAVY SURPLUS STORE and in smaller letters USED CLOTHING - EQUIPMENT AND SUPPLIES IN GOOD SHAPE.
"Owned by Marty Rutger," Myrna told Atron. "Army vet, came back a little damaged from some of things he saw."
"Morbid Marty," added Danny. "The store has a cellar that no one ever gets to see. Marty comes upstairs when you enter the joint and he slams and locks that door as if it's full of gold bars."
"People say there might be murder victims down there," Myrna said. "During the tourist season, a few college coeds tend to not be heard from again. It actually happened again a month ago, her parents went around asking everyone questions. Our cops don't put much effort into finding them, they mumble something about students being blotto and going for a swim. I don't think so."
"Yes. I thank you all for pointing me this way." As they stared in horror, the round bumps up on Atron's temples extended, stretching out several inches on stalks before retracting again.
"Man, don't DO that without warning!" Danny managed to choke. "What the... I mean...?"
The blond stranger regarded them as if nothing had happened out of the ordinary. "I do a lot of swimming in deep dark waters," he said. "Be able to sense the unusual has saved my life many times."
"I bet! I will never again say I have seen everything," Danny said.
"Perhaps you young Humans should return to your table inside," Atron Ke warned them. "I sense danger. Blood may spill, heads may roll." He started to stalk along one wall of the stall, toward the rear. "This Morbid Marty does not reside here?"
"No. He has a house on the other side of town. Mr Atron, what do you think is going on here?"
"Dark deeds," he answered. "You three should leave, this is not safe."
"Ah hell no," Danny said. "We're in it for the kicks."
"Yeah," Myrna agreed. "We want to make the scene. Lead on."
The stranger examined a narrow door set in the rear of the building. A naked light bulb burned over that door, illuminating the stretch of beach before the ocean. Without seeming to make any special effort, Atron slapped his open palm above the handle. With a sharp snapping noise, the lock broke and he pulled the door open.
"This cat's not feeble," Myrna whispered to her friends, "And he has those freaky snail horns. What exactly are we dealing with?"
Atron gave them a thin ominous smile. "I am a Gelydra of Ulgor, if that means anything. Sometimes I explore your surface world for some excitement... 'kicks' as you say." Then he stepped into darkness. The three friends followed after only the slightest hesitation.
IV.
"Find a light switch," whispered Danny.
"That will not be necessary," came a new voice from twenty feet away. Overhead fluorescent lights flickered to reveal a bare chamber with unfinished stone walls. In the floor before them, a massive trap door ten feet across rested on the damp floor. And, grinning at them from across the cellar, an obese middle aged man with white hair had them at gunpoint.
Holding the Luger up by his chest with his arm drawn back, Morbid Marty reached behind him and thumbed a red button on a panel on the wall. Machinery hummed, a chain drew back on a winch and rapidly pulled up the trapdoor in the floor.
Atron Ke remained with his arms lowered, fixing a cold predatory stare at his captor. "Your life is already forefeit, Human. To threaten me with a weapon is to thrust your head into a shark's mouth."
"Whatever, you know? Look, blondie, save the flowery talk. I know what you came to find. Take a look."
Stepping closer, Atron saw the opening revealed a pit ten feet across and fifteen feet long filled to the brim with sea water. He sniffed. "Yes. One of the Gilled Ones. The sour stink is unmistakable." Forgetting caution, the Gelydra leaned forward from the waist and peered down into the murky waters. "And yet... I don't see him."
With one leap, Morbid Marty bodyslammed Atron down into the water and dropped the trapdoor with a crash. There was a lock he threw to keep it from being opened from within. "Ha ha haaa," the old man roared. "Now you can play at being a Gilled One yourself." From the corner of his eye, he caught movement and whipped the gun around to cover the three friends. "Oh no, you don't. I got used to shooting people on the outskirts of Berlin. A few more won't bother me."
"He'll drown!" Belinda screamed. "Let him out!"
"I don't think so," the old man scoffed. "That man was dangerous. Couldn't you see it? If I gave him half a chance, he'd have finished ME off. Let's give him some time to try breathing water."
For an unbearable ten minutes, everyone stayed where they were. There was no splashing from the pit, no frantic pounding on the underside of the trap door. Finally, still keeping his gun aimed at the three friends, Morbid Marty sighed. "Thirteen minutes. Not even South Sea pearl divers can hold their breath that long."
Pressing the red button, Marty crouched over the pit as the trap door rose again. "Actually, there's room for you fools in there as well. When you wash up on the beach, you'll like drowning victims.."
A pair of pale hands lunged up and yanked Morbid Marty off his feet down into the water. The struggle must have been brief. An instant later, Atron Ke shot up entirely out of the pit as if he had been launched by a catapult and landed on his feet.
For one eerie second, under the bright fluorescent lights, all the friends could swear they saw a row of three gill slits opening and closing on either side of Atron's neck. Then the slits closed tightly enough to not be discernible even at close range.
"You're alive!" Belinda yelped. "I don't understand."
Sopping wet as he was, Atron shoved the three roughly back against one of the stone walls. "Don't move!" he ordered. "Stay behind me. Don't draw attention to yourself."
From within the water-filled pit, a clawed hand covered with dark green scales came up to clap down on the edge. Its mate followed. With a powerful surge, the Gilled One pulled himself up out of the water and reeled unsteadily as it got its footing.
Seven feet tall but no wider than an average man, the dark-green creature was covered with short hard armor plates. A dorsal fin ran down its back to split at the buttocks and extend down each calf. The huge feet had flippers which ended in claws like those on the webbed hands. On the Gilled Man's rounded head were no visible ears or nose, only two staring goggled eyes and a wide mouth filled with short triangular teeth.
It seemed to be struggling for breath, the mouth opening and closing with obvious effort. Standing by the open door, Atron Ke clapped his hands and whistled. He pointed outside where the ocean was clearly visible. The Gilled One bellowed deep in its armored chest and shambled awkwardly out into the night.
"I was not eager to brawl with that brute," Atron admitted. "It would have been a true challenge. Come on, follow. But at a distance."
In the harsh light from the single naked bulb over the rear door, they watched the beast lumber across the sand. Its shadow stretched out grotesquely in front of it. As the Gilled One neared the water, Atron led the three friends in its path, gesturing for them to not get too close.
Dimly, many shapes could be seen bobbing up and down in the ocean. Dozens of them, the heads and shoulders of a pack of Gilled Ones. When the one who had escaped plunged down into the water, deep roars echoed into the night, then they were all gone from sight with only fading ripples.
"That was too close," Atron said, wringing water out of his suit. "The pack would have torn this town apart and there would be many violent deaths. Bullets only anger the beasts. The Gilled Ones are not gentle at best."
"They.. they came for one of their own?" asked Danny. "They were going to rescue him?"
"Yes. Exactly. When I heard rumors a Gilled One had been captured, I feared his pack would seek him out." The strange blond man turned back to the three he had met only a few hours earlier. "Better that none of you mention this. Men would say you are mad."
Coming up close to Atron, Belinda said, "This sort of way-out thing... you've done it before?"
"Constantly. You've seen a glimpse of the Midnight War, the secret world few Humans know of."
She smiled. "For you, it's always Thirteen O'Clock."
9/15/2020
