Here Be Monsters

Part 3 of the Murky Depths Saga, dedicated to my buddy Michelle. Enjoy, kiddo! Everyone else, feel free to leave some feedback. I know it's not the best. Just dabbling in a little sumpin sumpin.

FYI, while I was writing this, I was totally envisioning Seamus from Family Guy as the informant. If you don't know it, you need to Google it. Trust me.

******
The quote:
"Tread carefully, my friend. Here be monsters."
***

Michaels returned to his desk moments later. The meeting with Benton had gone better than expected. He and Benton had come out of Quantico together and had become fast friends. However, once Benton started moving up the ranks, he became, for lack of a better word, a douche. Michaels had fully expected to be ripped apart, sewn back together and ripped apart again merely for asking for this case. Maybe Benton had really meant it when he called Michaels one of his best agents.

Michaels dropped into his desk chair and was about to drop the folder he still held when he noticed a scrap of paper, set neatly on the blotter, square in the center on his desk. Carefully, as though he expected it to shrivel up and disappear the moment he touched it, Michaels picked up the paper by the corner and held it to his face. The handwriting was somewhat sloppy and jagged, but after a few moments of squinting of differing degrees, he deciphered,

"The Peg Leg, NOON."

Michaels looked at his watch. It was 11:33. If he left now, he might make it.

**

At 11:55 Michaels was throwing the car into a parking spot and at 11:57 he was stumbling through the front door of the pub by the docks, notorious watering hole of local sailors and ship hands. The door swung shut behind him and he looked around, suddenly realizing he had no idea who or what he was supposed to look for.

A flash of light from the darkened corner in the back of the room caught his eye, and he looked to see a toughened, older gentleman seated in a small booth, nursing a glass half-full of a dark liquid. His skin almost looked like wrinkled leather from a life-long tan. He couldn't have been more stereotypical, sitting there with a bandana wrapped around his head and patch over his left eye. The flash he had seen was the glint of light reflecting off of the hook that sat in place of a right hand as he beckoned for Michaels' attention.

Was this the guy who left the note? If he wrote it with the hook, that sure would explain the messy handwriting.

Curiosity perked, Michaels approached the weathered old man and paused in front of the table.

"Agent Michaels," was his cantankerous greeting just before raising the glass to his chapped lips with his good hand and taking a large swig. He dropped the empty glass to the table and gestured to the empty chair opposite him.

Michaels sat. "Who are you?"

"Not important," he answered gruffly, not dropping his gaze from Michaels' eyes. "What's important is that ye have no idea what yer about to get involved in, young man."

"Do you know something about these missing people?"

The man shook his head. "Not the missing people."

"Or the reason they're missing?"

The man leaned back in his chair and scratched his ear with his hook before pointing it at Michaels. "Do ye have any idea what lives in those waters?"

"I have a feeling you're about to enlighten me."

"A creature, of sorts. Got a mouth the size of a skiff. Teeth as long as your arm and sharp as razors. Tentacles that reach out from the deepest waters and capsize the largest of ships."

"Sounds like the myths and legends I've been hearing since I was a kid," Michaels said.

"Nay," the man grunted. "She's as real as sure as the tides rise with the moon."

"So you're telling me there's a giant quid swimming around Lake Ontario and eating the local townsfolk?"

"No one knows what she is." The man's voice had dropped to nearly a whisper and Michaels leaned across the table to hear him.

"Have you seen it?"

"Seen it?" The old man barked out a laugh and leaned back in his chair. "How do ye think I got like this?" he reached down and tapped his wooden leg with his hook-hand. "Mind you now, there'll be lots o' folk gettin' their britches in a twist if this became public knowledge."

"Why is it suddenly eating the locals?"

The old man shrugged. "Whatever she was eating probably ain't as available as it were. So, she's coming closer to shore and mistaking people fer fish."

"The shoreline needs to be closed, we need to-"

"Ain't no 'we,' Agent Michaels. My nose is keeping clear o' this mess."

Michaels nodded grimly. He should have expected as much. He rose from the table and turned to leave when his acquaintance stopped him with a warning.

"Tread carefully, my friend," the old man said. "Here be monsters."



********
If anyone cares, this quote was taken from a conversation I was having with my friend Lori, who was about to diss my beloved X-Files. Ha! Sure showed her. 


Hope you're enjoying!
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Ren