Catch of the Day



  Catch of the Day

  Simon Haynes

  Copyright (c) 2011 by Simon Haynes

  Ken Green leant on the weathered rail and stared out to sea. The sky was deep blue, the horizon tinged with red and orange where the sun's last rays duelled with encroaching darkness. In the distance, a strip of heavy cloud hovered on the skyline.

  Ken raised his can of beer and drained it with a gurgle. He burped and scrunched the can, then tossed it into the nearby bushes. The decking creaked as he crossed the verandah to the screen door, which groaned as he forced it open. Inside, the hallway was a confusion of fishing gear: rods, nets, poles and oars propped against the walls and strewn on the floor. The screen door banged, and Ken's lips were pressed into a tight line as he surveyed the mess. He strode towards the door at the far end of the hall and stepped over a tackle box. He misjudged it in the gloom, catching his foot and teetering for a moment as balance and momentum struggled for supremacy. Momentum won.

  He pitched toward the door, getting a good close-up of the fine brushwork before his face drove into the timber with a crunch.

  "Fug!" he moaned as he rebounded and fell to the floor. He felt his nose gingerly, cursing again as he felt a sticky wetness.

  "You all right?" called a voice from the next room.

  "Soud like I'b all right?" yelled Ken. "Left the fuggin' rods all over the floor, dinya?"

  "They were against the wall, last I looked."

  Ken lashed out with his foot, sending the tackle box skating along the hall. There was a rattle as the rest of the gear fell over.

  The door burst open and Steve Baxter peered out. "Mind the gear, dickhead! If you bust those rods we'll be eating leaves for a week."

  "Shop's down the road."

  Steve snorted. "She'll have the police in if you go near that place again."

  "It was only a pack of bait."

  A distant rumble made them both look up. The strip of cloud had become a sullen mass, and a series of flashes lit the cloud from within. A gust of cold wind blew through the tattered flywire, and Ken shivered. "Storm's coming."

  "You think?" Steve glanced up at the bowed, cracked ceiling. "Bet it leaks."

  "You could've stayed home, you know."

  "What?"

  "You didn't have to come. Could've stayed with the wife and brats. Could've mowed the lawn like you always do. You didn't have to come away."

  "I felt like a break. Anyway, you kept asking."

  Ken touched his nose gingerly. "Reckon I broke it," he muttered.

  "What you need is a good night's sleep," said Steve cheerfully.

  * * *

  The ship fired its reverse thrusters as it eased into orbit above planet Earth. The computer deployed a range of sensors and analysed the radio spectrum, and when the results came through the automated systems revived half a dozen of the crew.

  With their extremities thawing and their sluggish synapses barely firing, the crew listened as the computer relayed the bad news in a smug, digital voice. And as the assembled beings picked crusted fluid from their ears and noses, it dawned on them that a bunch of primitive simians had evolved unexpectedly, stealing this planet for themselves.

  There was recrimination and grief in equal measure, before the skeleton crew began the long, arduous task of preparing the ship for its next destination. As the ship digested the new course, a senior pilot decided to take his chances on the fat ball of green and blue dangling invitingly on the viewscreen.

  Eedo slipped away while his elders were still blinking tears from their huge round eyes, and he padded along dark, disused corridors until he arrived at the launch bay. He programmed a drop-ship with a set of coordinates provided, reluctantly, by the busy computer.

  Alarms flared in the bridge as the lander slipped from the belly of the mother ship. Eedo's screen flickered with the concerned faces of his shipmates, entreating him to return to the fold. He gritted his small, square teeth, reached for a silver lever and pulled firmly. There was a snick as hidden parts slotted into place, then a whoosh as the attitude jets fired. The lander rolled onto its back and fell towards a patch of darkness on the waiting planet.

  A rumbling, roaring cacophony built up in the engine compartment, and the ship belted toward the planet like a shell from a howitzer. Eedo's eyes vibrated on their stalks, and it was all he could do to stop them banging into each other. He took one paw off the armrests long enough to lash out at the console, swiping the sad faces from the flickering screens. Let them wail: he wasn't going to spend another five million years in a grotty little cryo pod.

  The craft grew warm as it dropped through the atmosphere. Before leaving the mother ship, Eedo had requested a map showing the concentrations of electromagnetic energy, and therefore, he surmised, the highest population densities. By comparison with the thick spread of civilisation over the rest of the planet, the gigantic western area of one particular continent had little more than a dab of activity here and there.

  Which made it the perfect place to land.

  * * *

  Ken opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling over his bed. The moon was up, casting a square of light through the thin curtains. The wind was blowing, rustling the leaves of the gum tree outside, the darting shadows flitting across the blinds like long, black cockroaches.

  A sudden flash lit the room, and was followed by a low rumble. It was a long, deep growl that reached into Ken's head and gently shook his eyeballs. A single raindrop landed on the tin roof, big as a pebble. It was followed by another, then a couple more.

  Suddenly, the room was dark. Ken threw off the covers and stumbled to the window. He looked up and saw a massive black cloud covering the last of the moon. There was another flash of lightning, a flash which lit up the sea all the way to the horizon. Ken blinked as an after-image persisted in the form of a fuzzy blue dot. He tracked the dot across the horizon, remembering a long-forgotten game from childhood where he stared at the light before his mother switched it off. You could watch the little dot for ages if you avoided looking right at it. He'd never had one vanish on him, though. He always fell asleep first.

  The dot disobeyed the laws of latent images by growing brighter. Ken frowned and disobeyed his own rules by staring right at it. It pulsed like a warm, blue heart for a moment or two then dropped into the sea.

  Ken smiled as the after-image slid away to the side. Never look right at it, he thought as he got back into bed. Before long, he was snoring.

  * * *

  Eedo kicked the hatch open and gasped as cold water sluiced into the ship. He scrambled up, using the back of the pilot's chair as a step. Once outside, he just had time to stand up on the smooth outer hull and get a bearing on the nearby shore before the craft slipped beneath the waves.

  As soon as he touched the water, the utility belt around his narrow waist crackled and sparked. He ignored it and struck out for shore, his spade-like paws dragging him through the water at speed despite his ungainly, fur-covered body. The water was salty, and he kept his eyes shut against the stinging wetness.

  Before long he touched bottom, and after getting rolled by a couple of waves, he managed to stagger to his feet and stumble up the gentle slope of wet sand. He took a deep breath, then sneezed. At least the atmosphere hadn't changed since the last survey. There was more carbon dioxide in the air, but not enough to pose a threat to his health. Just as well, because his rebreather kit was at the bottom of the ocean.

  The sand grew softer as he crossed the beach towards the scrub. Eedo lifted his feet high and trudged on, finding the going easier as he left the sand and began to cross the dry grass. He stopped and sniffed as the breeze carried a smell of refined petroleum to his sensitive nose.
He took a couple of tentative steps, then made out the boxy outline of a wheeled vehicle. It was a primitive device with a glassed-in cab at one end and a tray on the back, sitting on four large wheels. Eedo measured the door, and realised he'd landed on a world populated by giants.

  Beyond the vehicle was a dwelling, and Eedo's billiard-ball eyes swivelled on their stalks as he approached the ramshackle beach-house. He bent down to examine a cylinder of highly refined metal, the skin torn where it had been crushed and folded back. He sniffed at the contents, recoiling at the stench of stale beer. A planet populated by drunken giants? Oh joy.

  There was a flash of lightning, and Eedo squeezed his eyes shut as rumbling, banging thunder rolled in over the sea. He clenched the lids tight as another flash of electrical energy spent itself nearby, then blinked once or twice to clear the after-image.

  He clambered up a set of rough wooden steps and crossed the creaking deck before reaching a screen door. He closed his eyes and sniffed, analysing the mingled smells coming from within. His stomach growled, and he realised it hadn't seen solid food for a hundred thousand years, give or take a millennium.

  The craving for food overcame him. He stepped towards the door, then stopped. Blundering around a house in total darkness would not be clever. Better to circle it and see if he could determine where the inhabitants were sleeping.

  Five minutes later, Eedo was standing on tiptoes trying to look through a window. He raised his arm and pressed the flat of his paw onto the sheet of transparent material, testing the surface. It was hard and smooth, and was clearly an impenetrable forcefield of some alien design. Perhaps if he made a noise at this end of the house he'd be able to attract the inhabitants? Then he could get in through the door while they were engaged.

  Eedo took his paw away, leaving a faint smear of seawater on the glass. He backed away, searching the rough ground until he found a small, rounded stone. He picked it up, gauging the weight. Then he faced the window and threw the stone with a whipping, underarm motion.

  * * *

  Craaaaash!

  Ken sprang up in bed, upright before the last shards of glass tinkled onto the concrete floor. He stared at the hole in the window. Steve liked to joke around, but smashing a window wasn't in his repertoire. As he stared at the shattered glass, Ken realised someone else was out there. The bitch from the roadhouse! She must have rounded up a bunch of guys and brought them out here to teach him a lesson.

  He slipped out of bed, then swore as pain lanced into his feet. He sat down hurriedly and pulled the glass splinters out by feel. When they were gone, he felt around for his sneakers.

  He slipped off the bed and scuttled over to the wall, risking a quick glance out the window. Which was a pity, because at that very moment another smooth, round stone was departing Eedo's paw at high speed.

  * * *

  Eedo watched the stone spinning towards the window. Just before it struck, a pale blob appeared, sliding into view in the lower right corner.

  Time slowed.

  The stone spun twice. The face moved. The stone thudded into it. The face vanished.

  Eedo heard a sharp cry, then a thud as something large and soft fell to the concrete floor.

  He heard the stone rattle on the floor inside the house.

  He ran like hell for the bushes.

  * * *

  "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!" yelled Ken, rolling on the floor with both hands clutched to his temple. Then he realised he was rolling around on glass fragments. "Aarrgh!" he screamed, as shards stabbed through his clothing. He forced himself to lay still as the room whirled around, then staggered to his feet and stood there, swaying, blood trickling down his face. Through the broken window, he could hear rustling in the bushes.

  He ran for Steve's room and flicked the light on. Nothing! He tried again and again, but there was no power. Hands out in front, he staggered into the room, found the bed and ... it was empty! Not just empty but cold. He was alone in the house!

  Ken staggered out of the room and crossed the lounge to the kitchen area. He fumbled with a drawer, pulled it open, felt for the carving knife. "Shit!" he growled, as his fingers encountered the sharp edge, opening three of them to the bone. He felt along the knife until he gripped the handle, then pulled it out and reversed it.

  "Let's see how you like this," he muttered, glaring around the room through his one good eye.

  * * *

  Eedo made his way through the bushes, heading for the front door of the unit. As his hunger pangs increased, he abandoned all ideas of sneaking food from these pale creatures, deciding instead to throw himself on their mercy. Perhaps, if he could only explain the accident, perhaps they would feed him.

  He reached the wooden door with its torn fabric covering and gestured at it. It remained closed. Eedo frowned. Was it was a manual system?

  He tugged on the plastic knob, and the door opened with a creak. His eyes widened as he saw the jumbled collection of coloured sticks leaning against the wall alongside the door. Eedo took a couple of tentative steps then stopped, eyes wide, as he felt a piercing, stabbing pain in his right foot. He let out half a screech before hurriedly clamping his forehand over his mouth. He lifted his throbbing foot, his eye stalks bending forwards as he inspected the damage. Amongst the dust, he could see the haft of a treble steel hook embedded in his foot. He pulled the hook gently, but it was stuck fast. Then he noticed the thin cord attached to the hook, and he took a couple of turns around one finger and tugged on it hopefully. The furthest rod jumped, then fell over, and in a split second the whole line of rods was on the ground. As the clattering died away, something roared inside the house.

  Eedo didn't want to meet the owner of that particular sound, so he turned and burst through the flywire door without waiting to open it first. Outside, he hopped across the dirt and dived into the bushes.

  * * *

  Ken leapt into the hall, saw the flapping flywire and stopped. He heard a whirring sound, but it was a second or two before his brain connected the noise with the fishing reel on one of the rods, a reel that was rapidly spooling out line. He spotted a thread of silver stretched taut across the base of the door, and a slow grin spread across his battered face.

  "Gotcha," he muttered, scooping the rod up and adjusting the tension with a quick twist of his fingers. The whirring changed tone, and the tip of the rod began to bend. Ken leant back and heaved.

  * * *

  Eedo was hopping at full tilt when a terrific tug on his foot dragged a stubby leg from under him, sending him headlong towards a tree stump. He hit with a thud and lay there, winded and dazed.

  He felt another tug, felt the hook biting deeper into the soft flesh of his foot. He reached for the fine cord and pulled, and there was a cry from the doorway.

  Eedo tried to snap the line, but it cut into his hands. He pulled hard to gain some slack, made a couple of loops and dropped them over the tree stump. Then he bent down and started to nibble at the line with his small, square teeth.

  * * *

  Ken frowned. The rod was reacting as if his prey had gone behind a rock. He gave one last tug, then tossed it aside and picked up the knife. Bent double, he jumped through the door and ran along the path, following the thread of silver where it lay across the moonlit dirt.

  He reached the bushes and paused, rubbing his temple with his free hand. Whoever was in there had the advantage. If he went in, they could club him with a branch or shove a pointed stick between his ribs. He bent down and took hold of the fishing line, then tugged it gently. He felt it stretch, no give.

  As he stood there, he became aware of a low rumble of thunder out to sea.

  * * *

  Eedo sat in the damp leaves, chewing the fine cord, his stomach growling as it waited impatiently for the food to descend. It dawned on him that he'd made a ghastly mistake. Compared to this planet, the cryo-pod was a warm, cosy burrow. How he longed to crawl back into its liquid embra
ce!

  A tear dripped as he tried to bite through the fishing line. Right now, his crew mates would be jockeying the mother ship out of orbit, abandoning him to his ill-chosen fate.

  Eedo stopped chewing as he heard a distant, offbeat rumble. He looked up, blinking back tears as he recognised the exhaust note of a class IV recovery vessel. A wide grin spread across his face from one ear bud to the other as he realised help was on the way.

  All he had to do now was sit tight and wait.

  * * *

  Ken frowned. He suspected the rumbling sound was something to do with the bastard who'd tried to stone him to death. He imagined the culprit escaping unpunished, bragging to his mates about the stupid drongo who'd just stood there and taken all the shit without a murmur. He touched a finger to his swollen right eye and felt a rush of fire through his veins. Payback time.

  He let out a massive yell and leapt into the bushes, slashing wildly with the knife.

  * * *

  Eedo swallowed a lump as he heard the mad creature approaching. He glanced up at the glow in the sky and cursed. It was going to be too late. He closed his eyes, counted to something equivalent to three, then tore at the hook with all his strength.

  * * *

 

  An unearthly, wailing shriek tore through the scrub, and Ken skidded to a halt in the soft, rotten leaves, the hairs on the back of his neck quivering to attention. He paused for a split second, his murderous rage shrivelling under a shower of cold fear, then turned and ran back the way he had come, crashing through bushes and leaping over fallen trunks.