The Loch (49 page)

"What's so special about this casket?"

"It's no' the casket, lad, it's whit's inside… oor past an' future, a symbol that many have died for, a treasure that shall one day herald Scotland's freedom."

I was weak and in pain, and still quite frightened, yet the old fart was speaking to me in riddles. "A symbol? What symbol? What's down here that's so damn precious your secret society had to protect it with a monster?"

"It's the heart, laddie. The heart o' oor king, Robert the Bruce. It's the Braveheart!"

"The Braveheart?" I shook my head, then stopped, the pain causing me to suspect a concussion. "The Black Douglas tossed the Bruce's heart into battle long ago."

"Folklore," Angus called out. "The Black Douglas died in battle, but oor ain kinsman, Sir Adam, secreted the Braveheart back tae the Highlands. The Templar brought it doon here, so that any English who sought Scotland's Holiest o' Grails wid have tae face Satan's ain demons tae claim it."

MacDonald handed me his spare flashlight. "Search quickly, afore the Guivre returns tae feed upon yer faither!"

"She'll no' feed again, no' on my clan," Angus bellowed, moving to the edge of the river. Reaching into his pocket, he removed a shard of glass he'd found in Aldourie Castle. Steadying the light in his left hand, he sliced open his wrist, allowing the blood to drip into the water.

"I ken ye can smell that, dragon. Why no' come up for a wee taste, eh?"

Angus removed the two G-SHOK charges and fuses from his pocket, readying them in his free hand. "Come on up, Nessie. Come up an' taste this."

The bad air and dense smoke were getting to me, keeping me in fits of coughs. The fires had died out, the chamber dark, save for our lights, and I knew I had to leave soon.

Something burst forth from the river, jump-starting my pulse.

Angus wheeled around, shining his flashlight a hundred paces to the west. "Whit wis that?"

I left the wall, staggering back toward the river and the large object now floating slowly down stream. "It's okay," I called out, "it's just the life-support barrel from—

"—Angus!"

The river erupted behind my father, the wave washing him backwards as the monster's jaws snapped upon the air where he'd stood not a second earlier.

Through whiffs of smoke I saw Angus crawl toward his fallen light as the Guivre's entire eel-like form shot out of the water, its forward pectoral fins propelling its slime-covered girth along the rocky shoreline after my father.

From his back, Angus tossed his explosives just as the creature lashed out at him like a striking python. The twin concussion blasts missed the monster but reignited the ceiling, causing the creature to shirk away.

But only for the moment.

Angus tried to run, but the Guivre cut him off, encircling him with its enormous fifty-two-foot serpent's body. Yellow eyes, blinded from my own detonations, reflected orange flames as the demented creature inhaled the air, searching for her quarry.

Seconds counted and I had nothing, not a weapon, not a—

Whomp
!

The heavy steel canister carrying the ADS generator smashed against the iron gate, drawing the monster's attention—

And mine.

Stuffing the flashlight into my back pocket, I dived into the bone- chilling water, allowing the current to sweep me toward the remains of the hanging iron gate and barrel. Kicking hard, I grabbed for the barrier, using its rusted metal bars as a ladder to pull myself out of the river.

I never saw the creature's head as it launched through the smoke and darkness, but I felt its impact as it glanced off the gate and bashed against rock.

The blow seemed to stun the beast, but it also knocked the barrel free, which was swept behind me into the darkness, followed by two-thousand-feet of umbilical cord.

Reaching down from my wobbly perch, I grabbed the line and began pulling it from the water like a madman, trying to locate its severed end before the barrel dragged the rest of the cord away.

My hands registered the decreased weight of the line, and I knew I was close.

"Son, look oot!"

I glanced up as the monster sprang blindly at me again—greeting its dagger-filled mouth with the sizzling end of the live wire, accompanied by several thousand volts of electricity.

Blue veins of current riddled the serpent's head, igniting its slimy oil-covered face. Injured and enraged, it reeled back and shook its head like a wet dog, unleashing gobs of putrid mucus.

The ancient gate groaned and I felt it give way beneath me. As it broke free from its rusted frame, I leaped to the rocky shoreline, the sparking end of the cord still clenched in my right hand.

"Zack!"

The umbilical suddenly went taut, its weight dragging me back toward the river.

I released the cord and looked up as the monster's tail swatted me through the thick air and into oblivion.

I
opened my eyes, enveloped in blackness. Intense pain riddled my body. Blood oozed from my head and broken nose, dripping into my mouth. I spat out the warm liquid and struggled to sit up.

From the blue flames that still licked at the oil-drenched ceiling, I saw that I was lying in rubble, close to the tunnel's exit. Through heavy smoke and my dizziness I could just make out a pair of lights by the river's edge, the beams oscillating, then disappearing behind an enormous shadow.

It was the creature, its immense tail lashing to and fro, continuously blocking my view.

And then I saw my father and Alban. The beast had them cornered, their backs to the river.

I felt for the flashlight in my back pocket, then saw it lying in the rubble, its beam reflecting upon something shiny.

The Braveheart?

Reaching into the pile of rubble, I felt for the silver casket, extracting instead the hilt of a massive steel sword.

I focused my light upon the length of its rust-streaked blade and read my destiny.

* * *

The blinded Guivre snapped its jaws and inhaled the air, strings of thick ooze glistening from its fangs.

Angus pulled his older comrade to his feet. Whispered, "Alban, it cannae see, an' the smoke's ower thick for it tae pinpoint us. I'll distract it while ye find Zachary. Then the two of ye—"

"A Priest-Knight disnae leave his companion. I'll distract it, you find yer son."

The Guivre continued snapping at the dense air, its gargantuan body all the while slithering forward, driving them closer to the river.

"Bloody Crabbit… we're baith gonnae die."

"Willnae be the first time a MacDonald an' Wallace fell in combat."

They backed to the very edge of the river, its rushing waters licking at their heels.

I hurried through the darkness, my scent cloaked by the stench of the burning crude.

Angus turned to his left and saw me coming. Standing, he waved defiantly at the creature, trying to distract it. "Go on then, Nessie, ye dinnae frighten me! Finish me off if ye dare!"

The monster's jaws opened to strike, and so did I, plunging the ancient sword deep into the Guivre's soulless blind left eye, penetrating its diseased brain with my steel.

The creature seized, its body writhing in tight coils, its colossal head whipping upward hard against the ceiling. The impact shattered its skull and unleashed an avalanche of stalactites, while the ceiling's blue flame ignited the monster's oil-soaked hide into a bright orange conflagration.

The ceiling crumbled, the insane beast snapping blindly in every direction. Oil dripped into the Guivre's nostrils and the dragon snorted flames, while Angus and Alban and I huddled together behind a boulder.

The enraged beast's tail whipped over our heads, and the three of us took off running, heading for the chamber's exit. I pushed my father and Alban ahead of me, then paused to look back as the Guivre shrieked its final death cry and collapsed, belly-up, upon the rocky shoreline. The lifeless left eye was gushing dark blood, the sword still positioned deep in the wound. For a moment I thought about retrieving it, but the monster's tail was still flailing from side to side in convulsions.

And then I remembered Johnny's remains.

Hurrying to the river, I searched the bank, then spotted it near the aquifer's opening. As I grabbed the mutilated body by its jacket collar, the monster's convulsing tail flew over my head and landed in the river. Caught within the current, the Guivre's carcass fed slowly into the raging aquifer, nearly dragging me out to sea with it.

"Zachary!"

"Yeah, coming."

Hurrying back to the exit, I dropped on all fours and crawled through the tunnel, dragging John Cialino's remains behind me.

For fifteen minutes, the three of us crept forward on hands and knees, coughing and grunting until we reached the exit and fresh air. Silent moments passed as we lay back and breathed, our faces covered in sweat and carbon soot, my own in blood.

Angus finally reached over and slapped my knee, his piercing blue eyes now soft, glistening with tears of pride. "Dragonslayer, that's whit ye are. Never seen anythin' like it. Sir William an' Sir Adam, they'd baith be proud."

"Was it Adam's sword then?"

"Actually, it wis William's, at least accordin' tae my faither's translations o' Adam's diary. Maybe we should go back for it. Be worth its weight in gold."

"It's gone. Washed out to sea with the monster." I turned to Alban. "I tried to save her—"

He held up his hand, caught between coughs. "I'm indebted."

"We'll call it even," I whispered. Then I remembered. "Alban, the Braveheart?"

"Gone, too. Perhaps it's best. These days, we'd only commercialize it, chargin' people tae gaze upon it frae behind layers o' glass. Let it die wi' Nessie."

"Others may come searching."

"No' likely. The Templar own Aldourie Castle. We'll seal the shaft off soon enough."

Angus motioned to the lift. "Go on, the two o' ye, the weight's balanced for thirty stone. True can use yer help draggin' me an' Johnny's remains up after ye."

I helped Alban to his feet. We stepped onto the platform and tugged on the rope, which raised us easily up the shaft to the distant pinpoint of daylight.

My father watched us ascend, then crawled back into the tunnel.

Raigmore Hospital, Inverness

N
ews of my father's daring escape had gone worldwide by the time the five of us emerged from Aldourie Castle into glorious daylight. Judge Hannam was furious, and many predicted Angus would be the first murderer to swing from a Scottish gallows since twenty-one-year-old Henry Burnett was hanged in Craiginches Prison on August 15, 1963, for shooting his lover's husband.

The irony was lost on no one.

* * *

The "announcement" that Angus would be arriving via ambulance at Raigmore Hospita l within the hour to "prove his innocence" sent the press and sheriff's headquarters scurrying. By the time we turned onto the A9 highway, seven police cars and two helicopters had joined us. People were waving and honking their horns… the whole thing reminded me of O. J. Simpson's escapade in the white Ford Bronco.

Theresa Cialino was at the hospital, surrounded by reporters, when her cousin, James, drove our ambulance through the hospital entrance. We were immediately surrounded by a dozen heavily armed police officers and hordes of media, everyone moving into position as the ambulance's back doors were swung open.

I was the first one out, my head heavily bandaged, my nostrils filled with soot. Nurse Kasa helped my father down from the van, the police immediately shackling his wrists and ankles, as if he were going to escape from this throng.

And then, as the flashes flashed and the cameras whirled, the remains of John Cialino were removed from the ambulance on a gurney, and the lore of the Loch Ness Monster suddenly took on a whole new meaning.

The
Inverness Courier
would later pen the moment as the press conference of "the dead, a dead man walking, and the thrice dead man."

Theresa fainted and had to be carried into the hospital. Angus demanded to be released, threatening to sue the High Court. The judge ordered him to the cardiac unit and sent Johnny C.'s remains to the lab for a forensics evaluation.

It was a bizarre ending to a bizarre trial, one I would have enjoyed more had I not collapsed.

Rushed into the Emergency Room, I was placed on a ventilator and spent the next twenty-four hours in Intensive Care, suffering from carbon dioxide poisoning and a concussion.

* * *

I awoke with an all-too-familiar tube down my throat as Brandy entered my private room.

"Gosh, Zack, you look awful."

It was like bad déjà vu.

"Rar roo reaking rup rith ree?"

Brandy smacked me hard on top of my bandaged head.

"Oww."

"That's for tossin' me overboard, ye bastard. An' no, I'm no' breakin' up wi' ye, though I should, after all ye put me through."

"Rarry ree?"

"Marry ye? Is that how ye want tae ask me, wi' a bloody pipe shoved down yer throat? No, we'll wait "til ye get out o' here, then ye can buy me a nice ring, get down on yer knees, an' ask me properly."

Brandy talked, and I listened. The ambulance driver, James Fox, had released a statement explaining that he had diverted from taking Angus to the hospital only because "the old man convinced me his son was in serious trouble." Both Fox and Nurse Kasa swore that they had found me unconscious on the eastern banks of Loch Ness with Johnny C.'s remains.

For my part, I claimed a loss of memory as to where the Guivre's cave actually was.

Forensics confirmed John Cialino's identity and his cause of death. The High Court of the Justiciary wasted little time in reversing its jury's decision, and Angus was now a free man… and a local hero. There was even talk about the Council hiring him as their official "Ambassador of Tourism."

I imagined Angus, dressed in his kilt, eating haggis. "Come tae Loch Ness, where the haggis is aye fresh, an' oor fish bite back." That one brought a smile to my face.