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Crazy stirred. His eyes blinked open and he moaned, as a sharp ache awoke too and throbbed in his head and arms. He scanned his new surroundings and tried to orientate himself. He was suspended from a rope just above the deck of The Lady Ann, moored at the end of Olander’s jetty. He tried to move as he slowly twisted on the rope, but couldn’t. His arms had been lashed tightly to his sides, wound around his midsection by the same rope that held him. He looked up and saw it was pulled taut and fed through the boat’s winch arm.
Most of the fog had been carried away by the wind, but drifting trails still lingered in wisps here and there over the water. Crazy listened and heard a faint, regular splashing sound coming from the boat’s stern. He twisted to look in that direction and saw a figure hunched over the stern's rail, shoveling fish guts from a bucket and dumping them over the side into the water.
The splashing stopped and the hunched figure rose and slowly approached him. It was Olander. The fisherman looked Crazy up and down with a flat stare, but said nothing. Crazy heard more footsteps approaching and turned to see Ali there too. The Maori joined Olander and the two men stood in front of Crazy. Ali tutted at Crazy and shook his head. His eyes were bright, alert and taunting. He was clearly savoring Crazy’s obvious fear. Olander, on the other hand, seemed more workman-like than his accomplice, as if the real gravity of the situation eluded him. He smoked a cigarette, and shuffled about, apparently eager to crack on with the job at hand.
Crazy dropped his head forlornly and stared down at the deck for a moment. He didn't know exactly what was coming next, but he had a good idea. Screw them, he thought. He'd toed the line with these maniacs for long enough. He didn't believe what they believed, and he never had. He knew he'd been a joke to this town ever since he arrived, even though most of them had never been anywhere, never tasted the world. He on the other hand, had always played his hand, always tried his luck. That hand had seen him travel all over the globe and experience many different lands, people and cultures before Sweetwater. And he was proud of that sense of adventure and the chapters it had given him. If this was it, if this was the end, he would go out with his head held high. He straightened up and looked Ali in the eye.
“I won’t scream,” he said.
Ali moved closer and drew his hunting blade from his belt. Olander stepped forwards too and took hold of Crazy's head. The old man struggled in vain, as the sturdy fisherman overpowered him and prized his jaws open.
“I know,” said Ali.
Ali reached into Crazy’s mouth and tugged his tongue out straight. He then angled the knife towards Crazy's mouth and sawed through the tongue, severing it in just three strokes. Crazy shook violently, as blood erupted from his mouth. Ali stepped back with a sadistic grin on his face. He casually tossed the singer's tongue overboard. Seconds later, there was a splash, as something broke the water’s surface to claim it.
Olander turned to the winch handle and began to crank it furiously. Crazy was lifted higher into the air, as blood continued to pour from his mouth, splattering down over the deck in wild Pollackesque trails.
Ali looked on smugly, as the winch arm swung Crazy out over the side of the boat and dangled him above the red, recently chummed waters. More blood dripped down from Crazy’s butchered tongue and into the water. Something large and dark surfaced and splashed, before quickly disappearing. Crazy began to thrash and kick his legs and cry out, but only stunted moaning sounds managed to escape his mouth.
Ali nodded to Olander and the fisherman began to reverse the winch crank. Crazy wrestled frantically against his bonds, as he was slowly lowered towards the sea. His eyes grew wide with terror, as his lower half submerged into the rising, reddening water until it lapped against his chest. Dark shapes moved beneath him, as his eyes tried to trace the numerous unseen predators rising up from the depths. More splashes broke the surface around him, making him flinch. He shook his head and screwed his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable to happen.
Ali smiled and nodded at Olander, and the fisherman went to work on the winch again. Crazy’s eyes snapped open, as he felt himself being lifted out of the water. He tightened, as something large bumped against his dripping feet, dangling just inches above the surface. He began muttering a prayer over and over, the words of which were indistinguishable coming from his severed tongue. He now hovered a foot above the water, his whole-body shivering with uncontrollable fear.
Ali signaled to Olander to wind the winch down again. The fisherman let out a loud sigh and reluctantly began lowering Crazy again. Crazy watched the approaching water, as he was slowly dipped back into a dark sea brimming with writhing, half-glimpsed shapes. This time Olander stayed on the winch until Crazy was dunked all the way up to his chin. Crazy scanned the surface of the water and saw something large gliding towards him. He closed his eyes again and braced himself.
Nothing.
Crazy's face was still frozen in a grimace of dread when he slowly opened his fearful eyes to look. Just as he did, the head of an enormous great white burst from the water only inches away from his face. Its massive jaws extended out from its jutting mouth to tear into Crazy’s shoulder. Crazy let out a silent scream and threw his head back in terror, as the great white scissored off his entire right arm and slipped beneath the waves with it.
Ali hurriedly motioned for Olander to winch their victim back up again, his eyes now wide and excited with the thrill of torture. Crazy’s sodden, twitching body hung limp as it was hauled out of the water. He groaned and rolled his delirious eyes, suspended over the surface, with arterial red still jetting from the remains of his shoulder.
Ali turned to Olander and barked orders.
“Slowly, slowly,” he shouted.
Olander stopped winching and growled something under his breath. He gave the other man an angry look and then slapped the break off the winch.
Crazy was instantly dumped beneath the waves.
Ali glared at Olander and marched towards him. The fisherman turned to face him head on. Neither man noticed Crazy’s rope pull taught, as another unseen shark took the bait.
A distant buzzing sound roused Ali and Olander from their confrontation. They both looked up to see the lights of Leyton’s scooter, as it picked its way down the cliff road towards the cannery. Ali shot Olander an urgent glance and began rushing back along the jetty. Olander turned and looked back into the churning red water, as Crazy was devoured somewhere in the depths below.
*
Ben cut the moped's engine and coasted downhill towards the abandoned cannery. He saw Olander’s white freezer van parked beside the cannery’s loading bay and felt his stomach turn and tighten. He broke behind it and left the moped leaning against the bay. He carefully crept up to a side window and tried to peer inside the building, but the windows were so filthy they were nearly opaque and impossible to see through. Ben crept back along the corrugated metal siding and lingered at the corner of the open loading bay, where a corona of fluorescent light was spilling out. He took a deep breath and edged inside.
Ben moved slowly, his eyes constantly searching the cannery’s grimy, mechanical interior. The stench of rotten fish was overpowering inside, and he had to concentrate hard to stop himself from retching. Production here was obviously a thing of the past. Canning machinery lay rusting in the centre of the hanger, traversed by a snaking conveyer belt. Tired looking walk-in freezers, some left open, lined the rear of the building, and large loops of redundant chains and winches hung from the ceiling like limp tendrils.
Ben crept past towering stacks of empty wooden pallets and peered around the corner of the wall they formed. He saw a series of fish cleaning stations set in a row. A figure worked at one of them with his back to Ben, his arms elbow-deep in a huge metal sink. Next to the man there were several vats of boiling water bubbling away on gas burners. The man turned and reached into one of the vats with a long set of iron tongues. Ben could now see that it was Ali, the Maori bartender from the Black Cat. Ali fished a set of freshly bleached shark jaws out of the vat and examined them. Ben noticed a machete blade buried into a wooden chopping block on the counter next to Ali and swallowed. He slowly began to sneak up on Ali, his eyes constantly switching between the Maori’s broad back and the machete he was aiming for. Ben limped closer and closer to the machete, flinching with every clumsy step his prosthetic leg took, fully expecting the Maori to hear and turn on him at any moment. As those thoughts filled his head, Ben’s trainer stepped into a large pool of blackened fish blood that had slowly been draining from one of the cleaning stations. His prosthetic leg immediately slid forwards uncontrollably, making him wobble. He struggled to keep his balance, before righting himself again, but when he looked up, he saw Ali watching him with a predatory grin.
The two men stared at each other for what seemed like a long time. When Ben finally looked away at the machete buried midway between them, Ali turned to stare at it too. Ben was scared. This man was much bigger, stronger and certainly faster than him. If he was a little closer, maybe he might be able to reach the machete first, but as things were, he doubted his chances.
Ali pulled a sliver cross on a chain from beneath the neckline of his tee-shirt and began toying with it. It was Ben's cross, the one he'd given to Jo. The implication was clear. Ben stared at the cross and seethed inside. Ali's eyes remained on Ben the whole time, as his mouth began to spread into a wide grin, offering up an obvious challenge.
Ben's fear was pushed aside by the swell of anger inside his head. His muscles tightened and braced, and then he launched himself towards the machete as fast as he could.
Ali moved too.
Faster.
When Ben reached the machete, Ali was already there waiting for him. The big Maori left the machete where it was and grabbed Ben by the throat instead, easily spinning him around and smashing him back into the wooden counter. Ben moaned as Ali throttled him with one huge hand and simultaneously backhanded with the other. Three more of these blows followed, quickly belting Ben senseless. Then, with one hand still closed tightly around Ben’s throat, Ali casually drove him back towards one of the large steel vats of boiling water.
Ben flinched as his face was pushed down towards the scalding water and he felt the rising heat sear his skin. He grabbed on to the edge of the fish gutting station, trying to resist, but Ali was far too strong for him. Ben’s straining features were slowly forced closer and closer to the bubbling water. He spotted the hunting knife sheathed in Ali’s belt and immediately reached for it, while still pushing back against the man's chokehold. His fingers quickly closed around the knife’s handle, and he slipped it free, turning it and plunging it straight back into Ali’s belly in one fluid movement.
Ali growled and staggered backwards, releasing Ben as he did so. He stared down at the knife stuck in his gut and then back up again at Ben with a look of genuine surprise, which quickly turned to fury. Ali left the knife where it was and lunged forwards at Ben, who was too exhausted to avoid the attack. Ali's hands closed around Ben’s throat, and he proceeded to choke him again. Ben reached for the knife handle again and twisted it deep into Ali’s belly. Ali howled and immediately released his grip. Ben took his chance and pushed him backwards, steering his head down into the vat of boiling water to dunk it.
Ali screamed and writhed on contact with the water as if he was being electrocuted. His hands flailed and found purchase on the counter, and he pulled his head clear of the vat.
But it was too late.
When the Maori turned to face Ben, his steaming face was red raw and covered in blisters.
Ali shook with pain and anger and then screamed at Ben.
Ben backed away, as Ali pulled the knife from his gut and advanced on him. His angry, boiled features distorted further into a furious snarl as he closed in. Ben turned and limped away as fast as he could across the factory floor. He ducked under the conveyor belt and squeezed between the production machinery, desperately trying to put some distance between himself and the Maori maniac. He heard Ali howl in pain and rage as if performing a demented haka, some way off behind him; but not far enough. Ben rushed blindly through the maze of redundant machinery, turning this way, then that, until he found himself spat out into a dead end. Ahead of him was a wall with just three closed metal doors to large walk-in freezers. He immediately started to backtrack, but Ali let out another frenzied howl behind him, this time much closer.
Ben hesitated, then made for the middle freezer and snatched the large door open. He ran straight in and found himself enveloped in an icy blast of mist. A second later it began to clear, and he found himself lunging towards a gigantic set of protruding shark jaws. He let out a startled yelp and found himself nose to nose with a huge great white shark. He instantly scrambled backwards away from the open jaws, slipping and sliding on the icy floor until he managed to reach the wall of the freezer and steady himself.
Ben moved to the side and stared down the length of the shark in awe. Only the front half of the frozen shark remained, suspended from the ceiling by a row of hooks and heavy chains. The rest of the fish had presumably been butchered and consumed, leaving a strange, abstract half-monster languishing in the freezer like an ichthyological exhibit.
Ali let out another howl outside.
Ben quickly dragged the freezer door shut and wobbled across the ice to flatten himself against the frost-covered wall. He leaned back and sighed, trying to slow his rapid breathing.
*
Ali stared at the three freezers ahead, his chest quickly rising and falling, his blood pumping through his ears. He then turned and rushed towards the left freezer and snatched the door open. A blast of cold, misty air escaped, engulfing him as he stepped inside. The mist cleared within seconds and Ali checked the freezer's interior. The cross section of another enormous great white faced him. The length-ways half of this bisected fish ran nose to tail, hung before him from the frosted ceiling like some grotesque installation.
Ali turned and ran straight to the second, middle freezer. He hauled this door open too and stepped inside, only to be greeted by another icy blast of mist. He waved the mist away, as a hazy figure began to take shape next to him. Ben reached out and grabbed Ali’s arm and quickly spun him around, sliding the Maori over the ice. He thrust Ali's head towards the dead shark’s open jaws and watched it disappear deep inside the fish’s mouth. Ali felt razor-sharp teeth graze against the back of his neck, as his feet kicked and slipped on the icy floor of the freezer, unable to find a grip. Ali hung there for a moment like a headless Cossack, his arms flailing about blindly, as his feet kicked out this way, then that, struggling against gravity and the ice. Finally, both feet slipped from beneath him at the same time and his full weight sank against the shark’s serrated teeth. Ben saw the head come clean off, as Ali’s decapitated body flopped down against the ice like a puppet with its strings cut. Ali’s boiled and severed head stared out at Ben in perpetual surprise from the frozen shark’s mouth.
Ben emerged from the freezer in a daze, holding on to the door with both hands to remain upright. He lurched out, unsteady on his feet, then immediately doubled up and puked on to the factory floor. He stayed hunched over for a few moments, coughing up strings of phlegm and bile, trying to expel the nauseous image of what he’d just seen; what he’d just done. He then sucked in a deep breath and slowly raised his head, only to see Olander’s blunt face waiting there to greet him. Ben started to speak, but Olander swung a fish club at his head and connected with a sharp crack.
Ben immediately fell back into a sea of blackness.