The deep

The waters of the Okanagan receded.
Chester handcuffed Osmond and threw him in the back of his damaged cruiser, while he radioed other members of the church to come and tend to the broken Ariel.
Miriam just stared at the lake.

"It's not that deep." she said to no one in particular.  "You'll have to come out sometime..." she continued, this time speaking in the direction of the lost baby.
"And when you do, I'll be waiting..." 'and so will my son', she thought to herself, but dared not speak, in case anyone of importance may be listening.
"What do ya have in store fer these here folks, ma'am?"  Chester broke her reverie.
"To find out just how that baby came to be.  They must know the ocean, Chester.  There's no other way."
"Ain't bein' the beast explanation enuff?  If'n ya don't mind me say'n so."
"No Chester, it's not.  If we have to, we're going to take her womb apart and examine it, bit by bit."
"That don't sound like the works o' no god I ever known."
"No, you're right.  We may just have to have faith that they'll co-operate.  And maybe we can stop the beast from controlling the land."
"Amen.  Amen to that, ma'am."
Miriam just stared at the lake....





Atlas sunk.  Less than four days old, this would be his first memory.  Not because he was separated from his parents, and not because he was taken by the lake.   He would always remember the feeling of breathlessness, the cutoff from air, and the liberation of it.

He sunk deeper and deeper, to where he could not see.  To where no creature could see, and next to no creature could smell or taste.  Touch and sound ruled down below, and when the Ogopogo first came upon baby Atlas, he could hear no sounds of breath, and felt no movement of lungs.
'What is this?'  It thought to itself, 'A creature with gills and lungs, but needs not breath?
What demon spawn could this be?'
The ancient sea snake inhaled a monstrous amount of muggy, dark, sea water into its maw, held baby Atlas in his palm, and expelled the fluid with tremendous pressure, forcing Atlas' gills to open and accept their purpose.

Atlas became began to choke, but could not cry.
The change in his body was immediate, from boy to shark, he transformed seamlessly.
The Ogopogo rejoiced at this.  A new life in its hands, so long had it been alone.
It examined the body of this strange creature, felt its fins and tail, its disproportionate head, and it's human genitalia.
"By the madness," it thought to itself, "It has been given unto me to raise this child?  To train and develop this wonder which the world itself has been waiting for?!"
He himself doubted the prophecy of the earth's saviour, but the madness had done it.  It had created its own evolution, it's own child, through the womb of a human.
But the Ogopogo was old.
It had become anemic from it's centuries of seclusion.  Adapted to it's chosen environment, the sea snake had spent its time learning from the water.  Learning how to move as one within it, how to control it, how to bond with the madness that lies in all things.
It had done this in hope of the truth that now lay in it's palm.  Waiting for the time to draw near when the world would turn, and the Ogopogo could have revenge on the lords of the ocean, and regain it's place as king.
But it could not do these things in it's current body.
Which was no matter, for it had been far too long without reproduction.  The Ogopogo thanked the madness, and went in search of nourishment for his protege.
It was time to find an egg.

Revelations 2

Dr. Grant sipped his tea.
He could feel a change in the atmosphere in the room.

Smith breathed deeply, closing his eyes, meditating, and giving the doctor time to digest the problem presented by the ogopogo.

The issue lay in the fact that the Ogopogo was ancient and bitter.
Once king of the sea, he'd fled the deep centuries ago, to lie in wait for the waters to change, as well as the order of power in the ocean.
What concerned the scientists is the fragility of the Ogopogo's mental state.
Would it raise the child as its own, and refuse to let it go?  Or would it use the child as a pawn to strike back at the Megaladon?
The only concrete evidence the scientists had of this knowledge had come from Charles himself.
In his youth he had been able to tap into the madness of the sea, and had become engulfed in the mysteries of the ocean.  Some had feared that he had been lost in some sort of ocean black hole, never to return.
But he did.
Sort of.

"Something has happened." Smith declared.  "I can feel it in the earth... something's changed."
"I can sense it too."  chimed Jones.
"An eruption... an unnatural change of the dynamics of the planet... but not huge.
I can feel it through the air.. not the sea.."  Smith continued.
"Maybe they got the child to the lake?" the doctor suggested.
"We can only hope it's not so.  It would be devastating to lose another child."  Commented Ryan.
"Another child?" This was new to the doctor.

"When Charles came from the ocean, he wasn't alone.  His wife had gone to find him, and she too had been taken by the madness.  She returned from the sea with child.  A child not unlike that of the Mano's.
A child that we wanted to study.  To learn from, as well as teach." Ryan went on.

"Yes," Smith interjected, "but Charles began to lose his love for her, as he knew more of the child than she.  He understood the purpose of the baby, it's prophecy to raze the world we know.  So he brought his wife and the baby to a laboratory and safe zone outside the Okanagan.  The very same one that the shark child was destined for, so that his genetic make up could be studied, and the catastrophic future he would bring could be averted.  But his wife began to lose her mind.
Infatuated with the madness, unable to let go of her child, she made off with it, and returned him to the sea."

"What happened to this woman?"
"We're unsure.  We believe she turned to the church, and changed her name to Miriam."

The lake

Ariel had never been to the Okanagan before, but she knew that it couldn't have been as far a drive as it seemed.  The destination on the map they found in the van was only around 6 hours from Vancouver.
Yet it seemed like they had been driving for twice that.
She noticed a land mark that she had seen already once before when Osmond was driving.  A large windmill, with what looked to be a farm several kilometres away.  She opened her window, and even through the air conditioning she could smell the lake.
It took her a moment to convince herself that she had seen that same windmill before.. And it was because last time the sky was dark.  This time it was lighter out.  She nudged Osmond, who snapped to alertness.
The baby woke as well, and started to squirm about.
"Miriam, where about's are we?" she inquired.
"I'm not exactly sure where the safe house is.  Like I said, I grew up around here, but I've never been to the place we're supposed to be."
Something about her voice resonated with Ariel.  The calm command was shaken.
Miriam wasn't telling the whole story, there's no way that she was this lost.
Osmond looked concerned too.  Ariel was at least comforted that she wasn't alone in her suspicions of their 'nurse'.
Atlas grew more and more restless.  Ariel lifted his mouth to her left breast, but he shirked the opportunity to feed.  Sudden fear shot through Ariel.  A newborn resisting the chance to feed?  That's not right at all... not that Atlas was by any means conventional, but it still filled her full of dread.

Osmond grabbed her hand, and squeezed it in warning.
A squad car up ahead.
Miriam didn't seem bothered though.  In fact, she seemed relieved.
"Keep him covered babe," Osmond instructed as he moved to the passenger side bucket seat.
"Don't worry, this should be nothing." Miriam eased.  But her words were cold and unsettling.  They'd been driving in circles far too long, and only now did any other cars show up on the deserted road, and a squad car?  Bad news.

Miriam slowed to a stop as an RCMP officer stepped into the middle of the road, and walked up to her window.
"Mornin' ma'am," he spoke with a southern accent.
"You lost little lady?"
"Yes sir, we've been trying to find our family farm." She spoke with such ease and unconcern.  All the shakiness in her voice evaporated.
"Well now, just whereabout' that be, sugah?"
Osmond couldn't help but wonder why in the hell a southerner would end up as a mountie in British Columbia... And parked in the middle of the road, with nothing around but a windmill in the distance behind them... He'd seen that windmill, shortly before Miriam suggested she drive.
The alarm in his head started ringing again, he could barely concentrate on what the officer was saying, he looked at his wife, and back at the windmill, then back at his wife, who's eyes began to bug out as if to say, "We're in deep shit.  Do something!"
"Osmond, would you pass me that map out of the glove compartment, please?"
As if unable to control himself, he reached for the map and passed it to her, trying with all his will to hide the look of fear creeping onto his face.
"You aw'right there son?"
"Yeh...yeah...We're just having a hard time finding the place..." he stumbled over his words.
The mountie took the map, and with barely so much as a glance at it he frowned in contemplation.
"I'm afraid there's been a bit o' trouble down thar.  I dunna suggest you folks head that there way jus' yet.
If'n ya like, I could guide ya's to a nearby chapel ya could hold out fer a spell."
"Oh, that would be just wonderful," Miriam obliged.
This time Osmond couldn't help his shock.  He just stared at her, and she turned to him with that same calm face, "See?  The lord provides."
He looked back at his wife, who just stared at him with the same look, and mouthed the word 'no'.
The mountie continued, "Aw 'right then, jus' folla me, now.  It's jus' a tad up the way."
He walked back to his car, and Miriam turned her head to smile at  Osmond.

Before she could form a smile, Osmond cranked her right in the face, then again.  He unbuckled her seat belt, opened the door, and kicked her right out of the van.
He revved up the van and slammed it right into the back of the cruiser, turning it slightly to the side, and then rammed it again.  He backed up quickly, and before the cruiser could get its engine turned on he plowed the van into the side of it and ran it right off the road.
Ariel began screaming "What the hell did you do!  What are you thinking!  Where are we gonna go!"
"We're going right to that farm by the windmill.  We've been circling it for hours!  That bitch knows EXACTLY where we were supposed to go!  Why in the fuck would a canadian mountie have a southern accent and take us to the church?  She's been waiting for them to show up and lead us right into their trap!"
"So what?!  We're just going to show up to a safe house with a cruiser and that mad bitch on our tail?!"
"Would you rather go to that church?!"
"Aaaaaahhh!" She wailed.
But he was right.  They were out of options.

Miriam and the mountie followed as soon as they could.  But they were in no rush.  Ariel was right, Miriam knew that farm.  Knew it well, too.  And she finally had the validation to bring the hand of God down upon it.
She smiled as she contemplated just what Osmond and Ariel were going to do.
As she and her partner followed them she smiled in spite of herself at their intuition.  She didn't think they'd noticed how many times they'd passed the windmill as she waited for the van to be spotted.
However, if they thought the safe house was just going to let them waltz right in, they were sadly mistaken.

"So what do you plan to do, honey?  We don't know how many people may be working with Miriam.  She could have an army down here in no time!  We don't know what she's capable of!"
Ariel was coming undone.
And with all the tension in the van, Atlas began to squirm and flop about like a fish out of water.
Ariel tried to sooth him with her voice, and a tender touch.  But as she pulled the cover back over his head, she looked into his glossy eyes, and he stared straight faced right back at her, then began crying.

Osmond pulled the van around the back of the barn, and skidded up to the door.
He paused for a moment to think.
"Can you make him quiet for a second!" he couldn't help but yell.  He was losing his shit too.
Trying to find calm, she just shot him a look of anger.
Then someone knocked on the window.
Osmond jumped back and stared at a young man, large in stature, covered in dirt and grease, an all around farmhand looking guy.
He rolled down the window enough to hear what the man had to say.
The farmhand stared at him for a moment, looked off to the side as he heard the squad car peeling down the gravel road leading into the property, then back at Osmond, and lastly at the baby.
He soaked this in for a minute, then lifted his hand to the window, with two pills in his palm.
"You can't be here.  There's ammunition in the seats.  Take that kid to the lake and throw it in."
"What!!!" Osmond couldn't believe what he heard, where as Ariel could barely hear him, he talked so calmly.
"We'll have a better chance of saving him through the lake than through them.  Eat these when they catch you."  And he put his hand through the window.
Osmond took the pills, and just stared at the farm hand.
The farm hand started to look exasperated.  He scrunched his face up, and almost with a snarl barked at Osmond, "Go!"  then walked away from the van.

Osmond peeled off just as the cruiser pulled up behind the van.
The squad car spat up dust and gravel as it spun around, giving Miriam enough time to make eye contact with the farm hand.  For a moment they stared at each other, reading each other's soul.  Then something clicked in the farmhands head, and his surly demeanour changed as a smile crossed his face.
This turned Miriam furious.
She could feel her plot slipping through her fingers.  But it wasn't over yet.  There was no way that van could outrun the cruiser.

It wasn't long before the squad car was neck in neck with the van, speeding down the highway.
Ariel placed little Atlas inside the cooler filled with water, swaddling clothes and all.
This freed her hands so she could tear the seats apart in search of weaponry.
She had never held a gun, or would even have dreamed of it, but she'd never have dreamed she'd be running to throw her 'first born shark' into the okanagan lake!
But she found no guns.
Just grenades.
"Ozzy!"  she reverted to his old nickname, "can you use these?  My windows only open from the bottom!"
"Lob it over the van from the right side." he directed.
She pulled the pin and did as he said, but the grenade missed the car and exploded off the road.
"Too far!" he yelled.
"You think I don't know that!?" she retorted.

Miriam had thought there may have been fire power in the van, but never had the time to check.
Oh well, two can play that game.  She pulled the shotgun out from it's holster in the faked out squad car.
"Now Chester, remember, we want that child alive."
"Livin' critter, check.  Yes ma'am."

Osmond could see the lake to their right.  So close, yet so far away.
Up ahead he spotted a place to turn right towards the lake, "Not too far now doll..." he stated, more to reassure himself than her.
Ariel pulled another grenade out, pulled the pin, and hurled it over the van.  It exploded to the left of the cruiser, causing the driver to swerve into the van, which caused Miriam to misfire, right into the vans front carriage, but missing the engine.

Osmond just about lost control.  But he managed to steady the van just long enough to make it to the turn off.
Chester saw this coming, and slowed down to bump the back of the van, trying to mess up their turn, but it was in vain.

The van made it down to the lake side, and Ariel pulled the pins of two grenades and launched them behind the van, both misses.
Miriam opened fire again, this time blowing out the back right tire.
The van skidded and flipped, all of it's passengers thrown around like rag dolls.

Osmond was hurt bad.  But Ariel was worse, her arm had been crushed by the van, as it was still out the window when they flipped.
Atlas!
Osmond could hear him whimpering.  He unbuckled himself, and crawled through the van, which lay on its side, and found his child, still wrapped in a hospital sheet, soaked, but not bruised.
He held Atlas tight for a second, then crawled out of the van.
Standing there waiting for him was Miriam, triumphantly holding the shotgun.  She cocked it and pointed it at his head.
"It's the end of the line, Mr. Mano."  that calm cool command again.
Bitch.  She'd won.

"Noooooo..." Ariel croaked out from inside the van, barely conscious, barely alive.

"Never!  You burn in hell! "  Osmond yelled in defiance.
"You first." she responded.


But she couldn't do it.  She couldn't just kill the parents.  She almost started to cry, but the child was still hers.  He was in her possession, and so were the parents.

Chester could hear the water.
He could hear the waves.
He could almost taste the lake, then he felt drops of water on his head...but there wasn't a cloud in the sky..
He tugged Miriams arm.
"What is it, Chester?"
He turned her around.
The lake had grown, and a tidal wave was coming from out of nowhere.
"There's no way..." She barely had time to believe her eyes before they were all enveloped by the lake.



Osmond did as best he could to hold on to his son and to the van, but the current ripped at his child, and he just didn't have the strength.  Then he remembered that the whole reason they were at the lake was to deliver the baby to it... but this was just insanity.
Against all of his instincts, he kissed his son and the forehead, and let him go.
He could feel the van being pushed out of the lake immediately after he did so.
And in a moments time he was back on the land with his wife, his enemy, and her partner.
He could hear Miriam screaming, "Nooooooo!  Noooooo!  Goddammit!  He was mine!!!"
With precious seconds of her attention paid elsewhere, he crawled over to Ariel, and recessitated her, once she had regained consciousness, he forced her to choke back a pill,
which he then took himself, right before the cuffs clinked around his hands.
Their son was gone.
And to the rest of the world, so were they.

inside the van part 2

Dead highways.
Not so much as a cargo truck.  Peace.  Eerie, somber peace.
Somehow soothing...

As the sun set and the night began, Osmond finally began to relax, and let his mind temporarily at ease.
They were on their way to a safe house.  They had a knowledgeable woman with them, and the baby had stopped crying once Ariel began to breastfeed.
But this peaceful reverie soon turned to daunting questions in the back of his mind.
Miriam was on a mission from God.  That in and of itself was unsettling, but if that was so, and she worried that scientists were going to abduct and autopsy their child, why was she so willing to help them find the safe house?  Were the old couple not trying to abduct Atlas and take him to the same safe house they were destined for?  And what were they going to say when the old couple didn't show up, but instead the parents and an unlikely nurse came in their place?
And why did she not flinch for a moment when he told her they were being followed in the hospital?
He was about to unload some of these questions on her, but thought twice after looking through his rear view mirror at his wife.
Ariel was staring daggers into the back of Miriam's head.  She had seemed untrusting of her since they parted ways with Dr. Grant.  Something had passed between Dr. Grant and his wife, and an alarm went off in his head.  Nothing about this woman added up.
Her willingness to help them suddenly began to seem less than charitable.
He decided not to take his eyes off her for a moment.  But he had to sleep at some point, and Ariel wasn't going to drive.


After hours of driving he found himself dozing at the wheel.
When he looked up after shutting his eyes for a moment he found Miriam staring not just at him, but into him.  The way one looks at a petulant child.
"Maybe I should drive for a while.  After all, I have a better idea of where we're going." she invited.
It would be so easy...
So necessary.
"No, that's alright.  You should rest.  I'm still restless from everything.  I'm still buzzing from adrenaline."
His lies were transparent.  He knew it too.  He could barely speak, he was so exhausted.
"I'm quite capable.  You've been through enough today.  You needn't worry, you're safe with me.  You're in God's hands."
A few hours ago and he wouldn't have hesitated.  Now just listening to her calming command was enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.  Not to mention the unsettling use of the name God.
But he didn't really have a choice.  Just by looking at her he could tell that she wasn't about to let it go.
He looked in his rear view at Ariel, who gave him a relinquishing nod.  She understood the predicament, probably better than he did.  So after a while he agreed.
"At the next gas station, we'll fill up and switch.  Agreed?"
"Amen." was her consent.

All was as it should be at the gas station.  The only unsettling business was the clerk talking to a man of about Osmond's age about the shoot out at the hospital that morning.  Osmond managed to act in accordance with how he should, agreeing how much of an atrocity it was that any one could be allowed into a hospital with a gun.  He chatted briefly with the two, and said he was on his way to view real estate near the Okanagan.
When the clerk and the other man looked at where he was pointing to on a map they both grew suspicious, but just commented on how poor the dwellings were in that part of the province.
"Nothing grows there, man." commented the gentleman.
"Unless your raising a swamp monster, or the Ogopogo himself!" he continued, in a mixture of warning and jest.
"Oh, well, a friend of mine told me it's affordable and perfect for development" Osmond quickly retorted.
The two at the station took this as a fool's defense, so the clerk gently chided him, "It sounds like your 'friend' is trying to take you, guy.  Don't buy nothing up there.  That's bat country."
"Bat country?"
"It's just bad is all.  Bad place to raise a family.  But if you're looking to develop, you probably ain't to keen on that anyhow, eh?"
"Right..  Well, thanks anyhow."  and he walked back to the van, replaced the gas nozzle, got in the back seat with his wife, and handed Miriam the keys.


"God help us."  his wife whispered in his ear.  "And I don't mean her god."
He squeezed her hand tight for a moment, before passing into blessed sleep.

Revelations

Outside the small white room that he had occupied for an undisclosed amount of time, Dr. Grant found himself in the hull of a large ship.  The halls were well lit, very much like a hospital or institution, and not at all musty like you would expect from the inside of a barge.
At first, he was unaware of the size of the ship, as the first corridor he travelled was bereft of any windows.  It wasn't until they manoeuvred through a maze of hallways that led to the fresh outside air that he got his first glimpse of the layout.
They walked along a railed path that overlooked a garden, surrounded by a track populated by joggers dressed in the same white uniform as Jane.  To the left of the garden lay tennis and basketball courts, a venerable recreational centre.  Behind this, towards the stern of the ship, looked to be a sort of laboratory.
As Jane and the doctor walked towards the bow, they came upon a glass elevator, where Jane stopped.
"This is you, doctor."  The contempt in her voice replaced by a cold sincerity, "Mr. Smith will see you now.  Don't bother lying, it will only waste your time and ours."
Without a word to his unpleasant host, the doctor pushed the only button beside the door, waited only a moment, and stepped in.

He found himself in a bright room, with a sweet scent of ginger and jasmine.  Above him was a glass ceiling, currently open to let in the ocean air.  There were no computers or electronics of any kind, not so much as a clock.
On the floor, sitting in a semi-circle, were three men all around his age in appearance, sitting cross legged, amidst conversation.
He gingerly strolled towards the group and stood in the opening of the semi-circle.
They continued their discussion for a moment before reverting to silence.
He stood in awkward stillness for a moment.
The elderly gentleman who seemed to be leading the talk picked up a an unusual shaped cup with a slight steam coming from it, delicately took a sip, and with out looking up, began "Please Dr. Grant.  Sit down.  We're all very anxious to meet you.  Would you care for some tea?"
"Indeed.  The last drink I remember having tasted overwhelmingly of salt water."  Even in such a circumstance, he was unable to resist a quip.
"Hmmm." considered the elder.  "Charles mentioned you were an affable gentleman.   But please, doctor, try to keep the wise cracks to a minimum.  We have important business to discuss."
He paused to indulge his tea once more, as the man to his left handed Dr. Grant one of the oddly shaped cups, made to not warm the hand, but to sit quite comfortably and securely in the palm, and proceeded to fill it with the warm, smooth decoction.  Here was the source of the ginger and jasmine aroma.
"To my right is our head of aquatic activity and marine life, Mr. Jones, and to my left, our head of religion and theology, Mr. Ryan.  To the crew I'm known only as Mr. Smith, but please, forego the designation.  Smith is fine, and I'm sure these gentlemen won't mind if you take the same liberty with their appellations.
"Welcome doctor." piped Jones, followed by a nod and a raise of the glass from Ryan.
Smith continued, "To get right down to it, we're concerned with protecting the life of the child.  As you must already have concluded, there's more than a few threats towards his survival.  Some that you may have some trouble believing, but I assure you.  Here, we do NOT jest."
Ryan picked up the conversation, "Our organization is dedicated to the survival not just of the human race, but of the planet as well.  We've devoted our lives to knowledge, science and philosophy.  As a result, the signs of the apocalypse are finally becoming palpable."
"The apocalypse?  One kid with gills and you expect me to swallow the end of the world speech?"
"Please doctor," beckoned Smith, "don't let the term deter you.  Apocalypse means nothing more than revelation.  A new understanding is dawning upon the world.  Begin with that.  It will ease the acceptance of what we've been working towards for centuries."
"Centuries..."he considered.
"Yes," continued Ryan, "We've been learning to understand our bodies and souls for quite some time.  Ever heard of the biblical character Methusala?"
Dr. Grant looked up from his reverie, "Go on." he prompted.
"Have you never considered it possible that a man could have lived so long?"
"With the power of a god behind him I'm sure a man could achieve many supernatural abilities."
"Not a god, doctor.  The God.  The great evolver."
"...You're serious?"  He replied more as a statement of disbelief than a question.
"Very much so.  Only by this revelation were we able to understand how Methusala maintained such prolonged life.  The creator gave us the ability to evolve.  As a doctor I'm sure you must agree with the theory of evolution, yes?"
"I accept it, yes."
"And how could you not?  It's evident in every thing.  The brain's ability to learn and grow, the way an idea manifests itself and turns into a plan, then to an action.  Age is the natural course of all things, deterioration is the science of all things physical to adapt to the world in which they are in.  Just as rock erodes from the sea, the body deteriorates.
However, its the understanding of this progression, and the ability of a creator far superior to any that we could imagine, to change his art, that allows us to adapt our bodies, minds, and souls to our surroundings.  And in turn, grow with the environment, as living contributors, not cancers."
The room fell silent for a moment as the three gave Dr. Grant a moment to chew this over.
"So, what you're saying, is that no one has to die?"
"No! No!  People have to die.  That is the natural order.  We could fall into the sea and drown today!  It's careful planning and knowledge that allows us to participate in the will of the universe, not immortality my good man."
"Fair enough, for now.  You'll have to give me some time to digest that.  What I'm curious about is just how the birth of this fish child plays into your apocalypse theory."
Gracefully, and without taking offence at his slight, Ryan continued.
"Shark child, doctor, and we believe its up to him to unite the land and sea.  In a few years there's going to be a lot more ocean, and we're going to have to adapt to survive.  The real problem lays in the will of its inhabitants."
"The lords of the sea are just as aware of the great change coming upon us as we are."  Jones finally interjected.  "And before you raise a question, yes, I said the Lords of the Sea.  There are major players for the earth in the ocean just as on land.  Our biggest concern right now, is the Megalodon."
"The pre-historic shark?"
"The lord of them, yes.  There are several living out of the sight of sonar.  They too have evolved.  We have reason to believe that they became keenly aware of sonar, and have devised a way to deflect it, and render themselves invisible.  The birth of a man shark may be very threatening to them.  It is prudent that we monitor  the course of the young one's life.  We don't know the will of the sea towards the child, but we can only speculate that being of both worlds, he'll be unwelcome in both, to say the least."
"Where is the child being taken?" questioned Ryan.
"...The Okanagan."
A look of surprise and terror appeared on the old men's faces.
"Oh no...You're not gonna tell me..."
"Yes.  The Ogopogo."

Awake in a dream

Dr. Grant came to in what seemed like a dream.
Warm, in dry clothes, in a white room, and a suspiciously euphoric contentment.
Morphine... He recognized that cruel bitch mistress.
But she was good sometimes... Like when he lay still.  But as soon as he tried to move he could feel the gun shots in his back, and the events of the day came crashing down like an avalanche.
He made it though.. somehow Charles saved him, and brought him here.
But where was here?
He could smell the ocean, and after a little motion judgement, he figured he was on a boat, and that the swaying he felt wasn't just in his head.
It took some time, and a lot of pain, but he managed to sit up.
He'd never been shot before.  Didn't particularly want to get shot again...
 "Alright now, feet first," he told himself.  "Try to stand."
Left foot, steady.. steady...
Right foot, a little shaky..
Keeping his hands on the bed, he managed to turn around, and steady himself.
"Yup," he spoke to himself, "I'm definitely feeling those 60 years today."

A knock on the door.
"Mr. Grant?"
Not Dr. Grant?  What the hell?  He suddenly felt understanding of Rodney Dangerfield's classic line, 'No respect I tell ya, no respect.'
"Yes?"
A slender eagle faced woman walked in.  Dressed all in white, with tennis shorts and loafers, she looked like she had just walked in from a yacht party.
"How's the back?"
"How do you think?  It feels like I got shot and fell into the ocean!  Can't complain about the dope, though."
"Hmmm."  She chewed that over as she sized him up.  "You do have quite the unconventional attitude.  I'm not sure yet if you're ignorant or determined.."
"A little from column A, a little from column B." He jested
 "Alright, Mr. Grant,"
"Doctor, ma'am.  Dr. Grant.  And you would be..?"
"Forgive my manners, DR. Grant," she emphasized the designation, with more than a hint of disdain.
"My name is Jane Campbell.  Head of rehabilitation and physical therapy on this vessel, and I see you're mobile, yes?"
"I'm getting there."
"Take as much time as you need.  You're safe here.  However, when you're able, there is much to be discussed."
Before she continued, she observed his movements, judging how long it would be before he could walk easily.
"Your back will heal.  We removed the bullets, and  cleaned the wound.  No major damage.  I don't think I need to tell you how fortunate you are."
"Hmmm.  Quite."  What a peculiar situation..and what an uncomfortable woman.
"I don't wish to rest any longer.  I'd like to see Charles."
"I'm afraid Charles has already left.  You've been asleep for some time, Doctor."  This time she managed the formality with less contempt.
"Well then, take me to the captain!"
Starting to feel a bit like Alice, he began to wonder just how deep this whole thing went, and just how long it was going to be before he could crawl out of this 'rabbit hole'.
That is...
If he ever did get out.

End of the Beamer

Six more squad cars peeled into the parking lot.  Sirens blaring, they motioned to form a circle around the BMW and the three cruisers already in place.
Would've been a good time to have a gun, or some nitrous oxide, for that matter.
Just as he checked his rear view to see if the cops had gotten back into their cruisers, Dr. Grant's mirror exploded into a mess of metal and glass.
Beside himself with excitement, he leaned his head out the window, and at the top of his lungs yelled "I just bought this thing!  You're gonna pay for that, coppers!"
He couldn't help but laugh at the whole thing.  The others had escaped.
Really.
They were gone.
So for the sheer, ludicrous joy of it, he fishtailed in a half circle, and sped through the only opening he could find between squad cars.
Time for a mad dash to the grave, he chuckled to himself.
He'd had a good life, and it was time to give his for the life of another... Even if that other was a mutant cross between a shark and a boy... Especially if that other was a mutant cross breed of a shark boy!
In salute to the child he was protecting he did another fishtail out of the parking lot.
His phone rang.
He always kept it in the car, so it wouldn't distract him at work.  He checked the caller i.d.
His wife.
"Honey?  What's going on down there?"
"Oh, just a little mix up with some folks down in the maternity ward." he replied calmly.
"A little mix up?!  It's all over the news!  They say there was a gunfight on the second floor!  Are you alright?"
"I'm fine dear.  Nothing to worry about."
"What's that sound?  I can hear sirens... You're in your car, aren't you?!"
"Well... yeah.  You got me."
"Thaddeus J. Grant," she demanded, "just what in the hell is going on?"
"Well, to tell it straight, I'm kind of in the middle of a high speed chase right now."
His wife paused to soak this in.
"You're serious?"
"Sorry dear, but I don't think I'm going to make dinner tonight."
"Well, that's fine.  I didn't want to have to cook anyway."
They shared a tense laugh.
What a woman, he thought.  His fearless excitement started to fade, as he realized that more than anything, he just wanted to get see that woman one more time.
"I love you baby." she prompted him.
"And I you, sweetheart."
"Is this about the child?"
"Who else?"
"Well, I'm sure you need all your hands to evade escape," at that, his back window exploded from gunshot.
"Get to my brother's old house."
"Charles?  What makes you think he'd even be there?  That's crazy!"
"Exactly!"
"Okay...  If I can."
"Be careful."
"Me?  Never!" he laughed,  his fearlessness returning.  "Love you, doll."
"And you too hon.  Don't get dead on me.  You owe me a dinner date!"
"Bye babe."

Alright.  Enough sap.  Time to turn this situation around.
9 squad cars on his tail, one police chopper in the sky, no guns, and it's broad daylight.
If only he'd watched more action movies, then maybe he'd have an idea of how to evade a mob of cops.
Charles would know what to do.
Chances are, he already does.  For a stark crazy conspiracy theorist, the guy was sharp as a diamond.
And just as hard to find.

The phone rang again.
Unknown number.
What the hell, he thought.  But this time I'm using speaker phone.
"Dr. Grant's office, how may I help you?" dripping sarcasm.
"Got yourself in a real pickle, eh Thaddeus?"
"Charles?"
"Take the next left, and get ready to burn.  We're gonna ditch that car of yours."
"Come again?"
"What?  How long did you think that beamer was gonna last you anyway?  You know how pissed Angie was when you bought it."
"Alright.  But can I blow up some cop cars while I'm at it?"
"That depends how you're acrobatic skills are."
"Yeah... not so good.  You don't get a lot of practice in the hospital.  They just don't have the space."
"Always the clown.  All right, now listen up."

The police chopper started to blair "Dr. Grant, pull over and turn off your engine.  We have you surrounded, there's no way out."

"Sorry Charles, what was that?"
The Lonsdale Quay, man.  That cars going in, and so are you."
"The hell it is!  This cars going up in flames!  If I can't have it, no one can.  Not even the fish!"
"Suit yourself, just make sure they see you die."
"And then what?"
"Not over the phone, Thad.  You just leave that to me."

Cops everywhere.  Getting to the Quay was going to be no easy task.
It didn't help that there were cyclists everywhere either.  But no time for sympathy.  Only calm, calculated movements were gonna save him now.

Coming around the main drag towards the Quay, Dr. Grant could see a road block.  He had no doubt that they were everywhere on the north shore.  Perfect.  This is the fun part.
Time to be an action hero... At age 60.  What the hell, Stallone was still doing it, right?
He kicked his car into high gear, 140 k downhill, straight into a police barricade, he could already hear the gun shots.
Crick, crick, crack, Pshhhhh!  There goes the windshield.  All he could do is duck, hold the wheel, and punch the gas.

Oh yeah, and do up his seatbelt.  Wheeeee!

SMASH!!!!!

Right through the cars, and a fire started under the hood.  But instead of flying into the lake, the car flipped over the  squad cars and skidded to a halt.  He could hear the cops running over, but not gettin' too close.
What does a doctor know about explosions?  Enough to know that fire and gas make pretty colours.
With the passenger side door open, facing the pier, he unbuckled and crawled to the right side.. or left, as the car was upside down.
But the fire under the hood was dying, and that beautiful BMW wasn't even leaking gas.
Gotta think fast.  Gotta look dead, but not get dead.
Fuck it.  He made a mad dash for the water, but not without getting shot in the back, the force of the bullets knocking him into the water.

The pain!  He could barely even swim.  But he dived, for all that he had left in him, he dived.
What I wouldn't give for a pair of gills myself right now!
Oh well, he got the next best thing. An oxygen mask slapped over his mouth.
Charles.