Hello Friends and Neighbors, and welcome to Thursday Stories. Looking back over my herd of short stories, I realize that more than three dozen of the little rascals have appeared only in print. Some of you may have forked over the dough for this or that literary review, but I don’t expect everyone to buy all of the reviews all of the time. And so, drumroll please, I give you Thursday Stories. I’m not guaranteeing a new story every Thursday, but I will do my best until all the print-only tales have been set free.

This week’s edition of Thursday Stories features Under Jungle, Black Water. This creepy (and damp!) monster horror story first appeared in the Sinister Smile Press anthology If I Die Before I Wake – Better Off Dead Series #6, published in 2021. This is a dark horror story featuring a nasty underwater monster and scenes of graphic bloodshed. So, Content Warning: HORROR STORY! Not for the squeamish. Don’t say I didn’t warn you…

Without further ado, I give you another edition of Thursday Stories. I hope you enjoy it.

Thursday Stories: Under Jungle, Black Water

by Marco Etheridge

The jeep dropped into another deep rut, throwing Cat Lennett against the seat harness. For the hundredth time, she cursed this miserable goat path that was pounding her kidneys. She cursed Charlie Grayson, the man fighting to keep the jeep and trailer from sliding into the Guatemalan jungle. And she cursed herself for agreeing to any of this.

Cat braced her feet, grabbed the rollbar, twisted in her seat. The rear of the jeep was packed level to the windows, crates and bins of dive gear jigsawed together and strapped down tight. The trailer sliding around behind the jeep was filled with compressed mix tanks, neoprene suits, helmets, rebreathers, all the tools of the trade for cave diving. 

She looked through the rear window, which was splattered with chocolate-brown mud. An all-terrain lorry wallowed behind them. The hulking truck rocked from side to side, scraping a tunnel through the encroaching walls of jungle. The four other members of the team were taking their own beating.

Charlie spoke with his eyes on the road.

“Is Vic keeping the Mitsubishi upright?”

Cat swung back around.

“Yeah, they’re still back there. And this isn’t a road. It’s a goat path.”

Cat looked at the man wrestling the steering wheel. Charlie Grayson, tall and spare. Blue eyes set in a hungry face under close-cropped blond hair going grey. He worked hard at being the alpha male, a wolf who needed to hunt.

“This is nothing. In the rainy season, this fine road doubles as a river.”

He threw her a predatory grimace meant to be a smile.

“How much further?”

Grayson shot a glance at the GPS.

“Maybe fifteen kilometers. Another hour or so.”

Cat took refuge in a sea of silent curses, but Charlie wouldn’t shut up. She cursed Charlie but saved the worst abuse for herself, for not saying no to this man. His rough voice sawed into her brain.

“Just like old times.”

She wanted to shake her head in disgust, but the bouncing of the jeep did it for her.

“We got a team of six on a shoestring budget, limited gear, and no support. I remember our old times being a bit better equipped.”

Charlie shrugged, and his face went hard.

“I know we’re running lean, but I’ve got to get past that last dive. Funding isn’t exactly pouring in right now.”

Cat avoided anything that smelled like donors or fundraising, but she knew the drill: no bankroll, no expedition dives. Charlie’s last expedition had ended in disaster, with two divers dead and nothing to show for it.

The two dead guys screwed the pooch by going off the marked route. That much was true. Good cave divers didn’t do that. Cat Lennett never would. But dead divers were on Charlie Grayson’s team. Not his fault, maybe, but blame and bubbles both rise to the surface.

Charlie spieled out a litany Cat had heard before. She let him talk.

“I’m telling you, Cat, this could be the big one, an underwater cave from here to Belize, right out into the Gulf of Mexico. Maybe bigger than the Sac Actun system. And the cenotes are incredible, crystal water sixty feet down from the rim. I found good flow, too, water moving in the right direction.”

“I can’t believe you dove solo in an unknown cave.”

Charlie waved one hand, then grabbed for the wheel as the jeep slid left.

“I did what needed doing. It was nothing, a few open-circuit dives to check things out. The whole complex is virgin. A pyramid waiting to be excavated, twin cenotes with water no one has touched since the Mayans. Wait until you see it.”

“And some tech-nerd discovered this with satellite images?”

Charlie let go his buzzsaw laugh.

“Crazy, right? These geeks scan satellite images looking for the mound shapes of Mayan pyramids. Damned if they haven’t found new complexes without ever leaving their computers. And here we are, on our way to a virgin cave dive. Just like old times.”

Cat listened to Charlie, but what she heard was the unspoken message, the desperation, the fear of failure. Charlie had to make good on this one, or he was washed up forever. That’s why he’d called in every favor in his pocket, including tapping Cat. Once Charlie’s protege, Cat was now his ace in the hole.

Ace or not, she was being beaten to shit on a horrible excuse for a road. Against her better judgment, she’d agreed to lead an untested crew on a demanding cave dive. Now she was forty miles into the jungle, a long way from any help if things went south. The nearest ocean was a hundred miles east. 

And where’s your judgment with Charlie? Are you still carrying a torch for him, a torch that’s never been lit and never will be?

Cat pushed the thought away. She was living her girlhood dream, a strong diver, a recognized equal in an underwater world dominated by men.

Sometimes she wished for a decent man in her life but wishes and fishes. Men weren’t keen on women they saw as stronger than themselves, both in and out of the water.

Cat knew she was strong under the water, but on dry land, not so much. She also knew she was nobody’s idea of a pinup girl. Charlie knew it, and he knew how to tap into her one vulnerability. That made him dangerous.

“Earth to Cat. Were you even listening?”

“Sorry, I was lost in my head.”

“I said it’s good to be working with Victor again. Nothing like having a complete badass on the team.”

“You know I love Victor. He’s the best surface man there is.”

Victor Perkins, the muscle, the black firepower who saved your ass when asses needed saving. A former Navy SEAL medic, he was the dive master and the medical expert. Vic had one rule: tomorrow comes if you don’t die today, so don’t die today.

Victor was a given. She had worked with him on past dives, and they respected one another. The rest of the team were unknowns. Cat hated unknowns.

Hugo Diaz was the team’s Guatemalan guide. He carried the shotgun and guarded the camp. Hugo wasn’t going under the water, so Cat didn’t give him a second thought.

Then there was Hector Rojas, the Peruvian, the pretty one. He was the marine biologist. Not a world-class diver, but his CV was solid, and handsome enough that Cat had caught herself looking. Slight and wiry, there was a trace of feminine grace in his movements. Disturbingly good looks aside, Hector seemed quiet and capable. Cat wasn’t worried about Hector. She had Lena Valdez to worry about.

Cat heard Charlie’s voice over the jeep’s growl, a bark like a carny luring in the rubes.

“The clock’s ticking. Our permit is good for fourteen days. Big fines if we stay longer.”

“Fines or bribes?”

Charlie’s laugh sawed the air.

“Bribes are paid up front, and I paid plenty. Fines are bribes after the fact. This little jaunt isn’t coming cheap, and I’m not just talking money. The government demanded a biologist and an archeologist. That’s why we’ve got Hector and Val.”

Cat gave him a sharp look. Lena Valdez, Doctor Valdez, the Mayan specialist. Why did Charlie call her Val? Because she’s tall, thin, and curvy. Olive skin, brown hair and eyes, the kind of woman guys go for, especially guys like Charlie.

How did you miss it, Cat? How could you be so stupid?

“If you two are having a thing, you stop this jeep right now. This is a virgin cave dive, not a thing to screw around with. Nothing fucks up a team like personal crap. You know this. You tell me there’s nothing going on, or I’m done before we start.”

“Ancient history, Cat, I swear. More than a year ago, okay? Look, I needed an archeologist to snag the permit. Val, Doctor Valdez, has the credentials, and she’s certified for diving. That’s all there is, Cat. The rest is all water under the bridge.”

“Does Val know that?”

“We’re good, swear to God. Relax.”

The jeep plowed deeper into nowhere, the mud-encrusted lorry trailing behind. The sound of growling engines and squelching tires faded to nothing, replaced by the squawks and screams of the jungle.

***

The glow of LED lanterns threw a feeble dome of light into the vast darkness. The jungle surrounded the team’s small camp. Night stretched away in every direction, raucous with the calls of birds, insects, and the inhuman trills of tree frogs.

The tiny enclave was perched on a flat shelf of limestone. The vehicles were parked in a half circle. In the darkness on either side of the camp, two dark mouths broke the limestone, one huge, one narrow. These were the twin cenotes, Mayan wells, flooded caverns fallen open centuries ago. An unwary night walker would fall sixty feet before they hit the starlit waters. 

Inside the blue-white lantern glow, the evening meal was done. Cat and Charlie sat on camp stools with their backs to the night.

Inside the lighted circle, the crew teased Hugo about his cooking and his ever-present shotgun. Victor Perkins’ voice rolled over the others, rich and strong.

“Hugo, I seen bad cooks in my time, but I never seen one so bad he’s gotta tote a shotgun to wash dishes.”

“Si, Victor, my cooking is muy peligrosa. That is why your plate is so clean, it needs no washing.”

Hugo Diaz waved a plate in the air as evidence. The others laughed at his antics. He was a short, thick Guatemalan whose eyes never shared the broad smile that creased his brown face. A pistol-grip shotgun hung across the small of his back, dangling from a broad leather strap that ran across one shoulder and down his chest.

Lena Valdez leaned forward, her dark hair swinging loose above a spandex top that clung to her torso like a second skin.

“Seriously, Hugo, do you ever take that thing off?”

Hugo reached behind his broad back. He patted the barrel of the shotgun like a faithful dog.

“Si, Chica, I take my Rosarita off at night, but she sleeps beside me. The devil, he is always nearby. The wise man does not forget this.”

Hugo pointed at Victor.

“El doctor de la muerte, he knows what I say is true.”

Cat sucked in a sharp breath.

“Uh oh.”

Victor’s dark face was hard in the lantern light. Cat saw him force a smile and shake his head.

“Why you want to do me like that, Amigo?”

No one was laughing now.

“Lo siento, Victor.”

Lena looked around the circle until her puzzled eyes found Charlie Grayson. He gave her a quick shake of the head, then his voice cut through the moment.

“Hey, great work today, you guys. That was some fine diving, everything by the numbers. The com-lines are into the first grotto, backup tanks stashed. That’s a helluva good day’s work. Tomorrow, we stage at Grotto One and push on. Hector, what do you think about the flows?”

The handsome Peruvian spoke.

“The water is moving east toward the pyramid mound. Not strong, a tenth of a meter per second, but a steady flow.”

Charlie resumed his pep talk.

“The pyramid mound is just under two kilometers, give or take. It’s a thousand meters to Grotto One. Our goal tomorrow is another thousand meters, working two teams in stages.”

“Charlie, is it true this pyramid is untouched?”

Charlie looked across the circle at Lena. Cat noticed that his gaze started at Lena’s legs and worked up.

“It’s slated for study, but until someone cuts through the layer of jungle growth, who knows?”

“I need some time to climb around the exterior, get photos, notes, maybe some stone rubbings.”

Cat looked away while trying to hide a snort. Charlie ignored her.

“Diving is the priority. If we have time, the pyramid is your baby. But nobody goes anywhere alone, right? Big day tomorrow, so let’s get some sleep.”

Cat leaned close to Charlie.

“She wants to rub some stones, Charlie.”

Charlie answered in a rough whisper.

“Knock it off, Cat. This dive is my shot, maybe my last shot. I need you with me on this. You’re the bullet on the dive line, the get-it-done lead diver.”

“Then you better keep your wetsuit zipped tight. This dive is complicated enough without any slut business.”

Cat pushed out of her chair and headed for her bunk in the lorry.

***

Morning sunlight crept over the limestone rim of the larger cenote, bringing with it a promise of heat to come. Victor Perkins stood on a rock ledge just above the surface of the silent water. The crystal pool was fifty meters across, ringed on all sides by rock walls that rose sixty feet to the sky above.

A narrow path led from the rim down to Victor’s ledge. It dropped through a natural fault in the wall, then zigzagged down the rack face, carved into the limestone by ancient hands.

The arm of a small gantry crane protruded over the lip of the cenote, and from it hung a cable. The rest of the team operated the hand-cranked crane. An awkward bundle dangled just out of Victor’s reach. He signaled with one hand and reached for the bundle with the other.

The cable went slack as the cargo landed. Victor fished two rebreather units from the netting, then signaled the empty net back up. He looked up in time to see a black streak plummet from the sky.

He leaped back as a plastic case flew past. The missile missed the rock ledge and smacked the water. A sharp crack echoed in the stone ring of the cenote, reverberating into the jungle above. Startled parrots and macaws exploded from their perches. They flooded into the hot morning air, a squawking rainbow that circled in a blur of green and blue, yellow and red, then fled away into the jungle. 

Vic dropped to the wet stone, reached out a long arm, and grabbed the bobbing case. His face close to the disturbed water, he saw the wavering reflection of the panicked birds. And below the distorted mirror of water, down deep where the cenote went dark, he thought he saw a swirl of color and shadow move in the depths. He blinked once, and it was gone.

Victor shook his head. He fished the case from the water and stashed it with the other gear. Then he cupped his hands and shouted up at the others.

“How is my tomorrow gonna come if you kill me today?”

Lena’s voice drifted down in answer.

“So sorry, Victor, my bad. I kicked the case, and it slipped over.”

Victor waved her off, signaled them to get on with it. Dead by cute chick, dead by mortar fire, dead by bad luck, dead was still dead. Not today, thank you. Still too many things to see and do. The next load of gear came creaking down, and he set his mind back to the task at hand.

The remainder of the gear was lowered and stacked without further incident. Then the four divers clambered down the steep trail. Hugo Diaz remained on top to guard the camp.

Sweating in the morning heat, the divers squirmed in their wetsuits while Vic ran through the pre-dive briefing. Charlie was the expedition leader, Cat the lead diver, but Victor was the dive master and therefore God.

“We’re going two-by-two, my little chickens. Your partner is your squeeze, and a smart chicken always knows where its squeeze is. Cat and Hector haul to Grotto One, drop their loads, and push on. Charlie and Lena haul to the grotto, drop their loads, and hold there. Yeah?”

Nods from the four divers. Victor checked a waterproof notebook.

“Right. We’re not dealing with any big depths here, just the drop into the east passage off the cenote. Then we’ve got the rise back up to Grotto One. Most of that is in the first three hundred meters. Take that rise slow, going in and coming out. Mind your dive computers.

“The decompression line is anchored outside the passage entrance. The stops are labelled. One decomp stop, one safety stop, then it’s cerveza time. Questions on decomp?”

The four shook their heads, anxious to get into the cool water.

“Last but not least, safety. The lead team lays route lines and directional arrows. There is one route, and one route only. Nobody goes off route for any reason whatsoever. Any new routes are discussed out of the water by the whole team. Remember, we’re on rebreathers. The biggest danger of rebreathers is the temptation to go further than you should, just because you can. Everyone ready?”

The team nodded, fitted their dive masks, and inserted their mouthpieces. Transformed into aquatic aliens, the four divers squatted and backrolled into the water.

Four heads and eight arms bobbed above the rippled waters like some disjointed creature. Victor handed down the backup tanks and supplies to be hauled to Grotto One.

Victor’s parting words echoed off the stone walls.

 “Tomorrow comes if you don’t die today, so don’t die today.”

Four thumbs are raised in acknowledgment, and then the divers sank beneath the surface. Victor sat down on the rock ledge and let his bare feet dangle in the cool water. His eyes followed the black-suited figures as they shrank into the depths. He did not look up until the divers disappeared into a passage on the far side of the cenote.

Victor pushed a button on his wristwatch, double-checked it, then reached into his vest and retrieved a well-chewed cigar. He clamped the cigar between his teeth but did not light it.

A waterproof pen scratched as Victor made careful notations. Closing the notebook, he looked out across the water. The last ripples of the diver’s passage faded to a mirror that reflected the blue sky.

A rough voice fell from above.

“Victor, you okay, Hermano?”

“Si, Hugo, todo esta bien.”

“Que?”

Victor raised his voice and switched to the local slang.

“Si, Hugo, todo cabal.”

***

The four divers descended. Cat led the way down the fixed dive line, past the safety stop marker and then the decompression station marker. At this depth, the water of the cenote had gone to twilight, robbed of the bright sunlight on the surface.

A dark mouth gaped in the wall of the cenote, a rough circle of blackness ten meters in diameter. Cat raised a hand to her dive helmet, and a beam of light cut through the water. She scanned the team to ensure that everyone’s helmet lamps were hot, gave them a thumbs up, and swam into the cave entrance. The others followed Cat’s beam of light. The divers disappeared up the underwater passageway, and twilight returned to the depths of the cenote. 

Inky blackness opened before the divers and closed behind them. Darker than anything above ground, they moved through a world completely devoid of light. The divers pushed through the underwater night in staggered pairs, flippers moving in rhythm, four aliens in a fragile bubble of artificial light.

The passage was an irregular tube that led down a slow decline. Cat reached a point where the cave widened into an underwater chamber. Route arrows were fixed to the limestone. She double-checked her direction and led the team up into a narrower opening.

This was the route to Grotto One, the above-water chamber that Charlie had discovered. The cave was no more than five meters wide, but the rock walls were smoother. Six hundred meters of easy diving, and then they could drop their loads at the grotto.

Dive lights wavered behind Cat. She stopped and turned. Hector was signaling with one hand over his lamps and the other pointing to the rock wall. Charlie and Lena floated behind him.

Hector turned his head to illuminate the spot he was pointing to. Shimmering under his diving lamps was a long ribbon of calcium carbonate. It had been formed in the eons before the cave had flooded. One edge of the ribbon was broken away, the edges crisp and sharp. The fractured ribbon gleamed under the alien light, iridescent blue and green, and behind it, a trace of dusky red.

Charlie shook his head, gestured that they should keep moving. Hector swirled a hand at the stained rock. Charlie shook his head again, emphatic. Using hand signals, he drew a rectangle with his forefinger, pointed the same finger at the rock, then jabbed it in the direction of Grotto One.

Mark it and move on!

For the span of two heartbeats, Hector remained motionless in the water. Then his hand moved to a pouch on his dive harness. He pulled a short yellow ribbon from the pouch. At the end of the ribbon was a cylinder of gray putty. Hector kneaded the putty between his fingers and affixed the blob to the rough rock. The ribbon unfurled in the water, marking the spot.

Hector turned away from Charlie, looked to Cat, and nodded. Cat pointed her lamps into the blackness that led to Grotto One.

***

In the beam of her dive lamps, Cat saw the rock ceiling give way to a shimmering mirror of silver, the open water that led to the chamber Charlie had christened Grotto One. She kicked her fins and rose to the surface, breaking through the mirror.

Her head broke the surface, and the beams of her lamps cast weird shadows over fantastic forms. Stalactites hung from the ceiling. Translucent cave bacon adorned the walls. Three heads appeared in the water around her, and the grotto blazed with light.

Cat hauled herself up a rope ladder until she was sitting on the wet floor. She pulled off her dive fins. Three divers bobbed in the water below her. Working in silence, the team began handing up gas bottles, cases of food, the miscellaneous gear needed to stock this underwater way station.

While the others made their way up the ladder, Cat peeled the respirator out of her mouth and flexed her lips. The air in the grotto was rich with the tang of wet rock, but it was breathable. Beside her, Charlie was already shedding his rebreather and moving to a thick plastic case. He unfastened several snaps and flipped open the lid. Holding a headset to his ear, he keyed a button.

“Grotto One to Base, Grotto One to Base. Victor, do you copy?”

His voice echoed in the strange chamber. There was a long pause, then a thin, reedy voice hissed from the headset.

“Base to Grotto One. You good there, Charlie?”

“Yeah, Victor, we’re good. Everyone safe and sound. Just a progress check. Cat and Hector are going on. Lena and I are holding here.”

“Roger that. Anything else?”

“Negative. Good for now. Grotto One out.”

“Okay, Boss. Track your time and stay sharp. Base out.”

Charlie clicked a button and dropped the headset back into the case. He flipped open another case, pulled out an LED lantern, and turned it on. The others reached to their helmets and extinguished their dive lamps. The grotto was bathed in a dim glow.

Hector turned to Charlie.

“We need to talk about those color deposits.”

Charlie raised a hand to stop him.

“What we need to do is stick to the plan. Mapping out this system is the primary objective. Everything else takes a back seat.”

“Charlie, we found something important. That deposit is biological in nature. That rock fracture was fresh, as if something broke it. I think we should go back and study this before we move on.”

Charlie shook his head.

“Absolutely not. You can take samples or whatever on the way out, but we are moving forward. That’s our priority. We’ve got limited dive time and I’m not going to waste it.”

“But those deposits may have come from a swimming creature. This may be evidence of a new species, something science has not seen before.”

“Your new species will be in the water, not here. The quicker you two get moving, the better your chances of seeing your new critter.”

Hector looked to Cat, who shrugged. Without another word, he picked up his dive fins and walked to the edge of the dark water.

Charlie ignored him. He checked his watch, then spoke to Cat.

“Seventy minutes, tops, then you turn around.”

Cat nodded. She sat beside Hector, poked him with her elbow, and gave him a leer. He forced a smile and fitted his mouthpiece. When they were both ready, she flashed him a thumbs-up. Hands over their masks, they rolled forward into the water.

Lena stood at the rocky edge and watched the dive lamps fade to black as the divers disappeared. She turned to Charlie with a smile.

“Here we are, alone at last.”

***

Hugo Diaz stared into the deep well of the small cenote. The water should not move like that, rolling and then going still like a washing machine. But this was a strange place, strange and lonely. Hugo did not like the jungle, but the gringo had money, and Hugo needed money always. He’d rather be in his village, drinking cerveza with his cabróns, but who will pay a man to sit and drink? No one.

The world was a hard place for a man who liked to take things easy. Hugo threw a bucket into the deep well, waited for it to sink and fill, then hauled the rope up hand-over-hand. His shotgun, the faithful Rosarita, dug into his back.

There was much to do before the divers returned. There were water jugs to fill, a stove to mend, and always the meals to cook.

These gringos were a pain in his ass. The boss, Charlie, he was a chucho, but all bosses were cheap bastards. Still, the others weren’t all bad. Victor, the hombre negro, was Hugo’s hero. And Cat was la gringa chispuda, sharp like a spark. Hugo had been on worse crews.

 He carried the load of water around the lorry and back into the camp. Without spilling a drop, Hugo emptied the bucket into a poly storage tank. He hung the bucket and rope over the water johnny, making sure the rope coil lay flat and even.

Victor saw things like coiled ropes. El doctor de la muerte had the eyes of a suegra, and a mother-in-law’s sharp tongue. Call him Doctor Death to his face, and that tongue became very sharp.

And now for the stove. Hugo eyeballed the camp before slipping the shotgun from his shoulder. He leaned Rosarita against a folding chair and sat down. Then he reached for his beloved camp stove and pulled it into his lap.

Battered with years of wear, green paint rubbed and worn, Hugo refused to cook on anything else. The heavy steel stove was a relic from another time, made in the USA, and one of his few treasures. The old girl burned kerosene, alcohol, anything that was handy. Hugo unhooked the fuel tank and began the ritual of cleaning the venturi nozzle.

Without warning, a flock of parrots rose from the edge of the jungle scrub and flew a screaming circle over the camp. Hugo paused at his work, one hand going automatically to the short barrel of his shotgun. The bright streaks of blue and green circled once more over his head, then fussed back onto their perches. Hugo waited, listened, but there was nothing more. He shook his head, reached for a can of white gas, and unscrewed the cap.

Hugo held the can in one hand and tipped it over the mouth of a funnel. A sharp tang assaulted his nose. Fuel swirled in the funnel and drained into the tank of the stove. In that moment, the only sound was a soft gurgle.

Then Hugo felt a tremor in the rock beneath his chair. The small cenote behind the lorry erupted in a geyser of water vapor. A huge serpent rose from the mist of the geyser and swayed in the air. The writhing body was thicker than two fat men, and it gleamed green and blue in the fractured sunlight.

The neon serpent had the head of a monstrous crocodile. Iridescent plumes sprouted from the thing’s neck. The monster’s jaws gaped wide. Water rained down from rows of jagged white fangs. And above the fangs leered glittering eyes the size of dinner plates. Hugo’s terror pinned him to the ground.

Frozen in place. Hugo gaped as the monster’s head arched down over the lorry, closer and closer. The gas can fell from Hugo’s hands and thumped to the ground. Gas gurgled around his feet, breaking the spell that held him.

Hugo snatched up the shotgun and lurched to his feet. He swung his faithful Rosarita into the face of death and pulled the trigger. Rosarita barked, and her flat roar filled the jungle. Hugo pumped the slide and fired again. Flocks of parrots rose screaming into the air. And still the head came nearer.

Hugo pulled the trigger a third time, and his world erupted into flames. He was engulfed in fire and searing pain. He screamed an unearthly wail, and the parrots echoed his agony. Hugo dropped his Rosarita. He turned and ran across the limestone, blind in his pain, and the terrible flames ran with him. His arms became blazing torches that clawed the air in flaming arcs. Hugo’s panic drove him until the limestone disappeared from beneath his feet. His body plunged over the lip of the big cenote, a blazing comet falling to the dark waters.

***

The blast echoed off the walls of the cenote. Victor was on his feet before a second roar blasted through the rebounding echoes. With the third explosion, he was scrambling for the rocky trail. Then he heard the screams.

A flaming body appeared in the sky above him. Its limbs flailed in a spastic mid-air dance. Greasy smoke swirled behind the falling thing. Then Victor saw Hugo’s screaming face in the center of the blazing comet.

Hugo’s body struck the water with a sharp splash. Black smoke swirled and roiled across the disturbed surface. What was left of Hugo bobbed once, then sank from sight.

Victor dashed across the rock ledge, folded into a crouch, and launched himself into a flat dive. Momentum carried him through the water, face down, eyes open. He let his body glide until he saw Hugo’s charred and sinking shape. He folded his torso, raised his legs for a dolphin kick, then froze.

A cloud of sediment boiled out of the depths, followed by a writhing flash of blue and green. The neon blur whipped towards Hugo’s corpse. Not believing his own eyes, Victor saw huge jaws close around the sinking body. A plume of crimson erupted into the clouded water. Hugo’s body vanished.

The last thing Victor saw was a plumed tail sweeping through a water-borne cloud of muddy sediment and crimson blood. 

Victor’s lungs screamed. He stared into the depths, but Hugo was gone. The thing, whatever it was, had disappeared. The unclean cloud beneath the water rolled in on itself, as if sucked along by the passage of some monstrous current. And that passage went east, toward the pyramid mound, the same direction his team of divers had gone.

Victor raised his head out of the water and pulled in a lungful of air. Swimming like an otter, he reached the ledge and lunged out onto the wet stone. Breathing hard and ragged, Victor fought his rising fear with a conscious effort of will.

Fear is the enemy. Fear is always the enemy. Mission first.

Doctor Death slowed his breathing. He snapped open the communications case and keyed a button.

“Grotto One, Base. Grotto One, Base. Anybody copy? Get out of the water. Charlie, anybody, repeat: Get out of the water right now.”

***

Darkness parted by artificial light, the hiss and gurgle of the regulator in her teeth, all familiar sights and sounds for Cat Lennett. She led the way through the rough underwater passageway. The lamps on her dive helmet stabbed dual beams of light into the void. Cat followed the light. Hector Rojas followed Cat.

Their path led them past fissures and rock chambers that opened on either side or below, voids of nothingness to lure a curious diver. Cat ignored these distractions.

An obvious route led east in a nearly straight line. The passageway resembled a lava tube, a rough tunnel less than ten meters in diameter. In some places, the tube narrowed to less than five. Cat stopped at intervals to fix arrow markers to the walls of the cavern. While she worked, Hector made mental notes of every detail. He noted patches of rock that were worn smooth where the passage bent left or right, and always on the inside of the bend.

The beam of Cat’s dive lamps swung up and then to the side. She thrust a hand into the light, so Hector saw the signal: Stop, Look Up. Hector rolled his vertical.

A flat mirror of quicksilver shone above them, the sure sign of open water and a new chamber. Hector saw Cat’s lamps turn to the right, and he chased her lights with his own. There, illuminated for the first time in centuries, a broad set of stairs cut into the drowned stone. 

 There was no need for signals. Hector was beside Cat, running his hands over the smooth rock, bumping into Cat’s exploring hand. Then she gripped his shoulder, pulled him, and they floated up the stairs. Their dive helmets broke through the shimmering ceiling.

The blackness of a millennium retreated from the glare of their electric lamps. The chamber that blazed before their eyes had been hewn by the hands of men, carved from living rock centuries before Córdoba took his first step onto Central American soil. The ancient room ran on past the range of their paltry modern light, and every surface save the ceiling was carved smooth and painted.

Cat turned her back on the eons, propped herself on the first stone tread, and pulled off her dive fins. Hector pushed himself out of the water until he was sitting on solid stone, then reached for the mouthpiece of his rebreather. Cat’s hand caught his wrist, and he saw her shake her head. Hand up, palm out: Wait.

She unclipped a small case from her dive harness. Inside it was an electronic meter. Cat keyed a button, then held the meter at arm’s length. After a few moments, a soft electronic beep pinged into the stillness. Cat read a display on the meter and reached for her mouthpiece.

The first breath of air filled Hector’s lungs. It tasted sweet and dank after the stale flatness of the rebreather. He tossed his fins higher on the stone stairs and turned to Cat, who was shaking her head.

“What the fuck, Hector? What the absolute fuck? Have you ever seen anything like this?”

The chamber swallowed the sound of her voice, as if refusing to give back an echo. Hector shook his head. The light of his lamps danced over carved stone.

“I have never seen anything like this because there is nothing like this. Mayan, maybe early classical period, but that is only my guess. I wish Lena were here. She would know.”

“Okay, first things first. We need to save our juice. Cut one lamp and power down the other.”

The shadows closed in as the lamps dimmed. Cat checked her dive watch, then peered at the dive computer strapped to her forearm.

“We’ve got about ten minutes here, max, then we need to head back to Grotto One. We look around, take photos, then get moving. Charlie is going to freak out when he sees this.”

Six stone treads climbed above the water level. Hector followed Cat, the dive gear cumbersome now that they were out of the water. Something on the edge of the last stair caught his eye. He leaned down for a closer look.

“Cat, look at this.”

A narrow band of neon blue and green was smeared across the smooth lip of the stair.

“Hector, Charlie’s not here to be a dick. Talk to me. What is that shit?”

“I do not know, Cat, but I have a guess. I think that this color has rubbed off of some aquatic creature. It must be free-swimming to leave marks like this.”

“But we’re above water level here.”

“I know. As I said, it is only a guess. Perhaps some sort of eel, a type of moray, maybe.”

“Underwater ruins and freshwater eels. This dive is going to keep you and that Lena chick very busy. C’mon, the clock is ticking.”

Hector ran a finger over the edge of the stair and then examined his fingertip. The slightest trace of blue and green shone under the glare of his headlamp. He wiped the finger on his wetsuit and rose to follow Cat.

The stairs topped out onto a smooth floor of stone. Beyond the stairs, a circular wall rose from the floor like an ancient well. The stone wall was thigh-high and three meters in diameter. A carved panel of stone rose from the far side of the well. Hector thought it looked like the back piece of an altar. 

A mirror of still water shimmered inside the ring of stone. Hector saw Cat lean over the water, then turn to look at the dark water they had just emerged from.

“This isn’t right.”

“What do you mean, Cat?”

“The water level is wrong. The water in this ring is at least two meters higher than the water in the cave.”

“Yes, I see it. What does that mean?”

“Water always seeks its own level. That means this well, or whatever it is, is not connected to the cave system. It must be a sealed pool, or else it leads to something not connected to the cave system.”

“I am beginning to not like this place.”

“And I’m beginning to agree with you. C’mon, five minutes and then we’re gone.”

Cat turned away from the well and walked across the stone floor. Hector followed the trail of her wet footprints. The nearest wall rose before them. The glow of their headlamps illuminated painted frescoes that ran away into darkness.

Hector’s eyes raced across the length of the painted wall, and then his scientist’s mind clicked into gear. Document this. Get to work. He unclipped a camera from his dive harness and began shooting photos. The strobe flash was blinding in the dim light.

Cat’s voice broke the stillness.

“Hector, what is this image here?”

He lowered the camera and blinked. When he was able to focus, he looked to where Cat was pointing.

The paint was mottled and stained by the passing centuries, but the image was clear enough. A long serpent twined across the stone, depicted in tones of faded green and blue. The serpent had the head of a crocodile with gaping jaws. The end of its tail was a flowing fan of red and yellow. A bright ruff of tendrils streamed out from behind the reptilian head. Hector recognized the creature in an instant.

“That’s Quetzalcoatl, the flying serpent god of the Aztecs. The Mayans had their own version. I think it was called Kukulkan. Lena will know. It was a giant feathered serpent that flew through the air. A very powerful god to the ancient people of Central America.”

 They passed a moment in silence. Cat stared at the painted monster. Then she spoke.

“If this thing is supposed to fly, why is it swimming underwater?”

Hector stared at the faded fresco, and then at the painted background surrounding the twisted serpent god. He turned to Cat.

“I think we should head back now.”

Cat nodded her head.

“I think so, too.”

***

Charlie Grayson pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What was that?”

“I said, here we are, alone at last.”

Charlie waved a hand. It fluttered in the dim glow of the LED lantern.

“C’mon, Lena, knock it off.”

“That’s not what you said in Miami.”

“This isn’t Miami, it’s the most important dive of my life. My whole future is riding on this one. I can’t afford any distractions.”

“Oh, so that’s all I am to you now, a distraction? What about our future, Charlie? Do you think about that?”

Charlie stared at Lena, felt the anger rising in his throat. Not many women can fill out a wetsuit like that, but I don’t need this shit right now.

“Lena, whatever that was is over. I don’t think about you at all, except as a part of this team.”

Lena backed away from Charlie, away from the circle of light, until she stood above the water’s edge.

“You son of a bitch.”

“Stop this shit right…”

Charlie was cut off by the buzz of the com-link. He snatched up the headset.

“Grotto One, Base. Anybody copy? Get out…”

Static squealed in Charlie’s ear, and he held the headset away. Then Victor’s voice was back, squeaking from the headset speaker.

“… repeat: Get out of the water right now.”

Charlie keyed the mic.

“Base, Grotto One. Base, Grotto One. Victor, repeat please.”

There was no response. Charlie checked the box and saw the signal indicator glowing red. He dropped the headset into the case.

Lena’s barbed voice cut out of the shadows.

“What the hell was that?”

In his confusion, Charlie lost the thread of his anger.

“I don’t know. Victor sounded scared, if that’s possible. Um, maybe you should move over here away from the water.”

“Yeah, and maybe you should go fuck yourself, asshole.”

Ignoring Lena, Charlie turned back to the com-link. He checked the connections, the battery, but the line indicator stayed red.

“Goddamnit.”

A faint pressure pulsed through the air. Charlie felt it, looked up in time to see the surface of the water swell in a way that was all wrong. Before he could shout a warning, a nightmare erupted.

A crashing wave broke out of the water below the grotto, and out of the wave a monstrous head full of grinning fangs. Enormous jaws lashed at Lena in a snake-fast strike. Her shrill scream echoed in the grotto. The scream trailed off to a death gurgle as the serpent’s teeth crushed her body. The spray of her blood was black in the dim light.

The monster dove beneath the water, Lena’s bloody limbs dangling from its stained fangs. The serpent’s body churning a black wave over the floor of the grotto. The surge toppled Charlie to the floor, and the retreating suction pulled him to the rocky edge. Only a lucky grab kept him from being sucked out of the grotto.

Charlie stared at the roiling water, then at the rock walls sprayed with Lena’s blood. His brain locked, clicked back on, and the message it screamed was loud and clear. He scuttled low and fast across the wet rock until he banged into the back wall of the grotto and cowered there, as far from the water as possible.

*** 

Pain, black water, the hiss of the regulator, and overriding everything, the metallic taste of terror rising in her throat. Cat fought the terror down, forced her body to work, willed her legs to scissor. She was battered, bloody, and choking on a wave of panic unlike anything she had ever known. Keep the fins moving, up-down, up-down. Just a little further, Cat, you can do it.

She and Hector had been halfway back to Grotto One. It was blind luck that saved her. The pressure changed, water pulsed, and Cat kicked for the wall. She just made it. Hector didn’t.

The thing was on them in the next second, a kaleidoscope of color plowing past the beam of her dive lamps. And huge fangs, fangs that gleamed white and crimson. Then she was battered against the rough rock, lamps gone dead, nothing but pounding rock and total blackness.

Cat curled herself into a hollow place, prey hiding from predator. She waited for the water to go still. Nothing moved, and still she lay motionless. Finally, she reached for her helmet. Her fingertips touched a broken lamp-mount, and hope died in her heart. She tried the second lamp, fumbled with the switch, and a single beam of light cut the darkness.

Visibility was almost zero. The water was murky with sediment raised by the monster’s onslaught. Then she saw a hand float out of the murk. It was Hector. He was trying to find her.

Her hand found his, squeezed to let him know she was there. His hand did not respond. Cat tried to pull Hector out of the swirling cloud, but there was no weight to the arm, no resistance. Then she saw the ragged meat where Hector’s shoulder should have been. Red tendrils drifted away from severed muscle and cleaved bone.

She flinched away from the disembodied arm, colliding into the rock behind her. Hector’s arm drifted into darkness, twisting in the water as if waving goodbye.

Cat pushed herself from the rock. She found the first route marker, then reversed her course towards the refuge of Grotto One, the com-link, and the rest of the team.  

Focus, keep your focus. Not far now. And then what? Out of the water, find the others, then worry about what next.

Cat kicked herself forward as fast as her bruised legs could push the fins. She knew she was bleeding and worried about blood in the water.

After what seemed like hours, she saw the last route marker. A flat shimmer of open water appeared above her head. She kicked her fins hard and rose like a dolphin.

Cat landed half out of the water, smacking the rock ledge like a snagged fish. Fingers clawed, fins splashed, and then she was out, dragging herself across the ledge like a lizard.

She spat out the mouthpiece, and her breath came in gasps. When she finally raised her head, she swung the beam of her lamp around the grotto. It was empty.

Gear and provisions were scattered across the stone floor as if washed by a strong surf. Cat’s voice was loud in the darkness.

“Hello? Anybody back there?”

The only answer was an echo.

***

Cat lay on the stone floor of the grotto. The darkness was absolute. She checked the glow of her dive watch. One hour had passed. It felt like an eternity.

The com-link was dead, the grotto empty, and she was completely alone. She didn’t know if anyone else was still alive. But there was at least one living thing in the water. She was certain of that.

In the first minutes of that eternal hour, she had tried the dead com-link. Then she found a water bottle and drank it down. With nothing left to do, she turned off her dive lamp and sat in darkness. It was easier to hide in the dark.

Ten minutes later, the surface below the rock ledge pulsed into a standing wave. Water sloshed up around her. The wave passed, moving in the direction of the cenote. Since then, nothing.

The Kukulkan monster was still down there, prowling the water between Cat and the world above ground. That left her two choices. Sit here until she dies or force herself back under the water. For now, she lay in darkness.

A soft splash echoed off the walls, then a long beat of silence. Cat’s heart leaped into her throat. One heartbeat, two, and then a deep voice broke the silence.

“Anyone here?”

“Victor, it’s me, Cat.”

“Hey, Girl, keep it dark. I’m using infrared goggles.”

There was a pause, then a quick splash, the sound of water dripping on rocks.

“Where you at?”

“Here, over here.”

She heard neoprene against rock, wet hands slapping stone, then felt a firm touch on her leg.

“Gotcha. Anybody else?”

Cat groped in the dark, found Victor’s shoulder, leaned into him.

“Hector’s dead. Some fucking huge eel thing bit his arm off. I don’t know about Charlie or Lena.”

“Easy, Cat. Lena’s gone. I found her down below the ledge. Not much to find, just her head. Didn’t look so good under infrared.”

“For fuck’s sake, Victor.”

“Yeah, sorry. Look here, Hugo’s dead, too. Came flaming over the lip of that cenote like a comet. Then that damn sea monster grabbed his ass. The camp’s burnt to ashes, sat-phone melted. Don’t know what happened up there, but we got fuck-all gear to go back to.”

“So, Hugo, Lena, and Hector are all dead. Charlie’s missing, the camp is burned, no comm with the outside, and we’re trapped in here. Can’t get much worse.”

Victor laughed, an unbelievable sound in the dark.

“Rabbi says it can always get worse. We swim back, we gotta make the decomp stops. Can’t walk forty miles, crippled with the bends. We’d be sitting ducks in the open water. That big snake fucker will gobble us up like Scooby snacks. Hate to say it, but I’m low on options.”

“You came in dark, right? Did you see that thing?”

“Saw him swim under the cenote and then further west. Soon as he was gone, I headed in here.”

“But why, Vic?”

“We don’t leave no one behind, that’s why.”

Cat thought of what she would do faced with the same choice. Then she remembered Hector’s arm floating in the murk, and the chamber they had found.

“What if there’s another way?”

“You got something to tell, tell it.”

Tight against Victor, the words spilled out. She told Victor about the man-made chamber, the painted walls, the well in the middle of the floor.

When she finished, Victor gave a low whistle.

“How far do you figure?”

“Maybe a thousand meters.”

“Which puts it under that pyramid mound.”

“Of course. And if those Mayan painters climbed down from the pyramid…”

“Maybe we climb out. Cat, we need to go now, while Mr. Squiggles is somewhere else.”

“Mr. Squiggles?”

“Lots of things tried to kill me. Half-starved boys with AK-47s, bad guys with Russian rockets, now it’s Mr. Squiggles. Can’t pronounce his real name, and it don’t matter to me. I want to see tomorrow, so let’s not die today.”

***

The dive to the Mayan chamber became an eternity of fear. Cat tethered to Victor, following blind and helpless. Time stopped altogether. And in that underwater night, she imagined white-fanged jaws waiting to knife her body in half. A lifetime passed before the tether finally tugged her upwards.

Then Victor’s hands were on her, pushing her onto the stone stairs. She scrambled up blind, clawed her way out of the black water, and into another darkness. The tether went taut, and she stopped. A hand found her shoulder and squeezed.

“Okay, goggles are off. Light it up.”

Blackness erupted into blazing light. Cat shielded her eyes, waited for them to adjust. Then she clicked on her own lamp.

Victor was already out of his dive fins. He unclipped the tether line and dropped it to the wet stone.

“You weren’t kidding. This is some Indiana Jones shit right here.”

Cat peeled the respirator out of her mouth.

“Thank you, Victor.”

The big man waved a hand.

“Thank me when we’re out of here. Let’s get to searching.”

Victor squelched away to the nearest wall. Cat stepped up to the stone well. The carved altarpiece glowed in the darkness. She bent forward and peered down into the well. Her headlamp knifed a beam of light beneath the surface of the still. Then a scream burst from her throat, a scream that rebounded through the ancient chamber.

What was left of Charlie Grayson drifted beneath the circle of water. Dead eyes stared up at Cat, eyes frozen in terror. His lips were grey, pulled back from his teeth in a rictus grin. The two halves of his body were connected by a mess of tangled viscera.

Cat stumbled backwards, stopping only when she fell into Victor. He steadied her, then stepped forward to look into the well. A low whistle broke from his lips.

“Damn, Charlie. That is some fucked up shit. Sorry, Boss.”

He turned to Cat, hands on her shoulders, and led her away from the ghastly well.

“C’mon, nothing we can do for Charlie. We still gotta find a way out, right? Let’s go.”

Cat followed Victor. She did not see where she was going, did not see the painted monster on the rock walls. Her entire vision was filled with the image of Charlie’s staring eyes, his death-head grin, and his spilled entrails.

Victor’s voice filled her ears but did nothing to drive the horrible vision from her mind.

“Cat, stay with me, I need you here.”

Then she heard another voice, a voice she’d known for years. It was a voice she would never hear again.

Knock it off, Cat. This dive is my shot, maybe my last shot. I need you with me on this. You’re the bullet on the dive line, the get-it-done lead diver.

Cat Lennett shook her head, fought for focus. A dark rock chamber, mottled paintings on the walls, a good friend with his hand on her shoulder. And a chance to live. But only if she got it together. She grabbed Victor’s hand, gave it a hard squeeze.

“Okay, let’s get the fuck out of here. I want to see tomorrow.”

Victor’s smile blazed in the light of her lamp.

“That’s the Cat Lennett I know. Let’s move.”

They followed the wall to where the frescoes gave way to shadow. Victor poked his head into the gap, and it burst into light for the first time in centuries.

“Shit yeah, there’s a passageway here.”

He disappeared inside, then popped back out.

“It’s mostly blocked with stone, but there’s stairs past that. It’s gonna be a squeeze. We gotta shed all our gear.”

“I’m keeping my dive knife.”

“Damn straight, Cat.”

Cat shook her head.

“Barefoot and empty-handed into the jungle. Not what I signed on for.”

“We’re lucky if we end up barefoot in the jungle. Least we ain’t naked. You ain’t prepared to see my full monty.”

A laugh burst from Cat, an impossible laugh in an impossible place.

“Once we’re out of here, will you try that line on me again?”

“You know I will.”

“Now I got something to stay alive for.”

She reached for the buckles on her dive harness.

***

The ascent proved both quicker and less frightening than Cat imagined. The air in the narrow passages was musty with the centuries, but it held no menace. No huge jaws leered out of the blackness.

They squeezed past blocks of fallen stone, climbed broken stairs. Faded frescoes leapt into the light, the twisted shape of Kukulkan daubed in ancient paint. She forced herself to look away, to search the darkness for a way to the light.

The last obstacle was the most difficult. Cat and Vic were trapped by a latticework of roots and tangled vines. They tried to push a way through the interlocked growth, but it was like trying to push aside iron bars.

Wielding their diving knives like machetes, they sawed and hacked a narrow hole through the tough vines. When they finally emerged into the fast-fading light of evening, they were scratched and bleeding.

Cat swept out her arm in a grand gesture. Her neoprene suit hung in tatters.

“This exotic jungle getaway can be yours.”

Doctor Death did not miss his cue.

“See strange creatures and become their dinner.”

Cat dropped her arm and turned to Vic.

“Dinner sounds good.”

“And a beer. Dark comes quick here. We need to be stepping.”

He pointed to where the sun hung just above the jungle canopy.

“Due west to the camp. Maybe those Mayan dudes made a road. Let’s find it.”

They scrambled down the ruined pyramid and into the shadows.

***

Cat leaned back under the makeshift mosquito netting and took a long drink of warm beer. They’d made a new camp on the edge of the clearing, away from the cenotes and Mayan monsters.

Starlight set the clearing aglow. Cat saw the humps of the burned-out vehicles that marked the old camp. They’d salvaged what there was. It wasn’t much. The flames had found the stored fuel, and the camp had gone up in a fireball.

Vic lay propped up on one elbow. He gnawed a piece of jerky and waited for an answer.

“You sure about this, Vic?”

The big man snorted around a mouthful of jerky. Cat heard the gurgle of beer, and the clank of an empty can tossed aside.

“Yesterday, I was sure sea monsters didn’t exist. Knew it for a fact. Tonight, I know they’re as real as death and taxes. Not certain about much, but I’m betting Mexico is our best choice.”

“And we just forget all about this nightmare?”

“I’m sure as hell gonna try. What do we tell the Guatemalans? Some Mayan monster killed four divers, burned our camp, our passports, and all our money. We’re gonna be stuck in a jail cell for a long time while the local jefes try to figure out what to do with us. We got nothing. No story, no pull, and no bribe money.”

“And what do we tell the Mexicans?”

“We don’t tell them shit, Cat. I know some federales, bad-ass hombres from the narco squad. They owe me a few very deep favors. A couple of phone calls, maybe one night in a village jail, then we’re on a private jet winging it back to the States.”

“You think we can make it?”

“Ain’t gonna be fun, but yeah, we can make it. It’s forty miles back to Flores. The nearest road on the Mexican side is about fifteen miles. Forty miles of bad road, fifteen miles of jungle, probably same-same.”

“Okay, we make it back to the States. Then what?”

“Plenty of time to worry about that. Maybe you get up an expedition, come back here and get famous. But if you do, better bring some heavy artillery. Maybe you write a book. Hell, maybe you run off to Barbados with me, where we live happy as pigs in sin and squalor. Fuck if I know.”

Cat gave him a dig with her foot.

“Alright, Mexico it is. I’m never coming back here, and I don’t know how to write a book. I’m hoping we can sort out the sin and squalor later.”

***

They set out the next morning, before the slanting fingers of sunlight touched the ruined camp. Vic avoided the rim of the big cenote, and Cat did not look down into the shadowed water.

As they pushed into the wall of jungle, the jungle screamed in protest. A bright rainbow of parrots and macaws swirled and squawked into the morning sky. The birds circled above the intruders in a blur of green and blue, yellow and red. The ragged flock flew out over the waters of the cenote. The dark mirror reflected the kaleidoscope of bright feathers above.

And beneath the mirrored water, another coil of neon swirled and writhed. The monster twisted in the depths. Iridescent tendrils flowed out from behind its massive jaws. The festooned tail pushed the massive body sleek and silent through the still water. Then the hideous head vanished into a black passage, and the undulating body followed. With a last flick of its huge tail, the creature disappeared.

The sacrifices would return. The passing of centuries meant nothing. Kukulkan knew how to wait.

Finis

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The Wrong Name

Stories from the darker edge

The Wrong Name – Stories from the Darker Edge, stories of the darkness that lies within us, and the occasional glimmer of hope that keeps us afloat in the shadows. Doppelgangers and crones, artificial and human intelligence gone wrong, murder, revenge, tragedies embraced, and fates narrowly avoided. Reluctant heroes tire of the chase and ghosts relive the past. Bodies must be disposed of, corpses arise, and dreams damned. Here is magick, for good or ill. Twenty-one tales of darkness, and the occasional glimmer of hope that keeps us afloat in the shadows. Welcome, Reader, to The Wrong Name.

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The Wrong Name gathers twenty-one of author Marco Etheridge’s best dark short stories into a single volume. These are speculative tales from the darker edge. Within these pages live characters bearing the wrong name, unrepentant, untethered, and unforgiven. Good choices are made and bad; others that are downright evil. Here are doppelgangers and crones, artificial and human intelligence gone wrong. Murder and revenge, tragedies embraced, and fates narrowly avoided. Reluctant heroes tire of the chase and ghosts relive the past. There are bodies to be disposed of, corpses arisen, and dreams damned. Here is magick, both benevolent and not. Twenty-one tales of the darkness that lies within us, and the occasional glimmer of hope that keeps us afloat in the shadows. Welcome, Reader, to The Wrong Name.

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Publisher: Marco Etheridge Fiction
Publication Year: 2023
Length: Collected Stories
ASIN: B0C9DTRZYQ
ISBN: 9798399322612
List Price: 10.95
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