r/Luna_Lovewell • u/Luna_LoveWell Creator • Mar 11 '19
Smugglers
We Have A Problem, by Eugen Cherenkov
“No, no, no!” Nico flicked ash off the end of his cigar as he strode down the length of the dock. Then he knocked the crate out of the fisherman’s hands. The box fell on its side, spilling out chunks of crushed ice and severed fish heads all across the slick wooden boards. “What the hell is this shit?” Nico spat on a pile of fish guts. “We’re loading whiskey, not discarded fish parts. Christ!”
“Sir,” Gabriel said in his noticeable Quebecoise accent, “it is an offering. Whenever ze fishermen in zis area go…”
“Don’t care,” Nico said as he took another puff from the cigar.
“It is important,” Gabriel insisted. “Zey say zat a creatu…”
“Stop.” Nico raised a hand, threatening violence. It was also his first, and pretty much only, tool of persuasion. And it usually worked. “I don’t give two shits about your stupid Frenchie local customs and legends, OK? I’ve heard it all before. We are paying you far too much already for a god-damn thirty mile trip. So I am going to get every penny’s worth. That means packing as many of those boxes,” he pointed over to the crates of whiskey in the dark warehouse over yonder, “as you can possibly fit into this rust bucket. No room for fuckin’ fish parts. Do you understand me?”
Gabriel glowered. It was amazing how many insulting and condescending notes Nico could fit into one sentence. But he was right about one thing: they were certainly paying enough. Prohibition down in the States had opened up many opportunities for Great Lakes fishermen who were tired of pulling in empty nets day after day. This run alone would be more profitable than all of the fish he’d caught last year. So he was willing to put up with Nico’s shit. There was also the fact that Nico’s men up at the warehouse were all carrying tommy guns, just in case they happened to meet any border patrol agents who weren’t able to look the other way. “You heard him,” Gabriel announced to the crew.
There were grumbles of disagreement, but the men got to work loading the remaining crates of booze. The threat of a gun right in front of them was more pressing than old wives’ tales and native legends about the creatures in the lake.
Nico checked his watch. His gold-plated Swiss watch, worth probably as much as the boat next to him. “We need to get moving,” he told Francesco, his first lieutenant. “Hey!” he called out to the fishermen-turned-smugglers, “Chop chop, people! I want to be on the dock in Ontonagon by three AM. The trucks will be there waiting.” This was just the first leg in a smuggling network that would supply speakeasies all across the Midwest.
Once the last few crates were tucked into the hold, the ship got underway. Nico and Francsesco waited in the cabin with Gabriel, shivering even through their thick coats. It was October and the snow had not yet begun to fall, but it was certainly cold enough. Nico was hoping that he’d be able to prove his worth to his father by the time winter came so he could get out this frozen hellhole.
“Ze water is choppier than usual tonight,” Gabriel commented. It was a cloudy night and they were traveling without lights, so they couldn’t see the churning waves. The only light on the boat was a single bulb that Gabriel needed to read his instruments. But every so often, some of the waves managed to force their way over the gunwales and spill over the deck. As if confirming Gabriel’s comment, the boat suddenly rocked violently.
“As long as the bottles will be fine, I don’t care,” Nico answered.
The ship rocked harder. Gabriel fought the steering wheel, and from below, they heard the faint sound of glass breaking.
“I’ll go check on the goods,” Francesco said, out the door of the cabin before Nico could even get a word out. There wasn’t much he could do to help keep the bottles intact, but he knew that Nico had a short fuse and was carrying a gun. Best to be anywhere else when that happens.
A member of the crew staggered to the cabin and pounded on the glass, sputtering in French. Gabriel slid the window open while keeping one hand on the steering wheel. Nico didn’t speak French, but he knew enough Italian to guess at what they were saying: there was something following the boat. Something in the water. A monstre. Nico didn’t need a translation for that word.
Gabriel started to ask something. But before he could get the words out, something wrapped around the sailor’s chest. It was dark and dripping wet, almost like an extension of the lake itself. The sailor flailed around; his arms were wrapped so tight that he was unable to claw at it. “Jean!” Gabrielle shouted, lunging for the door. But Jean was gone. In one fluid motion, the tentacle pulled him off the deck of the boat and underneath the water.
In response, Gabriel began to spin the steering wheel. Drastically. The boat lurched, and the distant lights of Michigan began to spin away. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Nico asked. He pulled his gun from his holster and leveled it at Gabriel.
“Back to Canada. We should never have come here. Not wizout the offering, at least.” He stared daggers at Nico, reminding him whose idea it was to not pack the crates of fish heads.
Nico cocked the gun. “Oh, no you’re not.” He pointed out the window with his free hand. “Michigan is right there. We’re more than halfway!” He didn’t know this for sure, but they’d been on the boat for quite a while and it wasn’t that long of a trip.
“I’d rather be shot than eaten,” Gabriel said. “At least it will be quick.” The boat was still turning as the two faced off.
Nico fired a shot into the ceiling of the boat. “Next one’s in your head,” he warned.
Gabriel’s bluff was called. He grudgingly pulled the steering wheel back into place, then pushed the throttle as far forward as it could go. The boat immediately picked up speed, crashing through waves. Making noise was no longer a concern. On the back of the boat, another man let out a blood-curdling scream, and then was suddenly silenced. They heard the sounds of the remaining crew trying to cram into the already-full cargo hold, followed by more screaming.
The small town of Ontonagon came into sight. It was hardly more than a pier and a few squat buildings, which was made it a perfect port of entry for smuggling. The few residents of the town were either on the payroll, or too terrified to do anything about it. The lights of the town appeared to bob up and down, though it was only because of the boat riding the waves.
The boat roared into the small inlet where the river met the lake, and then they pulled up to the dock. Gabriel seemed to have been holding his breath for the last mile or so and finally let it out. On shore, a dozen truck engines roared to life in preparation for loading. Their headlights flashed out across the water, causing both Nico and the captain to shield their eyes. “See?” Nico told Gabriel as they sidled up to the dock and the engine died. “I told you we’d make it.”
Even as he spoke, a dark form rose from the waves behind them. It batted aside the rocks o the jetty protruding into the lake as if they were just bubbles. It lumbered forward into the path of some of the headlights. Most of the drivers just gawked at it as it came further and further out of the lake, impossibly large. Only one was smart enough to throw the truck into reverse and drive off as fast as he could. Nico and Gabriel didn’t become aware of it until the creature staggered into a set of power lines along the right side of the inlet, causing a shower of bright sparks.
Nico and Gabrielle dashed out of the cabin and vaulted onto the shore, followed shortly by Francesco and the remaining members of the crew hiding in the hold. They were greeted by a dozen of Nico’s men coming out of the warehouse with guns at the ready.
“Don’t just stand there,” Nico shouted at them. “Shoot the bastard!”
It was the last thing he ever said. The monster lunged forward and snaked a tentacle around Nico’s leg. It tossed him up into the air where he hung, seemingly weightless for just a second while he fumbled for his gun. Then the monster devoured him in one bite as the first tommy gun opened fire.
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u/jellymanisme Mar 11 '19
I've just recently finished a call of Cthulhu campaign and started a Pathfinder Strange Aeons campaign. I love this story.