The Moon Island Fishing Club
It was March, and the last blocks of melting ice rolled down the river into Lake Huron. In those days, the five members of the Moon Island Fishing Club still met at Henry Roe’s house.
In the cellar, aquariums filled with freshwater predators lined the block walls. A walleye watched a skulking pike while a burbot fanned the bottom of its own glass enclosure. None of them seemed to realize they were prisoners. The members milled about loosely, sipping coffee while Henry stared quietly at an empty tank in the corner, wondering if he’d lost his mind.
Leo walked over and interrupted his thoughts with a clap on the back. “No shame in not having caught a red mouth. Few of us have.” He flashed a stinging smile at Henry.
Before Henry could react, Linda interjected. “We’re not a bunch of weekenders here, Leo.” Leo’s smile wilted and fell even further when Linda placed her hand on Henry’s shoulder.
“Enough with the socializing. Let’s get started,” Leo bellowed. “Today is the hundredth anniversary of the Moon Island Fishing Club.”
The brothers John and Earl clapped. Leo smiled. Linda moved aside as Henry stepped forward to speak. “I’ve planned everything out for us,” he said.
Leo rolled his eyes. “Always with the plans.”
Henry ignored this. “I’ve already loaded the boat.”
The group headed to the river and loaded into a large boat with a black outboard motor. Henry pulled the starter cord, and the motor roared to life. John and Earl flicked on the fore-and-aft lights, and they were off.
As they pushed into Lake Huron, the air grew colder. Henry steered the heavy-hulled boat through the middling chop while the other members sat quietly in their seats. There was a blend of curiosity and fear riding amongst them, masked by the constant drone of the motor. Only Leo, who was staring into the dusk, looked at ease.
The bow struck a wave, sending a spray of water into John’s face. It felt like a cold, wet slap waking him up.
He leaned toward Leo. “What do you think is there?” he asked.
Leo studied John’s eyes and noticed the others watching him as well. He knew they all wanted to hear the story, hoping there’d be something new this time, something that would clear up the mystery. As Leo cleared his throat, everyone except Henry leaned in.
“A hundred years ago today, in Georgian Bay, Cornelius Wheeler came across a wreck on the rocks near the island. It was unlike anything he’d seen before. By the looks of the splayed metal, nothing could be done, and he thought maybe there would be something to salvage—maybe something he could sell.
“As he looked through the wreckage, something called out. It came from nowhere he could see. The wind picked up, and the waves began to whitecap, spraying water all over the rocky outcropping.
“A thought came into his mind, small and weak at first, then stronger. It told him what he must do. He found a lever on the busted hull and pulled it. A compartment opened. It spoke—but not in words. A brilliant, pulsing ball—it hurt his eyes to look at it.”
Leo paused. The others waited.
“Before he died, Cornelius told me it needed to wait a hundred years in that wet sand. A day more or less, and we were to forget it. It needs to be unearthed in the hour of the Worm Moon after the 100th winter.”
Earl looked at John, whose question Leo, as always, failed to answer. “But what do you think it is?” Earl asked.
Leo grunted. “I don’t think even Cornelius knew the answer to that.”
“You know more than you say,” John said accusingly.
Leo looked at John with disdain. “Why? Because I knew the man? Because I could describe what his pipe smelled like?”
“Did he ever say anything else, Leo?” Linda asked.
Leo nodded slowly. “When he first told me the story, he said it already started to change color by the time he buried it.” Leo looked out into the water and took a long haggard breath. “He said that one day, it’d be ready to help us.”
No one said anything after that.
Where they beached the boat, the island was lit only by the moon. Trees cast shadowy fingers over the yellow sand, and rocky outcroppings looked like giant turtle shells.
Henry tossed four shovels onto the beach at the feet of the rest.
“Didn’t you bring a shovel for yourself, Henry?” Earl asked.
“The president doesn’t dig boy-yo,” Leo answered. Leo looked up at Henry. “Isn’t that right?”
Henry jumped out of the boat with a large canvas sack over his shoulder. “Yes. Somebody has to tend the light,” he said, patting the bag. “Let’s get a move on. We want to make sure we have plenty of time.”
They picked up their shovels and began walking.
Henry lingered behind the others, walking slowly, listening to their conversations. He stopped when his canvas sack began to squirm—first once, slowly, then harder—and tightened the rope before continuing along the moonlit beach.
Chapter 2: 100 years ago
Cornelius visited the island incessantly after burying the ball.
One day, he caught several dozen small fish while cast-netting the shore. They were dark green, with bony plating, and the inside of their gasping mouths was bright red. Hatchlings, he thought as he looked them over in the net. When he picked one up, it stiffened, driving spines into his hand. The hand immediately felt tight and thrummed. He released the fish and went home.
He slept fitfully that night until the pain subsided. When he woke in the morning, he knew what had to be done.
On all but the windiest, rainiest days, he fished the bay of Moon Island. In the winter, he axed holes in the ice to set his traps. Sometimes he slept on the island. After that first year, there were never any more hatchlings. Whatever had brought them couldn’t reproduce them here. Eventually, his bad hand turned the red of the fish’s mouth. His grip weakened.
He needed help to continue his work.
One day while stretching his nets, a skinny, freckled boy wandered into his yard.
“Excuse me, sir,” the boy said, watching Cornelius. “I’m looking for work.”
Cornelius studied the boy, then shook his head.
But the boy didn’t turn away. He grabbed the other half of the net, straightened it, and unfurled it across the yard. A big hole in the center became apparent.
“What did that?”
“A parasite,” Cornelius answered.
“A what?” the boy asked.
“Never mind.” Cornelius said, pausing as he looked at the boy again.
“How old are you, son?”
“12.”
“You’re big for 12. What’s your name?”
“Leo.”
“I’m Cornelius,” he said, looking around, then back at Leo. “Maybe you can help me.”
“What do you pay?”
“Rewarding work is what you’ll get.”
“Mister, listen, I’m looking for work. Not to be a slave.”
“Slave? No.” Cornelius heard these words come from his mouth, but they were not his. He didn’t know why he’d said them. It continued, “What you’ll be is something much more important than a slave.”
The boy tilted his head. “What do you mean?”
“Come out with me, and I’ll show you,” Cornelius watched himself say. “You’ll understand. We have important work to do.”
The boy caught one of the monsters on his first night. Cornelius taught the boy that the fish were to be dispatched immediately and thrown back into the water to rot. Not to be touched for too long. Never to be eaten. Cornelius’s hand throbbed as he explained.
Later in his life, Cornelius wished he had killed the net full he released as a young man. It would have made It happy. It would have made him happy.
Chapter 3: Back to Moon Island
Water ebbed and flowed onto the beach at their feet, with Leo leading the way.
“It’s just up ahead,” he said, without bothering to look back. The others followed silently, their nervous faces hidden by the night. Leo had waited a long time for this day.
A great swirl of water rolled through the shallows, startling the group to a stop.
“What the hell was that?” John said, as they all stared into the dark.
The bag began to writhe, and Henry felt a great thorn-like pain sear into his back. He fought back the urge to yell out.
“Goddamn it, we don’t have time to be stopping like this,” Leo said, his tone menacing.
“Why don’t you tell us what we don’t have time for?” Linda shot back.
Leo turned to face the group, shovel riding his shoulder, the whites of his eyes prominent in the moonlight.
“Can’t you feel it thrumming through your feet?” he said, a smile spreading across his face.
Something in his tone unsettled Henry, who had outlasted the squirming bag and now watched as the group stood silently. Henry could feel his feet growing warmer and a light pulse in his soles.
“We don’t even know what we’re digging up,” Linda said, still watching for signs of the thing that stirred the water. “How do we know Cornelius wasn’t crazy?”
Leo seized a large rock and threw it. Turning back to Linda, he yelled, “It’s too late to question this.”
“We should vote,” Linda said defiantly.
Before Leo could say anything, Earl spoke: “I feel it too, Leo.”
“So do I,” John added.
“Then you understand, boys,” Leo said. “What about you, Henry?”
Henry nodded.
Leo looked back at Linda. “We don’t need you. Go back to the boat.”
Linda stared through Leo, past the trees, hoping she’d find something to say to justify her fear. Instead, she just stood there as Leo walked away, followed by John and Earl. The water swirled again, and the bag began to move, but both stilled when Henry patted the burlap.
Linda looked up at Henry, searching his face.
“I don’t understand this,” she said.
“I don’t think we’re meant to,” Henry answered, before cradling her face with his hand, his fingers disappearing in her hair. Their eyes locked.
“Go back to the boat,” he whispered.
“I won’t,” she answered.
“Is there a problem, Mr. President?” Leo sneered.
“Let’s just move,” Henry replied.
Chapter 4
Despite tales of boats disappearing from nearby waters and claims of rancid smells blowing across the bay to the docks in Bell Harbor, the island drew no visitors, even before that odd night when they dug up what Cornelius buried.
They followed Leo over the rocks and through the trees, with no one saying another word. A putrid smell fell over them, and the cracking ground ahead on the beach made it apparent they had arrived.
Under the light of the moon, the four dug while Henry held the light from above, the bag still over his shoulder. Ground flew from their shovels as they worked in silence. They were shoulder-deep when they saw a glow peek out from under the sand.
“No more shovels, hands only,” Leo barked.
The four threw their shovels out of the hole up by Henry, who pulled the bag off his shoulder quietly without the rest noticing.
“God, look at the colors,” Earl said, gently pushing the earth away. The four used their hands to move soil, revealing what looked like a giant crystal ball uncovered to the shoulder. Then they stood up, surrounding it.
It pulsed in a heartbeat-like rhythm with varying intensities of white, yellow, and green. No longer needing the light to see, Henry flicked it off.
“Don’t stare at it,” Henry said from above, untying the rope of his bag.
But it was too late.
As the moon peaked overhead, patterns began to appear in the orb, and the visions later recollected by the four who stood around it diverged at this point.
John and Earl, perhaps because they shared a womb, both saw dazzling purple lights like thrumming polka dots against a sunlight-white background. They later said the thing was a symbol of Christ, set to return the world to its pristine origins.
Linda saw a soft pink glow and felt it was the heart of the world, risen to bring love to all mankind.
Leo refused to discuss what he had seen.
As the four continued to stare, Henry pulled the red mouth out of the bag and put his hand inside its great mouth. The fish closed its lips around his wrist without biting him and then stiffened its body like metal, resembling an oval shield with long spines coming out of its back. Linda, Leo, John, and Earl stood in a square around the egg and didn’t notice its tentacles rising out of the ground behind them. None of them have any recollection of what happened next, and Henry never told them.
When Henry jumped into the hole, the thing reacted instantly, intensifying its light.
“It’s no use you son of a bitch,” he told it as the others continued staring into it mindlessly.
A large tentacle wrapped around Henry’s neck and pulled him to the ground.
Images bombarded Henry’s mind, but the wound in his back began throbbing, filling his body with red mouth venom, and as he pried the tentacle off, the elixir pushed into his veins and the visions went away. He struggled to his feet and stepped toward the ball.
Linda attacked first. She had bruises on her jaw for weeks afterward from where he knocked her out cold, though she didn’t remember how she got them.
Without a word, John and Earl charged Henry, and pinned him to the ground.
As he struggled, Leo stepped forward and began speaking in an unrecognized tongue. His eyes were the same color as the egg now and mirrored its color changes. White, yellow, green; white, yellow, green. He began strangling Henry.
“Get off me,” Henry yelled just before he lost his breath.
As his head pressed deeper into the sand, Henry could feel John raining blow after blow upon the fish still attached to his right arm. He tried pushing back against Leo’s hands, but the weight of the man lying on his body was more than he could overcome. The sharp pain of the red mouth’s teeth was almost a relief compared to the throttling. As the blood poured down his hand into the fish’s throat, he felt a searing pain as the lips became one with his own skin. The great fish—now part of Henry—writhed away from John’s grip, sticking its formidable spines into its captor’s stomach, and the man fell back, doubling over in pain. Leo released Henry’s neck and grabbed one of the fish’s gill plates tearing it off easily. Henry took a great breath and bellowed in pain as Leo pushed his hand into the opening where the gill plate had been, pushing past the exposed gills. The fish tried to free itself again, but Leo pinned it down with his body and forced his arm into the fish’s sternum while bones popped and an exhausted air of death emanated from inside.
Leo pulled his arm from inside the fish and stood up, holding a heart in his bloody hand.
The great ball pulsed with delight.
Leo motioned to Earl, who let Henry’s limp arm go and stood up. A swirl at the water’s edge got their attention. As they climbed out and walked towards the water, a tentacle followed behind them like a snake. The water near the shore boiled with activity as the tentacle found its way into the lake and began to drink. As it did, the ball grew.
Chapter 5
And grew quickly; its soft body pushing into John, Henry, and Linda, who lay prone next to it. A strong odor saturated the air as the sound of crunching sand grew louder, drowning out the heavy, unconscious breathing of the three.
Henry’s eyes snapped fully open, and as he looked down at the fish lying dead and limp on his right arm, he felt the ball’s mental attacks pounding at his temples in a rhythmic thrum. He knew it would be strong enough to break in soon, even with the red mouth venom still inside him. He sat up.
Earl and Leo were at the water’s edge guarding the drinking tentacle from the red mouths gathered in the shallows. They swam in circles, their spiny dorsal fins cutting the water while they watched the hole with fierce, focused eyes. The thing, aware of their presence, glowed happily from its safe position. Henry saw Earl and Leo meant for the thing to drink and grow without interruption.
As he stood up, Henry felt dizzy, stumbling slightly before catching himself. He watched his blood trickle out of the fish’s missing gill plate, run towards its tail, and fall into the sand.
He crawled out of the hole and down to the water.
The ball began strobing intensely, but Earl and Leo didn’t notice as Henry slipped in to his waist.
Henry pried at the fish’s lips with his free hand, but the lake water did little to loosen the connection between Henry and his red mouth. As he crouched in the water, the ball continued to expand like bread dough rising out of the sand and now strobed an ominous red. Leo and Earl looked toward the ball and then slowly back at him. Their eyes were now red. They ran towards Henry as he turned and swam deeper to get away.
With only one useful arm, they caught Henry quickly and began to drag him back to shore.
A red mouth grabbed Leo’s arm and pulled him away from Henry, out into deep water. Kicking and screaming, he fought as the fish dragged him away. Earl let go of Henry, intent on racing to shore, but got hammered by another red mouth before he could get shallow enough to be safe.
For a second, Henry lay face down and didn’t move. In the dark water, something circled. Bigger than the others that had taken Leo and Earl. Nearly half the size of Henry himself. Slowly it worked its way up to the unconscious man and began to eat its brother, careful to get its lips over the flesh on Henry’s forearm. Then it bit down, drawing more precious blood, and Henry’s head jolted out of the water.
Henry walked towards the shore with the much larger fish on his arm, tail dragging the sand. The tips of its spines glistened, and the ball started to strobe desperately at his approach. He stumbled up the beach, dizzily making his way forward.
Something at the base of the ball moved.
Henry stopped and watched cautiously. Linda squirmed out from underneath the ball’s gelatinous body, her hair a mess, clothes covered in slime. A smile spread across her face as she picked up a shovel and charged. Henry held the fish-arm up to block the blow of the shovel, and the handle broke over the fish’s ridged back. Before she could do any more, Henry kicked her in the stomach, and she fell away as the ball exploded with color; vivid, unreal colors at a pace so fast Henry felt disoriented. He heard his father behind him yelling horrible obscenities, cursing him for his useless life. Henry strode forward, the fish rigid as steel on his arm. He saw unknown and uncountable bodies lying on the beach all around him and felt guilty for their deaths. He shook this away and raised his arm. Then it spoke to him:
“Henry. This is a mistake. I am here to help you.”
The words seemed to echo in Henry’s mind.
“No,” he said, dragging himself closer. “I know what you are.”
“No, Henry. You know what those diseases showed you. Did they tell you they’re a parasite? That they stowed away on my ship? They aren’t what you think, Henry. They’re dangerous parasites.”
Henry looked down at the fish attached to his arm. Rigid. Ready. Waiting.
“I don’t blame you, Henry,” the ball spoke into his mind. “It’s not your fault.”
Henry’s knees buckled, and he fell to the sand in front of the egg. Maybe he’d lost his mind, he thought. Listening to a fish…
The ball stopped strobing and turned a darker color. In the moonlight, he saw his reflection in the dark mass.
It’d feel so good to sleep.
“Lie down, Henry,” the thing purred to him.
He started to close his eyes when he saw Leo lunge at him in the reflection. He let himself fall completely to the ground, and Leo dove headfirst into the thing, rupturing it. Pus-like fluid hemorrhaged from the place he’d struck, and the voice in Henry’s head subsided.
The thing turned a violent shade of red, and Henry watched Leo stand up, looking lost.
“Henry! My God—what happened to you?” Leo said.
The red mouth at the end of Henry’s arm began squirming, and Henry stood up, lifted the fish above his head, and tomahawk’d its spines into the giant wounded ball. The ball swelled instantly, lumps forming all over its surface. Henry fell onto his back; a tentacle grabbed his leg and pulled him into the ball as it turned a sickly yellow and dragged itself to the water. It began oozing more fluid.
Linda stood up, her eyes clear now, and began looking around.
“Henry!” She yelled. “Henry!”
Covered in slime, John stood up in the hole, watching the ball as it floated on the lake, its many tentacles sucking water in an attempt to purge itself. Before their eyes, the wounds healed, and they all felt it growing stronger again. And even larger than it was before. Then they felt it fill with fear.
Large dorsal fins surfaced between the ball and shore, blocking its way to land. The ball swung its tentacles wildly in all directions, splashing water and casting a sickly yellow light over the beach. It captured one of the red mouth’s by the tail and used it as a club, smashing several before one got close and drove its spines into the thing. The bright colors weakened as its fluids began leaking out again, floating on the surface like an oil slick. Its tentacles went limp, and fish after fish ran its spines into the belly of what remained of the ball. The four watched it grow smaller, shriveling down until there was nothing left but a cloud on the water.
As Linda and Leo stood at the water’s edge, one fish surfaced to look at them. It stared emotionlessly, eyes nearly out of the water. Then it turned back and swam into the unseeable depths as Linda began to cry.
They never found Henry’s body. There was debate for years about what happened that night—whether Henry was a hero or villain; nobody could decide. There are drunken stories told by night fishermen about a man seen walking the beaches of the island on moonlit nights. They say the bay has an unusual reflection in the moonlight, and everyone sees something different in its iridescent waters. None of the members believe the stories are true, but all of them refuse to go back to Moon Island to find out for themselves.