Читать книгу South of the Pumphouse - Les Claypool - Страница 10

Chapter 3

THE FISH

Murky water darkness. Daylight would soon arrive, and the water would still be just as murky and nearly as dark. Here was the bottom of San Pablo Bay, about six feet below the surface. For anyone tempted to dive in this particular stretch of water, the scenery would be less than lackluster. San Pablo Bay is a massive mud flat, with the exception of the few channels that link San Francisco Bay with the Carquinez Straits and eventually the Sacramento River Delta. On the surface, the water at this hour was calm and glassy. Lights from the channel markers could be seen in the distance. Far beyond was the flicker of the sleeping city of San Francisco. In the miles of vast emptiness, only one thing could be distinguished, a dilapidated shack sitting on a cluster of old pilings. Local fishermen knew the shack as the Pumphouse.

All was quiet. The only sound, the deep hoot of a far-off buoy pulsating its warning call every few seconds. Abruptly, a huge, pale serpentine creature with reptilian skin broke the smooth, flat surface. The prehistoric head moved nearer to the piling cluster and passed to the left, followed by the rest of its long massive body. The creature then arched and rolled its hulking mass gracefully back down toward the bottom with a slight slap of its pectoral fin, rustling the water, creating a fizz of small, rising air bubbles. The tail whisked the surface, then disappeared, leaving the dark silhouette of the Pumphouse against the distant skyline.