THE DEVIL FISH

A monster fish washes into Lake Cooper from the Tasman Sea and starts eating people!

FORWARD (Is forewarned!):

In 1933, a man named Al Kahn was fishing off the coast of New Jersey when he caught this abnormal ray, 6 meters long and weighing 2300 kg.

It took him, his friends and the United States Coast Guard many hours and dozens of gunshots to capture this terrifying specimen, which will go down in history as the 'Demon Fish'.

MAIN BODY

Lake Cooper, outside Harpertown, is an inland lake, which is stocked with fish, etc., every winter when it overflows and joins up with the foul Yannan River in Glen Hartwell, which in turn joins up eventually with the Tasman Sea.

Over at the Warner Cattle Station, not far from Lake Cooper, under the supervision of their grandfather, Frank, Carl and Lawrie Warner, two huge, burly farm-types, were getting ready to lead the station's three hundred head of Jersey cattle down to the lake for watering.

"Frank, you shouldn't let them do this," complained the old man's widowed sister, Mabel Starrett.

"I bin leading my cattle to Lake Cooper every day to water them for over forty years!" insisted Frank, a tall, grey-haired man, who had once been powerful, until arthritis had caught up to him. "I don't give a damn what the Pure Shit Society, or the Green Loonies say; it's my right to water my cattle wherever I want."

"It's the Pure Earth Society, and the Greens Party!" insisted Mabel, a stooped old lady with grey curly hair, who had been living with her older brother since her husband died back in the mid-1980s.

"Who cares what they're called?" said Carl Warner. "No one votes Greens in the countryside, and the Pure Shit Society are lucky not to get stoned to death whenever country people see them."

"Stoned to death," agreed Lawrie Warner, doing a Gomer-Pyle style yokel laugh.

"Let he who is without sin cast the first stone!" Mabel quoted from the Gospel of John Chapter 8, Verse 7.

"Lord, now she's quoting Jesus at us!" said Carl, making his brother roar with yokel laughter again.

"Would it cost that much to have a proper watering hole dug on the farm?" asked Mabel. "It'll be winter soon, and it'll soon fill up with clean, fresh rain water."

"Until then, we'll need to take them daily to Lake Cooper," pointed out Frank, using his sister's own argument against her. "So we might as well keep using Lake Cooper permanently, as we've been doing for over forty years."

Lawrie Warner roared with yokel laughter again.

"And you've been arguing with the Greens and the Pure Earth Society for over forty years now!"

"No, I ain't. They talk shit to me, and I completely ignore it."

This time both Lawrie and Carl roared with yokel laughter.

"Lord, it's like talking to a brick wall," said Mabel, before turning to start back toward the lime-green, weatherboard farmhouse. "Except a brick wall would be a lot more reasonable."

Looking back, she added, "You know the Greens and Pure Earth have lodged a complaint with Don Frazer over at Merridale against you!"

"What's he got to do with the price of fish in Hong Kong?"

"Don is the mayor of Glen Hartwell and the local magistrate for all the towns between BeauLarkin and Willamby," said Mabel. She allowed a few seconds for that to sink in before adding, "And that includes Harpertown!"

"Well, bugger him!" said Frank.

"No, you're the one who'll be buggered, if he listens to their complaints. But if you were to get a watering hole dug on the farm now, you could appeal to him to give you a stay until winter rains filled the water hole up. He's a reasonable man."

"Then why do I need a stay?"

"I said reasonable, not pigheaded, like you!"

They were still arguing when Lawrie and Carl Warner started leading the herd of Jerseys down the farmyard toward Lake Cooper, ably assisted by eight blue healers.

"Nipper!" called Lawrie.

Which was both the name of one of the dogs, and also an instruction to nip a straggling cow on one of her back legs, to keep her moving. So Nipper raced forward and nipped the cow to get her moving.

"Ah, it's nice to get away from Grandpa Frank and Aunty Mabel's arguing for a few hours a day," said Carl.

"That's for sure," agreed Lawrie. "Maybe we can have a bit of a skinny dip in the lake before bringing the cows back home. It'll be too cold in another week or so."

"No need, I came prepared," said Carl. "I'm wearing me bathers under me trousers."

"Well, who's a clever bastard then!" asked Lawrie. Then, seeing one of the cows wandering away, "Biter, bring her back into line."

Another blue heeler raced after the wayward bovine and soon had the cow back with the herd.

"Ah, this is the life," opined Carl. "Who'd wanna be working in an office, in the big smoke, when we got fresh, clean air in the countryside?"

"And when we can spend half the day loafin' while the cows are being watered?" asked Lawrie, doing his Gomer Pyle laugh again.

"That's for sure," agreed Carl, join him in yokel laughing.

Finally, they reached the grassy banks of Lake Cooper, quite a sizeable inland lake for the Victorian countryside.

"Nipper, Biter, Stomper, Chaser ..." began Lawrie, reeling off the names of all eight blue heelers. "Get 'em over to the water."

Usually, the cattle all but raced across to drink. But today they seemed strangely recalcitrant, so the eight heelers started living up to their names, nipping the bovines on the heels to try chasing them forward. However, despite lowing in pain and terror at the nipping, the three hundred or so cows refused to get within ten metres of the clear, blue lake.

"Come on, you stupid cows!" said Carl, unintentionally making a joke.

When the cattle still refused to go anywhere near the water, Lawrie said, "You're the one wearing bathers, Carl. Strip off and jump in, to show the stupid creatures it's perfectly safe."

"Good thinking, bro," said Carl. He stripped to his bathers, raced toward the lake, shouting, "Cannonball!" as he leapt in.

He splashed around in the refreshing, if overly chilly water, then said, "Come on in, you bovine idiots, the water is ..."

Then something that looked like a cross between a giant black shark and a massive stingray leapt out of the water, coming down on top of Carl and swallowing him whole.

Lowing in terror, the three hundred plus Jersey cows reversed direction and stampeded back toward the Warner Cattle Station, crushing to death two of the blue heelers in their panic. The other six heelers joined the stampede back to the farm, without trying to stop it.

"Bro!" shouted Lawrie.

He raced forward and leapt into the water, just as the Devil Fish reappeared, so he landed feet first into its mouth.

The mutant creature bit down hard, making the farmer scream as it chewed him in half, swallowing his bottom half to the navel, and abandoning his top half as it dived to the bottom of the lake, then swam more than two kilometres around the circuitous path of Lake Cooper.


Over at the Mitchell Street Police Station in Glen Hartwell, the five cops were sitting around the massive blackwood desk just inside the door, drinking tea or coffee, with chocolate-coated ladyfinger biscuits.

"Mmmm, Mrs. M. sure makes great ladyfingers," said Suzette Cummings, a petite raven-haired eighteen-year-old.

"The best," agreed Paul Bell, a tall, thin, dark-haired sergeant.

"All thanks to our Sheils," said Terri Scott. A tall, attractive ash blonde, Terri was the Senior Sergeant of the area and was engaged to Colin.

"Yes," said Colin Klein. A tall redheaded Englishman, and a constable in the Glen Hartwell Police Department. "Sheils is her favourite and so we all share in her largesse."

"I don't know what largess means," said Sheila Bennett. A tall, athletic Goth chick with orange-and-black striped hair, Sheila was Terri's second in command. "But Mrs. M. and I have a perfect symbiotic relationship. She loves pampering me, and I love being pampered, so we're both happy."

"You do know slavery has been abolished?" teased Colin.

"Technically, we never had slaver in Australia," pointed out Terri.

"Unlike England, which allowed it till 1830," teased back Sheila.

"Touché, Ms. Turtle!" said Colin.

"He just called me a turtle," said Sheila, scoffing two chocolate-coated ladyfingers at once. "Mmmm, it's a good thing I spend my Saturdays at the gym."

"Yes, or we'd be calling you Podge Hodge, instead of Sheils," teased Terri.


Mabel Starret and her brother, Frank Warner, were now sitting on pine rocking chairs on the porch of the lime-green, weatherboard farmhouse, still arguing about him watering his cattle at Lake Cooper, when six yelping, terrified blue heelers raced up to them, then continued on, squeezing their way through a crack in the weather boards, to hide under the farmhouse.

"Nipper! Biter! Squealer!" started Frank, going on to name all six dogs. "What the Hell are you doing back here, when you should be down at Lake Cooper, helping Lawrie and Carl to water the herd?"

By way of an answer, the six heelers started whining in terror.

"Stupid mutts, I oughta take a branding iron to the lot of ya!"

"I think that's the least of our worries," said Mabel.

She pointed to where three hundred head of Jersey cattle were stampeding their way.

"Holy shit in a hand basket!" said Frank.

Grabbing Mabel, he half led, half carried his sister into the farmhouse, then down the green-lino floored corridor to the front door.

"Where are we going?" demanded Mabel.

"Far as we can run."

"Not far enough," cried Mabel. "Let's hide in the tool shed, it's corrugated iron, it might protect us."

"Might is right," quoted Frank, half running, half hobbling around the side of the house, to the tool shed.

Inside, they crouched behind an old tractor, hoping for the best.

Around the rear of the farmhouse, having already stampeded through half a dozen wooden fences to reach the farm, the terrified cattle kept running right through the weatherboard house, reducing it to kindling, and killing all six of the blue heelers hiding under it.

Fortunately for Frank and Mabel, the cattle finally ran out of steam and collapsed without touching the tool shed. Unfortunately, nearly a third of the herd died from fear, exhaustion, or heart attacks.


Terri and the others were just finishing their morning tea (or coffee), when Terri's mobile phone rang. She picked it up and spoke for a few minutes, then disconnected and said:

"That was Mabel Starrett out at her brother Frank Warner's cattle station. It seems something frightened their herd, which stampeded right through the farmhouse, reducing it to kindling and killing all their cattle dogs."

"Frank Warner?" asked Suzette Cummings. "Isn't he that moron who's been illegally watering his cattle at Lake Cooper, every day for forty or fifty years."

"That's the moron," agreed Sheila. "But poor Nipper, Biter, Boomer, and the others."

"How did Mabel survive?" asked Colin as all the cops except Paul got up to leave.

"On Mabel's suggestion, she and Frank hid in the corrugated iron tool shed, behind the ancient tractor."

"She always was the smarter of the two," said Colin.

As they walked out into Mitchell Street, Sheila said, "Yes, well, most Zombies are quicker than Frank Warner."

At the Warner Cattle Station, they found Mabel and Frank still crouching inside the tool shed, which was easy to find, now that there was no farmhouse concealing it. In front of the kindling which had been the house, the surviving cattle mulled about eating grass contentedly, having calmed down, or forgotten what had terrified them.

Knocking on the corrugated iron door, Sheila sang, "Knock, knock, who's there? Could this be cops calling?"

"She really does have a phenomenal and pointless knowledge of ancient songs," said Suzette, sounding appalled and impressed in equal measures.

After a few seconds, Mabel Starrett came out, closely followed by Frank Warner, looking about nervously. Seeing his cattle, he started as though expecting them to stampede again. Then, realising that they had calmed down, he noticed almost a third of them were dead.

"Oh, the poor, stupid animals!" said Frank, putting his hands on his head as he stared at his fallen herd members.

"Talking about stupid animals," said Sheila. "Where are Lawrie and Carl?"

"Oh, Hell, the boys," said Mabel, although they had been in their mid-thirties.

"They took the cattle and dogs down to ..." said Frank, hesitating, "to be watered a couple of hours ago, and haven't come back yet."

"You mean they took the cattle illegally to Lake Cooper to be watered?" said Terri.

"Nothing illegal about it," insisted Frank Warner.

"So Don hasn't told you yet?" asked Colin.

"Told me what?"

"He's agreed to the Greens' request to send you a Cease and Desist Order to prevent you from polluting the lake with your cattle."

"Polluting? How dare you? My cattle are very clean!"

"Yeah, after they leave their muck in the river!" said Sheila.

"Anyway, a Cease and Desist Order won't stop me!"

"It will, if he asks us to enforce it," pointed out Colin.

"But more to the point," interrupted Mabel, "where are the boys?"

"We'd better go look for them, I suppose," said Terri, and the four cops, plus Mabel Starrett, climbed into her police-blue Lexus."


Over at Lake Cooper, the Devil Fish swam around to the side nearest to Wilhelmina township on the northern side of the forest. Then stretching itself up to its fullest height, it stepped out of the water on short, but sturdy lizard-style legs, and began walking slowly but steadily into the forest.


Half an hour or so later, the Lexus reached the shores of Lake Cooper.

"Hey, what's that?" asked Suzette, pointing toward a bundle of rags.

Getting out of the Lexus, they walked across. Mabel picked up the items and said, "Carl's clothes. Except for jockey shorts."

"Maybe he was wearing swim trunks under his clothes," suggested Sheila.

"Well, it's too chilly for swimming," said Mabel. "But that wouldn't stop Carl or Lawrie, if they felt like a swim."

"That's true," said Terri, resisting the temptation to savage the two men in front of their aunt.

"Who feels like a long walk around the lake?" asked Colin.

"No one," said Terri. "Back into the Lexus, we'll drive around."

It was on the second drive around that they noticed something large in the middle of the serpentine lake.

"Can anyone see what it is?" asked Colin.

"Nope," said everyone.

"Who feels like stripping off to go in for a nice, refreshing swim?" asked Terri.

"Perhaps someone tall and athletic, who spends all her Saturdays at the gym?" suggested Suzette Cummings.

"That sounds good to me," agreed Terri.

"Damn you, Suzette," said Sheila getting out of the car. "I knew all that time I spent bodybuilding would come back to haunt me one day." Then to Colin, "Eyes closed, please, constable."

Checking he had done so, Sheila quickly stripped to her pink panties and white bra, then dived straight into the chilly water. She swam rapidly out to the large object, recoiling as she found herself staring at the top half of Carl Warner. His body was missing from the navel downwards.

"Holy Shiite!" said the Goth chick.

Swimming even faster back to shore, she went around to the boot of the car. Stripped off her sodden undies, then put on her outer clothing. Opening the boot, she put her undies into the car, then called:

"Terri! Colin! Suzette!"

Puzzled, the three cops got out of the car and walked around to Sheila, then she told them what the object was.

"Holy shit!" said Terri, grateful that Mabel had not overheard.

"What'll we do?" asked Suzette.

"I'll stay here and ring for an air ambulance," offered Colin. "While the rest of you take Mabel back to the farmyard."

"I'll stay too," offered Terri. "And we need crime scene photos before the cor ... half-corpse is moved."

"Well, don't look at me!" insisted Sheila. "That water was bloody freezing."

"Oh, I'm sure it was only bracing," said Colin.

"Bracing my tits off!" insisted the Goth chick. "So, Col, how do you feel about going in for a bracing swim?"

"I hoped you would never ask," said Colin.

"What's happening?" asked Mabel, as Suzette and Sheila returned to the Lexus.

The two cops exchanged guilty looks, then Suzette said, "We're taking you back up to the farmhouse."

"What farmhouse?" asked Mabel as they started off.

"All right, the kindling that used to be your farmhouse," said Sheila as she started the Lexus.


Fifty minutes later, Colin had returned with the crime scene photos, and the air ambulance had arrived. Poor Tilly Lombstrom was lowered down into the water to examine the remains of Carl Warner.

"Jesus, it's freezing!" said Tilly, an attractive fifty-something surgeon at the Glen Hartwell and Daley Community Hospital.

"It's just brr-brr-brr-bracing," said Colin.

"Brr-brr-brr-bracing my tits off," said Tilly.

"Sheila already said that," said Terri, trying to rub some warmth back into Colin with her hands.

"Send down the basket," called Tilly, and they sent down a white metal basket with holes throughout it.

Tilly managed to get the basket under the corpse, then called, "Pull it up."

As the basket was raised, the water poured out of the holes, straight onto Tilly.

"Damn it!" cried the brunette, starting to climb up the rope ladder.

"Tils, you look hot in the wet look," said one of the pilots.

"Shut up, and give me at least a dozen Ambulance Australia towels."

"Yours to command," he said, throwing her a great pile of dark blue and white bath towels.


Over at Jacobson’s Lake outside Wilhelmina, Grant and Ashwin Hilfenhouse, were getting pissed like newts, while making at least the pretence of fishing at the popular fishing hole.

"Don' fink there's any finches here?" said Grant.

They had been fishing for over two hours without a single nibble.

"Finchin'," said Ashwin, "ain't 'bout catchin' finch."

"I fought it were," said Grant.

"Nope, it's 'bout lazing in the sun ...."

"Ain't much sun today."

"It's 'bout enjoy'n' however little sun there is, gettin' drunk as a judge, and staying away from your naggin' bitch of a wife."

"Acshully, my bitch of a wife, don't nag that much."

"Shat's not the point," insisted Ashwin. "It's 'bout behin in the great houtdoors, while getting pished."

"That I understand, but why can't we get pished indoors, where hits warm?"

"Becosh, finchin' 'quires us to be outdoored getting pished."

"What hif we don't wanna finch? What hif we just wanna get pished?"

"Are you tryin' ta cause trouble?" demanded Ashwin, who had always been a bit of a rowdy drunk.

"No! No! No! Jus' harskin'."

"Well, don' harsk! Don' like troubletakers."

"But hime you're brudder."

"Hall the more reason not ta like ya."

"Don't take that tone off me!" cried Grant. He tried to climb to his feet, but staggered and ended up falling headfirst into the freezing water of Jacobson’s Lake.

"Jesus, dish is coal," said Grant, "fweezing by brass monks off."

Unable to stop laughing at his brother's stupidity, Ashwin did not even notice as the Devil Fish, looking like a cross between a great black shark and a huge stingray, leapt out of the water, coming down on top of Grant to swallow him whole.

Lying on his back on the thick blanket of sweet-smelling pine needles and eucalyptus leaves that carpeted the forest floor, Ashwin heard the splash the Devil Fish made as it swallowed Grant, then dived back under the water. However, when he struggled back to a sitting position, there was no sign of his brother or the mutant fish.

"Gwant?" called Ashwin Hilfenhouse. "Where youse gotta to, bro?"

For a moment, he stared bleary-eyed at Jacobson’s Lake, expecting Grant to reappear at any second. Finally, he tried to stand, then, finding he was unable to, he crawled across to the edge of the lake and looked down. Only to see a dark, fish-like face staring back up at him.

"I can't be thash ugly?" were his final words ....

Before the Devil Fish leapt to the surface and swallowed the top half of the drunkard. This time, leaving behind little more than his crotch and legs.

Then the Devil Fish swam across to the opposite side of the lake, climbed out, and started slowly, but steadily walking through the forest, looking for another waterhole.


Over at their shared villa house in Jefferson Street, Wilhelmina, Jessica, Jess, and Angelique, Angie, Hilfenhouse, were awaiting the return of their husbands from their 'fishing' trip. Angie was pretending to read, although too worried to concentrate upon the words in the newspaper, Jess was holding a large wooden rolling pin in her left hand, whacking it occasionally into her right hand, as though practising what she planned to do to Ashwin if he ever returned home.

"You don't think anything could have happened to them?" asked Angie, a short, thirty-eight-year-old blonde.

"Oh, something will happen to mine, all right," said Jess, a tall, buxom brunette, the same age as Angie. She whacked the rolling pin into her right hand hard enough to hurt, and immediately regretted it. "If he's not home soon."

The two women waited, worried in Angie's case, furious in Jess's, for another ninety minutes or so, then Jess said:

"Okay, let's go get the two pissheads!"

"But they don't like us interfering in their fishing trips."

"Fishing, like Hell," said Jess. She grabbed the petite blonde by the arm and pulled her to her feet. "Let's go get 'em."

Outside in the two-car garage, Jess said, "They took the Rover, so we'll have to take my Datsun. But that ought to get us to Jacobson’s Lake."

Putting Angie into the front passenger seat, Jess handed her the rolling pin, saying, "Here, hold this so I can drive."

"What's this for?" asked Angie, looking at the rolling pin.

"Let's just say a welcoming home present for my dear hubby," said Jess as she got into the driver's seat.

She did up Angie's seatbelt, then her own, then started the Datsun, setting out with a grim look on her attractive face.

I'll swing for the bastard, I really will! Jess thought as they drove along.

Half an hour later, the Datsun pulled up at the grassy banks of Jacobson’s Lake.

"All right, where the Hell are they?" demanded Jess.

"Their fishing boxes, plus a mountain of empty stubbies, are over there," said Angie, pointing to the left.

"Ah ha!" said Jess, as they climbed out of the Datsun. "Where there are empties, our full hubbies won't be far away."

"Unless they've fallen into the lake and drowned?" suggested a worried Angie.

"To misquote Kylie Minogue, 'We should be so lucky ... lucky, lucky, lucky'!"

"Jess, that's not very nice!" said Angie.

"Well, they are insured, so we could be better off," teased Jess. Then, seeing the shocked look on the blonde's face, "Ah, relax, don't they say drunks can't drown? Or something like that?"

"No, that's drunks can't get hurt if they fall over."

"Well, mine'll get hurt if I have to spend much time searching for the sot," said Jess, taking the rolling pin from the front seat, where Angie had left it.

"You wouldn't really use that on him, would you?" asked Angie, going across to look into the two bait boxes, as though expecting their husbands to be inside.

"Only if I have to!" she said, thinking, Or if I get really pissed at him!

They looked around the fishing site for a quarter of an hour or more, without finding the runaway hubbies, although they found the Land Rover, with the keys still in the ignition.

"Just like that drunken skunk, Ashwin, to leaves the keys in the car so that anyone could steal it," said Jess.

She took the keys out and pocketed them, then the two women started walking around the lake in opposite directions, having agreed to return after half an hour.

When they returned, Jess asked, "Any sign of the two sots?"

"No," said a worried-sounding Angie.

"Me neither," said Jess, sounding worried for the first time. "Maybe we should ring Terri Scott to come search for them."

"Yes," agreed Angie, smiling in hope.

"You drive the Datsun back home, I'll take the Rover," said Jess, handing a set of keys to the blonde.


Over at the Yellow House in Rochester Road, Merridale, they had just finished Tea and were awaiting dessert.

"This time you have a choice," said Deidre Morton, a short, dumpy, sixty-something brunette, and culinary genius. "Either rum trifle, to keep Terri happy, or sherry trifle.

"Rum trifle," said Terri, Leo, and Tommy.

"Sherry trifle," said everyone else.

"Hey, with only three of us having rum trifle, we can have a lot more each," said Tommy Turner. A short, chubby, blonde retiree, Tommy was a notorious drunkard, reluctantly reined in by Deidre Morton.

"Actually, the sherry trifle is twice the size of the rum one," said Natasha Lipzing, a tall, grey-haired lady of seventy-one. "I helped Deidre to make them."

'That's not fair," said Leo Laxman. A tall black Jamaican, Leo worked as a nurse at the Glen Hartwell and Daley Community Hospital.

"Sounds fair to me," said Freddy Kingston. A tall, stout, balding man, Freddy had retired fifteen months ago.

"Me too," said Sheila, as Terri's mobile phone rang. "Oh, Tare, why don't you switch that thing off at meal times?"

"Because as cops, we're on duty 24/7," explained Colin as Terri talked on the phone.

Disconnecting, Terri said, "That was Jess and Angie Hilfenhouse. Their drunken skunks of husbands have vanished during a fishing trip."

"Uh-oh, it wasn't to Lake Cooper, was it?" asked Sheila, as the three cops got up to leave.

"No, Jacobson’s Lake, outside Wilhelmina," said Terri.

"Don't tell me our sea monster has legs and can walk from lake to lake?" asked Colin as they walked out into the corridor.

"Unless the Gatermen are back," suggested Sheila. [See my story, 'Gatermen'.] "They could walk from waterhole to waterhole."

"Sheils, we gunned down the Gatermen," reminded Terri as they walked outside.

"Maybe there's more than one of whatever chewed Carl Warner in half?" suggested Colin as they climbed into the police-blue Lexus.

"Oh Lord," said Terri as they took off. "That's all we need, a whole herd, or a shoal of man-eating whatevers on the loose."

"Yeah, you have to watch those man-eating whatevers," teased Sheila, as she drove towards the Mitchell Street Police Station to pick up Suzette Cummings.

At the station, they found Stanlee Dempsey and Drew Braidwood on duty, instead of Suzette and Paul Bell.

"Come on, you two," teased Sheila, "we've got a man-eating whatever to track down."

"I really will have to thump that mad Goth chick," said Terri, ignoring the snickers of everyone else.

Forty minutes or so later, they had reached Jacobson's Lake and had found the fishing gear and piles of empty stubbies, plus two full six-packs of Melbourne Bitter.

"Something's definitely wrong," said Stanlee, a tall, raven-haired ox of a man. "Grant and Ashwin would never leave while they had a dozen stubbies still full."

"Yeah, they don't call them the Plonko Brothers for nothing," said Drew, a tall, lanky blond man, close to retirement age.

"Okay, you two go one way around the lake," instructed Terri, "we'll drive the other way, and meet somewhere on the other side."

Nearly an hour later, Terri's mobile phone rang. She spoke for a moment, then disconnected and said, "That was Drew, they found the remains of one of the Hilfenhouse brothers, although they can't say which one."

"Wasn't Ashwin much taller than Grant?' asked Sheila.

"Yeah, but there wasn't enough of him left for them to determine that," said Terri. "And this time it's the top half that's missing."

"Yeech!" said Colin and Sheila as one.

A short time later, all four cops were standing together, looking at the crotch and legs of Ashwin Hilfenhouse.

Sheila took the crime scene photos, then they rung through to the Glen Hartwell Hospital to call for an ambulance.

"So, who feels like going on a monster fishy hunt?" asked Terri, sticking her right arm up in the air. "Me! Me! Me! Me! Me!"

"What happens if we don't volunteer?" asked Stanlee.

"Then I'll have to volunteer you all."

"Then we all volunteer," said Colin, as everyone stuck their right arm into the air.

"Frankly, I can't wait to retire in January," said Drew.

"Ah, don't be like that," said Terri. "Don't you enjoy tracking down and duking it out with gigantic monsters?"

"Frankly, no. That's the part of the job I really hate."

"That's not the attitude. You should be more like Sheils, our very own Tia Carmichael, the Monster Hunter."

"Actually," corrected Sheila, "it's Tia Carrere, the Relic Hunter."

"Close enough. Now everybody get an early night, so we can meet up at Mitchell Street at 6:30 tomorrow morning."

"Six-thirty!" said everyone except Terri.

"Yes, we have a full day of monster fishy hunting. Just be grateful I'm letting you have the night off."

"Whoopee!" said Drew, without feeling.

"Technically, six-thirty is still the night," said Sheila.

"Oh, and get Don to bring along Slap, Tickle, and Rub, and we'll have to pick up the old codger as well. And we'd better ring Jessie, Paul, and Suzette."

"If you mean Bulam-Bulam," reminded Colin, "he prefers to be called the middle-aged codger."


At a little after six-thirty the next morning, most of the cops between BeauLarkin and Willamby were assembled in Mitchell Street, Glen Hartwell, outside the police station.

"Ah, me middle-aged cobber!" said Sheila, racing across to hug Bulam-Bulam, an Elder of the Gooladoo tribe, outside the township of Harpertown, and a friend and part-time tracker of theirs.

"At last, you remembered," said the Elder.

"Since sixty is the new forty, you're really only forty-six!" said everyone except Bulam-Bulam.

"Exactly!" said the old man, grinning widely.

"So, how are we doing this, Chief?" asked Don Esk, a huge man with dark brown hair.

"You, Stanlee, Jessie, Drew, and the dumb mutts can start at Lake Cooper outside Merridale, and the rest of us will start at Jacobson's lake near Wilhelmina, and we'll meet up ... wherever the Hell we meet up."

"Sounds like a plan," said Jessie Baker, a huge ox of a man, with flame red hair.

Separating, the two teams set off to start the search.

Don Esk's team drove around Lake Cooper, in Don's rusty blue Land Rover and Stanlee's white Range Rover, until locating unusual animal prints.

"What the Hell are those?" asked Drew Braidwood.

"Look like dinosaur prints," said Jessie, staring at the large, webbed prints.

"Did dinosaurs have webbed feet?" asked Stanlee.

"Strangely enough, they never taught that at the police academy," said Don.

"Okay, well we'd better follow them," said Jessie, and the four men returned to their vehicles.

"Shut up!" said Don, as his tracking dogs, Slap, Tickle, and Rub, started barking excitedly.

"Dumb mutts," said Drew, only to make them bark more excitedly.

Ninety minutes later, they reached Jacobson's Lake, outside Wilhelmina, to see the tracks go into the lake.

"Well, at least we've established that whatever it is, it's not water bound," said Stanlee Dempsey.

"How does that help us?" asked Don Esk.

"It doesn't," admitted Stanlee, "except it tells us whatever we're hunting is both aquatic and land-bound."

"I think amphibious is the term you're looking for," said Drew.

"Thank you, professor," said Jessie, before they started to drive around Jacobson's Lake to see where the tracks came out again.

"He's been hanging around Colin too much," said Don Esk.


Ninety minutes earlier, Terri and her team had arrived at Jacobson's Lake and started driving around it. They also found the tracks leading into it, but kept driving around until they found fresher prints leaving it.

"Looks like our amphibious killer likes to select a different watering hole for each killing," suggested Colin.

"Which means it's smart enough to know we'll be hunting for it once we find the corpses," said Terri.

"So it's a brainy, killer fishy thingy which can walk across land if it needs to?" asked Sheila.

"Seals and sea lions can breathe through their skin in water, and through lungs on land," offered Colin.

"And you accuse me of having a wealth of useless information," teased Sheila.

They followed the exit prints off the creature for a few kilometres, then they became vague enough so Bulam-Bulam had to get out and walk ahead of the Lexus, to see the prints and keep going.

After a couple of hours, they had reached the stinky Yannan River, not far from Westmoreland.

"The tracks lead straight into the river," said the Aboriginal Elder, pointing.

"So, can we assume our fishy fiend is dead?" asked Sheila, as they all climbed out of the car. "If it went into the Yannan?"

"Actually, it's our amphibious fiend," corrected Colin.

"And, though we'd like to assume it's dead," said Terri, "we can't afford to."

"So, what's next, Chief?" asked Suzette Cummings.

"Maybe, we should get George and Eunice from Building and Works to come out here and drain the river, to see what we can uncover?"

"My guess is dozens of old washing machines, ovens, and fridges," said Sheila.

"Don't forget that the Yannan River eventually meets up with the Tasman Sea," reminded Bulam-Bulam, "so it will take a lot of draining."

"Trust the old ... er, middle-aged bloke to point out the one teensy flaw in my otherwise brilliant plan," said Terri. "Okay, we'll set up a dam fifty kays closer to the Tasman Sea, and drain everything after that."

"It'll still take a lot of draining," said Sheila.

"No, not necessarily," said Colin. "Since the water flows from the Tasman Sea, dam it in that direction, and in a few hours, maybe a day, everything this side of the dam should be sans water."

"Sandy water?" asked Suzette.

"Sans water," explained Colin. "It means without water."

"Just litre after litre of gooey slush," added Sheila.

"Okay, let's get Building and Works to do that," agreed Terri.

"You want us to do what?" shouted George, the foreman at the Department of Building and Works, when Terri rang him to tell him what she wanted.

Holding the phone further away from her ear, she said, "I'm glad you're so understanding, George. We're at the Yannan, outside Westmoreland, if you could set up a dam fifty kays closer to the Tasman, that would be great."

As he started to swear at her, Terri disconnected and closed her phone.

"So is he going to do it?" asked Colin.

"Umm, I think so," said Terri. "Although he took it rather worse than I had expected."


A few kilometres outside Harpertown, the young bucks at the Gooladoo Tribe were out hunting for kangaroo when the Devil Fish suddenly appeared in the sweet-smelling pine and eucalyptus forest in front of them.

"What the Hell is that?" asked Toby Gilla-Gilla, a sixteen-year-old buck.

They stared at the creature, which looked like a cross between a giant black shark and a massive stingray, with short but powerful lizard legs, for a moment, then Toby's older brother, Manny, said:

"I think it's the Dream-Time creator-destroyer, Whatchamacallit."

The braves all doubled up with laughter, until the Devil Fish raced forward with surprising speed and gobbled down a young buck, Timmy Mutta-Bulla.

"Get it!" cried Manny, and the forty or so warriors started hurling wooden spears at the demon fish.

At first, the Devil Fish acted as though it could not even feel the spears as they stuck into its black hide. But then, roaring at the hunters, the creature turned tail and started at a surprising pace into the forest, further away from Harpertown.

"Should we chase after it?" asked young Toby, eager for a fight, despite the loss of Timmy Mutta-Bulla.

"No, it might not run away a second time," said Manny. "Besides, it's got most of our spears sticking out of its hide; we'd need to get more."

Manny took out a small mobile phone and started dialling.


Over at the Yannan River, outside Westmoreland, George, Eunice, and the Department of Building and Works had just set out to start building the dam, fifty kilometres closer to the Tasman Sea. After giving Terri a bit of an earful.

"Yeech, he can be so rude, when he wants to," said Terri, moments before Bulam-Bulam's phone rang. "Normally, he seems like a nice bloke."

Bulam-Bulam spoke on the phone for a moment, then disconnected and said, "That was Manny Gilla-Gilla from my tribe. They were hunting outside Harpertown when they were attacked by our fishy monster friend. One of the young hunters, Timmy Mutta-Bulla, was swallowed alive by the monster."

"Oh, no, poor Timmie," said Sheila. "He was a good bloke."

"But importantly some of the tribe snapped off pix of the bugger, and they emailed them through to me."

"Ooh, let's have a shooftee," said Terri, and they all went across to have a look at the images of the monster.

"Yeech!" said Sheila.

"What are those spine thingies sticking out of it?" asked Suzette Cummings.

"Spears," said Bulam-Bulam, "that's why it only killed one of the hunters. It took off quick smart, once they started throwing spears into it."

"So, at least we know it's not fearless," said Colin.

"And not indestructible, since it took off once the spears started hitting it," said Terri. "So, let's abandon the Yannan, and see about finding it from outside Harpertown."

As they were talking, Don Esk's Land Rover and Stanlee Dempsey's Range Rover arrived.

"Should we ring George and Eunice and tell them to stop damming the river?" asked Suzette.

"No, they've already shouted at me once today. And the river certainly needs a good clean up, which they can do once its sans water."

"They're really gonna shout at you later," warned Sheila.

"I'll cross that bridge when I get shouted at," said Terri.

They went across to show the picture of the Devil Fish to Stanlee and the others, and to tell them of the latest developments.

"Geez, I'm hungry," complained Sheila, "we missed morning tea, and it must be close to lunch time."

"Well, we do have all the sandwiches in the rear of the Lexus," said Suzette.

"What sandwiches?" asked Sheila.

"Mrs. M. kindly made us a couple of dozen cheese and tomato, ham and cheese, and egg salad sandwiches in case we couldn't get back by lunch time," explained Terri.

"Why wasn't I told?"

"We were afraid you'd scoff them all down before we could get our fair share," said Colin.

"Do you think I'm some kind of a pig?"

"Well, to quote Freddy's sainted mother, 'If it walks like a pig, and it scoffs like a pig ...'."

"Don't even think of finishing that sentence, constable!" said Sheila, pulling rank on the redheaded Englishman.

"No, marm," said Colin, doing an exaggerated salute.

After eating, Terri said, "Stanlee, you and your team head for the hunting area outside Harpertown. We have to go to Mitchell Street to get some stuff."

"You haven't got a Gatling Gun at Mitchell Street, have you, Chief?" asked Stanlee Dempsey.

"Strangely enough, no!" said Terri, "but we do have something which might be of help against Giganta-Fishosaurus."

"I love that new name, Tare," said Sheila, with real enthusiasm.

Around at the Mitchell Street Police Station in Glen Hartwell, they arrived just as Deidre Morton was bringing them some roast beef sandwiches. plus homemade chocolate éclairs and fresh pots of tea and coffee.

"Bonza, Mrs. M.," said Sheila, scooping up a roast beef sandwich and three éclairs.

"Sheils, how can you still be hungry?" demanded Terri, walking through the front room, toward the weapons store at the rear of the police station.

"She's a growing girl," said Deidre Morton.

"I'm a growing girl," agreed Sheila.

"Growing fat," whispered Suzette.

"I heard that Trainee Constable!" warned Sheila.

"Sorry, marm," said the ravenette, doing an exaggerated salute.

"Follow me, everyone," said Terri. "Except you, Mrs. M. You might want to leave hurriedly, just to be on the safe side."

"Oh, all right," said Deidre, hurrying out of the station.

"Now, none of the usual larking about when we enter the weapons store," insisted Terri.

"Since when has Tare been so formal?" asked Sheila.

"This is why," said Terri, pointing to five long, metal boxes in the store room.

"Hey, they look snazzy,' said Sheila.

"Wait till you see what's inside them. After two years of increased monster mayhem in our region, I finally convinced Russell Street to send us this."

She opened the first box, which was full of straw. She lifted away the straw to reveal a long, silvery tube."

"Is that a ...?" began Colin.

"Is that a bazooka?" asked an excited Goth chick.

"Yep, plus we've got twelve shells, three per box."

"Why wasn't I told about this?"

"We've only had it for four days," said Terri.

"I repeat, why wasn't I told about this?" demanded Sheila.

"Because I didn't want you to get excited and fire off all the shells into the forest for fun, only to have none left when the next monster attack occurred."

"She knows you too well, marm," said Colin.

"Fair enough," conceded the Goth chick, "now let's get them into the Lexus so I can take down Giganta-Fishosaurus ... I really do love that new name, Tare."

An hour or so later, they met up with the other cops, plus the young bucks from Bulam-Bulam's tribe.

"Any sign of it?" asked Colin.

"Yep, about half a kilometre ahead of us," said Stanlee Dempsey, pointing.

"We think it might be heading back toward Lake Cooper," said Drew Braidwood. "In which case, we'll need a mini-submarine to get it."

"We're not gonna get a miniature submarine from Russell Street," said Terri. "It took me two years to convince them to send us a bazooka and a dozen shells."

"Yes, well, they are ..." began Don Esk, staring, before asking, "Are you saying we've got a bazooka now, Chief?"

"Yes," said Sheila with a broad grin. "And guess who gets to fire it?"

"Unless one of you thinks you're better at weapons and armaments than Sheils?" asked Terri.

"Come on, Chief, you know we're not," said Jessie Baker. "No one is."

"Yatzy!" cried Sheila.

"Okay, let's reduce the distance between us and Giganta-Fishosaurus to a hundred metres, or so," said Terri. "Then we'll set the mad Goth chick loose with her new toy."

"Yatzy!" repeated Sheila.

"Let's shift everything into the rear of Don's land Rover first," said Colin, "then it'll be easier to get the shells out for Sheils to reload."

"Are you sure, you know how to use this thing?" asked Terri.

"Of course, I trained with one at Melbourne. Although they claimed I'd never get to use one in Glen Hartwell ... Boy, were they ever wrong."

Once the shells were in the rear of the Land Rover, after the three Alsatian-crosses had been taken out, Sheila, Terri, and Colin climbed into the back also.

"Okay, close the gap, Don," ordered Terri.

"Gotcha, Chief," said Don, starting the Rover and accelerating. To almost catch up with the Devil Fish.

"Don't get too close," warned Terri. "But reverse her, so we can feed the shells to Sheils more easily."

"Gotcha," agreed Don, spinning the Rover around, then backing it up a little more.

"That'll do us," said Terri, and the three cops leapt out the rear, Sheila already holding the unloaded bazooka.

"Load her up, Tare," said the Goth chick.

Handing her the first shell, Terri said, "I don't know how."

"Okay," said Sheila with a sigh. Resting the bazooka on its front, Sheila opened the rear of the bazooka, loaded it, then warned, "Don't stand behind it, these things have quite a back blast."

As was shown, when she raised the bazooka, aimed it at the Devil Fish and fired.

The shell roared over the giant creature, exploding in the grass in front of it.

"Oops, overshot," said Sheila, hurriedly loading the next shell.

"Well, you got its attention anyway," said Colin as the creature spun around and made to head back toward them.

"Killing it now would be good," suggested Terri. "Before it leaps forward and gobbles one of us up."

As the creature roared at them, with an almost lion-like roar, Sheila fired again.

This time, the shell exploded against its left side, blowing a big hole into the creature. Which roared again as blood fountained from its wound, but showing no sign of stopping."

"Aim for its heart," said Terri, handing Sheila the next shell.

"And where would that be on Giganta-Fishosaurus?" asked Sheila, aiming again.

"Somewhere in its chest, presumably."

"It doesn't have any real chest," said Sheila, trying not to panic as she fired again.

The third shell exploded on the creature's chest, as such, but despite more blood fountaining out, it showed no sign of slowing as it headed toward the Rover.

"Any more suggestions?" asked Sheila, loading the next shell.

"If you blew its head off, that would kill most things," shouted Don Esk.

"Yeah," said Colin. "Only politicians can live without a brain."

Laughing as she fired, Sheila's latest shot went low but exploded into the Devil Fish's front left leg, blowing it off at the knee joint.

Screaming, in terror this time, the monster fell over onto its left side.

"Now blow its brains out," encouraged Colin, as the Goth chick loaded the latest shell.

"Okay," said Sheila.

With the monster down, fountaining blood, the Goth chick risked advancing another fifteen metres before firing her final shot, which exploded on the creature's left ear, disintegrating most of its head.

"Yatzy!" cried Sheila, almost throwing the bazooka into the air in her excitement. "Who the woman now, boys and girls, who the woman now?"

"You the woman now, Sheils!" shouted Terri, Colin, and Don together.

"Damn straight," said the Goth chick, reluctantly handing the bazooka back to Colin to be locked away again. "So, how often can I take that thing out into the forest to practice?"

"If you mean to play with it, never!" said Terri.

"Damn straight?" said Sheila again, making everybody laugh this time.

THE END
© Copyright 2025 Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia