Julie Ben Robbins whistled cheerfully as he loaded the fishing poles into the back of his truck and bent over to double check the safety chains between the bumper and boat trailer. He had been looking forward to this fishing trip for some time, and he intended to make the best of it. Free time of any length away from the station was hard to come by now that he had moved up to assistant anchor, so he was anxious get underway. His fiancée felt he should spend it with her. If he didn’t vacate post-haste, she would probably be over soon to lay a guilt trip on him that would do his mother proud. “Maybe she should learn to fish,” he muttered as he slammed the door and the pickup’s engine roared to life. The madness of the big city would soon be lost in the isolation of Lake Juniper. A phone rang, although it could have been his neighbor’s. Gary stood there in his own driveway across from him, obviously envious. Ben nodded back. In any case, the gravel being thrown against the front of his boat was all the answer he intended to give. After putting his boat into the water and parking his truck in the dock parking lot, Ben let one of the dock rats take the boat to be fueled up. He walked along the dock to get some bait and food from the dock store. An wizened old man standing just inside extended his hand in greeting. “Welcome to Jesse’s Boat Dock. I’m Jesse Brown. Can I help you?” “Yes, I’m planning on a day’s fishing on this lovely lake of yours, and I guess that I’m going to need some bait and eats.” Jesse pointed to a few shelves containing loaves of white bread, Vienna sausages, and the like. “Sorry, but that’s about all we’ve got in the line of food. Pick whatever you think you can choke down, and we’ll get you fixed up on bait”. Ben picked up a few items and placed them on the counter, where they were promptly bagged. “So, Jesse, what do you have in the way of bait?” “Well, there we are a little bit better off. Just what are you fishing for?” “Just about anything I can hook and land. Anything from a blue gill to, uh, what’s her name again?” He stood there studying the old yellowing famous poster, the script so darkened with age it was hard to make out. “What do you call the local sea monster?” “You mean Julie. Named after a young girl whose drowning was blamed on her.” “Yeah, Julie. I’m out here to relax from a hectic pace in the city, so I honestly don’t care if I get a bite or not.” Jesse’s back was turned to Ben as he filled containers with various types of bait. “Well, we’ll fix you up with the house special. How does that sound?” Ben laughed. “Sounds great. Anything but fish repellant will work.” Jesse nodded at him as he walked to the doorway. “Hey Bobby, I need a total on that gas.” He went back behind the counter and began to bag the various items. “You’re that news fellow, aren’t you?” “Guilty as charged.” Ben smiled appreciatively at being recognized. “News at Six.” "So, you’re looking for a little bit of stuff to use for a story?” “Oh, no. Anything but.” Ben waved away at the idea. “Strictly rest and recreation. I came out here to get away from all that.” Jesse leaned forward on the counter. “But…what if you could find something...if you saw something that would make great news? Something that would make people want to watch your show? You know, watch you?” Ben started to say something, but stopped as Bobby leaned in the door. “Forty dollars on the gas, Jesse.” Jesse nodded to show that he had heard, but never took his eyes off of Ben. Ben stood silently for a minute still looking at the poster before answering. “You are, I think, talking about the sightings. Am I right?” Jesse rang up the items and smiled. “What else?” “Well, uh, Jesse, I don’t put much stock in things like that. I don’t mean any offense by that, I just don’t buy it.” “No offense taken, young feller,” Jesse laughed. “Truth is, most people that live around here don’t even believe in Julie. What’s more, I don’t know of any actual sightings of her myself. Doesn’t mean, mind you, that I don’t believe in her.” “Well, I certainly don’t want to tell you what to believe, but I can’t believe something, at least something like that, could exist undiscovered forever. Someone somewhere would have caught one, or have gotten a picture, some kind of proof by now. Must be some kind of rogue manatee.” Jesse smiled as he pushed the bags toward Ben. “Well, who knows? Life has many strange surprises just when we think that we know it all.” Ben paid for his purchases and headed toward the door. “No sea monsters, Mr. Brown. No Bigfoot, no little green men from Mars, and certainly no Julies.” “Good luck with your fishing, Mr. Ben.” Ben laughed. “Ben Robbins”, he said. “Well, Mr. Ben Robbins, tell Bobby to make sure that all your gear is stowed so if your boat should get rocked by a wake or something, it won’t get lost.” Ben smiled tiredly. “I’ll do just that.” Jesse walked to the window and watched as poles, gear, and food were secured in the boat. Bobby was untying the securing line as Ben said something inaudible to him. They both looked back toward the store and laughed. Ben started the motor while Bobby pushed him clear of the dock. A final wave and he was off. It was a beautiful morning on Lake Juniper. The sun had risen just enough to burn away the blanket of fog off of the water, but not enough to drive away the damp morning chill. Overhead the clouds floated by, oblivious to the tired mortal in the boat below. Ben killed the motor and stretched lazily. He baited a couple of hooks and dropped them into the water. Opening a can of Vienna sausages and some crackers, he began to eat. “The breakfast of champions” he whispered, as if sharing a secret with the lake. This was a very welcome change from the breakneck pace he was accustomed to. Before long, he became drowsy and nodded off. Ben woke suddenly after hearing a loud splash. He could see where the waves were radiating out clear enough in the lake, but couldn’t make out the fish that made them. It had to be a really large fish to make that big of a splash. He reeled in both poles to check the bait. Sure enough, both hooks were bare. “Damn” he said, reaching for one of the bait buckets. “You harboring rogue fish, are you now?” he asked of the open lake. Casting out the line again toward deeper water, he began to bait the other hook. A sound right beside his foot made him jump. “What the hell?” he exclaimed before realizing that the sound had been made by the bait he had just cast out. It somehow had landed right back in the boat. “How in the hell did…?” He looked at the nearby shoreline for a prankster, but seemed to be alone except for the warming sun. Casting out the line again, he warily watched the bait slowly sink into the water. After waiting for a couple more minutes, he shrugged his shoulders and went back to baiting the other hook. He lowered it over the side toward the shore and settled down to wait for another bite. The gentle rocking of the boat and growing heat of the day began to make him feel drowsy again. He dipped his hand in the water to wet his face. Out of the corner of his eye, a large shadow appeared to move underwater. A quick rush of fear flooded over him, but he immediately felt silly for it. The pole on the deep-water side suddenly dipped as if a large game fish had taken the bait and was trying to run with it. Grabbing the fishing pole, Ben furiously started to reel in the line, but met no resistance. Finding the bait intact, he cast it back out. Almost as soon as he had done so, the same thing happened with the other pole. The bait on it was also still there. After casting it too back out, Ben felt more than confused. He grabbed both poles and sat down heavily in the boat waiting for another strike. He waited for about fifteen minutes without anything happening. It was just about then Ben noticed that the boat had drifted a long way from where he had anchored. It only took a tug on the line to reassure him that the anchor was still there and had evidently regained a grip on the bottom. While he was pulling on the anchor line, he heard a sudden splash behind him. He jumped and nearly lost his balance. “Damn it!” he cried, grabbing too late for one outbound pole. It skied across the water before disappearing beneath the surface and out of sight. He held tightly onto to the second, but it did not receive a hit. “Damn, that had to be a trophy fish to do that” he said. “Well, at least I’m awake now. Come on, you bastard, bite steel when I’m ready for you,” he spat through gritted teeth. He was so enrapt with the pole he was holding he did not notice the boat had begun to drift again. “Hey, Jesse, did that reporter ever come back?” Bobby called out to the older man. “No, I don’t suppose so, Bobby. Why?” “Well, I found a pole out by the dock that I am pretty sure is one of his.” Bobby held it out for inspection. Jesse looked at it critically, squinting over the top of his glasses. “Yeah, I suppose that that’s probably his. He must have dropped it when he left." ”But Jesse, I saw him with both poles as he was leaving.” “Maybe he had three and just dropped one. You know them city fellers.” “Could be, Jesse, but I am sure none of ‘em already had bait on the hook.” Bobby held up the pole high so that the swinging bait was undeniable. Ben tried to start the motor to move the boat back where it was before, but the motor wouldn’t start. He cursed it and cajoled it, but nothing helped. It appeared to be locked up. He put it into neutral, and yelped when it suddenly fired up. When he put it into gear though, it made a strange whirring sound, died and wouldn’t start again. “Well, I guess I am stuck until old Jesse decides to come look for me,” Ben sighed. Opening up another bait bucket, he began to bait a hook. Ben sat in his boat feeling disgusted with life in general and this particular time and place specifically. Wouldn't the boys down at the station find this a real hoot? he thought. One of those upstart reporters below him probably had something to do with this. The water made him and the boat sway like a baby in a cradle. Bitter thoughts kept racing behind his eyes even as they closed. “Hey there, brother. Wake up!” boomed the voice of a man shaking Ben. “Wha…Bobby?” “Yeah, buddy, it’s me. You didn’t tell us you was gonna to stay out so long. It’s way past Miller time. Oh yeah, I put your pole back in your boat.” “My fishing pole?” “Yeah, it’s in your boat. We didn’t hear you pull in, you must have been trolling, huh?” “Pull in?” Ben sat up, amazed to discover he was back at the dock. He felt very confused. “If you guys didn’t tow me here, I must have drifted. I think the prop has gotten wrapped up with weeds or something. Motor wouldn’t start.” Jesse ambled out of his fish shop and said,“Bobby, check his prop and then load his boat onto the trailer.” Bobby was already tying a line to the boat. Ben got up onto the dock and stretched his legs. Jesse then turned to him. “You saw her, didn’t you?” “Saw who, Jesse?” “You know damn well who,” the old man said hoarsely. “Julie, that’s who.” Ben turned to look Jesse straight in the eye. “You’re serious, aren’t you? I didn’t see anything. Sea monsters are like mermaids and honest politicians.” He laughed nervously at his own joke. As he started to walk away, Jesse called after him. “How do you suppose that you got back here, then? Current flows away from here. You should have ended up on the other side of the lake, you know, down by the dam if you were drifting.” Ben looked at him dully and then climbed into his truck without replying. Watching him take off in the growing darkness, Jesse stood in the doorway, sandwich in hand. He was very deep in thought, so deep that he did not immediately hear the persistent ringing of the phone. Finally breaking his reverie, he took one last bite of the sandwich and tossed the remainder out at the water. He had already started inside when it dawned on him that there had been no splash. Whirling around, he saw only silent ripples where the sandwich would have fallen. “Ah, Julie, you are such a naughty girl,” he smiled. Turning again, he went to silence the annoying phone. Out from under the dock drifted a soft sound not unlike that of a schoolgirl’s laughter.
Copyright © 2001 G Geoffrey Conwill |