The Loch

Epilogue

And so my tale ends, only now I've come full circle, returning once more to this dreadful Sargasso Sea. Brandy's with me this time, and yes, we're married, with a child on the way.

The night terrors? A distant memory.

Brandy and I stood together on deck, hand in hand, as the crew of the research vessel, Manhattanville, lowered our remotely operated vehicle over the side. On-board the unmanned submersible were cameras, sonar, and my latest lure, one inspired by a long-forgotten childhood memory.

National Geographic's cameras were rolling, documenting what we hoped would be the first live shots of a species I had dubbed, Anguilla giganticusnessensis.

Never shy around a camera, Brandy flashed them her swollen belly, causing me to laugh.

I laugh a lot these days.

An hour later, the last purple blemish of sun crept below the western horizon, just as the ROV arrived at its preprogrammed depth of ten thousand feet. From my master controls I switched the robot's lights from white to red before engaging my "Nessie lure."

The sounds of feeding schools of salmon pumped throughout the deep.

Twenty-seven minutes later, sonar registered our first incoming signal.

"It's a biologic," called out John Beardon, our master technician. "Range just over two kilometers. Speed at seventeen knots. Whatever they are, they're closing fast."

"Put "em on speaker," I said.

Blee-bloop… Blee-bloop… Blee-bloop… Blee-bloop …

Moments later they arrived — five of them in all, juveniles, each still over twenty feet. Their yellow eyes appeared orange and luminescent in the ROV's red lights as they circled the robot, their serpentlike bodies moving gracefully and in sync with one another.

"Standing by with the transmitter dart," I said for the sake of the camera crew.

Brandy pointed out one of the larger animals on the monitor, probably a female. I waited until she circled closer, took aim, then, using the control stick in my right hand, shot her with the homing dart.

The big female barely noticed.

The creatures circled the robot for several more minutes, then left. None ever attacked the lure.

Cody Saults, the documentary director from our first adventure, approached to hound me with more of his questions. "Congratulations, Dr. Wallace, you've done it again. How soon before we know if these creatures will migrate back into Loch Ness?"

"Could be next spring, could be never. Just because the passage's been reopened guarantees nothing. Our hope is that the homing device will allow us to track the creatures and learn more about their species."

"And the monster you faced last August? How big did you say she—"

"I think that's enough left-brain thinkin' for one day," interrupted Brandy. "The good doctor's promised tae rub my achin' back. Did ye know babies are born wi'out kneecaps?"

"Uh, right. Just one last question! Do you ever see a day when the paying public will be able to descend in cages and observe these magnificent monsters in the wild?"

"You know," I said, allowing Brandy to lead me below, "that's a question you really ought to ask my dad."