Mother’s Day

Colin still loved Teresa after ten years of marriage. Everyone knew they were devoted.

It was just that there were so many other women he had to meet.

Everyone knew they were besotted.

The shouting matches were a sign of love. Those occasional police visits… infatuation, absolutely.

That divorce… just something people madly in lust do.

Colin had moved his possessions, which seemed fewer than he remembered, out of the flat, and moved to the other end of the city, where he could afford the rent as a single person. He still loved Teresa, he just loved being with other women more.

The major problem was the kids. Two of them, both young, old enough to know that Dad used to live with them, and now didn’t. Colin had tried to gain custody, but the sworn testimony of family, mystics, statistics, and the police lost him that one. He then tried to make a clean break of things but found he couldn’t escape the payments. Eventually, the courts allowed him one day a month with the kids alone, and three other days supervised.

If he went teetotal.

That Teresa so distrusted men after their relationship, she now always carried a pepper spray in case of emergencies, was not deemed important enough information by the courts. Indeed, they were under the belief that the situation was her fault.

He and Teresa sat in the front seats of the second-hand car, not talking to each other.

It had been Teresa’s turn to pick an activity for the kids.

She chose the zoo.

Colin hated zoos.

She knew.

The kids ran about the zoo, looking at the tigers, the monkeys, and the penguins, but it was mid-July in a heatwave, and they started to get fidgety and complain before long. “I need a drink!” “I need another drink!” “It’s too hot!” “Mummy, the tiger is too asleep!” “Daddy, where are the dinosaurs?”

Colin was bored. Eventually, so were the kids.

A joyless family day out meandered to an end.

A traffic jam slowed cars on the King’s Bridge to morgue pace. Colin swore under his breath, then told his kids off in the back seat for copying him.

Teresa read a newspaper and refused to acknowledge his loud complaining. From her point of view, the courts forced her to spend time with someone she hated. She knew who she was doing it for, and it wasn’t the balding self-confessed lothario in the driver’s seat.

“Have you seen my dinosaur book? I can’t find it anywhere?”

“Shut up!”

Traffic smothered each other on all sides of the four-lane bridge. It was a difficult day to be returning from the zoo. Or the beach. Or anywhere that needed the bridge.

“Used to be worse before the bridge opened,” muttered Teresa.

“How would you know?” sneered Colin. “You don’t even drive.”

She shot him a laser focused look and went back to her newspaper.

The kids were going nuts in the backseat.

“Daddy, it’s too hot!”

“Daddy, I want a drink!”

“Daddy, I need the loo.”

“You went to the loo ten minutes ago!”

“Yes, but now I really need to go!”

“Daddy, what’s your favourite dinosaur?”

“Shut up!”

Trapped on all sides by non-moving cars. Colin swore again, told his kids not to repeat him, and then bashed the broken radio, which would have told them how long this tailback expected to last. And as the sun beat down on the driver, and the kids fought in the backseat, they were all silenced in turn by a loud roar, which sounded like a foghorn.

“What the hell was that?” said Colin. He leaned his head out of the car window, but all he could see was cars on every side. And other drivers, doing the same, seeing nothing.

He honked his horn again to try and get the cars in front moving, like that would work. The car horn received an answer, from a loud animal roar.

“Daddy, I’m scared!”

“Shut up!”

Colin moved the beads of sweat from his eyes and tried to keep calm. The cars in front wouldn’t bloody move. It was too hot for this!

He noticed it immediately but tried to ignore it. Even in the choking warmth of the afternoon, a cold chill ran down the back of his neck. It was the feeling of something shifting underneath, as though firm ground was collapsing below them.

“It’s an earthquake, Daddy!”

“Shut up! Shut up!”

But even he couldn’t yell at it to go away now, for the car was starting to sway. Something was shaking the bridge from underneath!

The kids began to cry, Colin swore louder, and Teresa put her newspaper down and comforted the children.

“We need to get off this bridge” she said.

But it was already too dangerous, as cars veered in front of them. They saw a car by the side of the bridge, three ahead of them, veer too close to the edge, and fly off the side. Teresa closed her eyes briefly to try and exorcise the image.

Colin began to hyperventilate.

“It’s an earthquake!” he said. “A bloody earthquake in England!”

It was a sweltering day, with tempers flared, when the head of the creature rose from the depths of the river, its long neck allowing it to rise so that it could look directly at the cars.

The kids saw it first.

“Daddy, that dinosaur doesn’t look friendly.”

“Shut up about bloody dinosaur...” The words died in his mouth as he saw it.

From his angle, he saw the head of the thing. It had narrow eyes, a thin head that was still considerably larger than the car, and its scaly skin was blue tinged. Something crashed down on the car, creating darkness and shade, and dripping. It rolled backwards, light shone back in, and Colin realised, with swiftly increasing horror, that it was a tongue.

Which had just licked his car.

He tried to think of an escape route, but before he could, the bridge began to shake with loud persistence.

“Daddy, the dinosaur doesn’t like the bridge!”

“Shut up!”

The roar of the beast, and the roar of worn masonry, joined forces, and Colin saw the cars in front fall before he heard the bridge collapse. And everyone screamed as the car dropped into the freezing water below. It only took five seconds, the entire thing. Barely enough time to swear. Or acknowledge the danger of falling concrete, cars, and people.

Survival instincts didn’t have a chance to kick in.

It would be dumb luck who lived.

Colin liked his dumb luck as he felt water pour in around his feet. They were wet, the car ruined, but he was alive. A quick glance showed the other three were too.

“Nothing to worry about!” he said, lying to himself.

When the dust settled, the screaming continued, from the other cars, from the injured and dying. He had a gash on his forehead, bleeding, but otherwise seemed OK. Teresa looked shaken and muddied. The kids seemed least hurt of all, cushioned by the backseat. And Colin was able to see the large thing in the water with them. It was larger than the bridge that used to stand there, now he could see it in all its glory. It looked vaguely like a plesiosaur but larger than he imagined any such creature, and like something which had evolved for millions of years after the picture books he had as a kid.

It swam between the cars, looking for something.

Colin wondered what it was.

And then he heard the cry, just from outside his window.

He didn’t want to turn, but curiosity forced his hand. As did something grabbing onto his jacket.

It was a small thing, it looked like the larger one, but it had to be a baby. If they could smile, it was smiling with its cruel face.

The car was filling with water, Teresa was coming to.

The kids were trapped in the back seat.

Colin realised the smaller thing was trying to grab him by the jacket, trying to force him out of the door.

He turned to Teresa. She looked at his panic, with, was that a hint of satisfaction?

“Help me!” he cried, holding onto the door of the car as the pull of the creature threatened to drag him off.

Teresa looked at Colin. She remembered how she used to love him once. Then she remembered every betrayal, every drink, every punch. Every moment society blamed her, and she had to pick up the pieces for the kids. Every time they were devastated.

She looked at her former husband, grabbed the pepper spray from her bag, and shot it twice, directly into his eyes.

“You stupid idiot!” he yelled, with a nastier word than idiot. He went to yell more, but Teresa cut him off:

“Shut up, darling!” she said.

He let go of the door, his eyes streaming tears of pain, and the thing dragged him, screaming all the way.

“Is daddy playing with the dinosaur?”

Teresa turned to the kids.

“Yes, Daddy is playing with the dinosaurs. Quick, we need to swim now, OK?”

And so, they swam to the shore. The eldest had recent school swimming lessons, Teresa dragged the youngest with her, and all three got to land. Wet, and scared, but alive.

There was no sign of Colin.

There never would be any sign of Colin.

Teresa worried he might cause something indigestion.

The larger creature was feeding among the screams too. It looked at the shoreline and swam over, towering over the kids and Teresa.

“Mummy, this dinosaur is too scary.”

It seemed poised to attack, but Teresa lifted her head up, and shoot it a filthy glare. Both creature and mother locked eyes, and an understanding seemed to flash before them. The creature roared, and swam off, itself and the smaller one heading towards the North Sea.

The kids cheered.

“Mummy, you told it to go away.”

Teresa hugged her kids.

“There’s no dinosaurs that Mummy can’t save you from.”

The blaring sirens of emergency vehicles tried to drown out the screams, and the flashing lights lit the dying afternoon. The warm sun had disappeared, behind clouds, with the disappearance of the bridge, leaving a balmy Summer early evening.

Teresa grabbed the kids and ran towards the first ambulance.

“Please help!” she said. “I got my kids out of the car, but my ex-husband has been swept away in the tide.”

There were kind words, and towels, and hugs, and the kids began to twig that dad wasn’t coming back. And, as they sat in the back of an ambulance, checked over by medics for shock and injuries from the fall, Teresa looked back at the river, and the lack of Colin, and couldn’t help but smile to herself.

Author’s Biography

Michael S. Collins was born in a building long since demolished, on a planet thus far spared the same fate. His short horror stories can be found in a variety of homes, from The Vampire Connoisseur, to the 10th BHF Book of Horror Stories. Sea Terrors, co-written with Jon Arnold and Jo M. Thomas, is currently available on Amazon and through Waterstones orders. Despite frequent questions on the matter, Collins had no involvement in any NASA Apollo space programmes, and is yet to own a pet dragon.