The fog was still clinging to the water when Elias felt the jerk on his line. It wasn’t the sharp tug of a tuna or the erratic pull of a shark. It was dead weight. Immense, immovable dead weight.
“Snagged a rock,” he grumbled to himself, reaching for the winch controls.
But as the hydraulic motor whined and the cable tightened, the object began to lift. It rose slowly from the dark depths, water cascading off its sides.
When it breached the surface, Elias killed the motor. He stared over the railing, his coffee cup forgotten in his hand.
It looked like a clam. But it was the size of a truck tire.
It was covered in decades of algae and barnacles, but the shape was unmistakable. A bivalve. A giant clam. But something was wrong. Giant clams lived in tropical reefs, not in the cold, murky waters of the North Atlantic.
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