Date: 2015-06-07 07:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Horror
Description: Nick Ayres wanted to be the first man to explore all of the Caulkers’ Giant Cave, the largest underwater cave in the world. Instead of fame and fortune, he found death at the hands of something that defies science, accidentally unleashing it on the island’s unsuspecting population. Gabriel Robles is the man hired to take care of the monster. He knows the water and its inhabitants better than anyone else, but he's never faced something so deadly. Robles has to figure something out quick, because the victims are piling up and it’s only a matter of time before the blood in the water becomes a pro
Publisher: SEVERED Press

Hungry Darkness

Gabino Iglesias

Copyright 2015 by Gabino Iglesias

Chapter One

Nick Ayres placed his hands on top of a huge, grey camera crate and pressed down on it to test its sturdiness. The thick plastic gave a little, but it felt like it could take his weight. He turned around and carefully sat on it, still a bit afraid of crushing the crate’s contents. He didn’t know how the stuff inside worked, but he knew it was worth more than some people’s cars. The crate took his weight and seemed to cradle his behind.

Sure that the plastic wasn’t going to snap and drop his ass on top of a bunch of lenses, Nick breathed a sigh of relief and looked out at the shiny 44-foot boat bobbing up and down at the end of the pier. He hated poetry, but the word majestic came to mind. The sun was coming up and its reflection on the water, which looked like a trillion dancing worms made of blinding light, made the boat’s white paint stand out even more. Looking at it, and thinking about the place it would take them, was enough to put a smile on Nick’s face despite the fact that it was unreasonably early and he hadn’t had his coffee yet.

Getting a boat this big had been a pain and a hard hit on the budget, but now that most of the equipment was on board, and it was obvious there was still plenty of space to move around, Nick was glad he’d gone through the hassle. It was all National Geographic’s money anyway, so no harm there. Traveling in style is much easier when someone with deep pockets is taking care of your bills.

The Albin 45 Command Bridge was perfect for Nick and the team. Its design delivered a 360-degree view of the water to those in the cockpit, and if he was going to be responsible for the safety of a few divers, that visibility was something he considered priceless. The interior featured teak and holly sole throughout, and the galley included a full sized refrigerator, a deluxe sink that at least one or two people would surely be vomiting into at some point, a three burner stove, a little microwave, a coffee maker, which Nick would be using as soon as everyone was onboard, and a lot of cupboard space. Despite the unusual amount of cupboard space, it was already called for, and everyone knew it would serve a single purpose: keeping all the crap Sheryl, one of the producers, had insisted on bringing.

Nick couldn’t help smiling every time he stepped onboard. The boat was a real beauty, and with the two powerful motors they’d slapped on the back of it, the thing could do 30 knots with ease. Nick was eager to try it out.

“Mind getting up? We need to put all the gear together so there’s no need to look around for things once we’re at the hole.”

Nick turned around and found David Perry, the lead cameraman, pushing his thick, black glasses up his nose. The appendage had the reddish color typical of those with very white skin after too many hours under the sun.

“Sure, Dave. You guys have everything you need?”

“James got hold of a few extra batteries, so we’re good to go,” said Dave, his voice a far more nasal version of Kermit the Frog’s.

“That’s what I like to hear,” said Nick, watching as Dave struggled to lift the protective crate and carry it to the boat.

Everyone had been working nonstop since their last meeting, and Nick was grateful for that, but he felt antsy, nervous in a way he hadn’t felt in a very long time. A lot was riding on this expedition, and he wanted to be doing much more than waiting for others to finish up packing their stuff. What he wanted was to be in the water already, his body slowly descending into the mouth of Giant Cave, the largest marine cave in the world. He’d dived there countless times, but this series of dives mattered more than anything else he had ever done. It mattered more than any set of dives anyone had ever done in there. Paul Heinerth and Chuck Hattel, the men who first dived into the gaping darkness, were names only those interested in the history of Giant Cave knew about, but Nick wanted to explore deeper than anyone else before, and he had convinced National Geographic to give him the cash to buy everything and hire everyone he needed to pull it off. That there would be a film made of his historic dives, and discoveries was just the icing on the cake.

Chapter Two

The team was sitting on the large U-shaped sofa that took up most of the dining area. They had reached Tarpon View which is what most locals called the spot above the entrance to Giant Cave, a bit ahead of schedule thanks to a nice breeze, and Nick wanted to go over their plans and safety once more before hitting the water.

Dave, James, and Sebastian would be the only ones going down with him, and they were all divers with plenty of cave diving trips under their belts, but Nick knew that his entire future was riding on this, and he wanted everything to be perfect. He had selected Dave and James as his camera crew not only because both were experienced cave divers who had worked with nature documentary crews before, but also because they were incredibly easy to get along with and had a strange artistic flare that affected their work in a very positive way. They knew how to get footage that would awe viewers, stuff that would transport people to that other world not only beneath the waves but under the floor that was beneath those waves.

The third man going down with Nick was Sebastian Vazquez, one of the most experienced cave divers in Belize. Sebastian owned a diving business that took tourists on fishing and diving trips to the reef, and he’d had to save more than one inexperienced diver who got him or herself in a precarious situation. He was also easy to get along with, but mainly because he was incredibly quiet and seemed not to care about anything or anyone that didn’t directly affect what he was doing.

The three Nick would be taking with him knew what they were doing and had vast experience with the equipment they would be diving with, but they would hopefully be going into new territory, and getting distracted or having a panic attack deep in the cave could be fatal for everyone involved. What Nick wanted was for everyone to be so sure of their plans, so clear on what they would be doing and how they would be doing it, that there would be no surprises. He really believed he could repeat things so many times that they would somehow end up tattooed on their brains.

With all eyes on him, Nick started talking.

“I know we’ve gone over all of this before, but I want to make sure that everyone is clear on safety protocols and what we’re going to try to achieve today when we get down there. Any questions before we get going?”

Sheryl raised her right hand like a kid in a classroom. Her left eyebrow was riding half an inch higher on her forehead than her left. She looked both annoyed and like someone who knew they were being lied to and wanted to give the liar a piece of her mind. It was pretty much the same look and attitude she’d had since the first meeting.

“Sheryl?” Nick said, looking at her.

“What are we supposed to do while you guys are down there?”

Nick took a deep breath before replying. Sheryl was the most irritating woman he’d met in a very long time, but she was great at what she did as demonstrated by the quickness with which she’d had the boat prepped and delivered. She had come highly recommended by the folks at NatGeo, so he had decided to put up with her attitude. Also, she was part of a team, and the second producer, Jessica, was not only nice enough to make him forget about Sheryl but also attractive enough to earn a living as a bikini model if the producing gig ever turned sour.

“That’s up to you, Sheryl,” Nick said after his pause. “Just because you’re not going in the water doesn’t mean you can’t participate. We’ll have a live feed from both cameras going at all times, so you can watch and take notes. Also, I’m sure Gary could use some help with communications. Keeping track of four people can’t be easy. If none of that suits you, just join the captain up top. It’s a beautiful day to work on your tan.”

Nick tried his best to smile at her, to appear cordial, but her face still looked like she had something rancid stuck to the back of her tongue.

“Considering I have no interest in walking away from this job with skin cancer, what you’re saying is that I can either sit down and watch what you guys are seeing, or help Mike ask you if you’re all okay every minute and a half, right?”

Nick nodded.

“Oh, those are both such exciting options I really don’t know what to do!”

Sheryl’s false enthusiasm was so full of cynicism even Dave, probably the mellowest person on team, shook his head.

“Okay, if you don’t like any of those, you can always…produce something. Yeah, just stay in here and do whatever producers do when no one’s looking.”

It was meant as a joke, but humor and Sheryl mixed as well as oil and water.

“You got it, Nick, I’ll produce something.”

Sheryl’s sarcasm was getting old, but Nick knew that getting into an argument with her would only be a waste of time. Instead, he looked at Jessica. She rolled her eyes and smiled. That gave Nick the strength he needed to keep talking.

“We’re more or less at the entrance of the cave now. As you know, we’re not that far from shore, so the water’s not too deep here. Once we get in the water, we’ll dive down to the ocean floor and enter a narrow crack. Believe it or not, once we’re in there, we’ll be technically inside Giant Cave. Now, this crack goes on for a bit as Sebastian already knows, and, like I mentioned, it’s not a wide space, so I’ll lead, and you guys will follow me single file. Sebastian will be coming in behind you, keeping an eye on things. We’re going to make our way through the narrow passage slowly because we don’t want to damage the equipment, so being cautious is all you two have to worry about it. After about 75 feet or so, we’ll reach a second entrance. This one goes down about twenty feet. There’s a rope in there to help guide you in the darkness during the descent, especially because your eyes can take some time to adapt once we move into the dark. It’s easy to grab that rope and try to get through the passageway as quickly as possible, but we need to be extremely careful because the space in there is even narrower than the crack. If you think squeezing your way through with the all the gear will be an issue, just hand it over to Sebastian or me, and we’ll take care of it. The passage can be a little scary your first time through. Once we’ve made our way down to the bottom of that small horizontal tunnel, we’ll reach the entrance of a huge room. That’s when we’ll be forced to turn our lights on and is the place where I want you two to start filming. This spot we’ll be entering is probably the largest underwater chamber in the world, and it’s kind of spooky with its greenish water and crazy shadows caused by lights.  Trust me, the ghostly, otherworldly atmosphere there makes for great shooting. You guys are gonna dig it. That being said, we’re going to try to keep our time there to a minimum. The idea is to get some footage, maybe a few fish or a lobster, and get out of there quickly because we don’t want to waste too much oxygen. It might take us up to half an hour to cross the chamber, but we should be fine. The diving conditions are in our favor. The water here hovers around the 77-degree mark, the average depth for most of the dive is not really something to be concerned about, and there are no strong currents in the cave. The reason I want to make our way quickly…”

Dave’s right hand shot up. Nick felt like a kindergarten teacher.

“What’s up, Dave?”

“Yeah, you said depth is not something we need to be concerned about for most of the dive. What do you mean by that? What about the part of the dive we need to be worried about? Are we gonna have to worry about decompression on the way back?”

“Well, Heinerth and Hattel only explored the first 3,000 feet of the cave. We know what’s there, so we’re hurrying through. The plan is to reach a portion of the cave that hasn’t been explored yet. We believe the cave keeps going horizontally because that’s what all experts have told us, but there’s always a chance it dips, and if it does, I plan on following it at least for a few hundred feet. With the double 20-liter tank setup we’ll be diving with, oxygen won’t be a problem. We’ll head in for two hours and turn around. We should reach the boat with an hour of oxygen to spare. I’ll be keeping my eye on the depth gage. If we start dropping down to triple digits, I’ll turn around, and we’ll head back up. We don’t need a decompression stop if we stay on the safe side of 100 feet. Any other questions?”

Despite the fact that they were all seasoned divers who had spent countless hours in deep, dark caves, Nick could see apprehension and regret battling for position in Dave and James’ faces. This was a new hole for them, and new things are always scary. He hoped all of that would vanish the second they hit the water. A scared diver is a liability, an accident waiting to happen, and he wanted none of that in the cave. If one of them died because they made a silly mistake and ruined his chance at glory, he’d find a way to bring him back from the dead just for the pleasure of killing him with his own hands.

“So, are we ready to do this?”

Their collective mumble was far short of the excitement Nick was feeling. He felt like the dumb friend who’s already screaming about one more bar and one more drink when everyone is obviously tired and ready to go home.

Nick pushed that awkward feeling aside and sent them off to get ready. Between the hands shooting up in the air and their reluctant faces, the whole thing felt like he was sending a bunch of kids to do their homework, but he didn’t care. He was the leader of this expedition, and his name would be the one plastered in newspapers and magazines across the globe. He had gotten the money, contacted the right people, brought all the details together successfully, and even sent two divers in ahead of time to make sure that this recorded dive would be officially recognized as the longest in the history of Giant Cave.

Unofficially, a few divers had gone beyond the 3,000-foot mark. In fact, Nick knew at least two of them. However, that was not something he was going to tell his crew. Giant Cave was controlled by the Department of Archeology and the Environment from whom Nick had received a permit for exploratory diving only because National Geographic was involved. All the divers before him who were not directly linked to Belize Dive Services went in illegally. That meant that they only shared their experience with a few close friends, and boasting a record-breaking exploration could lead to hard time. What Nick had learned from them was that there was a point where the cave became too narrow a few hundred feet past the 3,000-feet mark. Widening the passage was out of the question because it would entail damaging the cave, but that was not something Nick cared about. The folks who had discovered the place had used barrels to remove a huge rock from the entrance, thus altering the cave’s natural state. What Nick had done was somewhat similar, except it involved sending a couple of guys in with underwater explosives to take care of things. It was both illegal and dangerous, but it was all done in the name of science, and that’s what mattered.

Nick had called a friend of his who lived in Florida and worked as an underwater demolitionist. The man was worried about collapsing the cave, hurting the divers, and the damage the explosion would do to the cave’s ecosystem. Luckily for Nick, as soon as he offered to put the man down as a professional consultant and send him a check, the man told him what he needed to get and only asked him to stick to his instructions.

Now Nick was eager to get down there and use the newly opened space to swim through, cameras in tow, and get his name into a few books.

Chapter Three

The dive down was uneventful. Dave and James looked comfortable with their equipment, and Sebastian was doing a good job of keeping Gary, the tiny communications guy who was up in the boat and down here in their ears, happy with occasional updates on their progress. They were all wearing full-face masks with communication kits, something that at a thousand bucks a pop was another treat they had to thank National Geographic for.

The opening to the cave was uninviting. It looked like a dark hole to nowhere surrounded by slightly greenish water that was plagued with chunks of dead algae this time of year. However, if the nasty look affected any of the divers, they kept their cool about it. The waters around Caye Caulker have gorgeous reefs to offer divers, but this spot was not as colorful as that, and besides tarpons and a few other fish, was mostly devoid of the colorful marine life that made Caye Caulker such a popular destination for divers.

After slowly entering the hole and carefully maneuvering the cameras through the uncomfortably constricted passage, the four divers finally wiggled through the entrance to the big room and found themselves looking out an the enormous darkness around them. Dave couldn’t help letting a “Holy shit!” escape into the communications system. The two words put a smile on Nick’s face.

The beams of yellowish light emanating from their heads were powerful enough to create acute triangles in front of every diver. In that light, small fish crisscrossed in and out of the darkness carelessly, and random biological matter floated around like giant dust particles caught in the shafts of sunlight streaming through a window.

Huge stalactites and stalagmites were everywhere. Some stood straight like prehistoric trees with no tops while others came down from the darkness like the giant green teeth of a prehistoric behemoth. Some of the mineral formations were broken and laid toppled at various angles while others met, forming gigantic columns that reminded James of the megalithic cities described in the work of H.P. Lovecraft, which he’d been a fan of since his early teens. The eerie atmosphere was there when they were still, but it was made worse whenever the divers’ headlights moved across it which made strange shadows dance behind the columns and magnified the shadows of small pieces of drifting debris that passed closed to their lights. While their silence was eloquent to Nick, he didn’t want everyone’s first impression to have an impact on their time management, so he spoke to them to pull them out of their reverie.

“This is it, folks. Imagine the amazement of the two guys who discovered this place. Now let’s go make some discoveries of our own. If all goes well, your eyes will be looking at things no human being has seen before.”

The four men started making their way across the vast expanse of the chamber. Dave and James took opposite sides of the cave and focused on getting footage of the massive formations that surrounded them. After about ten minutes of that, they agreed to shut down the cameras and focus on moving forward at a good pace. Twenty minutes of movement followed, and Dave and James only started rolling again once Nick told them they were approaching the 3,000-foot mark. While the two-tank setup had struck the two cameramen as excessive, they now understood the need for it.

Nick was paying attention to the walls around him, and he quickly realized the two divers he had sent down here had done a great job. What had once been a passageway too narrow for a skinny human adult without a scuba tank to squeeze through was now an opening the size of a garage. Nick went through, a chill running down his spine, and then turned to watch the other three men make their way through without a hitch. Nick also noticed no one mentioned anything about the rock around them being slightly clearer in tone than the rest of the surrounding walls.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have officially reached an area of Giant Cave no human has reached before. Now, we push forward. I just checked the depth gage, and we’re doing great. Check your air gage, and make sure you have enough battery left in your cameras for the next half hour or so. Clear?”

Both cameramen agreed. Sebastian’s voice came through for the first time since they’d gone underwater. He warned Dave and James against drifting away solo and reminded them that they should stay within sight of each other at all times. Sebastian’s rough voice made it seems like he was already reprimanding them for drifting away, but no one said anything. The anxiety Nick had perceived on the surface had dissipated. Both cameramen now seemed eager to move forward and explore further, to catch with their lenses things no camera lens had ever caught before. For the second time since they entered the cave, Nick smiled to himself because he knew they were finally feeling the same excitement he’d been feeling since National Geographic had called to tell him they had approved his proposal and would give him the grant. With the smile still plastered on his face, he moved forward into the darkness in front of him, already pondering the narrative that he’d write to be voiced over the footage the two guys behind him were shooting.

Chapter Four

Dave was taking his time shooting. He wanted to get an interesting cave-dwelling creature on tape. Anything strange would do, but he was hoping for something strange, blind, and transparent, which was how he always imagined the creatures that lived in perpetual darkness. He knew videos of strange underwater animals, or any bizarre animal for that matter, had a tendency to go viral, and his YouTube channel could use the boost. Maybe a viral video would finally help him start getting a few dollars from advertising.

Thirty feet away or so, James was doing the same thing as Dave minus the YouTube revenue daydreaming, and he found something.

James was moving his camera down a stalactite in hopes of spotting a small crustacean or an interesting anemone. He loved when an uninteresting shot suddenly turned into something amazing thanks to a living organism entering the shot. He had framed the rock column in the center of his shot and had left enough space on either side to provide a second, natural frame. Despite the fact that he was focusing on the rock right in front of him, his peripheral vision registered the moment a huge figure darted from left to right behind the pillar-like structure. His heart skipped a bit. James moved back slowly and circled the stalactite. Jerky camerawork just wouldn’t cut it with him.

On the other side, a huge spherical thing was almost imperceptibly bobbing in the water behind a protruding rock formation that reminded the cameraman of a rough-looking balcony. James couldn’t see the thing clearly. The darkness of the cave was still playing tricks with his eyes. To make matters worse, someone’s light was causing the stalactite he’d just circled to throw a shaky shadow over a large portion of cave. All of these things were doing a good job of keeping what James was looking at hidden, but it was obviously not part of the rock itself.

Then there was movement to James’ left. The first time there’d been movement, he’d been able to see it because it happened right in front of him. This second time, however, the movement happened too close to where the mask impaired his peripheral vision, so it forced him to turn his head to get a better look. While his head jerked violently to the left, his hands held somewhat steady. He was both scared and excited, but he wasn’t about to let that strange mix of emotions affect his hands. Even with his accelerated heartbeat pounding his ears, he reminded himself not to pan the camera too abruptly and maybe ruin a great shot of whatever creature he was about to film.

The hit was unexpected and brutal. James felt as if the weight of the world had come crashing down on his upper back and shoulders. He felt his entire body push against the water below him with incredible force, travelling about five feet in a second. The hit pushed all the air out of his lungs, made him drop the camera, and knocked his mask, which included his regulator, off his face. He wanted to scream, but his empty lungs wouldn’t let him.

For a second, James thought a rock had come loose from the cave’s ceiling and smacked against him, but then he realized whatever had hit him had wrapped itself around his torso and was dragging him sideways instead of down. He’d been scared, especially when he realized his mask and regulator were gone, but now that something had a hold of him, panic set it.

James moved his hands down and touched something as thick as a tree trunk and even slimier than the rainbow trout he used to fish for with his father as a kid.

Then the thing under James’ hands tensed and squeezed his chest. His ribcage collapsed under the monstrous pressure, his scuba tanks groaning as the steel bent, and his ribs cracking loudly half a second before they perforated his empty lungs. James was dead before he felt any pain.

Sebastian was bringing up the rear, ensuring the two distracted cameramen wouldn’t move away from the group on their own and get lost or injured. He watched Dave slowly maneuver his camera between two rock formations and then looked at James, who was closer to him. The second cameraman was trying to get around a stalactite, but he never made it all the way around. A tentacle as wide as a man shot out of the darkness behind the rocks with the speed of a much smaller creature and hit James like a car, knocking his mask off his face and the camera out of his hands.

The tentacle quickly wrapped itself around the stunned man and squeezed. James’ mouth opened and a dark cloud of blood blossomed out. The two tanks screeched as they bent, and the sound made Sebastian’s blood run cold. He blinked and realized the thing wrapped around James and the expanding cloud of blood coming from his mouth were not a hallucination. The thing that had grabbed James was pulling him around the stalactite, back into the darkness, and the fear of seeing the diver disappear into that blackness made Sebastian snap out of the paralysis the shocking scene had locked him into.  He reached for the large knife strapped to his right calf, trying to ignore the voices in his head that were screaming at him to flee.

Nick had heard a sound behind him that reminded him of someone complaining. If sound underwater was tricky, sound underwater in a cave was even worse, but the sound was loud enough to make him turn around. His headlight first passed over Dave, who was in the process of turning himself and his camera around, no doubt because he had hear the same thing.

Nick’s light then illuminated what looked like deep nothingness, and then hanging in the water with his arms out and brandishing a huge knife that reflected his light, was Sebastian.

The sight of the knife immediately made Nick’s internal alarm sound off. Sebastian was not the kind of man to pull out a knife as a joke. Then Nick realized he hadn’t seen James. Then Sebastian’s scream exploded in his ears for a second before being replaced by a crushing sound and then silence.

Nick watched as an enormous shadow moved out of the darkness and engulfed Sebastian. Every instinct in Nick’s body was telling him to get away from whatever had covered his friend, but there was no way he was going to move forward with two divers in danger and a third one near whatever had overwhelmed Sebastian, so he moved forward.

The mass that now filled the space where Sebastian had been looked rough. Nick thought of a greenish rock, but it was obvious by the way it moved in the yellowish light that whatever was there was not solid, and he had seen it move like a living thing. Then the green color flashed a bit of red, like a wave of color passing through it. Nick had seen the same thing many times, and that suddenly made the bumpy surface painfully obvious to him: he was looking at part of an octopus, but the size was just…wrong.

“What the fuck, man?”

Dave’s shaky, nasal voice came through loud and clear, the fear in it forcing it up a few notches and injecting it with too many decibels.

“That thing just ate Sebastian! Nick! Nick, we need to get outta here!”

Dave dropped his camera and started frantically moving toward Nick. He was past the point of panicking. His screams had been replaced by fast breathing, the kind that consumes too much oxygen.

Nick looked at the approaching man as his body, now bypassing his brain and almost acting on its own, began moving backwards. In his light which was following the visible chunk of greenish beast as it submerged further and moved toward a pair of fallen rock formations, Nick could see Dave advancing, desperately trying to put distance between himself and the monstrous octopus.

“Nick? Nick, come in. What’s all the commotion about? Over.”

Gary’s voice seemed alien to both men, like something coming from another planet a few light years away. Dave started screaming again.

“Help! We need to get the fuck outta he…!”

Nick didn’t see the tentacle dart out, but he did see Dave’s eyes become even wider as the octopus wrapped one of his arms somewhere on his lower body and pulled him down and out of his light with unbelievable speed.

The sound of Gary screaming was not enough to mute out the pounding of Nick’s heart in his own ears. He had to escape, to hide somewhere until this beast was gone, but fear had paralyzed him, his brain telling him to move away while also trying to make sense of the situation and trying to digest what he had just seen.

The pressure was brutal and immediate. Something was crushing Nick’s left leg right below his knee. While he was busy watching and trying to get his thoughts in order, the huge octopus had grabbed him. That it had covered the distance between the place where he saw Dave disappear and where he was so quickly seemed impossible. Everything that was happening seemed impossible, something out of a child’s nightmare after seeing a bad creature feature.

Nick felt his flesh crunch under the pressure, meat, muscle, and bone giving in as if they were all made of plasticine. The pain reached his brain a fraction of a second later. That’s when the scream that had been building in his chest finally erupted, reaching the surface as a loud electronic squeal not unlike a microphone’s feedback.

Nick felt an irresistible force pull him through the water as if he weighted nothing. He moved his arms in an attempt to counteract the movement, a last second attempt at escaping, but his movements had the same effect a mosquito has on the speed of a truck barreling down the highway. He ran out of air, and the lack of it killed his scream. He gulped oxygen as he felt a second arm wrap itself around his waist, shattering his pelvis and silencing his second scream before it was it was out of his mouth.

The last thing Nick Ayres saw on the dive that was supposed to change his life was the yellowish light of his headlamp reflecting against the black curve of a massive, gaping beak.

Chapter Five

Emilio looked down at the moon shining over the water and inhaled deeply. Being out here, with the breeze caressing his face and the moon above him looking like a piece of magical low-hanging fruit, was almost enough to make him forget about the trouble at home.

Sarita, Emilio’s daughter, was almost three years old before she began to babble her first words. Their other three children, Carlitos, Eva, and Elias, were perfectly fine, but everyone kept telling them there was something wrong with Sarita, something they couldn’t spot while looking at her beautiful face and disarming smile. Finally, they’d taken her to see a doctor in Belize City. The man, who wore a lab coat so white it didn’t look like any color Emilio had ever seen before, told them Sarita needed to see a speech-language pathologist in order to overcome her delayed speech. Not talking as a baby was fine, but not talking as a toddler was seen as an impediment. That was only the beginning of what had turned into a nightmare.

Emilio had always been able to put food on the table, but with four kids and no health insurance, every time he had to visit a doctor and buy an antibiotic his finances took a hit that had him scrambling for months. Now that Sarita had to see her new doctor regularly for therapy, the first thing that had gone out the window was regular trips to the grocery store. Whatever they ate came from their garden, from a neighbor who traded them meat for fish, or straight from Emilio’s fishing line.

And there he was, sitting on a gently rocking boat above one of his favorite channels in the reef waiting for a big tarpon to swallow the crab at the end of his line.

While tarpon were usually fish only targeted by tourists because they put up a hell of a fight, Emilio was there simply for the meals he’d get out of his catch. An adult tarpon can measure 8 feet or longer and weigh anywhere between 200 and 300 pounds, and he could get a lot of filets from an average-sized fish—poach it, pick the meat off the fish’s huge bones, and use it to make fish cakes. Everyone in the house loved his fish cakes, and he could also box a few and use them to trade Reynaldo, his next-door neighbor, for a few eggs and some rabbit or chicken meat.

The water was calm and the current not too strong. Emilio knew the tarpon would be coming and going through that channel during the night, so it wouldn’t be too long before one spotted his bait. Then the fight would be on. Before, he usually tried to avoid fishing for tarpon because it was a lot of energy spent for a fish that wouldn’t bring in any money, but with every penny going to help his daughter, he was willing to jump in the water and beat any 200-pound beast to death with his bare hands if that’s what it took to put food on the table.

Emilio closed his eyes for a second and lifted his face to the breeze while throwing up a silent prayer to whatever gods flew around the top of the ocean at night. He was lowering his head again when something bumped against the underside of the boat. Emilio instinctively looked around before grabbing an oar from the boat’s floor and plunging it into the dark water to test the depth. The chance of his anchor coming lose and letting him drift into the shallow spot of the reef was slim but not impossible.

The wooden oar sank. The fisherman’s hand followed it into the warm, moving, impenetrable darkness. He hadn’t hit the reef. That meant something had struck the boat.

Emilio reached down again to grab his waterproof flashlight from between his legs. He felt something hit the boat again, this time with enough power to knock him forward. He fell to his knees, his hands forgetting the flashlight and flying forward to stop him from falling.

Suddenly, on all fours inside his boat with the star-sprinkled dark sky above him, a sea made of black ink underneath him, and something smacking his vessel around, Emilio wished he had a bigger boat. He wished he had stayed home that night instead of trying to turn his stress-induced insomnia into a few extra hours of fishing, and hopefully, a few meals. He wished he had someone else in the boat with him. But more than anything, he wished he was home and in his bed, his wife sleeping soundly next to him, and his four little angels snoring in the next room.

The third hit came while Emilio was trying to get up. He had moved back into a kneeling position and picked up the flashlight. He wanted to shine it around, try to see into the water around him instead of only being able to see blackness with occasional slivers of shaking moonlight. The blow rocked the boat again, but instead of the usual back-and-forth that usually followed, the boat developed and increasing list to starboard. Then Emilio spotted something hanging onto the side of the boat.

His hands started shaking, but Emilio was able to turn on the flashlight and aim it at starboard. In the round light, what looked like a giant pink snake with splotches of white and green was clinging to the side of the boat and apparently trying to flip it. Emilio panicked. He reached back and used his right foot to kick at the thing. It was much harder than he expected. He kicked again. The thing moved, half of it rising up and reaching toward him. That’s when Emilio saw the two rows of enormous suckers. He wasn’t looking at a weird snake, he was looking at a gigantic octopus’ arm.

His mind reeled. There was a fileting knife somewhere. No. No time to look for it.

The motor!

He could turn it on and beeline it straight to shore.

Something pulled on his left leg. Emilio went down hard, his right shoulder cracking against the wooden seat near the bow. He screamed, but the hit had taken a lot out of him, and what came out was more like a grunt than a scream.

The arm around his leg slithered up a few inches and then tightened. The bones snapped. The sound filled Emilio’s head for a second. Then the arm yanked his body and pulled his lower half out of the boat. Then it began pulling again, slower this time.

Emilio tried to grab on to the boat, but the thing pulling him under was too strong. A second arm slithered up his back, its suckers becoming attached to his skin. Emilio could feel them pulling off chunks of flesh in a few places. The huge arm reached Emilio’s arm and pulled it away from the boat with the same ease with which he pulled bait fish out of the ocean with a flick of his wrist. With half his body already underwater, the fisherman bent his right arm and used it as a hook by sticking it under the seat in the middle of the boat, praying the wood wouldn’t crack from the pressure after so many years of sun and saltwater. His right hand and forearm became the only things keeping him out of the warm water.

Emilio was screaming, but he was short on air. An arm that had come straight out of the water was wrapping itself around his head. It was going to cover his mouth.

The next pull was the last Emilio felt. His shoulder popped out of its socket and the flesh and muscle keeping it glued to his body tore with a loud crunch. Blood flew into the night air like drops of shadow. The arm slapped him in the face, curled around his head, and squeezed.

Emilio was dead before his severed arm hit the bottom of the boat with a thud no one was there to hear.

Chapter Six

Gabriel Robles could hear his phone buzzing. He kept expecting it to stop and then hear the beep that told him he had a message, but whoever was calling apparently really needed to get a hold of him because they just kept calling back every time it went to voice mail. Finally, irritated and with a full bladder that was demanding attention with the same insistence as the caller, he reached out, grabbed the buzzing apparatus, and swiped his finger across the screen without even checking the number.

“Yeah?” Gabe’s voice belonged to the zombie of a man who had died in the middle of a serious bout of laryngitis. He could feel something crusty nested on the right corner of his mouth. The sun coming through his window told him it was late morning, but with no clients scheduled until 2:00 p.m., there was no reason to be up before noon.

“Good morning, may I speak with Gabriel Robles?”

The woman at the other end of the line sounded jovial, fresh, not like someone who’s been hitting redial for ten minutes. Also, the fact that it was a woman who spoke with a very professional demeanor and not some frat guy wanting to go diving was unexpected and made Gabriel clear his throat and abandon a bit of the acidity he had planned to use in his delivery.

“Speaking.”

“Great! How are you today, Mr. Robles?”

“I’m…just getting up. Who is this, and how may I help you? If you want to schedule a fishing you can go to the website and—”

“No, sir, this is not about a fishing or diving tour. My name is Rebeca Gonzalez, and I work with the Belize Tourism Board. We’re calling you today because we’d like you to come to our offices as soon as you have a chance. We have a job proposition for you. Unfortunately, I’m not at liberty to discuss details over the phone,” said Rebeca.

“A job proposition?”

“Yes, Mr. Robles, our director, Mr. Surez, would like to meet with you as soon as possible. Our working relationship would be mutually beneficial and includes doing something directly related to our office. Unfortunately, as I mentioned a minute ago, that’s the extent of the information I’m allowed to give you over the phone. Would it be possible to schedule you for an appointment today or tomorrow? Time is of the essence.”

Rebeca spoke a mile a minute. Gabe’s sleep-addled brain was having a hard time keeping up, but he understood the basic idea of what was happening in relation to himself: he was broke, and these people were offering him a job. He pulled the phone away from his face and looked at the white numbers at the top of the screen. It was only 8:24 a.m. In his boat, he could be in the docks in front of King Street in about 35 minutes, and the walk from there to the Belize Tourism Board office was just two and a half blocks. Gabe had made the trip dozens of times to renew his licenses.

“Hmm, Rebeca?”

“Yes, Mr. Robles,” she sounded eager to write his name down somewhere and scribble a time next to it, so Gabe went for it, hoping to sound like someone who was willing to help a possible client and not like a desperate man in need of money, breakfast, and a trip to the bathroom.

“I don’t have to be at the dock until this afternoon, so if your boss has time to meet this morning, I can be there at…say 10:30 a.m.?”

“That would work, Mr. Robles. Do you know where we are located?”

“Yeah, I’ve been in there many times.”

“Great! If you decide to use a water taxi, we’ll gladly reimburse you if you bring a receipt with you.”

“Thanks, but I’m taking my own boat.”

“Perfect. I’ll be waiting for you in the lobby. Thank you for agreeing to meet with us on such short notice, Mr. Robles. We appreciate your time and consideration.” Rebeca’s voice was like a big smile in Gabe’s ear.  He wondered what she looked like. Knowing he would found out soon reminded him he needed a shave.

“My pleasure. I’ll see you guys at 10:30 a.m.”

“See you here, Mr. Robles. Have a wonderful morning.”

Rebeca hung up before Gabe could add anything else. His brain was now full of questions. They mixed in with the last remnants of the fog his unexpected wakeup call had caused. Then he remembered this was a government office, so if he got the gig, the pay would surely be decent.

Gabe felt the pressure in his bladder kick up another notch and reluctantly sat up the rest of the way and placed his feet on the cool tiles. The day had begun way before schedule, but the possibility of money at the end of the tunnel was enough to make him get up instead of giving in to temptation and burying his face in the pillow once again.

On the way to the bathroom, he replayed the conversation he’d just had in his head. Rebeca had said “Time is of the essence.” He tried to recall a time when he’d heard someone use that phrase outside of a movie. He kept at it while he urinated and then washed his mouth and face. He couldn’t come up with a single instance of someone using that phrase in casual conversation.

Chapter Seven

Gabe lived in a tiny 8-unit building called Macaw Apartments. For years he’d moved around, trying to find places that focused on serving the local population instead of the tourists that came to Caye Caulker to stay for a week or two. His one-bedroom apartment was less than a thousand dollars per month and came with cable, a decent bed, a sofa, fully functional kitchen, and a six-drawer wooden chest with four working drawers. Despite the less than stellar condition of the place and the fact that it was slightly over what he wanted to pay, Gabe had decided to live there because Asunción, the woman who owned the place, allowed him to use a huge utility closet to keep his diving and fishing gear at no extra cost. On top of that, the place was also relatively close to three different docks, so he always found a place to leave his boat that didn’t have him walking for half an hour to reach his place.

The sun was shining as Gabe made his way down the three blocks that separated him from the dock at the end of Estrella Street. He knew he had a full tank of gas, so getting to Belize City and back would be no problem, but that meant he would have to fill it up again before leaving for the reefs with his 2:30 p.m. group. The price of gas was getting ridiculous, so he hoped whatever was waiting for him at the Belize Tourism Board office quickly translated into a decent chunk of change.

***

By 10:02 a.m. Gabe was off the boat in Belize City and halfway up Dean Street. His stomach had also woken up and had growled a few times on the way over, but breakfast was something he could take care of once the real business was over. He knew a good place near the dock where an old lady with no teeth cooked some mean eggs.

At the end of the street, he turned left on Regent Street and made his way to a yellowish two-story building with old windows and a few water stains creeping their way down from the roof. They made the walls look like the faces of Goth ladies with their mascara running. The letters BTB were painted on the side of the building, along with a toucan perched on the second B. The whole thing was as tacky as anything else in Belize City. Gabe guessed tacky was something tourists enjoyed.

Gabe pushed the white doors of the building’s main entrance open and was surprised at the blast of cold air that hit him in the face and wrapped around his arms. Despite the building’s less than stellar exterior, the lobby was as nice as any other government building in town, and now that he was here about a job instead of giving them money so they would allow him to do his thing and help them make even more money, Gabe noticed that even the plants looked like someone was paying attention to them regularly.

A short woman with a headful of long brown curls, a button down white shirt, and a grey skirt that ended a few inches above her knees stepped forward and smiled at Gabe with a mouth full of shiny pearls framed by the fullest pair of lips he had seen in a very long time.

“Mr. Robles?” Her voice was even sweeter than it had been on the phone. Gabe returned the smile as he took his sunglasses off and stretched out his right hand.

“Good to meet you, Rebeca. Please call me Gabe.”

“Good to meet you, Gabe. Thanks again for coming down here so fast,” she said, the smile never wilting from her face.

“To be honest, I’m curious. I’ve been working with tourists for about a decade but I’ve never received an email or call from this office that didn’t have to do with renewing my tourist guide license.”

“Well, what we want to discuss with you today is something of a different nature, Gabe. Please follow me, Mr. Suarez is waiting for us in his office.”

Rebeca turned to the left and started walking toward a hallway with too-bright halogens hanging from the ceiling and beige carpet on the floor. Gabe admired the woman’s calves and the way the skirt hugged her curves. She had some meat on her bones, and that was the type of woman that always got Gabe in trouble. He realized he’d be happy to get into trouble with Rebeca. He wondered if she’d like to join him for a cup of coffee sometime. Or maybe a little trip to paradise on his boat.

They reached the last door on the left and Rebeca knocked and opened a second later without waiting for a reply. Gabe followed her in. Rebeca waited for him to step into the room and closed the door behind them.

Mr. Suarez was a tall man with a heavy midsection and broad shoulders. He had longish salt-and-pepper hair and a matching goatee that needed either a trim or the chance to become a full beard. He stood up from his chair and smiled at Gabe from behind a wooden desk littered with papers, photos, pens, and a desktop computer with a huge flat monitor that made Gabe think the man probably spent most of his time watching movies in the office instead of working.

“Mr. Robles, great to have you with us. Thanks for coming,” said Suarez while leaning a bit over the huge desk and offering his right hand.

Gabe took Suarez’s hand and shook it firmly while thanking the big man for the invitation. They went through the usual pleasantries. Then the man let go of Gabe’s hand and sat back down, signaling for Rebeca and Gabe to take a sit in the two matching chairs in front of his desk.

“The reason we asked you to come in today is because, the way we understand it, no one knows the water around Caye Caulker as well as you do, Mr. Robles. Is this correct?”

This was the first important thing to come out of Suarez’s mouth and Gabe was already feeling like he was in a job interview.

“I don’t know if no one else knows the waters around our little chunk of land better than me, sir, but I was born and raised in Caye Caulker, and I’ve spent most of my time diving and fishing in those waters, so I’d say my knowledge of them is…above average.” Gabe smiled at the man, hoping his little act would convince him he was both knowledgeable and humble: the perfect man for whatever job the big man had in mind.

Suarez returned Gabe’s smile with the right side of his mouth. “Very well, Mr. Robles. If that’s the case, then I guess you’re familiar with everything that swims in those waters.”

“Yes, sir. I am.”

“Are you also familiar with Giant Cave?”

“I think everyone working or living in or around the waters of Caye Caulker is familiar with Tarpon View and Giant Cave, Mr. Suarez.”

“Well, Mr. Robles, the reason you’re here today has something to do with Giant Cave.”

Suarez stopped talking and looked at Gabe, who looked back at him and didn’t know what to say. The man had not asked a question, so there was no reason for him to add anything. Instead of talking, he nodded. It was enough to get Suarez to go on.

“I’m going to show you something,” said Suarez while leaning forward and turning his computer screen so Gabe could see it, “but first you’re going to have to sign a confidentiality agreement. This doesn’t mean that you’re accepting the job, Mr. Robles, just that you’re aware that what we discuss in this office is between the three of us and no one else, and if you speak of it to anyone, you risk going to jail for it. Right now, think of this conversation as one that’s happening between you and the upper ranks of the Belize government, not just between you and me. Is that clear?”

The big man behind the desk had quickly gone from a friendly smile and simple questions to threatening Gabe with hard time and trying to intimidate him with talk about the government. This was either something big, or these people had no idea how to treat a potential employee. Gabe had no problem keeping his mouth shut, and the only thing he was really concerned about was of the job he was going to be offered paid enough to match al the hush-hush surrounding it.

“My business is taking tourists on diving and fishing trips, Mr. Suarez,” replied Gabe. “Anything else is not really my business, so I will happily sign any confidentiality agreement you want me to and give you my word that this conversation will remain between us regardless of its outcome. If you know about me without talking to me, then that means you’ve talked to someone else about me. I hope that person also told you that I’m not one to be discussing anyone else’s business with anyone.”

Suarez seems pleased. The smile returned to his face, lifting once again only the right side of his mouth. The man looked down at his desk and moved some papers around before finding what he was looking for. He pulled a document from under a few others, placed it on top of everything else, and turned it around so that it faced Gabe. Then he placed his index finger next to a dotted line at the bottom of the document.

“I’m glad to hear that. Now please sign here and we can get down to business, Mr. Robles.”

Rebeca’s hand darted into Gabe’s field of vision. She was holding out a black pen. Gabe took it. Her nails were long and painted a strange shade of purple that Gabe had never seen on nails before. The pen was heavy and obviously expensive. He thanked her and signed on the line. When he looked up, Suarez was busy looking for something on his computer monitor. Gabe could see it was entirely covered by icons.

“Ah, here it is,” he said, and turned to face Gabe again.

“I don’t know if you knew this, Mr. Robles, but an American named Nick Ayres recently received a grant from the National Geographic to explore Giant Cave. Ayres wanted to be the first one to explore the entire cave system, and he wanted to have a film crew with him while it happened. More than a scientist, Ayres was the kind of ego-driven explorer who cares more about seeing his name in big letters than about helping science reach new frontiers. Were you in any way familiar with Ayres’ efforts?”

“No, sir,” replied Gabe.

“Well, this man somehow got that grant, bought a boat, recruited a crew, and got the necessary permits to dive into Giant Cave. Unfortunately, it was the last thing he did. Last Friday the Coast Guard received a call from Ayres’ captain. Apparently the divers had been deep in Giant Cave when there was some commotion, and communication was lost. The captain decided to give them a few minutes. Those minutes ended up turning into a few hours. When it was clear the divers would not be returning because they had surely run out of oxygen, the captain made the call. The Coast Guard interviewed everyone involved and sent in a rescue team of three divers to see if they could find the bodies. Instead of the divers, the rescue team found some busted equipment and…hold on…” Suarez again looked down and rummaged through the papers covering his desk.

“Here it is,” he said, picking up what looked like an official report with the Belize Coast Guard Service logo at the top. “They found a broken mask, a knife, two cameras, one of them broken, and a pair of scuba tanks that had been crushed by something. No sign of the divers. The Coast Guard retrieved the footage from the working camera. That’s what you’re about to see, and it’s the thing you can’t talk to anyone else about.”

Gabe could think of nothing to say, so he remained quiet and nodded at Suarez the same way he’d done before. He was beginning to feel like a bobble head.

Suarez turned the monitor toward Gabe another inch or so, grabbed his mouse, and clicked twice on a QuickTime file.

The large screen was filled with a close up of a greenish rock. There was no sound. It was obvious the images had been shot underwater. The yellowish light and floating debris which seemed to be floating there instead of moving with a current, immediately told Gabe he was looking at the inside of the cave. The cameraman was taking his time panning down the rock. Then the shot moved as if the man had sneezed or been surprised by something. The shaking quickly stopped, and the shot became smooth again. The camera moved away from the rock, unhurriedly panning left. Then a huge tentacle flew at the screen and made Gabe jump back. The camera jerked away abruptly and plunged into darkness.

“What was that?”

“We don’t know, Mr. Robles. That’s part of why…”

“Could…could you play it again?” Gabe wasn’t a fan of interrupting people, but he had to take another look at what he had just seen. If this wasn’t some really twisted joke, then whatever had knocked that camera away from that diver was a monster plucked straight from a horror movie.

Suarez clicked on the tiny arrow at the bottom of the screen. The short scene played again in front of Gabe’s eyes.

“Is there a way to slow it down?”

“Sure thing,” replied Suarez. He clicked play again and then hit something on the keyboard the second the camera jumped a little. Gabe watched the clip again, this time in slow motion. The thing flying toward the lens resembled an octopus’ arm, but it was way too big. The meat around the suction cups was the same dirty green as everything else in the cave, but the suction cups themselves were white and stood out very clearly in the camera’s light. Gabe had nothing to compare it to, so he had no idea of its real size, but in slow motion it was clear that it was huge because as it moved closer, the entire lens was easily covered by a single suction cup which Gabe guessed was about the size of a large plate.

“As you can see, Mr. Robles, what we have on our hands is a very…peculiar problem.”

Gabe peeled his eyes away from the screen and saw Suarez was stretching a meaty paw his way. In his thick fingers was a piece of paper obviously ripped from a newspaper. Gabe took it and read.

The short piece stated a fisherman from Belize City named Emilio Carrasco had gone missing, his boat found drifting between Caye Caulker and Caye Chapel. And fisherman gone missing was not huge news because the waters could get rough sometimes, and a man in his late forties out in the ocean by himself at night was not a worthy contender for the plethora of events that could happen. Gabe looked up and Suarez as he handed the paper back.

Then it hit him.

“Wait, you think this and what we just saw are related?”

“Very perceptive, Mr. Robles. The short answer is yes. We have a say in what makes it into the papers. Our goal is to bring tourists in, not to scare them away. This reporter was only rehashing an official statement the police prepared with our help. In other words, the media only had the information we gave them. What we left out, and please remember that you signed a confidentiality agreement, was the fact that Emilio’s left arm was not missing. It was in the boat. Something ripped it from its socket and left it there before taking the poor man off to God knows what horrible fate. I know there are many dangers involved in night fishing, but it’s hard to imagine a scenario where a man would get his arm ripped off in an accident.”

“Okay, so…there’s something in that cave, and it’s hunting in the surrounding waters? I guess I can understand that, but I don’t see where this Ayres guy comes in. You think he disturbed whatever was living in Giant Cave? Is that it?” Gabe was still trying to wrap his mind around the video and wasn’t even prepared to start dealing with the newspaper article and its implications just yet.

“That’s what the Coast Guard believes. Ayres apparently did more than just explore Giant Cave. Rumor has it he opened up a few spots no one had gone through before by using underwater explosives. He would be in big trouble for that, probably thrown in jail for a few years and forbidden from diving ever again, but the man is probably dead, so that’s not our main concern right now. The project hasn’t been publicly announced yet, but the BTB is partnering with Belize Diving Services to turn Giant Cave into a tourist attraction, and something like this could kill the project before it’s even off the ground. Between boat and gear rental, not to mention the jobs that would be created because of it and the collateral impact it could have on places like restaurants and hotels both here and in Caye Caulker, the initiative would generate a lot of revenue every year, and the people who have already invested in making it happen are not happy.”

Gabe finally had an idea where all of this was going. He took advantage of Suarez’s short breathing stop to jump into the conversation.

“Let me guess: this is where I come in,” he said.

“Correct, Mr. Robles.”

“Okay, but I really have no idea what you guys expect me to do about all this.”

“You know the area, you know Giant Cave, you have a boat, and you have been out there fishing for everything from sharks to goliath groupers for almost a decade, Robles. You have the equipment and the know-how. Also, the locals know you and won’t think twice about seeing you out there. If we brought someone in, some stranger, locals would probably be suspicious and keep an eye on him, especially if he’s out there without a group of drunken tourists in his boat. The tourist and fishing and diving guide community is not that big, Robles, and anything that breaks its pattern will be immediately spotted and scrutinized. That goes against everything that we want to accomplish. Basically, what we want from you is to make this problem go away. You’re a local. You can make it happen without anyone getting suspicious and trying to get his or her nose into your business. Oh, and we’d appreciate if you could do it quickly.”

Suarez’s pudgy, goateed face now struck Gabe as somewhat evil. He turned to his right and looked at Rebeca. Now that he had all the information he needed, he recognized her for what she really was: smart bait. He felt tricked. He felt like getting up and walking out without another word. Then he thought about the money and calmed down a bit. They had brought him here to discuss a job, and that was exactly what they were offering him. He hadn’t expected the gig to include going out and trying to catch and kill a gigantic octopus that, as far as anyone knew, had developed a taste for human flesh, but a job was a job, and the fact that this was something a bunch of concerned rich people wanted taken care of quickly and quietly probably meant there was serious money involved. Maybe the kind of money that would make him stop worrying about making enough for rent, gas, and food for a few months. Gabe took a deep breath and spoke.

“You have yourself a fisherman, Mr. Suarez, but first we need to discuss payment and...a few other things that are troubling me a bit.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Payment is easy: we don’t know what you might need to acquire to pull this off, so we’re giving you five thousand dollars now, and once you can prove to us that thing is no longer an issue and we can continue without development plans, you’ll get another seven thousand.”

It was more money than Gabe had allowed himself to wish for. He struggled to keep from giggling like a little child when he heard the sum. A total of $12,000 in his bank account meant a year of peace of mind, a bit longer if he didn’t go crazy buying crap he didn’t need.

‘That sounds great, Mr. Suarez.”

“Glad to hear that, Robles. Now, what else is bothering you?”

“Well, you brought me here and made me sign a document stating I wouldn’t mention a word of this to anyone. However, you also mentioned there was a whole crew with Ayres when he and his divers died in Giant Cave. Where are those crewmembers now? If the press gets wind of this, how will you know who gave them the information?”

“That’s actually a very good question, Robles,” Suarez said before stopping for a second and inhaling half the air in the office through his mouth. “The members of Ayres’ crew were all from the United States. He didn’t hire a single local. Once we got hold of the information, we made sure the authorities told every one of them a believable story. As far as they’re concerned, what happened to Ayres and the three divers that were down there with him was just an unlucky collapse. We told them the divers reached a new part of the cave and pushed some rocks around in order to get through. Moving those rocks around made other rocks coming crashing down. They were all crushed to death. Considering no one on the boat was either an expert diver or an expert on caves, our guess is they bought the story. Two days after the…accident, we put them all on a plane back home with all their gear and our most sincere condolences. You don’t have to worry about any of them. In fact, from what we’ve been able to gather, Ayres’ death didn’t make a big splash. There was a note on the National Geographic website sending prayers to his family and friends and coverage on a few newspapers. Basically he became one more name on the long list of adventurers who put fame and fortune before safety, and he suffered a horrible death he brought on himself. The fact that he was in charge of protecting three other divers and failed to do so also kept him from becoming a martyr. In other words, he’s dead and no one really cares all that much.”

Suarez stopped talking. Gabe was satisfied with the answer, but the way Suarez dismissed the divers’ deaths didn’t sit well with him. In any case, he was eager to see the check, to have a rectangle of paper in his hands with some numbers and a signature that would change his life, so he decided not to say anything.

“If you say no one in that boat will be a problem, then I guess we’re ready to move forward.”

“Great! I will write you a check right now.”

Suarez’s smile made Gabe feel uncomfortable, but it wouldn’t be the first time Gabe had accepted a check from a man he wouldn’t like to share a beer with.

Chapter Eight

Jamaal and Huestes had been fishing together since they were kids. Their friendship was the kind where things can be left unsaid because the bond runs so deep that looks and gestures become as effective as words. For Jamaal, the fact that Huestes was his brother from another mother was never as clear as when they were out fishing, sharing a deep, thoughtful silence that could last for hours without a single interruption.

This was not going to be one of those afternoons.

“Give me another beer, man.”

Jamaal looked at Huestes. The skinny boy he had played with throughout his entire childhood had been replaced by a grown man, and then that man had gotten fatter and fatter until it looked like the boy he once had been was somehow trapped in his stomach. Huestes’ dirty white shirt was stretched across his prodigious gut so tightly it had become almost transparent. His breathing was hard and heavy. It reminded Jamaal of a wounded animal. If this was the way he breathed when sitting down and not doing much, Jamaal didn’t want to know what he breathed like after having to run up some stairs.

“You sure you need another beer, brother? Soon that belly of yours is gonna push my ass outta this boat,” Jamaal said.

“This isn’t a belly,” said Huestes while caressing his huge gut. “This is a fuel tank for a love machine. Now give me a cold one and stop looking at my sexy abs before you pop a boner.”

With a smile, Jamaal pulled a cold beer out of the blue cooler near his feet and threw it at his friend. Despite his weight and apparent sluggishness, Huestes’ left hand shot up and clutched the can mid-air. Jamaal was going to say something about him looking more like a ball than someone who plays ball, but his reel started spinning, it’s whiny sound suddenly becoming the only thing in the world he cared about.

The two friends were out near where the reef drops, fishing for Nassau grouper, and judging by the speed at which Jamaal’s reel was unspooling, he had a hell of a fish at the end of the line. The sight of that taut fishing line cutting a V-shaped trail in the water sent a shot of adrenaline into his system and made his heart beat a little faster.

Jamaal turned around, grabbed his fishing rod from its resting place, and threw on the reel’s brake. The whiny sound turned into something more akin to a banshee’s scream. He’d done this hundreds of times, and his instincts told him the strength and speed he was witnessing meant there was a very large Nassau grouper with his hook stuck deep in its mouth. That thought was one that never failed to make Jamaal happy.

“How long are you gonna let that thing run?”

Jamaal’s approach to fishing resembled a strange dance. He allowed the fish to tire itself out before finally bringing it in. Huestes’ approach was different, and instead of a graceful dance, possessed the elegance of a sumo wrestler trying to overpower a moving vehicle. The big man’s reel would start spinning and he’d immediately try to muscle the fish to the surface and get it in the boat as if trying to beat the speed with which he’d done the same thing the previous time. Each man knew trying to change the other’s style was useless, but they kept jabbing each other simply because pushing each other’s buttons was part of their relationship.

After a while the reel’s speed lessened and Jamaal began pulling the fish his way. He fell into a groove for a minute or two and then allowed the fish to move away from him again.

The same back-and-forth dance went on for about fifteen minutes before the grouper was close to the boat. With a grunt that belonged to a man twice his age, Huestes pushed his bulk forward and grabbed their net and the hook. Then, groaning as if the move was shattering his kneecaps, he kneeled on the floor of the boat to have a better look at whatever Jamaal was reeling in.

The Nassau grouper was a few feet below the surface. Its tawny color was very clear under the water. Its characteristically large mouth was open.

“You got yourself a beautiful fish, Jamaal! Pull him in a little more. Let’s get that big sucked in here.”

Huestes was an experienced fisherman, and he knew a fish that size would be around fifty pounds, so he prepared himself for a bit of a struggle getting him out of the water and over the side of the boat.

Jamaal reeled the fish in a few more feet and then gasped. Huestes was looking at the fish and had seen the same thing that made his friend gasp, so he didn’t have to ask if he had seen it. Instead, he asked a different question.

“What the hell was that?”

Before Jamaal could reply, the large greenish creature the two men had seen showed up right behind their grouper, and with a sudden movement, caught up to it and wrapped itself around the large fish, which looked like a goldfish in comparison.

“Holy shit! That’s the biggest octopus I’ve ever seen!”

Huestes’ voice was too loud. Jamaal knew that meant he was both excited and scared, and probably more of the latter than the former.

Jamaal was so enthralled by what they were seeing that he didn’t even realize he was still pulling on the line, so he was knocked back a bit when it snapped. The friends looked at each other. At any other time, someone would’ve made a comment about the snapped line which meant the fish was gone, but with the scene playing out in front of them, all usual comments were forgotten about.

A dark underwater cloud of blood surrounded the gigantic octopus. Their fish had become someone else’s meal, and they were fine with that.

Then, instead of retreating into the reef which is what both men expected the beast to do, the octopus moved closer to the surface.

“Whoa!”

Jamaal heard Huestes and wanted to communicate something in return, but the mantle that was coming their way, too close for comfort now, was impossibly big, and that silenced him and glued his eyes to the creature under the water.

The water was so clear, they knew the octopus’ arm would pop out of the water a second before it broke the surface. It rose up a few feet and then plopped down on the boat. The two men jumped away from the slimy appendage.

“Oh, man…”

Jamaal said nothing, but he knew perfectly well what his friend meant.

“Start the motor.”

The command was out of Jamaal’s mouth before he realized he’d thought of it.

Huestes turned around and reached toward the motor, but Jamaal’s scream made him turn back around and forget the order he’d just received.

The arm had moved toward Jamaal and seemed to be looking for him. Huestes looked at his friend. Jamaal always seemed to be in control. He was always cool and funny. Nothing fazed him. Now, that man was gone and in his place stood a someone with pure fear overpowering his features.

“Start the fucking motor, man!”

Huestes turned around toward the motor again. As he turned his head, he saw a second arm plopping down on the boat. He yanked the starter as hard as he could. The sound of the motor coughing to life was not enough to drown out the cracking sound of the boat. The octopus was underneath them, its mantle replacing water on all sides. With three arms inside the boat, the beast was squeezing the vessel, and the wood was splintering as if it were nothing more than cheap gypsum board.

The middle of the boat shattered with an explosion of splinters. Both men were in the water before they had a chance to process that the thing under their feet, the only thing keeping them from the monster under their boat, was gone.

Huestes kicked his feet to stay afloat and felt the mantle underneath him. Then an arm came over his left shoulder and pushed him down. He heard Jamaal’s muffled screaming and felt the salt water sting his eyes.  Then the arm that had pushed him down wrapped around him by going under his right arm and circling his back. He only felt the first part of its tightening before his neck snapped like a dry twig.

Jamaal saw his lifelong friend disappear under the water and knew that he had to move away as fast as possible, or he would face the same fate. He started swimming as fast as he could, but his speed was nothing compared to that of his pursuer.

Two arms reached him simultaneously. A second later the massive mantle had replaced everything around him. He screamed again. Bubbles moved over his face and reached the surface. The arms tucked him deeper into the greenish/red softness that engulfed him. Jamaal could only see the thing that was surrounding him and feel its incredible strength. Then the thing bit into his right leg. He felt like a car had dropped on his thigh. The pressure was followed by a crunch and then a release. He knew his leg was gone. The arms moved him around. The water between him and the beast that was eating him alive suddenly become brown. At the last second, vibrating just beyond the bubbles that were moving in front of his eyes, the bubbles that contained screams no one would hear, Jamaal saw a pitch-black thing. Then that thing closed around his head. Everything went dark.

Chapter Nine

Gabe made it back to Caye Caulker, ate a plain, sad cheese sandwich at home, packed up his gear, and was back out at the dock half an hour before his clients showed up. Despite accomplishing all he had to accomplish, he felt weird, acting like an automaton caught in a perpetual haze. The giant tentacle and the massive beast that was attached to it occupied his mind at all times.

Out in the water, Gabe went over the safety instructions with his clients and his mind focused on making sure they had a safe, fun time. Then, as soon as he pulled up to the dock, got his money, and saw the two couples walk away from him and climb into their car, his brain went back to the cave and the monster that was now apparently living in its murky depths. He had to find it and somehow kill it, and now that he was out of the office and the reality of what he had to do was hitting him straight on, he wished he could return to the office, hand over the check for $5,000 Suarez had given him, and tell them they could find someone else to star in their real-life horror movie.

The he thought about how much breathing room he’d have with all that money in his bank account and immediately knew the check was not going back into that man’s chubby hands.

Instead of keeping up the silent debate in his head, Gabe cleaned the gear they’d used with a hose and then packed everything up. He threw all the equipment in his car and drove home, already spending some of the money that wasn’t even in his account yet.

As soon as he got home, Gabe turned on his laptop, a thick black dinosaur he’d purchased used back in 2006, waited for the damn thing to snap out of its perennial slumber, and sent his friend Emanuel an email.

Emanuel worked for the University of Belize, which was located an hour from Belize City, in Belmopan. However, instead of working in the main campus, the man had a little shack on the coast where he brought in students from the marine biology program and taught them how to conduct real research. They’d met when Emanuel hired Gabe to take him out fishing for sailfish and black grouper because he was researching their health in the area and trying to get a sense of the size of their local population. As the man measured and tagged fish, they started talking, and once Gabe told Emanuel about the weird fishes he saw from time to time around The Great Blue Hole, one of the best scuba diving spots in world, the researcher gave him his contact information and offered to pay for any strange specimens he brought his way in good condition. Since then, the two had met on a few occasions, with Gabe delivering strange, deep sea species, two of which had never been recorded before. Now Gabe needed to talk to the man about the thing in the cave without giving away too much information, and a simple email was the best way to get in touch with Emanuel, who seemed to always have his phone or laptop nearby when he was in the lab.

After he’d sent the email asking about what kind of octopodes could be found in and around Caye Caulker and how big they could get, Gabe got up and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. He’d taken two sips when his computer made a sound letting him know he had a new message.

Thankfully, instead of single Christians looking for love, magic boner pills, or some Nigerian mogul in desperate need of a bank account to drop a few millions, the email was from Emanuel. The man offered no answers to Gabe’s questions and instead asked him if they could meet for coffee or a beer the next day. Gabe agreed and wondered if the professor knew something about what was going on and feared communicating it through email.

Gabe replied saying he’d visit Emanuel at his shack, and there better be some cold beer waiting for him. The marine biologist replied with a little image of a frosty beer mug filled to the brim and with a bit of foam cascading down its side. It made Gabe thirsty.

Chapter Ten

Emanuel’s lab was a few miles north of Belize City, stuck in a thin strip of land that stood between the ocean and the Belize River. According to the marine biologist, he’d chosen the location because it allowed him to be surrounded by both freshwater and saltwater, but Gabe knew the location had more to do with low rent than with the bodies of water surrounding it.

The two men walked into the lab and sat down on cheap plastic chairs, their elbows propped on a white picnic table that sometimes doubled as a dissection table whenever someone brought in a particularly large specimen. Gabe had spent enough time around the scientist to know that he was either worried or scared, and neither option sat well with him considering what had brought him to visit him.

“I have a few questions for you, but you could’ve answered them via email and saved me the trip here, so I know you also want to talk about something. You wouldn’t make me come all the way out here to shoot the shit over a few cold beers,” said Gabe.

“You’re absolutely right,” replied Emanuel. “In fact, I think I know why you got in touch with me yesterday.”

“Go ahead. Take a guess then,” said Gabe.

“No, I don’t like those games. Just tell me what you saw.”

“What I saw?” Gabe was puzzled, and feeling that way in a place where he thought he was coming into with the upper hand came as a surprise.

“Yeah, Gabe, you’re not the only fisherman and tour guide I deal with. I’ve heard stories of guys going out there in the water and never returning home. You know Pablo?”

Manuel didn’t stop talking to give Gabe a chance to reply and simply carried on as if he hadn’t asked a question. Gabe didn’t know the man Manuel was asking about, so he let him ramble on.

“He lives in north Caye Caulker; fishes for a living. Well, he came in the other day with a black deep-sea fish and a story about a fellow fisherman named Emilio who disappeared and left behind a severed arm. He was bummed because apparently Emilio left behind a wife and four kids. Who the hell has four kids nowadays? Anyway, then I heard a secondhand story about two guys fishing out by the reef and never returning. Their boat hasn’t been found yet. Then, just this morning, a guy from farther up north who was on his way to selling some fish dropped by to ask me how big an octopus could get and proceeded to tell me he was out fishing with his son, and just after something destroyed the giant grouper he had on the line, the kid started screaming something about a huge tentacle exploring the side of the boat. He says he moved over to take a look and spotted a tentacle as big around as his torso moving along the side of the boat. He fired up the engine and got the hell out of there. You could see it in his eyes that he wasn’t lying. Whatever he saw out there, it scared the shit out of him. Then I get an email from you asking about the size of octopodes around here. I’m guessing whatever brought those men here with their stories is the same thing that brings you here. Am I right?”

Emanuel had hit Gabe with a blitzkrieg of words and information. As far as he’d known, this was something that only a few people knew about, and there had only been four victims. Now there was a sighting, rumors going around, scared fishermen asking questions and telling stories, and the possibility of a second victim. There was also the possibility of a body, or pieces of one, somehow making their way out of the cave. No wonder the government wanted to put a stop to this immediately. If things got worse and word reached the media, the whole tourism infrastructure could take a big hit. Maybe a fatal hit. Belize and its residents made a lot of money by taking people out into water. There was an entire economic system built around the salty liquid and the many things that could be done in and on it. Fishing and diving trips affected hotels, bars, restaurants, stores, taxis, and everything else near the coast. Tourism paid for Gabe’s rent and food. If people were scared of going in the water, everything around it could collapse. That’s why they had called him and told him that costs were not a thing to be concerned about if he could take care of the problem quickly.

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Emanuel, you’re right,” said Gabe. “I’m here because I want to know about whatever is out there. I’ve heard there’s an…animal out there I should be worried about given all the time I spend in the water. So, yeah, I came to you because you’re the expert. So, tell me, can an octopus really get that freaking big?”

The marine biologist shook his head twice before speaking.

“Listen, Gabe, the Giant Pacific Octopus can reach a radial span of 20 feet and weight up to 100 pounds, which is certainly big, but they’re more suited to colder waters and have never been found around here. Also, their arms are large, but not as large as what the fisherman described to me. And they certainly aren’t big enough to sink a damn boat or to reach out from the water, grab a human, rip its arm off, and then drag them down into the water. That just doesn’t happen, Gabe. Not even with giant squid. Whatever these people are talking about, or running into if the stories are real, has to be big enough to pull those things off, and that octopus either doesn’t exist or has somehow managed to stay hidden until now.”

“So you’re telling me that whatever’s out there is not an octopus? You think there’s some weird monster living in the reef and feeding on the locals?”

Gabe couldn’t tell Emanuel about the video he’d seen, but the giant arm flying at the camera was playing in a loop in his brain. He’d seen only a part of the animal, but he’d bet the check that was still sitting in his wallet that the thing that killed Ayres and his crew was an octopus.

“No, what I’m telling you is that whatever’s out there might be a new species or subspecies of octopus, something that we haven’t seen yet because they’re very rare or their habitat is down at an incredible depth or because they’re usually cave dwellers, or with everything that we dump into the water, it’s a new mutation. In any case this one, for some strange reason, is now hunting out of its habitat and way out of what’s considered usual fare for his species. Also, an octopus doesn’t eat that often, but this one seems to be hungry all the time. If these stories I’ve been hearing had piled up over a year or two, fine, I wouldn’t worry as much about it, but this thing apparently wants to feed every night. If it really is as large as the fisherman said it is, we’re looking at an animal with three very large hearts demanding food, enough strength to destroy most boats out there with its arms, and a beak capable of crushing your skull in a second.”

Emanuel stopped talking abruptly and looked at Gabe. His eyes had gone a little wild while he spoke. It was obvious the man was passionate about what he was talking about, as well as scared and excited in equal manner. The man was all about the ocean and its creatures. Knowing about the mysteries beneath the waves was far more important to him than politics. Gabe knew that, and he also knew thinking about it now was only a way to rationalize what he was about to do. The real reason for it was that he felt very alone in the face of something that was a few notches above scary and overwhelming.

“I’m gonna tell you a secret, but it can’t leave this lab,” said Gabe.

Emanuel leaned closer to him. The realization that the man sitting across from him was not entirely ignorant about what was going on obviously surprised the scientist.

“There was a man. Something Ayres,” said Gabe. “I’m blanking on the name, but the last name was Ayres. Anyway, he received one of those explorer grants that locals never get and used it to go down into Giant Cave and open up a new passageway. Forget about how he did it, but the space he opened up allowed him to go deeper into the cave than anyone had gone before. You think whatever ate those fishermen could have come from down there?”

“The answer is I don’t know, man. Everything in my head tells me those dimensions and aggressive behavior are impossible for a cephalopod, but the truth is that I’ve had things come in bags through that door that laugh in the face of everything science thinks it knows. Maybe this thing somehow got trapped in the cave, and this guy you’re talking about let it out. I don’t know! Could an octopus living in a predator-free environment with an unlimited food supply go on living for an inordinate amount of time? The answer, again, is I don’t know. Could be. You see, octopodes usually have a relatively short life span, with some smaller species living only between six months and a year, while larger species like the Giant Pacific Octopus I was telling you about can live up to five years. The thing is, their growth rate is crazy, so if one managed to live to around a decade or so and was feeding constantly, there’s no telling how big it could get. Octopodes eat until they’re satisfied and grow accordingly. An octopus that lived longer than usual and had all the food it needed would eventually turn into a giant with an appetite to match. It just never happens, but in theory, it could.”

Gabe was digesting everything the marine biologist was saying. In a way, it made the creature a freak of nature, something mysterious and unheard of that came from the bottom of the ocean, a monster like the ones ancient seamen would describe whenever they came across something they’d never encountered before. On the other hand, the scientist’s words also made the unseen monster something that belonged to science, a simple overgrown animal that could be killed just like its smaller cousins could be killed. The first thing scared Gabe a lot. The second made him think that maybe there was a chance he could pull this off without getting his body crushed by a massive, angry leviathan.

“Okay, so maybe we’re only dealing with an overgrown freak. Here’s my next question for you: how do I kill it?”

The moment the question was out of his mouth, Gabe realized there was a chance Emanuel would want to capture the octopus alive or maybe simply want to protect it in the name of scientific research. Instead, the marine biologist leaned forward again and ran his right hand through his full head of unruly, sun-bleached curls.

“This won’t be as easy as killing a fish, man. Fish are dumb, but octopodes are the brains of the ocean. They can solve problems, figure out how to get out of bad situations, and recognize when they’re in danger. One of the reasons they’re so damn hard to keep as pets is that they have a knack for figuring out how to break out of supposedly octopus-proof tanks. Hell, they can even open jars. It won’t be as easy as sending down a baited hook, waiting for it, and then pulling him out and whacking him in the head. You can do that with fish, but not with a cephalopod. You’re gonna have to outsmart this thing. You’re gonna have to turn yourself into the bait, and then take care of it.”

Gabe realized he had been expecting a better answer, something that allowed him to feel like the hunter and not the hunted. In fact, he had been expecting something along the lines of “use poison” or “get him on a hook, and you can easily drag him to the beach with your boat and let him die there.” Instead, Emanuel had given him the opposite of that and now sat there looking at him, expecting a reply. All Gabe could think about was that, as a fisherman, the last thing in the world he wanted was to become bait.

“I don’t know how to go about this, man,” said Gabe. “To be honest, I’m not all that comfortable turning myself into an octopus treat. There has to be another way. Maybe we can put poison inside a bunch of fish and drop them all over the reef and…”

“And kill anything and everything that comes into contact with your fish? That’s a fucking stupid idea. A hell of a lot of people, including you the last time I checked, lived out of what the reef provides. You can’t throw poison around the reef and hope that the animal you’re aiming for finds your bait. Plus, if this beast is really coming to the surface and eating people, both of which are rare occurrences for his species, he probably won’t be on the lookout for anything smaller. It’s just…”

“Okay! I hear you. Forget I said anything along those lines. Can’t I just…get it close to the boat shoot it then? Isn’t there some place on that thing’s body where a harpoon or a bullet would do the trick?”

“An octopodes’ brain is located between its eyes. If you can land a few shots in that general area, I think you could take him out. The thing about shooting them is that mass of their bodies contains no organs. Everything that matters is contained in its mantle, and while shooting a huge octopus in its mantle would be easy given its size, there’s no way to know what you’re hitting in there, so you could be taking him out or just making him angry. Odds of the latter being the case are much higher than I feel comfortable with. Also, I don’t think you’re taking into consideration the fact that if you’re close enough to try to shoot him between the eyes, he will be close enough to do whatever he damn well pleases with eight ridiculously powerful arms that are God knows how long. I mean, think about a regular octopus for a second. It feeds on mollusks and whatever else it can get a hold on. It uses its arms, which are mostly made up of muscle, to crush shells. Now multiply that…by a fucking lot. The result of that is a beast with arms that can probably wrap around your boat and snap in half with the same ease you snap a toothpick in half, not to mention what it can do to human flesh and bone.”

Gabe had already been uncomfortable with turning himself into bait, and that feeling only worsened with each sentence that came out of Emanuel’s mouth. Instead of helping, the scientist was adding worries to his already heaping pile of them.

The two men sat there looking at each other as if the solution to their problem was hiding somewhere in their eyes. Then Gabe had an idea. Shooting a very large octopus between the eyes with a gun while gigantic suckered arms lashed out at him sounded like a suicide mission, but if you added two more men and three powerful shotguns to the equation, things started to look a bit better.

“Are the tentacles very hard?”

Emanuel looked at him. Gabe feared he was going to correct him for the millionth time and tell him that octopodes had arms, not tentacles, but apparently the matter at hand was far more important than scientific accuracy.

“They are harder than the mantle, but not incredibly hard. There’s a lot of muscle in there, but no bone. I can almost hear the grinding going on in that head of yours, man. What are you thinking?”

Gabe wasn’t about to give Emanuel a penny for his efforts, but if the marine biologist could keep a secret and wanted to come along for the ride in the name of science, so be it.

“I know shooting the octopus and killing him with a few bullets would be almost impossible, but what if instead of just me trying to put a single bullet into the beast’s brain I had two more people with me, and we all had shotguns?”

“Shotguns? You want to put three people in a boat with shotguns and have them shoot at something that’s moving in the water? Sorry, Gabe, but that’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard, and I heard your idea about dropping poisoned fish all over the damn reef. For starters, using guns in a boat is as smart as wearing a steak suit to a pit bull convention. Second, it’d be really easy to shoot someone in such cramped quarters once things start getting hectic. Third, boats in the water tend to move, and firearms and movement don’t go very well together. Last but not least, you’re talking about an animal with eight arms that can crush you in a second and a beak that can probably bite chunks off your boat, so grazing it with a few pellets meant to kill small birds isn’t going to cut it.”

Gabe had more or less thought about everything Emanuel was saying, but the idea still struck him as the best way to go. He doubted the wild-eyed man sitting across from him had anything better in mind.

“Okay, so you say no shotguns because it’s too dangerous. We might not blow that monster to pieces before he gets us. Whatever. Great. What’s your idea then? How do we kill this thing?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“You don’t know. Okay. The damn expert has no plan, so we’re back to square one. Square one is my plan. You’re good at dissecting fish and all that, but don’t forget I’m the one who gets out there and catches and kills them for a living. I’m telling you my shotgun idea is the way to go. Octopodes don’t have bones, man. I’m sure those tentacles are powerful enough to destroy us, but muscle isn’t that tough when you compare it to bullets. Plus, I think there are a few shotguns that pack a punch that’s meant to put down more than small birds. As for the movement, listen, shotguns are not too hard to handle. Plus, you already mentioned the close quarters. Sounds bad, but in close quarters it’ll be easy to get shots off near that thing’s head and…”

“Gabe, my man, maybe you’ve seen too many movies, but bullets don’t really work that well underwater. You can probably aim and get some shots off, but the second those bullets hit the water, all that damage you were planning on doing just disappears. You don’t see folks using guns to fish no matter how clear the water is, do you? There’s a reason for that.”

Emanuel was not saying the shotgun idea was bad because he really doubted three men could kill or at least seriously injure the giant octopus with shotguns; he was being negative because he was scared. Gabe hadn’t realized it because he had been taking everything the man was saying as the word of a connoisseur, the informed opinion of someone who, unlike him, had gone to college, read a ton of books on the subject, and actually become a certified expert on everything living under the waves. However, Emanuel was now fidgeting with his hands, running his fingers through his unruly curls every minute or so, and not looking at Gabe while he talked. He had turned into the quintessential excuser.

“Listen, smartass, you’re just rambling on and on because I invited you to go with me and try to kill this thing. Face it, you’re scared. That’s fine with me. Don’t come. I’ll find someone else. I just invited you because I thought you’d be interested in seeing this thing up close before it disappears.”

“How in the hell are you going to get your hands on three shotguns?”

The question surprised Gabe. Emanuel was going on as if he had said nothing about not going.

“Never mind that. I know someone. Are you coming or not?”

Emanuel looked at him. His brows pushed against each other the way most people’s did when tackling a math problem. The marine biologist inhaled and then released the air in his lungs through his mouth, letting his lips flap like a horse.

“Your plan is shit, but I’m coming. There’s no way I’m gonna sit here and let you turn that unique specimen into a carcass without getting a good look at it first. I’m taking my camera and…”

“No camera. You can come with me, but you can’t take any pictures. The people paying me to take care of this don’t want folks to know what’s out there. Those are the rules. Take them or stay on shore.”

“Aha! So first you show up here knowing a hell of a lot more than you should know, and then you ask me about the best way to kill a gigantic octopus. Now, finally, you’re telling me the truth, that there is someone giving you money for this. Who the hell are you working for? Am I gonna get a piece of the action if I partake in your harebrained plan which, if I may repeat myself, doesn’t even deserve to be called a plan?”

Gabe had said too much. It wasn’t the first time his big mouth had gotten him into trouble. He knew it wouldn’t be the last. Thankfully, he knew Emanuel wouldn’t say a word if he was honest with him.

“The answer to your first question is that’s none of your goddamn business. The answer to your second question is, hell no. I’m putting my boat on the line, buying the guns, and using my gas to get us out there. I’ll be lucky if I can cover everything with the pittance I’m getting paid.”

“Come one, Gabe, you can tell me who’s behind this. Tell me who hired you. I won’t tell a soul.”

“Why do you care so much about that?”

“Well, I think for some weird reason I’d feel better knowing who wants this thing dead and why.”

Emanuel’s explanation was not the best one, but it was fair enough.

“And you’ll keep your mouth shut about it?”

“Sure, man, I want to know for myself. I won’t be telling anyone else.”

“I’m not giving you a name, but I’ll tell you that our wonderful government is behind it.”

“Figures.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” said Emanuel, “I’m sure any government who basically fills its pockets with the money coming from tourism doesn’t want a monster in its waters, especially one with a taste for humans. I can only imagine the international press jumping on it the second an American or European tourist gets devoured.”

“Exactly.”

“I’ll go with you because I’m curious, but I know you won’t be cutting me in on whatever they gave you, so I’ll make you deal.”

Gabe didn’t like the sound of that. The deal was already on the table, and he’d been the one to offer it. He looked at Emanuel.

“What kind of deal?”

“A fair one. If I help you out, I don’t have to pay you whenever you bring me a weird fish, and if we pull this off and a chunk of this beast floats by us or lands on the boat, it’s mine. I know I can’t publish a paper on it or anything, but studying it would be enough. Man, it would be more than enough for me.”

It was indeed a fair deal. Instead of replying, Gabe stuck out his right hand. The two men shook.

“I’ll give you a call as soon as I get the guns and figure out who else is going with us,” said Gabe.

“Sounds good, man. And don’t worry about finding someone else. I have the perfect guy in mind. I’ll bring him along. Who knows? Maybe your stupid idea works and we can bring that thing to shore and open up a sushi joint—call it Shotgun Sushi.”

The joke wasn’t all that funny, but Emanuel had one of those goofy, contagious smiles that carried bad jokes into a place where they actually made people smile. This time round, the scientist’s grin made Gabe smile in spite of himself.

Chapter Eleven

Making a living as a fisherman in Belize was almost impossible. That’s why Gabe had decided to get all the necessary permits and become a fishing/diving tour guide and start his own business. Sadly, there were times when that business was slow and bills piled up, which is why he knew Tito, a small-time drug dealer from Belize City.

Gabe had been loading some supplies onto his boat on a slow weekday with no clients when a small man approached him. He’d had on an incredibly colorful shirt and sported a gold necklace so thick it could’ve been used to tie an anchor. He’d said something about the boat that immediately told Gabe the short man knew absolutely nothing about boats. The man went on and said something about the weather. Gabe more or less ignored him. Then he’d felt a hand on his shoulders. “I see you hate small talk as much as me, so let’s get to the point,” the man had said. “My name is Tito. I work with Los Zetas, the Mexican drug cartel. We own the coast between Belize and Texas. From time to time, we need to run merchandise up the coast. The trips are short and pay well. It’s a low-risk kinda thing. If you’d like to give it a try some time, write down my phone number. If you think this isn’t for you, just say so. I’ll let you get back to work and be on my way. Of course, this conversation never happened. You know, for your own good.”

Gabe had only called Tito twice.

The first time, a storm had done some damage to his boat, and he needed cash fast to fix it and keep working. Tito told him to go to meet another boat on Caye Chapel. He went there and shady-looking characters loaded a few packages into his boat. He was told to go all the way to Calderas and wait for a green speedboat to get close to him. When he had called Tito, Gabe had only been thinking about the money. Once in the water, alone, with enough drugs to get him locked up for three eternities, and on his way to meeting what he was sure were very dangerous men, things had changed drastically. He wasn’t an overly analytical person, but years of being forced to ensure dumb, drunk, and inexperienced people returned to shore alive had changed him. While for most things in life he was a regular person, when it came to assessing dangerous situations, Gabe could imagine outcomes with the same agility and speed that professional chess players analyze moves.  Despite the fact that he was going into an unknown situation, everything Gabe could imagine included his death, or in the best cases, just a serious wound or dismemberment. Finally, he reached the Calderas. The other boat was already waiting there. Without introduction or preamble, the boat pulled up next to him and a group of men armed to the teeth with guns that seemed to have been plucked from the hands of soldiers, took the drugs from the boat, and gave him a thousand dollars.

Returning home alive and with the cash in his pocket was enough to keep him from promising himself he’d never call Tito again.

The second time was six or seven months later. He simply hadn’t been smart with his finances and when the wet season came, Gabe struggled to pay rent, keep gas in the boat, and buy food. Although the first time had kept him on the verge of a heart attack for a week or so, Gabe decided to do it again.

The trip they asked him to do the second time was longer: from the same spot in Caye Chapel all the way to Pájaros. Instead of a second boat, he had to get really close to shore at night. The same collection of bloody, painful endings haunted him all the way to his destination. Finally, he reached a beach near the natural reserve, and six men came to meet him in a couple of dinghies. They retrieved the goods just like the first time, but their eyes and attitude were far more aggressive than those of the first group of men. The bag of money had been a tad heavier, but spending so much time in Mexican waters surrounded by guys who looked like they wanted to kill him took at least half a decade out of Gabe’s life and he was sure had given him a couple of white hairs. He never called Tito again.

The last trip had been almost a year ago, and now, sitting at home and with the memories of those two long, scary nights accelerating his pulse, he dialed Tito’s number a third time. The small man picked up on the third ring.

“Yeah.”

“Tito?”

“Yeah. Who’s this?”

“Gabe.”

“Gabe. Good hearing from you. Need me to set up a trip for you?”

“No, Tito, not today. I’m calling you because I need a favor.”

The silence at the other end of the line was a sharp, dangerous thing that Gabe could feel hovering invisibly somewhere over his head. Finally, Tito spoke.

“What do you need?”

“I need three shotguns. Three powerful shotguns.”

“Last time I checked, you had two arms. What the fuck do you need three shotguns for?”

“It’s a long story. The short version is…”

“I don’t really have time for stories, Gabe. I can get you three shotguns. No serial numbers. Good stuff. They’ll work, I can promise you that. If I get them to you, you’re gonna owe me at least six or seven trips. And don’t get used to calling me to ask for shit.”

“I was thinking about paying for them. I’m not sure my heart has bounced back all the way yet from that last trip. Those guys that came in the dinghies at Pájaros looked like they could give the devil some nightmares.”

Tito laughed. It sounded like someone coughing up a wet, angry cat.

“Yeah, some of our guys on the other side of the border look a little rough. You can’t blame them for that. They’ve lead rough lives. Anyway, I’ll give you a special price. Maybe that way you’ll rethink doing a few trips. Let’s call it eight hundred. Cash. You won’t find a deal like that anywhere else. Feel free to ask around.”

“No need. Sounds good to me.”

“Okay. You still live in that parrot place?”

Gabe couldn’t remember ever telling Tito where he lived, but he wasn’t entirely surprised the small man knew that, and probably much more, about him.

“Yeah, I’m still here.”

“I’ll send someone over tomorrow. Have the cash ready. They’ll call you at this number when they get there. Put the money in an envelope or a small paper bag or something. Just don’t come down with a shitload of cash in your hand for everyone to see. Also, remember you’re getting dirty guns. If you get caught with them, the police will probably want to talk to you about things you know nothing about. I suggest doing whatever it is you’re going to do and then giving them a burial at sea.”

“I’ll do that,” Gabe said, suddenly scared of something he hadn’t even considered before.

The phone clicked in Gabe’s ear. Tito had hung up without another word.

Chapter Twelve

Mariana was far from being the only girl her age living in her neighborhood and hanging out with boys, but she was the only one who could do everything better than all of them. Her superiority in everything was something her young male friends didn’t know how to handle. On one hand, they were angry that a girl could beat them at running, swimming, throwing, and everything else they did. On the other, they were in awe of her; completely amazed at how she quickly mastered anything new they threw her way.

Mariana, Sebastian, Roberto, Susana, Maikel, and Joselito were the regulars. They were a tight crew despite their differences. All of them were 12 years old and came from the same neighborhood, so they had more in common than kids who just meet at school. Their modus operandi was always the same: get together and hit the streets or the beach to see what kind of trouble they could get into.

This afternoon, Maikel had told them his dad was sick at home, hugging the toilet and grunting after apparently having consumed some shrimp salad that had been left out in the heat a tad too long. That meant he wouldn’t be fishing. That meant they could use his boat. No one would mind.

An hour after meeting at the beach, the six friends were all piled on a small boat and were halfway out to the reef. The tide was low, and they could try to catch whatever had been left trapped in the big puddles on top of one particular stretch of reef.

Mariana and Maikel were in charge of rowing, and they had gotten into a nice rhythm that put them at the reef in no time. There was a tiny motor in the back of the boat, but if they used up all of its gas they’d be in a world of trouble, so they opted for the oars.

They all knew they weren’t supposed to be out there by themselves. They were children of fishermen and tour guides, and their parents had told them time and again about the plethora of dangers that could be found in the ocean. From poisonous fish and the incredibly painful sting of stingrays and sea urchins to nasty cuts on the jagged rocks and cramps that could come at any time and put even the best of swimmers in danger in a matter of seconds, the group of friends understood that what they were doing was dangerous. The fact that they were doing something they weren’t supposed to do augmented the pleasure they received from walking around the top of the reef and taking the occasional dip on the far side of the reef, the place where their parents told them the ocean became a thing with no bottom.

They were swimming around, unenthusiastically discussing the fact that the sun would soon start going down and they should start the trip back home. Then Sebastian heard Maikel gasp. He turned to his left, where Maikel had been a second ago and saw nothing. Sebastian waited for his friend’s head to pop up, but that didn’t happen. A few seconds later, the water turned brown.

Susana, always the most responsible one of the group, was on her way out of the water. Sebastian looked her way because her red and yellow shirt grabbed his attention. He was still caught between confusion and fear. Maikel wasn’t that good at holding his breath. He was going to tell Susana to turn around and tell him if she could see anything from up there, but his words caught in his throat. A gigantic tentacle flew out of the water and knocked Susana down on the sharp rocks. She screamed. Sebastian’s heart did a somersault. He looked at his friends. They were all looking at their screaming friend.

A second tentacle slithered up the reef with unbelievable speed and a reddish round mass began emerging from the water. Susana was trying to get up. Sebastian could see there was blood on the left side of her face. He could imagine the damage the reef had done to her hands.

The round mass kept growing. More tentacles popped up around it. The creature was using them to advance on Susana. Then Sebastian remembered something from school as the first screams erupted around him.

Mrs. Izquierdo had shown them a video of an octopus chasing a crab in a shallow pool. He remembered two things clearly: octopus had arms, not tentacles, and they liked to cover their prey with their body because they devoured them with a hard beak that stood in the center of their strange physiognomy.

As the impossibly large octopus continued to advance toward the fallen girl, all eyes were on her, and judging by the screams erupting from their mouths, everyone had either remembered the same things Sebastian had, or they were simply scared at the massive monster that was now covering their friend with its body.

The octopus reached Susana and made her disappear under its bulk. Thanks to the space between the monster’s body and the rocks, Susana’s screams could still be heard.

Mariana was the first to react. Despite every atom in her body telling her to move away from the giant octopus and toward safety, something deeper and stronger told her to get out of the water and help her friend.

Voices came at Mariana from behind. She could feel the panic they packed like buckets of cold water on her back. No, they said. Get away from that thing, they said. But she didn’t obey. She had to save Susana.

Then came a loud crack followed by the most bloodcurdling scream any of them had ever heard. The worst thing about it was not that it kept going or that it came from someone they all loved, the worst thing about it was that it suddenly turned into an unnatural gargle and then stopped.

Mariana was about six feet away from one of the octopus’s arms. It was as wide as a tree trunk. Its suckers on it were as big as plates. It sent a chill down her spine that followed the one caused by Susana’s last scream.

The sheer size of the animal in front on Mariana was enough to kill all her hopes of a rescue. With no weapons and standing on rocks that were digging into her feet, there was not a lot she could do. Her eyes were starting to water as she turned around and jumped back into the water.

Between strokes, she yelled at her friends, all of whom were apparently frozen in fear. They had to make it back to the boat and get the hell out of there before the octopus was done with Susana. Abandoning her friend was the worst thing she could imagine, but it was also the only thing that could help them stay alive.

Her broken instructions weren’t very effective, but seeing her move toward the boat was enough to make the rest of the gang snap out of it and start moving.

Maikel had a really hard time not looking back every two seconds. First, because the octopus had started moving toward them across the rock, and he knew that once it hit the water their swimming speed wouldn’t matter. Second, Joselito, the shortest and chubbiest of the group, was a really slow swimmer, and he could see his friend was getting left behind.

Maikel looked forward and saw Mariana had already reached the boat and was in the process of pulling the small anchor from the rocks where they had lodged it. Sebastian was almost out of the water as well. That left him and Joselito. Then he realized that the octopus would probably get to his friend first. That would give him more time. Guilt, happiness, pain, sadness, and hope all clashed inside him and made his head spin. He felt horrible and hopeful at once, and that combination was entirely new to him.

Mariana pulled the anchor out and took a few steps toward the boat. She watched Sebastian crawl out of the water and grit his teeth at the pain the rocks caused on his hands and knees. Behind Sebastian, she could see Maikel swimming toward them, and further back, Joselito’s tear-streaked face. The implications of not seeing anything on top of the protruding reef top behind Joselito’s head quickly registered. The octopus was in the water.

“Guys, hurry up!” she yelled while pushing the boat toward the opposite side of the reef. It moved a few inches and stopped. Mariana grunted and applied her shoulder, but the thing refused to move another inch. She was about to turn around and ask for help when Sebastian pulled up next to her and pushed the boat sideways. It moved. They both pushed together and didn’t stop until they reached the water.

“Wait for me!”

Maikel’s voice was broken and too high. Mariana and Sebastian held the boat next to the reef and yelled back at their friend to hurry. They knew running on the rocks was impossible, but Maikel was going to have to try, or get left behind.

Joselito felt like his lungs were about to explode. He couldn’t catch his breath. His head had already gone under three times. His limbs felt heavy. His friends seemed to be too far. He kept swimming, but a tiny voice in his head was telling him he was not going to make it.

The fourth time Joselito’s head went under he thought it was only because he was tired. Then he realized one of the octopus’s huge arms was wrapped around his waist. He felt his whole body spin twice, and then the arm applied so much pressure that everything inside him shifted. The world turned dark.

Mariana watched Joselito go down and knew the shadow underneath him was responsible. She screamed at Maikel who was now cursing up a storm and trying to walk fast on bloody feet. He had to hurry the hell up or be left behind.

“We have to leave him,” said Sebastian.

“Not yet,” said Mariana. “Get in the boat and get the motor going.”

Under most circumstances, Sebastian would have argued. He still had issues taking orders from a girl. This time, however, the fear constricting his lungs kept him quiet, and he did exactly what Mariana told him to.

Maikel was about ten feet away when he heard the motor start. They were leaving him. He looked up from his torn, bleeding feet and the ragged rocks right in front of him and saw Mariana. She had one hand on the boat and was signaling to him with the other. He still had a chance. He moved forward even faster, ignoring the pain that kept shooting up from his feet and threatening him with unconsciousness.

Mariana reached out to Maikel, grabbed his outstretched hand, and pulled him with all her strength. The boy flew forward, his upper body landing inside the boat. The hit knocked the air out of his lungs, but feeling that hard wood touching his body made him so happy that he smiled despite the horrific circumstances and the incredible pain coming from his feet.

Mariana jumped into the boat. Sebastian didn’t wait for any orders. Four long seconds later, the boat was jumping up and down on the open ocean. The water spraying their faces mixed in with the tears rolling down their cheeks

Chapter Thirteen

Gabe’s understanding of the criminal world came, like that of most people, from what he’d learn from movies and television shows. Except for illegal fishing and his two trips as a mule, he was in the dark when it came to doing things that could put you behind bars. That morning would show him that most of his ideas were wrong.

It started with the phone call. He thought that he would have to wait until nighttime to get his guns because under the cover of night is when crime operates. Instead, his cell phone buzzed in his pockets a couple of minutes shy of 11:00 a.m. No one answered when he picked up and said hi, so he grabbed the money, all of which came from the check he had deposited the minute the bank opened that morning, and walked out of his apartment and down to the parking lot.

The man waiting for him was the second element that shattered his expectations. Gabe had expected to find someone dressed either like a classic rap video thug or a mafia wiseguy from a movie. Instead, an older man who looked like someone’s alcoholic uncle was waiting for him in a dilapidated blue LeBaron.

When the man saw Gabe, he grabbed something from the passenger seat and stepped out of the car without killing the engine. He had a blue gym bag in his left hand.

“You Gabe?”

The man was tall and had a face full of acne scars. He wore brown pants, a black t-shirt, and grey tennis shoes that belonged either in the trash or on the feet of a homeless man.

“That’d be me.”

“Got the money?”

Gabe handed over the envelope. The man reached for it. His right hand was missing its pinky and ring fingers. When he looked at the man and applied the context of their situation, the missing digits became the first thing that was in tune with Gabe’s expectations.

The man grabbed the money with his three-fingered hand and made it disappear into his right front pocket. Without a word, he raised the gym bag. Gabe took it. The man turned around, climbed back into his car, and pulled out of the parking lot.

Gabe was left holding a bag full of shotguns. He ran into his apartment, shut the door behind him, and dropped the bag on the sofa. He wanted to open it, but he also wanted it to disappear. Finally, curiosity won out.

The three guns were more or less the same, and Gabe didn’t know enough about guns to know what exactly was different. As far as he knew, two had wood on them, and one had not. There were two boxes of ammo in the bag. Since they were the same, Gabe deduced all three guns would use the same. He booted up his computer and looked up how to use the guns on YouTube.

After loading and unloading the shotguns a dozen times, he felt ready. Back when the idea occurred to him, he hadn’t thought about reloading. The damn things only held three cartridges. Reloading in a moving boat with a giant octopus trying to eat them would not be easy, but they’d have to make it work.

Chapter Fifteen

The second call Gabe received that morning was from Emanuel. The scientist was ready to get going. Despite his apprehension and his constant reminder that Gabe’s plan barely deserved to be called a plan, the man seemed eager to get in the water and see the monster with his own eyes.

The third call was not as great.

Suarez sounded angry. He kept repeating that he understood that he’d only contacted Gabe two days ago, but the problem at hand had to be dealt with immediately. Gabe felt the same way he’d felt every time a teacher had scolded him. He assured Suarez that he was going into the water in a few hours, and that he had a way to ensure that the animal would be dead if it came close to the boat. He also said he had some irresistible bait. There was nothing to worry about. Suarez’s response was as hard and cold as a knife pulled from the freezer: “There better not be after tonight. We have a couple of dead kids on our hands.”

The call left Gabe shaken up. Grown men finding a horrible death in the water was one thing, but when it came to kids, death just seemed unfair and wrong.

Two hours later, Gabe was sitting by the docks waiting for Emanuel.

The marine biologist finally showed up. He was riding in a small white boat with a rail-thin man with olive skin. Emanuel jumped onto the deck and tied the boat. Then he helped the skinny man step onto the deck. The two of them approached Gabe.

“Gabe, this is Martin. Martin, Gabe.”

The men shook hands. Martin was stronger than he looked.

“Martin is the guy I told you about. He saw the arm trying to get into his boat while he was out fishing with his son. I knew he’d be on board with anything that had to do with getting rid of that threat.”

Martin looked at Gabe and nodded.

“I make my living out there, and my boy loves spending time with me. I don’t want something that can eat my son and me inside our boat sharing the water we go into daily. The professor told me you were going to shoot this thing. I think that’s a bad, dangerous plan, but I’m in.”

Gabe decided not to argue. He led the two men to his apartment. He handed each of them an unloaded shotgun and showed them how to use them. Martin looked somewhat comfortable. Emanuel looked like he was handling a venomous snake instead of a weapon.

“Regardless of what you think of my plan, I’d appreciate it if you guys could take measures not to shoot my boat or me. I’d also appreciate if you didn’t shoot each other. I’d like for the three of us to come back in one piece. Deal?”

Martin and Emanuel nodded. They looked ready to go. Gabe wondered how long that façade would last once they laid eyes on the monster.

Chapter Sixteen

According to Emanuel, octopodes are territorial animals despite the fact that most species regularly change dens. The marine biologist had started rambling after Gabe asked him if he had an idea of what would be a good place to start looking for the beast. The scientist hadn’t shut his mouth since.

“We should definitely head to the reefs near Giant Cave. I’d bet that’s where this octopus is hiding. Think about it. True, it has been spotted here and there, but not by many people. An animal of that size would cause quite a stir if he was active or visible during the daytime. Also, the sun’s about to go down, and that’s when he’ll be most active. If we can be already there when he decides to go get some food, then we won’t really have to wait long before we’re face-to-face with him.”

To Gabe, Emanuel’s words were more or less like the sound of the boats engines; he knew it was there, but his attention was elsewhere.

The closer they got to Giant Cave, the smaller Gabe thought his boat was. Gabe owned a 1999 31' Fountain Center Console Fishing Boat with a couple of 275 Mercury Verado motors in the back. It was more than he needed and certainly more than he could afford, but he’d been lucky. The last time he decided to buy a newer boat, he found a listing that he was sure was a scam, but he called anyway. Turns out it was not a scam, but no one else had called thinking that it was. The man who owned the boat was about to get a divorce and wanted to sell as many things as he could and send the money to his girlfriend in Florida. He ended up giving the boat to Gabe for $20,000. Gabe knew that was the first and last time something like that would happen to him.

While the boat always felt good under Gabe’s feet, now he couldn’t stop imagining the whole thing being crushed with the three of them inside. Also, the two men sitting on the boat with him would soon have shotguns in their hands, and Gabe was starting to realize how bad his plan really was.

They reached the reef near Giant Cave and dropped anchor. Emanuel placed a hand on Gabe’s shoulder.

“Time to get in the water, man,” said Emanuel.

“What? No, I have some crabs in the…”

“This octopus won’t show for some tiny crabs, Gabe. I told you, you have to turn yourself into the bait. You don’t have to be in the water for long. Just jump in, splash around a bit, and come back. For some reason, this octopus likes to hunt near the surface. I could give you a three-hour presentation on why that’s absolutely bonkers, but we don’t have that much time.”

Gabe looked at Emanuel. He was serious. Martin was sitting near the bow, his dark eyes shifting back and forth between the water and the two men.

Getting in the water was the last thing Gabe wanted to do, but he knew it had to be done. Although he understood the necessity for it, he was also very aware of the fact that he was not even remotely interested in playing hero. He was going to jump in the water, splash around, and climb back onboard before the last few drops caused by his splashing were done falling back into the ocean.

“Martin and I are going to be right there with you.”

“That’s okay, just don’t point your guns at me unless you actually see something coming for me, deal?”

“Deal,” said Emanuel with a smile that was very much out of place.

Chapter Seventeen

The water was tepid. The sun looked like a radioactive orange that was being submerged in black ink. The two men who were supposed to take care of Gabe the short time he was going to spend in the water looked like schoolboys who had been caught looking at porn during class.

Gabe looked at the two pairs of eyes that kept jumping from him to the water and sent up a silent prayer to a god he’d stopped believing in a decade before.

“The time is perfect. Get in there, and do your thing,” said Emanuel.

Instead of thinking, which surely would lead to chickening out, Gabe jumped into the water.

As a diver, Gabe knew that the world underneath the surface of the ocean was mysterious and dangerous. He knew that while many alpinists had reached the top of Everest, no one had reached the bottom of the ocean. At that moment, with his feet moving around in the water and his hands splashing around with a desperation he didn’t have to fake, he could somehow feel the immensity of the world underneath him and his own insignificance in relation to it.

Then his right hand shot out and grabbed the boat.

“What are you doing? You can’t get in just yet, man. Splash around some more!”

For a second, Gabe thought Emanuel was joking. Then he looked at his face and realized the marine biologist was serious.

“How long do you want me down here? I’m not really happy feeling like a flapping chunk of bait.”

“Not much longer. Twilight is when these guys come out. We only need you in there long enough to make sure this octopus knows we’re here. Usually they hide in their dens and wait for prey to get close, but he has been going up to boats, so it seems like he either hears boats or senses their presence.”

Gabe had never wanted to kill anyone as bad as he wanted to kill Emanuel right then. He grabbed the aluminum ladder with both hands and climbed onboard.

“If that’s your theory, then we can just leave the fucking motors running!”

Emanuel’s eyes opened wide. Gabe was right. Putting him in the water had been as dangerous as it had been unnecessary.

“Listen, Gabe, I’m really sorry I…”

“Guys!” Martin’s voice reached them and made them turn around.

“I just saw something!”

Emanuel and Gabe ran to where Martin was sitting. They looked at the water next to the boat. The sun was covering the water with glare. They couldn’t see much.

“What did you see?”

“No idea. It was big and dark. I just saw this shadow go by under the boat.”

Gabe knew it was time to get the shotgun.

Chapter Eighteen

The second Gabe’s right hand wrapped around the shotgun’s barrel, Emanuel’s voice erupted. Gabe turned around, feeling like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice-cold water on his head. The tightening in his skull and around his neck and chest was something he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

Emanuel and Martin were looking at the water, their bodies bent over starboard. Gabe imagined a giant arm coming out of the water and knocking them into the ocean. It made him put a shell into the chamber and get out of the cockpit.

“You guys see anything?” Gabe asked.

“Just a large shape, like Martin said. I think it’s studying us. Remember what I told you: the octopus is the brain of the ocean. With the size of this beast’s brain, I’m afraid he might even know we’re up to no good.”

Just as he had done at his lab, Emanuel was turning the octopus into a brilliant creature with unlimited powers. Gabe opted to ignore that because in his head, he wanted it to be nothing more than a soft, overgrown animal that could easily be blown to pieces by the gun in his hands.

Gabe had almost reached the two men bent over his boat when Martin jumped back so hard he fell on his ass.

“Holy shit…”

Emanuel’s words were too long. It sounded like he had split holy into two different words. Gabe reached him and looked at the side of the boat. A round, pinkish bulge with brown spots was moving along the side of the boat like a huge tongue. A wave a reddish brown seemed to wash over it.

“Wow! I wonder how many millions of cromatophores this thing has. You see that flash of red? We know next to nothing about the way an octopus uses colors to communicate, but I’m pretty sure that meant it’s either hungry or mad. I’ve seen…”

“Fuck!”

Martin’s scream made them turn around. They saw him lift his shotgun and fire. The sound pierced their ears and left a continuous ringing in its wake. Gabe watched a chunk of his starboard go up in an explosion of white.

“There was a tentacle there!” said Martin, his voice a trembling mess.

“I told you not to shoot my boat!”

“Stop it, guys. We need to keep our eye on the octopus. Maybe it was distracting us with one arm while he used the other to sneak up on us. I told you this was a smart animal. Also, remember that it can shed an arm and keep going, so we want to focus on shooting him where it matters, which means not on the arms. Aim for the eyes. We’re…we’re gonna have to let him climb into the boat if we want to have a clear shot at his head.”

“We have to go back. It’s too big. My son was right.”

“We can’t go back now,” said Gabe. “We need to finish this thing. Your son could be his next meal if we don’t.”

Anger flashed in Martin’s eyes. Gabe saw it as clearly as he’d seen the red flashing across the octopus’s arm. Then, as quickly as it’d come, it vanished. Martin knew Gabe was right.

“We should get in the cockpit and stomp around. He already knows we’re here.”

Emanuel looked over starboard again. The arm was gone.

“I hope your shot only scared him a bit. If he decides to move on to something else, our chances of killing him…”

“He’s still around,” said Martin, who was now making his way to the cockpit. ‘”I just saw the same shadow I saw earlier move off the port quarter.”

No one spoke again. They all moved to the cockpit which, sitting in the middle of the beam, was the point in the boat that put the most distance between them and the water.

Emanuel started stomping his feet.

“What the hell are you doing?” Gabe asked, feeling annoyed and confused, both of which were exacerbated by the fear he was feeling.

“I’m letting the octopus know we’re still here. He’s already proved he’s curious, so I’m just giving him more reason to come up and take a look.”

The stomping went on for a few minutes. It was obvious Emanuel was getting tired of it. Gabe didn’t want to say anything, but with each passing minute he became more convinced that they had missed their chance and wouldn’t get another one. He was trying to keep the call he’d have to give Suarez out of his head. What was worse, he felt that any new deaths would be partly his fault. Then Emanuel raised his right hand and pointed at starboard.

‘There!”

The tip of an arm was just reaching over the side of the boat. It moved carefully, but it didn’t seem to hesitate about pushing forward.

Martin pumped another shell into the chamber. The metallic clack cracked the silence they were all immersed in and made Gabe realize he was holding his breath.

“Don’t shoot, Martin. Remember that we need to let it get much closer.”

The fisherman looked at Emanuel with wide eyes. His forehead was covered with beads of sweat despite the breeze. He nodded, but it was a half-assed nod. It made Gabe wonder if he would start shooting soon and if that would ruin this second chance.

The three men stood in the cockpit as close as if they were stuck in a crowded elevator. They watched as the massive arm reached over the side of the boat and started moving along like a jerky snake. A few suckers made a loud popping sound as they let go of the boat’s floor to move forward.

“There’s a second arm near the bow,” said Emanuel, his voice low as if he was communicating a secret.

Gabe and Martin looked at the bow despite the fact that their brains were telling them to keep their eyes glued to the approaching arm.

The second arm was moving much faster than the first. In fact, its movements were so different from the appendage they’d been looking at a few seconds ago that Gabe wondered if it belonged to a different creature. The arm crossed the bow and seemed to hug that part of the boat. Gabe wondered if the octopus wanted to sink them that way.

By the time the third arm appeared, this one only a few feet from the tree-trunk-sized arm that was now reaching the elevated floor of the cockpit, Emanuel spoke.

“Get ready. We should see his head popping up any minute now. There’s no way those arms can keep appearing without the octopus they’re attached to.”

Emanuel was wrong.

The two arms kept coming.

The three men moved away from the probing appendages, slowly walking backwards toward port.

“It’s too big! The head is till underwater!” said Martin.

Then, as if to prove him wrong, a large, round mass appeared off starboard. The sun had almost dipped entirely into the horizon and the piece of octopus they could see appeared only as a round darkness.

Gabe raised his shotgun and click-clacked a round into the chamber. Emanuel did the same. Martin was already aiming at the beast.

“Hold your fire, man. We want to see its eyes before we start shooting.”

Gabe looked at Martin. The shotgun was shaking in his hands.

By the time the fifth arm appeared on board, Gabe was ready to start shooting at the round mass which now stood at least four feet over starboard. They had to hit something vital if they all landed shot inside that roundness.

“I think we should…”

“Not yet! Look at the bottom. That’s a piece of mantle. He’s trying to get in. He’ll be over the side soon. Then we shoot.”

The seconds that passed seemed like an eternity. The octopus’s head grew and grew. The boat tipped to starboard. Gabe was sure it would keep tipping until they were all in the water. Finally, the head dropped inside the boat.

Martin’s shotgun went off first. The flash illuminated the beast. Two dark eyes were looking at them from atop a brownish mass with touches of dark green that was almost the size of a small car.

Gabe squeezed his trigger a second later. He saw an explosion coming from the top left part of the octopus’s head. He had expected it to deflate, to show it’d been hurt. None of that happened. Emanuel’s blast went off almost simultaneously with Martin’s second. Then Martin’s disappeared with a scream.

Gabe looked at the place the skinny fisherman had been occupying and saw nothing. Then he looked down and saw Martin was being dragged by his left calf. The fisherman yelled and dropped his gun to try to stop himself from being pulled out of the boat. Gabe heard the shotgun clatter and instantly knew that had been a bad move. He took two steps toward the screaming man, aimed at the arm a few feet away from the leg, and pulled the trigger. He heard Emanuel’s shotgun go off once more.

The arm exploded. Martin moved back. The half of the arm that was still attached to the octopus pulled back, leaving a streak of blue blood behind it. Gabe looked at the hole the shot had left on his boat. His fear was suddenly drowned by anger.

Emanuel squeezed off another shot. Gabe turned to look at him. Then he saw him go down just like Martin had.

Behind Gabe, Martin shot at the retreating arm.

Emanuel didn’t let his gun go. He aimed at the head of the monster and pulled the trigger. There was only a loud click. He was out of ammunition.

Each man had three shells in the shotgun. Martin and Emanuel had more in their pockets. Gabe had nothing but dampness in his.

Gabe moved closer to the octopus and aimed his last shot at the middle of its head. He squeezed the trigger and felt the gun kick. Another chunk of octopus flesh exploded into the air.

Emanuel was trying to pull a shell out of his pocket, but it wasn’t happening.

Gabe moved toward the cockpit. The bag with the ammo was under the captain’s chair.

Emanuel started screaming.

Martin had managed to reload. His shotgun went off again. Gabe didn’t know what he was shooting at, but he didn’t have time to take a look. He reached the bag and unzipped it. The boxes of shells had opened. The ammunition was loose and moving around in the bag. He grabbed two shells and quickly used his thumb to push them into the gun.

He got up and looked at where Emanuel had been a few seconds ago. The man was gone. Then Gabe saw an arm disappearing under the beast’s head. He pumped the shotgun and moved toward the head.

The octopus had shifted its position. It looked like he was trying to turn around and return to the water. Gabe stepped to its left and extended his right arm to get a shot closer to the shiny black eyes.

The shotgun went off. It pushed Gabe’s arm toward the sky. Something hit Gabe from behind and knocked him down. He heard Martin scream and shoot again. He turned that way. Martin was two and half feet off the boat. A massive arm was wrapped around him, moving back toward the water. There was a loud crunch and the fisherman’s legs kicked out. Then he was still.

Gabe stood up. The octopus had pulled its head halfway up the side of the boat. He had to make a move before it disappeared underwater.

Something splashed loudly behind him.

He pumped his last round into the chamber and took four steps toward the head. Instead of extending his arm again, Gabe got next to the octopus, pressed the shotgun into the gaping hole left by his previous shot, and squeezed the trigger once more.

The dome where the octopus’s last working eye remained exploded. Blue blood and pieces of slimy flesh rained down on him. Momentum carried the octopus over the side of the boat. It splashed down on the water and floated there, not moving.

Gabe looked down and saw Emanuel’s upper torso. Only it’s right arm was still attached to it. Right below the chest, there was only gore and a piece of the man’s spine jutting out below a few shattered ribs.

Gabe looked to the side, bent over, and vomited. Then he looked back. Martin wasn’t in the boat. He heard no splashing around.

The shotgun clattered against the floor. Gabe wiped his mouth, stood up straight, and looked around.

He couldn’t make out too many details in the encroaching darkness, but the boat was covered in red and blue blood. Miraculously, the hole on the floor wasn’t gushing water.
Gabe grabbed Emanuel’s remaining arm and pushed his torso into the ocean. The octopus was still there, floating a few inches below the water and not moving. Then he picked up his shotgun and looked for Emanuel’s gun. Martin’s wasn’t in the boat. Gabe threw the guns into the ocean and looked out at the last red line above the horizon.

It was time to go home. He hated navigating the reef at night, but the boat had the equipment to ensure he’d make it home if he paid attention to it and didn’t try to hurry.

Gabe walked to cockpit and turned on his motors. The black water at the back of the boat started churning. He had to focus on getting home, but all he could think about were the unknown hungry things living in the impenetrable liquid darkness that surrounded him.

Read on for a free sample of RIP Tyde: A Deep Sea Thriller

Gabino Iglesias is a writer, journalist, and book reviewer living in Austin, TX. He’s the author of Gutmouth (Eraserhead Press), Zero Saints (Broken River Books) and a few other things no one will ever read. His work has appeared in The New York Times, Verbicide, The Rumpus, Entropy, Z Magazine, Red Fez, Word Riot, and other print and online venues. You can reach him on Twitter at @Gabino_Iglesias.

RIP Tyde

This is going to save our marriage. It will give us time to sort through the pieces of a broken life and fit some of them back together. It’s just like a puzzle. I used to be really good at those. The pieces will fit back together.  All we need is the time to do it.

Tyde Gregory tried to calm his nerves with that bittersweet mantra as he threw the last of his things into his yellow duffle bag and zipped it closed. The nametag hung from a loop on the bottom of the bag. Tyde flipped the tag and examined his own name. Over the years, he had come to accept the fact that his parents were California surf hippies and had the best of intentions when they named him, but he would be lying if there weren’t times that he really wished his nametag said ‘Bob’ or ‘Scott’ instead. Then again, his parents must have been onto to something when they named him Tyde; sure they were definitely on something when they did, but he couldn’t deny that they seemed to instinctually know he would love the water.

Being in the water was one of the few times that Tyde ever felt truly at peace.  The water brought him Wendy. Memories of her walking into his diving class all those years ago flashed through his mind. She was beautiful, tanned and giggling with her friends as they waited for the class to start. It had been one of those classes people took on vacation, half-drunk, bobbing around in the hotel pool and breathing through the regulator. No one ever really learned how to dive, but Wendy cornered Tyde after the class and insisted that he give her a private lesson. There was no way in hell Tyde was going to turn down a bikini-clad request for a private class. Wendy left after her week was up and Tyde followed. They had been inseparable since.

Life had been easy, like they were destined to be together. Wendy took a job teaching kindergarten and Tyde started working in a local dive shop. Even though he wore surf shorts to work on most days, it felt a little too corporate for him. But he was willing to deal with timesheets and inventory if it meant he got to go home to Wendy every night.

Weekends had been devoted to dive trips with friends. Everything fit together and worked. They had been happy. Their friends had been happy. The water brought them all together and made their happiness possible. Life made sense when they were diving or at least it used to.

Tyde shook his head, trying to banish thoughts of the past from his head and laughed when the mirror on top of Wendy’s dresser reflected an image of the dirty blond rat’s nest that blossomed from the side of his head. He didn’t want to waste time getting lost in the past. He was looking towards the future. That’s why they were going on this trip, or maybe it was more accurate to say that was why he was going on the trip. Wendy refused at first. Later just protested. And finally reluctantly agreed to go.

Wendy’s things were already packed. She was always more prepared than Tyde, though neither of them had been prepared for last year’s diving trip. No checklist or equipment double-check could have prepared them. More past that Tyde didn’t want to think about. He grabbed Wendy’s bag and walked towards the door. The rest of their gear was in the garage. Wendy was out there double-checking everything before the taxi came to bring them to the airport.

Tyde tried to convince himself that last year’s trip was when his marriage began to fall apart, that the trauma of the trip drove a wedge between him and Wendy, but he knew that wasn’t true. Things were bad before the trip, probably for longer than Tyde even knew, and the trip only made them worse.

It was true that Wendy agreed to go on this trip. That had to count for something. It had to mean there was some small splinter of hope and love left in her heart. Tyde hoped for all of those things, but knew that his wife’s motivation might have more to do with the fact that they were flying to Long Island in the Bahamas to dive a blue hole. They had swam just about anywhere there was water, but never had the opportunity to explore the amazing underwater cave systems known as blue holes. Aside from Belize, the one on Long Island was probably the best in the world. This breathtaking blue world plunged over six hundred feet below sea level, opening into a honeycomb of rooms that had only just begun to be explored. It was unlike anything Tyde or Wendy had ever seen, completely alien and intoxicating.

Still, Wendy agreed to go. They weren’t going to spend the entire time underwater. There would be time to talk, to reconnect. Time to save their marriage.

This is going to save our marriage. It will give us time to sort through the pieces of a broken life and fit some of them back together. It’s just like a puzzle. I used to be really good at those. The pieces will fit back together.  All we need is the time to do it.

Tyde repeated his mantra as Wendy greeted him with a sad, broken smile from the waiting taxi. Tyde threw the rest of their gear into the trunk of the taxi and climbed inside. He reached over and gently squeezed Wendy’s hand. She looked out the window. Tyde squeezed once more, a simple, pleading gesture that spoke volumes about their relationship. Wendy’s fingers fluttered in Tyde’s and tightened ever so slightly.

This would work. It had to work. Tyde could fix this. He could find a way to fit these pieces together, just like all of those puzzles from so long ago. Tyde loved puzzles when he was a child. He just never wanted his marriage to become one.

-2-

The needle on Milo’s air gauge ticked slightly over from yellow to red. There was plenty of air left in the tanks considering that the surface was only twenty to thirty feet overhead, but his tanks had been problematic ever since Jefferson dropped them on the dock. There had to be a small leak somewhere in the system, not that Milo and Jefferson had the money to fix it. He would need to head for the surface.

Milo signaled the three college boys he was guiding today – time to head to the surface. One of the kids held up five fingers. What harm could five more minutes do? Milo gave him the thumbs up, the college boys were experienced divers, and began swimming for the surface. He turned to watch the three college boys swimming near the wreck they had explored today. One ducked inside the ship. Experienced, not smart.

“Damn it,” Milo cursed inside his head. Five minutes meant five minutes outside of the damn ship. The last thing he and Jefferson needed was one of those morons getting hurt. Milo’s gauge ticked a little further into red. “Shit,” Milo thought. He would have to switch his tank out with one of the extras on the boat. Running out of air with only those three idiots to rely on was out of the question. Hopefully, those kids would watch the time and be close behind.

“Milo, where the hell are they?” Jefferson paced anxiously in the rear of the boat. He kept peering over the side, willing the three missing divers to break the water’s glassy surface.

Treading water, Milo pulled the regulator from his mouth and pushed his mask back on his head. His thin dreadlocks glistened with the dying rays of a setting sun. Jefferson was a pain in the ass and prone to panic, but it looked like he was right. Those college kids weren’t on the boat and it didn’t look like they had broken the surface yet either.

“Do you see them floating anywhere nearby?” Milo asked. “They were supposed to be heading for the surface right about now. Maybe the current took them?”

“If I saw them, would I be asking you where they hell they were?” Jefferson was beginning to lose it. He and Milo had dumped all of what little money they had into opening this diving business. A crappy boat and couple of dented scuba tanks later, they were in business, but all of that would be over if something happened to these college boys. “Get your mask back on and go look!”

Milo swallowed a string of curse words, pulled his mask down and cleared his regulator. He glanced at his air gauge. There wasn’t much left, but there was no time to switch his tanks out if one of those college boys was trapped in the wreck.

Maybe the three morons were still underwater screwing around. Maybe not. They were over privileged little shits, but from what Milo had seen, they knew how to dive. If he thought something like this was going to happen, he never would have taken them out past the breakers. But these three didn’t want to dive near the reef with all the snorkeling soccer moms. They wanted to wreck dive near the scuttled World War II German destroyer.

At the time, Milo didn’t think it would be a problem. Sure, the current was stronger and there was always the possibility of a shark or two, but neither of those things appeared to worry the college boys, so Milo pushed the worry out of his head.

The smoke stacks of the German destroyer pointed towards Milo like the barrel of a gigantic gun. He couldn’t help but think that the image was all too prophetic. Tourism accounted for more than half of the Bahamian economy. If he didn’t find these kids, the local authorities were going to make an international example out of him.

Swimming past the smoke stacks, Milo tried to remember the last place he had seen these idiots. He checked his air gauge. Not much was left in the tanks. It had to be the same for those kids, probably less with their excited, quick breathing emptying the tank.

As the War wound down, the Germans scuttled their own ships instead of surrendering to the allies. The Nazis would set a charge in the powder room and jump ship. A handful of these destroyers were scattered around the islands, having turned into artificial reefs over the years and become tourist attractions.

A large hole, ringed in jagged metal teeth loomed in the side of the ship. Milo envisioned the explosion that created this hole and remembered seeing one of the kids swimming towards it. He thought that one might have been named Chet or Chad or something along those lines. It was Chad. Milo remembered thinking it was one of the worst names he had ever heard, though he had to admit it kind of fit the kid. A few more kicks propelled Milo down to the gaping hole.

The setting sun and depth made it difficult to see. A large, handheld spotlight hung from Milo’s harness. He reached back and clicked it on. A yellowed beam of light cut through the darkness inside the ruined ship. Motes of algae, ragged bits of seaweed and other unidentifiable detritus drifted lazily inside of the hull. Milo panned the light from side to side.

The corner of a large blue and white flipper peered out from around the corner of what looked to have once been a set of stairs. Milo watched the flipper move gently. He hoped it was Chad or one of the others and that they had just lost track of time while exploring. Milo swam towards the flipper. He wished that he could have called out to the kid, just told him to stop screwing around and get his ass back to the boat.

The flipper peeked out a little more. Milo kicked hard, throwing clouds of underwater refuse swirling around his head. With his free hand, Milo grabbed the flipper and yanked. He figured it might startle the little turd, maybe send images of a shark swimming through his head – it was the least Milo could do to repay the favor.

A torn stump of flesh jutted from the flipper in Milo’s hand. Raw, red strips of flesh and meat danced in the light current, surrounding a white, splintered shank of bone. A muffled cry erupted in a cloud of bubbles as Milo gnashed his teeth into the length of rubber in his mouth. Bile burned Milo’s throat. He wanted to vomit, wanted to scream. He needed to keep his regulator in place.

Pushing away from the leg, Milo swam for the hole in the side of the destroyer. Thoughts of what could have done this flooded his mind and panic twisted around his heart. What if it was still in the ship’s hull? What if it was behind him?

Milo couldn’t stand not knowing. He turned and shone his light behind him, half expecting to see a gaping maw of white, pointed teeth. There was nothing, only the errant clouds of…of meat.

The water was teeming with torn hunks of shredded flesh. A severed finger, trailing ribbons of tattered skin like the tentacles of some hellish jellyfish gently bumped Milo’s mask. Milo swallowed hard. He was no longer able to fight the urge to vomit. It surged up his throat and, with no other exit available, gushed out Milo’s nostrils, filling the lower half of his mask. The acidic tang of puke stung his eyes and made it difficult to see. Milo wanted to dump his mask, but feared letting in the revolting stew of seawater and human meat. With no other option, Milo turned and swam for the surface, not caring that a gurgled scream knocked his regulator free from his mouth.

The regulator bumped against Milo’s side as he swam for the surface. He could have cleared it and returned his air flow, but he didn’t want to stop and risk finding out what had done that to Chad.

“Where are they?” Jefferson almost shrieked when he saw Milo break the surface alone.

Milo ignored his friend’s question and swam for the platform on the back of the boat.

“Where are they?” Jefferson repeated.

“Get me in the boat!” Milo cried as he pulled himself onto the platform. “Get the tanks off of me. Get me out of the water.”

“What happened down there? Where are they? Why won’t you answer me?” Jefferson couldn’t stop the stream of questions as he helped Milo out of his harness and dropped the air tanks onto the deck of the boat. “What is that crap stuck in your hair?” Jefferson plucked a ragged, pink chunk from Milo’s hair. He examined it, trying to determine its origin. “Is this chum or something?”

“It’s Chad,” Milo gagged. Vomit splattered across the deck of the boat.

“Chad?” Jefferson dropped the bit of meat as if it had suddenly become hot and leapt back. “What could do that to Chad?”

“The Lusca,” Milo gagged between dry heaves.

Jefferson was done asking questions. He turned to rush towards the steering wheel, but slipped in Milo’s vomit and belly flopped onto the deck.

Milo stepped over his friend, who floundered in an acrid puddle of puke, and started the engines. The dual Mercury outboards roared to life and almost lifted the boat out of the water before rocketing it across the water.

RIP Tyde is available from Amazon here

Table of Contents

- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen