Conner shoved his face underwater (as if he could see without goggles). Spluttering, he said, “What? What is it?”
Whatever it was wriggled and fought. “Not sure.” I couldn’t make it out through the rippling ocean and my shoddy eyesight failed me once again. Whatever I’d harpooned wasn’t happy about it.
Sand swirled from the depths.
Conner squeaked, lifting his feet off the bottom. “It’s fighting pretty good.”
My arms bunched as the spear shifted to the left, moved by whatever I'd stabbed.
“If I pull up, it will escape.” I frowned. “We need to get it to the surface somehow.”
“What do you want me to do?”
I ran through the scenarios. We couldn’t use our hands—just in case it was venomous. And we had nothing else. Inspiration struck. “Run back to the camp and grab the piece of metal we use as a spade.”
Conner didn’t need telling twice. He swam off in a breaststroke, beaching himself and tearing up the sand.
I stood there, fighting with the creature below, waiting for him to return.
He didn’t waste time. Bolting back with a smaller piece of fuselage, he dived into the water and popped up beside me. “Here you go.”
“Use the metal and go down there and wedge it beneath it.”
“What? Hell, no. I’m not doing that.”
I laughed. “Just testing your manliness.” If he’d agreed, I would’ve forbid it. What sort of father figure would I be if I made him fight with an unknown sea monster? “The look on your face means you’ll forever be known as Aqua Boy.”
“You suck.” Shoving the metal at me, he wrapped his hands around the spear. “New deal. I’ll hold it while you go down.”
“Good plan.” I let him take control.
The moment I let go, his face shot white. “Damn, it’s struggling hard.”
“Don’t let it escape.” I brushed hair away from my face, preparing to dive under. “Stay leaning on it. Got it?”
He nodded.
Taking a deep breath, I shot beneath the surface, blinking in briny water. I couldn’t see crap, but something blurred and wriggled like a demon on the seafloor. Doing my best to fight buoyancy and swim with a splinted leg, I stabbed the sharp tip into the creature, trying to put it out of its misery before wedging the metal into the sand beneath it.
Is it dead?
Something slimy wrapped around my wrist.
Shit, not dead.
I swallowed a mouthful of water and shot upright.
Conner fought the creature, his face dripping wet. “Now, what?”
Rubbing my wrist, I made sure I hadn’t been bitten or stung. The slime and suckers said we’d stabbed an octopus.
Lucky us.
Hopefully, it wasn’t a blue-ringed bastard. Those were dangerous and definitely not edible. “I’m going down again. I’ll raise the metal while you move with me, okay? We’ll keep it pinched between the two. Just move when I push.”
He swallowed hard. “Got it.”
Taking a breath, I dived again, fighting revulsion as the prey instantly wrapped around my wrist. Ignoring it, I pushed upward, signalling to Conner to rise with me.
He did as planned, slowly pulling the eight-tentacle animal from the depths.
The closer I got to the surface, the more my skin crawled. The octopus wrapped three, four, five sucked arms around my skin.
At least, Lady Luck decided to give us a break. The flesh of our prey was slimy-grey, not bright blue circles.
Conner squealed as our meal erupted from the sea, wriggling in its multiple-armed glory.
The suckers remained glued to my arm, but its head and nasty beak were pinned against the metal.
Struggling a little with its heavy weight and flailing body, I took the spear and kept the octopus safely pinioned. “Good job. Let’s go.”
Wading back to the beach, I caught sight of Estelle as she appeared with Pippa from the treeline. Afternoon sun glowed on her face, hardening my cock despite my resolution to avoid everything to do with her.
There was something about her.
Something I couldn’t ignore.
I just hoped she couldn’t ignore it, too.
Because I didn’t know how much longer I could keep my promise to be her friend.
.............................
“We come in peace.” Conner pranced ahead with the dead creature aloft.
We’d taken the time to kill the octopus down at the water’s edge and wash off the natural slime and too-late-to-be-effective ink.
The girls (who had their heads bent together weaving the flax Esselte had boiled in the sun for a week) looked up.
“Eww!” Pippa sprang to her feet, backing up. “Get it away.”
Conner laughed, dashing forward to taunt his sister. “What? Never seen an octopus before?”
“No!” Pippa darted behind the umbrella tree. “Co, don’t!”
Conner didn’t listen, chasing her and waving the eight-suckered sea life in her face. “It’s gonna get you, Pip!”
“No!”
“Conner, stop harassing your sister.” Estelle set down her work and stood, massaging the kinks in her back from working with no table or chairs.
The past few weeks things I’d taken for granted became sorely missed: a table to write on, chairs to recline in, utensils to help us resemble human beings rather than sand dirty savages.
I missed light switches and air-con and flushing toilets. I missed cars and radio and internet browsers. But I also missed simpler things. I missed the silence of a house when all the doors were closed. I missed the comfort of having a roof and walls protecting me from the outside. Here, the slap of the waves was constant, the buzz of mosquitos never far away, and the breeze we could never escape was part enemy, part friend.