Invasion

by Jon S. Lewis

  On his second run, Colt shot up to the crest of the wave, riding sideways before dipping back down. He shifted his weight and twisted his front foot to angle back to the top. That time he caught air and grabbed the tip of his board to get a bigger lift.

  After the ride ended, Colt looked to the shore, hoping to spot Tyler. There were people on the beach, but from that far away he couldn’t be sure if Tyler was there or not. Colt decided to try for another wave. If he didn’t see Tyler or the others at the end of the ride, he’d go to shore and give them a wake-up call.

  As Colt paddled out, he thought he saw a dark patch in the water ahead. He grabbed his board before dipping down and a wave crashed over him. When he came back up, whatever it was had gone. Shark attacks were rare, especially in San Diego, but that was part of the risk. Two years before, a great white had killed a man who was training with friends for a triathlon. The ocean was the sharks’ domain, and sometimes nature struck back.

  Colt continued to paddle. He could hear someone shouting, so he looked to the left and then to the right, but the nearest surfer was at least fifty yards away. He craned his neck to see tiny silhouettes waving from shore. He couldn’t tell what they were saying, but he figured it was his friends. Colt waved back.

  A large swell had snuck up on him, slamming him into the nose of his surfboard. He choked on the salt water as his board corkscrewed, flipping him under. He shot back out, gasping for breath as he whipped his head back and forth.

  The water calmed and Colt managed to turn his board over before sliding back on top. Once he caught his breath, he lay back down and paddled toward another big wave. The people on shore were still shouting. Strange. Then, for a moment, Colt thought that he could see the dark patch again. He blinked, and it disappeared.

  Colt turned around to paddle as the wave approached. Distracted by the thought of a great white lurking, Colt nearly lost his balance. He crouched, his legs wide as he cut across the wave. The spray splattered against his face when he turned to watch the swell. The water roared as it formed a pipeline that swallowed Colt, but he didn’t fall. He smiled as he pressed his left hand against the wave to keep from getting sucked under.

  That’s when he felt the bump. His board hit something, and the nose pitched hard to the left. It crashed into the wave as Colt felt something slap his foot. He had just enough time to see a tentacle, thick as a fireman’s hose that wrapped around his ankle before it pulled Colt off of his surfboard.

  As he fell, Colt’s head slammed against the board. He disappeared under the surf as the line that tethered him to his surfboard snapped. His ears started ringing as he struggled to retain consciousness. He tried to open his eyes, but all he could see was a mass of bubbles coming from below.

  More of the powerful tentacles shot up. They latched onto his wrists, waist, and neck. Colt wiggled and writhed; he tried to break free, but the tentacles were too strong. The harder he fought, the more oxygen he spent. His lungs were burning and he could feel his mind slipping into darkness.

  Then he saw the creature. It was some kind of squid, or maybe an octopus, except it had a human body. The fleshy crown of its head looked like a deflated bagpipe. Its yellow eyes glowed in the murky water, and eight tentacles writhed from the bridge of its nose like a living beard.

  Colt kicked. It didn’t matter. He pulled with his arms, but he couldn’t break free. The tentacles pulled him closer. The creature reached for Colt. In a moment of clarity, Colt was certain he’d seen it before—in one of his father’s comic books. This couldn’t be real.

  Maybe he was dreaming. There was no way a monster like that existed. Its shoulders were covered in bony protrusions and there were fins jutting from its forearms. Colt dug his thumbs into the creature’s eyes, and the tentacles released.

  Colt brought his knees to his chest before kicking out. The force hit the monster in the head. As it fell into the deep, Colt swam toward what he hoped was the surface. That far under, there was no way to tell up from down or left from right. His lungs were on fire and his head was pounding from the pressure. Then he broke the surface, where the air had never tasted sweeter.

  His eyes darted as he looked for his surfboard, which wasn’t far. Colt kicked toward it as panic surged. He could somehow feel the monster tracking him below the water, and he tried to push the thought from his mind. All that mattered was getting his board. He had to get to shore.

  Once he hit the sand, strong hands grabbed him. Someone was helping him out of the water. Blood poured from the gash where his head had hit the board and his wet suit was torn where the tentacles had latched on.

  “Are you okay?” someone asked. It didn’t sound like Tyler.

  “Yeah, I think so.” Colt tried to sit up, but the motion made him dizzy.

  “Just relax. The ambulance is on the way.”

  “I don’t need an ambulance,” Colt said. Someone applied a towel to the cut on his head. “I’m fine, really.”

  “What happened?”

  “I’m not sure. I mean, something grabbed me, but . . .” Colt wasn’t about to tell them that a fish man with tentacles for a beard had attacked him. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. There had to be a logical explanation, but Colt was having a difficult time concentrating. His head was pounding, and he felt light-headed.

  Colt opened his eyes. A man in a wet suit was kneeling over him, his heavy brows furrowed. There were gray patches in his dark beard and his hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Colt didn’t recognize him.

  “I must have gotten tangled up in seaweed,” Colt finally said.

  “Since when does seaweed do that to a wet suit?”

  Colt looked down to see welts forming on his skin where the tentacles had latched on. He pulled the towel away from his head. Whatever color it had been, it was crimson now.

  : : CHAPTER 8 : :

  As he sat in the waiting room at an urgent care facility, Colt wondered how he was going to explain this to his parents. The gash on his head was one thing, but he was worried about the welts. Blaming them on the seaweed was a thin excuse, but who was going to believe that a sea monster had attacked him?

  Once he’d been discharged, Colt was happy to come home to an empty house. It gave him some time to formulate a plan and his first step was to search the Internet. Were there any giant squids in San Diego? It only took a few seconds to find an article. Thousands of giant squid had invaded the coast over the last few years.

  In Mexico, the squid were called red devils. They could reach five feet long, weigh a hundred pounds, and there were lots of documented cases where the squid had attacked humans. With their sharp beaks and toothy tentacles, they could do serious damage.

  Maybe he wasn’t going crazy after all. It must have been one of those squid that grabbed him. The rest was a hallucination. Lack of oxygen could do that. It was the only thing that made sense.

  Colt took some aspirin before making himself a turkey sandwich on wheat. Then he lay down on the couch to watch an old movie. He didn’t make it to the first commercial before he fell asleep.

  When he woke up to the sound of the doorbell, it was dark outside. Disoriented, Colt tried to straighten his hair before turning on a lamp. He looked over at the clock and realized that he had missed dinner. Most of the lights were still off, which meant that his parents weren’t home yet.

  It was Friday, so Colt figured they’d met up for dinner after work. They had a favorite restaurant in the Gaslamp Quarter, where there was live jazz on Friday nights. He just hoped they would remember to order him something to go.

  He yawned before stumbling to the front door. Out of habit, he looked through the peephole—and saw a uniformed officer from the San Diego Police Department standing there. Colt’s mind started to race. What did he do? Forget to pay a parking ticket? You couldn’t get arrested for something like that, right?

  Colt took a deep breath before running his fingers through his hair. He was only wearing board shorts, but there was nothing he co
uld do about that now. He opened the door.

  “Good evening. My name is Sergeant Scott,” the officer said. He didn’t offer his hand. His voice was professional, and he was flicking what looked like two driver’s licenses against each other. “What happened to your head?”

  Colt’s hand went to the gauze that covered his forehead. “I hit it on my surfboard this morning.”

  The officer frowned. For a moment Colt was worried that he was there to ask him about sea monsters.

  “Is this the residence of Roger and Mary McAlister?”

  “Yeah,” Colt said. “Is something wrong?”

  “How do you know them?”

  “They’re my parents.”

  “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, son,” Sergeant Scott said. “They were in an accident.”

  “Are they okay?”

  The officer paused. “It was a head-on collision. I’m afraid they didn’t make it.”

  Colt tilted his head in confusion. His mouth had gone dry, and it felt as though his ears were full of water. His hands started to itch. “Wait, are you sure you have the right house?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Sergeant Scott handed Colt the licenses.

  There was no mistaking the pictures. “What happened?”

  “The accident is still under investigation, but it looks like they were hit by a drunk driver.”

  “Maybe somebody stole my dad’s car,” Colt said. His parents couldn’t be dead. It didn’t make sense. “I mean, my mom always leaves her purse in the car. My dad must have left his wallet. Are you sure it was them?”

  Before Sergeant Scott could respond, Colt pulled out his phone and called his father’s cell. With each ring, his heart beat faster. It went to voice mail. Colt disconnected before hitting redial, but he ended up with the same result.

  Colt struggled with the touch pad. His fingers wouldn’t hit the right buttons. The phone slipped from his hands before hitting the tile. The battery skittered across the floor, sending Colt to his hands and knees, where he scrambled to put the phone back together.

  “Just give me a minute.” Colt called his dad a few more times, but nobody picked up. His hands started to shake.

  The officer walked into the foyer to kneel by Colt. “I know this isn’t easy, son.”

  Colt felt his chest constrict. “Let me just try my mom’s phone. I’m sure she’ll pick up, she always does.” Once again the call went to voice mail. Colt looked up at the officer, his eyes brimming with tears. “You’re sure it was them?”

  Sergeant Scott nodded. “How old are you, son?”

  The question hardly registered. “Um . . . I just turned sixteen.”

  “Do you have any older brothers or sisters?”

  Colt wiped the streaking tear from his cheek before he turned his attention back to the driver’s licenses. “Yeah. Brothers, but they don’t live here anymore.”

  “Somewhere in town?”

  Colt shook his head.

  “What about grandparents?”

  “My grandpa lives in Arizona.”

  “Do you have his phone number?”

  “Yeah, it’s in here somewhere,” Colt said, scrolling through the numbers in his phone. When it landed on his grandfather’s number, Colt pushed Send and handed it to the officer.

  He stood there dumbfounded as Sergeant Scott spoke to his grandpa. Colt knew they were talking, but he didn’t hear a word of the conversation. Breathing was supposed to be automatic, but Colt had to force himself to inhale and then exhale. It felt like someone had just hit him in the chest with a sledgehammer.

  Sergeant Scott placed his hand on Colt’s shoulder. “Your grandfather is going to try and catch an early flight tomorrow morning. Is there someplace I can take you until he gets here? A friend’s house? Maybe a neighbor?”

  “Yeah, I guess so, but I need to get dressed. Can I pack a bag first?”

  “Of course, son. Take your time.”

  Colt was in a fog as he walked back to his bedroom. He turned on his television and clicked through the local stations looking for news of the accident, but all he could find was coverage about UFO sightings near the Naval Amphibious Base in Coronado.

  He fired up his laptop. Moments later he was typing the names of his parents into a search engine. Then he added the words fatal and accident.

  Click.

  He read the first entry three times before it sank in.

  Drunk Driver Arrested after Fatal Accident in San Diego

  Aug 29 . . . Journalist Mary McAlister and her husband sustained fatal injuries after a suspected drunk driver struck their vehicle head-on . . .

  : : CHAPTER 9 : :

  Over the next few days, all seven of Colt’s brothers flew in for the funeral with their wives and children. It didn’t take long before the McAlister house was transformed into what felt like a campground. Come nightfall, every inch of floor space was covered with sleeping bags, blankets, and pillows. They had even set up tents in the backyard, but there still wasn’t enough room to hold everyone. Some of the overflow ended up staying with neighbors, while others wound up at hotels. Colt, however, got to sleep in his own bed.

  That would have been a welcome relief, if only he could fall asleep. Instead he would lie there imagining the horrors of the accident. The pickup truck was going so fast when it struck his parents their car flipped over three times before it burst into flames. According to the coroner’s report, they were killed on impact. Colt could only hope that was true.

  He didn’t remember much about the funeral. The church sanctuary was nearly full, but Colt kept to himself in the front row, and he snuck out the side door when it was over. He wasn’t in the mood to hear how sorry everyone felt for him. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the gesture, he just wasn’t ready to say good-bye to his parents yet, and all the well-wishing made it seem so final.

  After the graveside service, everyone headed to the McAlister house. One of the neighbors owned a restaurant, and he insisted on catering. Volunteers from the church served the food, leaving Colt and his brothers the time they needed to grieve. Colt disappeared to his bedroom.

  “There you are,” Colt heard someone say. He turned around and saw a girl standing in his bedroom doorway.

  “Oh, hi, Dani.”

  “What are you doing in here?” Danielle Salazar asked. Her skin was the color of terra-cotta, and her dark hair hung straight with bangs swept to one side.

  “I guess I needed a break,” Colt said. He was standing next to the telescope his parents had given him for Christmas.

  “I brought you some food,” she said, holding out a plate with a club sandwich, potato salad, and two pickle spears. “Your brother told me you haven’t been eating very much.”

  “Which one?”

  “Clive.”

  “It figures.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “He’s the oldest, so he thinks the rest of us are his responsibility now.”

  “That’s sweet.”

  “I guess.”

  Danielle and Colt were born only a few days apart, but despite the similarity in age, he still thought of her as the little sister that he never had. Their parents had grown up together in a suburb outside of Phoenix. The McAlisters moved away after they got married, but the families remained close.

  Danielle set the plate down on Colt’s nightstand. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a suit before. You look handsome.”

  “Don’t get used to it.” He reached up and loosened his tie before lifting it over his head. “My grandpa had to tie the knot. Hopefully I’ll never have to wear one again.”

  “How are you doing?”

  Colt smiled, though the expression was empty. “You know, it’s weird, but I still have a hard time accepting that they’re gone,” he said. “I’m only sixteen and I just buried my parents. I mean, yesterday Clive and my grandpa met with a real estate agent. They’re putting the house on the market Monday morning.”

  “
What are you going to do?”

  “Clive wants me to move to Virginia with his family. Clayton and Clark said I could come and stay with them, but Clayton lives in Berlin, and Clark’s wife just had their fifth kid last month. They don’t need another one.”

  “I’m sure they’d all love to have you.”

  “Maybe,” Colt said. “My parents left me a bunch of money, so I was thinking about getting an apartment down by the beach, but I’m too young to sign the lease. I just wish I could stay here.”

  “What about your grandpa?”

  “I went to breakfast with him this morning. He thinks I should move in with him. I can handle Arizona for a week or two in the summer, but year-round? I don’t know. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.”

  “He has a swimming pool.”

  “I don’t think it’s big enough for my surfboard.”

  Danielle laughed. “Probably not, but we’d practically be neighbors.”

  “I guess that’s a plus.”

  “You guess?”

  “It’ll help, anyway,” Colt said with a half smile. “My grandpa is going to stay in town until we get everything settled with the house. We have to figure out what to put in storage and how to ship the rest of it to my brothers. Then we’re going to rent a truck and drive my stuff out to his place.”

  “So you’ve already made up your mind? You’re going to Arizona?”

  “It’s not like I have much of a choice.”

  Danielle’s face lit up with a smile. “I can’t believe we’re going to be at the same school.”

  “Me either,” Colt said. He grabbed a pickle from the plate. “How long are you guys in town for?”

  “School already started, so we have to head back tomorrow night.”

  “Maybe we can go to the beach or something.”

  “I’d like that,” Danielle said. “By the way, what happened to your head?”

  Colt reached up to touch his bandage. He had been hoping that his bangs would cover most of it up, but it wasn’t working. “I fell on my surfboard.”