Gentry lifted his half full bottle, forced himself to take another drink before Ben strolled back into the house, came back with a fresh beer.
“You know what I just thought of? Dad told me Uncle Pete was married, had a kid even. Young. Like really young.”
“You know what? I went to take a piss earlier, I walked by a room. Full of toys and kiddie shit. Guess I didn’t really think about it. Where you think they are?”
“Who knows. Maybe he ran them off somewhere so he could have quality time with his nephews, you know? Or maybe she left him, took the kid with her. I can’t imagine they were leading much of a glamorous life out here.”
“You gonna ask him about it?”
“Hell no. He might be my uncle, but I don’t know him. That shit’s none of my business. And to be honest, a little kid would have just got annoying. We already got Cobb and Manuel to deal with.” He laughed and took another drink.
“That’s true. Very true.”
“Grace I think? Aunt Grace. I can’t remember what the kid’s name is though. Maybe I’ll meet them one day.”
They sat there for a while, watching the sun finally disappear into the waves dancing on the horizon. It felt peaceful, calming. It felt nice.
“You notice something?” Gentry said.
“What?”
“Clyde’s not here. Or Emma.”
“You relieved or disappointed?”
“Huh? No, that’s not what I—”
“Chill out, Gench. I know you got a thing for Emma. You might as well wear a shirt that says so. Good thing for you Clyde’s too stupid to figure that shit out.”
“It’s really that obvious?” Gentry slammed the rest of his beer.
“Dude.”
“Shit.”
“Don’t worry about it. But if I was you, I’d get over that shit. She acts innocent, like she’s some kind of victim or something, but she’s not. Trust me on that.”
“I don’t know. She was telling me some things last night—”
“Last night? When?”
“You were asleep, I couldn’t sleep. Clyde was at…gone somewhere. So we took a walk, talked a little bit. Nothing happened.”
Ben looked like he was trying to decide whether to be angry or not, then just shrugged. “Whatever. Anyway, all I’m saying is, don’t waste your time with her. She won’t ever leave him.”
Yeah, and what the fuck do you know about it?
“Yeah, maybe you’re right. I can still stare at her tits, though, can’t I?”
“Free country.” Ben chugged the rest of his beer, belched loud enough to wake the neighbors.
“On second thought, I think I’ll take another beer,” Gentry said.
As he fetched the beer, he couldn’t help but wonder the real answer to Ben’s questions.
Am I relieved or disappointed?
***
“Fuck ’em,” Manuel said as he lit the joint inside of his cupped hand. “What are they gonna do, call the cop? There can’t possibly be more than one around here.”
“I’m just saying. Last thing we need is to get caught, piss off Ben’s uncle, you know?” Cobb said this, but gladly took the joint when Manuel offered it to him.
There were a few people around, but not many. None close enough to smell the weed, especially with how strong the wind was blowing. They walked down the beach, having left their socks and shoes in the car. The damp sand felt good as it squashed under his feet, worked its way between his toes.
“It is kinda nice out here, though, right?” Manuel said. “The air smells good.”
“The air smells like raunchy pussy to me.”
“Like I said.”
The sunlight was dying fast, but there was still enough of it left for Cobb to notice the commotion in the distance.
“What’s going on over there?” Cobb said, and pointed toward the boat that appeared to be floating just in front of the shoreline. A mob of people surrounded it, looked to be damn near crawling over each other to get a look.
“Let’s go find out.”
Cobb tossed what was left of the joint into the sand, and then he and Manuel picked up their pace, lightly jogging through the sand toward the boat. There were at least fifteen to twenty people there, and Cobb couldn’t figure out why, in a town like this, they seemed so interested and perplexed by a boat. He figured they would have seen so many by now, they would hardly notice them anymore.
“What’s happening?” Cobb asked a woman who was at the back of the mob, standing on her tiptoes to get a better look.
“Otis and Johnny’s boat there,” she said before turning to look at Cobb. When she finally did, she wrinkled her nose. “Who’re you?”
“Just visiting a friend,” Cobb said. “Something wrong with it?”
“I don’t know your friend,” the woman said, then turned her back on Cobb and Manuel and got back on her toes, her calves bulging.
“I meant the boat. Everything okay?” Cobb knew he wouldn’t be able to do jackshit about it if it wasn’t, but his curiosity had taken over his thoughts at that point.
“The boat’s fine, or looks to be that way,” she said. “It’s Otis and Johnny that’s the problem.”
“They get drunk and park the boat on the beach or somethin’?” Manuel said, then elbowed Cobb and laughed.
The woman spun on her heels, lowered her eyes, flared her nostrils. “The problem is, they ain’t on it. And if you was from around here, you’d know that ain’t right.”
Cobb saw the men on the boat for the first time, walking around and inspecting it. Only one of the four he could see wore a sheriff’s uniform, but all of their faces were pinched with both worry and confusion.
“Tell me!” came a woman’s voice from somewhere toward the front of the group. Her voice was shrill, croaky. “What’s happened? What you see up there?”
“That’s Johnny’s ol’ lady there,” the woman said. “A cunt if I ever knew one, but Johnny, he’s a good man.”
The sheriff, both hands on his hips, slowly walked toward the front of the boat, placed his boot on the edge, and leaned forward. He took the hat off his head, wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Got some blood on the deck, Wanda. A lot of it.”
“Blood?”
Cobb could barely see Wanda now, just the back of her head, ponytail braided and streaked with gray. The water splashed as she started jogging through it, stumbling every other step. A few of the others tried to hold her back, but she fought them off with her elbows.
“Now hold on just a minute,” the sheriff said. “You don’t know that means nothing. Could be our boys caught them something big, had to put it down on the deck.”
“Then where are they?” a male’s voice called out from somewhere. The mob nodded, a few others shouting similar exclamations.
“Big fish my ass,” the woman beside Cobb said. “Ain’t a fish in the Gulf ol’ Otis and Johnny couldn’t handle.”
“This kind of thing is…unusual out here?” Cobb said.
“What, where you come from, missin’ folks is normal?”
“Where we come from, there’s no big ass ocean for people to get lost in,” Manuel said, using the bottom of his shirt to clean his glasses.
The woman kept her back turned, damn near jumping out of her shoes to get a better look at the drama up ahead. “We had boats go missin’ before, but it don’t happen often. But boats comin’ back in with nobody but blood stains on it? Yeah, I’d say it’s…unusual.”
“Sheriff!” the voice came from somewhere on the boat, and the sheriff flinched, turned his back on the people on the beach below him and disappeared from Cobb’s view as he stomped away toward the rear.
The sun had gone down completely now, and the moon was only half full.
Cobb could still hear the voices up on the boat, but couldn’t make out a word of it over the murmuring of the crowd and the splashing of the water against the shore. It looked like a metal ladder had been set up against the boat, which Cob
b figured is how the sheriff and the others climbed aboard, and Wanda was climbing it now, had just swung her leg over when a shout rang out.
“Jesus, what in God’s name?”
“Stand back, goddamnit!”
“Johnny! Where’s my Johnny!”
“Wanda, goddamnit! I said get… Ahhhhh!”
There was a loud splash, and then the crowd dispersed. Half ran away from the water, the other half toward it.
Manuel grabbed Cobb by the arm. “Let’s get the fuck outta here, man. Come on!”
“Hold on a second.” Cobb took a few steps toward the shore, stumbling when others bumped into him running the other way.
“We don’t know what the fuck’s goin’ on here, man. The locals are runnin’ away, I’m doin’ the same.” Manuel tried pulling Cobb back again, but Cobb shook him off. “Quit fuckin’ around, Cobb. I’m too high for this shit. Let’s fuckin’…”
The sheriff was on his feet, waist-deep in seawater. He had something hanging from around his neck, something big, and as the sheriff hollered and trudged toward the beach, Cobb saw the thing flop around.
“That a fish?” Manuel said. “Dumb ass cop got his self bit. Nothin’ special. Now can we go?”
“Get it off me! H-help… Get this fucking thing off me!”
Once the sheriff was in shallow enough water, he fell onto his back, scooted himself backward with a flurry of kicks. The fish, about the size of a Labrador, thrashed around on top of the officer’s chest, but didn’t fall into the water and swim away. It looked like it was attached somehow, but because of the darkness and the thrashing of the officer, Cobb couldn’t tell how.
A group of men surrounded the sheriff now, two of them pulling him backward out of the water while the other two wrestled with the fish. They pulled the sheriff onto the beach, now only a few feet in front of Cobb and Manuel, Manuel still standing behind Cobb.
Worms? What the hell is that?
As the men tugged on the fish, which looked like a big tuna, long dark worms stretched from the slick, shiny skin of the fish to the sheriff’s chest, whose shirt had been ripped to shreds in the front and now soaked in blood. Whatever the hell those things were, they had dug into him and were holding on.
The tuna was covered in something that looked like hard shell, decorating its body like lesions. Cobb heard the clicking sound at the same moment he realized it was coming from the rapid opening and closing of the shells.
“Jesus fucking God!” the sheriff screamed as he arched his back, dug the top of his head into the sand.
Cobb was just about to run forward, try and help out. He wasn’t sure what good he could do, but it felt wrong to stand there and do nothing while this man shrieked and bled all over the beach.
Just as he took his first step forward, something squirted out of the fish’s hide and into the air, hitting some of the men in the face. The men all dropped the fish, backed away. Three of the men appeared to have been hit with the strange fluid, and they immediately dropped to the sand and roared with pain, rolling around and digging at their faces.
“What the fuck was that?” Cobb said, now backing slowly away.
“Whatever it is, there isn’t shit we can do about it. All right? Can we just fuckin’ go now? Cobb, please!”
Cobb nodded, but still watched as the men writhed and wailed in agony. The sheriff’s body spasmed now, no longer screaming. Blood poured off of him, and as the tuna continued to flop around on top of him, Cobb could have sworn he saw those worm-like appendages pull back into the shells, each carrying something round and dripping with blood.
Those things are fucking eating him. Holy shit.
Blue and red light suddenly splashed over the beach and shore, and in seconds, more deputies and paramedics sprinted by Cobb and toward the chaos in front of him.
“You fuckin’ stay here if you want to, motherfucker. I’m gone.”
Strong hands gripped Cobb’s shoulders then, and even though he assumed it was Manuel, a scream exploded from his mouth. But it was one of the deputies, what few of them there were, and his wide, panicked eyes swung from Cobb’s face to the boat to the sheriff and the screaming men, and then back on Cobb.
“What in the hell happened here?”
Cobb just shook his head, couldn’t find any words that seemed appropriate. After about a minute, the deputy shoved Cobb in the middle of the chest, and then dashed toward the sheriff who was already being seen to by a couple of medics.
Cobb turned away from it all then, saw Manuel a good twenty yards ahead of him, sprinting, looking over his shoulder every now and then.
Manuel was right, Cobb thought as he broke into a run. I’m too fucking high for this.
***
Emma had gotten the address from Clyde’s mom, and just as she was pulling up to the house, Manuel and Cobb went running by, didn’t even look in her direction as they hauled ass toward the house. They were saying something to each other, but Emma didn’t make a word of it out. They ran straight into the house, which was small and looked on the verge of falling over, and disappeared behind a slammed door.
“Your uncle lives in a shit hole,” Emma said. “This whole fucking town, actually, is one big, wet shit hole.”
Clyde snored from the back seat, curled up like a baby, his back to Emma. They hadn’t been on the road for more than a half hour before he crawled back there and passed out, and Emma figured he wouldn’t wake up until the morning.
This is my chance, she thought. I brought him here. He’s safe with his family. And I can just walk away right now, never look back. Just keep walking forever.
But instead, she cut off the engine, left the key in the ignition so she could listen to a little music. She told herself she couldn’t leave yet because she still had feelings for Clyde, but even as the thoughts formed in her mind, she knew they were bullshit.
She sighed, leaned back in her seat, and stared up at the house, at the one window that had a light on. And she couldn’t help but wonder if Gentry was inside, awake, probably hoping that she and Clyde wouldn’t show up.
Or maybe not, she thought. Maybe he’s thinking about me. Maybe he’s disappointed I didn’t show up yet.
There was something about him that she couldn’t shake off. She had seen him so many times before, but didn’t say more than a few words to him. She noticed the way he looked at her, but she didn’t think much of it.
Whatever fantasy she was weaving in her head, she knew damn well it could never be. Not with Clyde in the picture. Even if she left him, even if she survived a break up with him, Gentry, or any other guy from back home, would never touch her. Too scared, and she figured she wasn’t worth the risk.
As she kept looking up at that window, waiting for a shadow to pass by in the shape of Gentry, she laughed at herself, shook her head. She turned in her seat and studied Clyde, promised herself that she wouldn’t stay with him, wouldn’t become her mother.
I can’t be scared. And maybe this is the weekend to finally gain the courage.
Leaning her seat as far back as it would go, she hugged herself and shut her eyes. Since she just watched those stoners run into the house, she knew the guys had to be awake inside, but she decided it would be best, and easier, to just sleep in the car. As exhausted as she was, she figured she could sleep on a gravel road wearing steel wool pajamas.
She didn’t think a single person in that house would be happy to see her. Except maybe one.
What the hell were Cobb and Manuel running from?
Those two idiots were probably stoned off their asses, just fucking around with each other or something. Emma thought she saw real fear on their faces, but she couldn’t be sure. Whatever it was, it didn’t concern her.
And If I walk in there, tell them that Clyde is sleeping off his come down in the car, I would only make shit worse.
A Fleetwood Mac song came on, and Emma rolled her window down just a crack, letting in the rotting fish smell, then lit a cigarette.
&
nbsp; As she blew the smoke out and hummed to the music, it was Gentry’s smiling face that flashed in her mind, and she couldn’t help but smile back.
***
“What in the fuck are you talking about?” Ben tossed his beer into the garbage, sat down at the kitchen table beside Cobb who could barely catch his breath.
“I told you, man. That fuckin fish, it had a disease or some kind of infestation. These worm things, like tentacles or something, came out of these shells…fuck what are those called? Those clam looking things that stick to the bottoms of boats and shit?”
“Barnacles?” Gentry said with a smile.
“Yeah! Barnacles, that’s it. And quit fucking smiling like that, Gentry, I’m not fucking around. Manuel, tell ’em!” Cobb was on his feet now, pacing back and forth, taking long, deep drinks of the beer Ben had given him.
Manuel was sitting on the couch, and he ran his hands through his hair and sighed. “I told you we should go, didn’t I? Didn’t I say over and over that we should go?”
“Fuck you, okay? Will you just tell them what you saw?”
Gentry could barely keep his eyes open at this point, the beer in his system making his thoughts fuzzy, his eyelids heavy. He wasn’t much of a drinker, and three beers was usually his limit. Number five had just been popped open when Cobb and Manuel came storming into the house.
“I saw a bunch of scared people runnin’ the fuck away, that’s what I saw. I saw some motherfuckers screaming in the sand, one of them holdin’ a fish. But worms? Tentacles? I don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about, Cobb.”
Cobb slammed his beer down on the table, almost hard enough to shatter it, and started toward Manuel like he was about to kill him. He pointed a hard, stiff finger at him while Gentry and Ben held him back.
“You’re fucking lying. You were right there, motherfucker. Right there with me. How the fuck did you not see that?”
Manuel jumped to his feet, shaking his head. “I just didn’t see it. It was dark, I was fuckin’ scared, okay? I was focusing on tryin’ to get your ass away from there.”
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