Outside of the club, the local students viewed them with a certain degree of resentment, their scholarships being perceived as an undeserved ‘free ride’. Rather than her horizons broadening, Renee found her world shrinking. She seldom ventured further than the lecture hall, library, and the dilapidated accommodation wing in which the administration corralled all the foreign scholarship students.
Jida transferred back to an Australian university at the end of the first year.
“Sorry, darl, this place gives me the shits,” she’d said as she kissed a tearful Renee goodbye.
Following that, Renee felt adrift. She managed to stick it out and complete her degree, but it was more out of a lack of anything better to do than a true drive for achievement. Upon returning to her home soil, she all but wept in relief, and soon put conscious thought of the oppressive atmosphere of Miskatonic Uni out of her mind. She must have taken in more than she thought during her time in the crypto club, though. Any chance she got, and even for some opportunities she manufactured, she would talk at length about yetis and Bigfoot and other such creatures, until she gained a reputation as being ‘a bit of an odd fish’. Eventually she learned to keep that strand of specialised knowledge to herself.
Now here she was, over a decade later, in a fusty old country pub at the arse end of the world, catapulted back to her memories of those early days at Miskatonic by a chance meeting with the local nut job.
“…they wanted to know about the Ponaturi.”
“Huh, what?” Renee was barely listening to Kitty. Marika must have finally noticed Renee’s absence and looked around the bar for her; both she and her friend were staring at Renee. Marika scowled and gave an exaggerated head shake, a pantomimed warning: don’t stand too close to the crazy lady, it might be catching. In a drunken act of defiance, Renee lifted her chin and pointedly turned away.
“The Ponaturi. I saw them take my cousin from the beach. Took her to their underwater caves, and we never saw her again. They might have taken me, too, ‘cept I was only little, and I ran and hid under a log. I can still remember it—me tucked in tight in the dirt, and those ugly fuckers snuffling and shuffling through the bush trying to sniff me out…” For a moment Kitty looked lost in her recollections, her rheumy gaze distant and her half-empty glass threatening to slip from suddenly slack fingers. Then she shuddered and brought herself back to the present. “It happened at Tarehu Cove. You ask your girly over there about it.” Kitty nodded towards Marika. “Only land access to that beach is over her family farm. ‘Course, she’ll probably tell you it’s bullshit, but she knows.” She gestured to encompass the patrons of the bar. “They all know,” she muttered in a tone laced with bitterness. She drained her glass in one swallow, thrust it into Renee’s hand and smacked her lips together wetly. The sound made Renee queasy. Everything was making her queasy—the press of poorly washed bodies, Marika’s distance, the excess of booze she’d consumed, Kitty’s incomprehensible tale—and she had to hold onto the bar, close her eyes and take several deep breaths before she was able to order another beer for Kitty. Marika had spoken fondly and often of the secluded little cove she had frequented in her youth, but Ponaturi? She had no idea what that was about…
Except you’ve heard that word before, haven’t you, Renee? In a dusty room in a far off land, mispronounced by American accents. You’ve heard the word, listened to the stories, imagined the stench and the slimy touch of their amphibian limbs, dreamt of the creature’s loathsome faces, and woken up screaming…
Renee elbowed her way back through the crowd and held the beer out to Kitty. At the same time, someone took hold of her other arm in an ungentle grip. Renee yelped, startled, and nearly spilled the beer. It was Marika, looking grim. The woman she’d been talking to was nowhere to be seen.
“It’s late. I’m tired. Let’s go,” Marika said. She glared at Kitty and began to steer Renee away.
“Wait!” The old woman clutched at Renee. For a moment she was caught in a tug-of-war. Just before Marika could wrench her free, Kitty leaned in and whispered in Renee’s ear:
“If you go down to Tarehu Cove, make sure you don’t stay past dark.”
Lying skin to skin in bed with Marika, alone at last after what felt like weeks, Renee should have been feeling amorous, but couldn’t summon up the energy. Still, her hand crept across Marika’s chest to idly toy with her nipple. Marika exhaled softly and shifted to press a little more closely against her.
“That old woman in the bar, Kitty…” Renee began. “She tells me you know something about the Ponaturi.”
Marika’s mood turned icy in an instant. She grabbed Renee’s wrist and pulled her hand away from its ministrations. “Don’t,” she commanded.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t start with that crypto shit. We’re here so I can spend time with my whanau, not so you can indulge in your weird little hobby.”
Renee forced a laugh. “Oh, no, of course not. I only mentioned it because…well, she’s a bit loony, that Kitty, isn’t she? Lucky you came to get me when you did, otherwise I might never have gotten away from her.”
A pause, then a non-committal, “Hmmm.” Marika’s face was unreadable in the dark, but she must have accepted the excuse; she relaxed back against the mattress and released Renee’s wrist, then turned on her side with her back to Renee. Renee contented herself with draping her arm over Marika’s waist.
“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” she murmured against Marika’s neck. “We’re not in a big hurry to head home tomorrow, are we? Why don’t you show me that cove you’ve told me about? The one that the tourists can’t find? It sounds really romantic…”
“Yeah…Yeah, okay, I’d like that.”
Minutes later, Marika was asleep, a state that was much later coming for Renee. She should have been looking forward to a seaside tryst with her soul mate—so now that it was confirmed, why did the prospect of visiting Tarehu Cove infuse her with dread?
They slept late the next day, and when they woke, Marika was in a much better mood, toying with Renee’s feet under the table at brunch and flirting with the shop assistant at the general store to secure a small discount off the two gaudy beach towels they purchased. The drive to the beach took them off tarsealed roads and onto several winding kilometres of gravel that challenged their urban vehicle’s suspension, then onto a long, dirt track that led ultimately to a padlocked farm gate bearing a hand-painted “Private Property—Keep Out” sign. The sign writer had used too-thin red paint and the letters had run slightly, making the warning appear fresh and bloody. Marika pulled on the hand brake and got out, winking at Renee through the windscreen as she approached the gate; not at the padlocked end where logic dictated it would open with a key, but at the opposite end. She hefted the gate off its hinges and swung it open.
“We all got sick of trying to keep track of the keys, so Aroha came up with that idea,” she explained when she got back into the car.
“Aroha?”
Marika dismissed the query with a wave. “She’s a cousin…”
Who isn’t around here? Renee thought sourly. As if on cue, a figure appeared on a small hill in the distance. As it grew closer, it resolved into a young woman riding a bay mare at a gallop. Just when it looked like they might vault the bonnet, the woman reined the horse in sharply. Renee recognised her as the woman talking to Marika in the bar the night before.
Marika’s introductions were made more awkward with Aroha looking imperiously down on them from astride her mount. The woman was dressed in a faded T-shirt dotted with holes, black shorts and grubby gumboots. She rode bareback, her muscular thighs gripping the horse’s sides, her long and untamed black hair stirring, Medusa-like, in the breeze. If it weren’t for her tatty attire, she might have resembled a warrior princess bent on striking down a rival.
“We’re heading down to the beach,” Marika told Aroha. “Renee wanted to see it.�
�� She looked sideways at Renee, smiled and took her hand. At this display of affection, Aroha stiffened, sending her horse skittering slightly. Renee smiled smugly back.
“Didn’t happen to bring your dive gear, did ya?” Aroha asked.
Marika shook her head.
“I’ve got one spare set,” that emphasis on ‘one’, green eyes flicking towards Renee and away. “Come out on the boat if you want. It’ll be just like old times.” Another pointed glance at Renee, meaning: there is no place for you here.
“Thanks, but nah. We’re just after a bit of alone time.” Marika squeezed Renee’s hand.
“Yeah, well…” Aroha jerked her head in the direction from which she came, indicating a long, single-level dwelling positioned for panoramic sea views. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”
The track to the beach traversed a couple of kilometres of gorse-studded paddock before disappearing into dense bushland. The final stretch had to be travelled on foot. Laden with towels and picnic supplies, they picked their way carefully through the undergrowth for several hundred metres, following a creek on a gentle downward slope.
They emerged abruptly from the bush onto sand. Renee stumbled and righted herself, almost breathless as she caught the first sight of the glittering and boundless stretch of sea. The beach was tiny and pristine, a horseshoe-shaped sliver of paradise, delicate wavelets lapping the shore. A pohutukawa tree in full bloom jutted from a small cliff, providing just enough shade for two. Beyond that cliff, Marika had told her, lay another much larger beach, easily accessible at low tide and also frequented by Marika and her cousins. But Renee had little interest in exploring the other side, not when this spot seemed crafted just for them.
Marika was already stripping off, leaving her clothes in a trail to the ocean’s edge as she whooped and squealed in a childlike rush to dive beneath the water. She came up gasping and laughing, clutching her arms across her bare chest in a futile gesture of self-protection.
“What’s it like?” Renee called.
“Fucking freezing!” Marika called back, before throwing herself backwards into the brine again.
Renee was more cautious to get in—most of her underwater activities were undertaken in a five millimetre wetsuit, and she was too well schooled in the dangers of hypothermia to take the chill lightly—but soon the sun, the solitude and Marika’s infectious delight had her acclimatised and splashing with glee alongside her lover.
Sometime later hunger called. They ate as they had bathed, completely naked, towelling off only enough to keep salt water from dripping onto their food, and letting the air dry them completely. When Marika finished eating, she smoothed out her towel and reclined on it with a sigh, arching her back to press her breasts and belly skyward, then fell back into stillness with her eyes closed.
Renee took a moment to drink the sight in—small conical breasts, smooth brown skin stretched over lean muscle and classically sculpted cheekbones, large, bony hands and feet that earned her much teasing from friends and family but only drew Renee’s admiration, for their implications of strength and capability. And mine, all mine… Renee’s gaze wandered up from those hands, and thoughts of what Marika could do with them, to her mouth, lips slightly parted in a contented smile, made Renee smile too.
“You’ve got a crumb on you,” Renee said. “Right—here.” She leaned over and kissed the corner of Marika’s mouth. She began to draw away, and Marika caught her. With a giggle, Marika rolled, pulling Renee over until their positions were reversed and Marika had Renee pinned beneath her. Marika kissed her back, open-mouthed and desperate, almost violent in her desire, and it was Renee’s turn to arch up, offering herself to Marika’s heat.
Renee woke to a moment of disorientation. Her mouth was dry, and everything ached—had they been drinking? Then her memory kicked in. They’d made love on the beach, and it had been urgent, vigorous, transcendent. Then they must have fallen asleep. Now it was dark, she was cold, sand was stuck and scratching in delicate places, and she needed to pee.
Marika had managed to cocoon herself in both beach towels. She breathed heavily, not quite snoring. A sudden, sharp surge of tenderness speared Renee, and she left her wife to sleep on. Moonlight showed their scattered belongings only as vague, shadowy lumps. Renee felt about the beach until she found shoes and a T-shirt, and made her way bare-assed up the beach to find an appropriate spot in the bush to urinate. It was strange, she mused as she squatted and released control on her bladder, how deep one’s conditioning went; she knew they were alone and there was next to no chance they’d be disturbed, and she’d been only too happy to have sex in the open air, but the minute she had to take a leak, here she was taking the trouble to hide behind a tree.
Two things intruded on her senses at once—a soft splashing sound, at first indistinguishable from the splatter of urine on the ground, and a faint but repugnant odour of rotting fish. Both came from the direction of the beach, and Renee peered around the tree trunk in search of the cause.
Someone…no, something stood on the beach. It was a humanoid shape, but only superficially; its head was too narrow, its eyes too bulging, its posture too distorted, and its hands and feet were webbed, unlike any human Renee had ever seen. Its belly gleamed palely in the moonlight, the rest of its scaly flesh a darker hue, and its back bore a stubby dorsal ridge.
The creature turned and gave a croaking bark, and on its signal, several more narrow heads arose from the water. Renee counted five, seven, eleven…they kept on coming, emerging from the sea until some two dozen of the things stood on the sand. Their fishy stench flooded the air, and Renee choked back a retch. A burst of adrenaline zinged through her body, urging fight or flight. Or freeze.
Renee stood rigidly still, pressed against the tree trunk as if she sought to sink into it, and all but held her breath. The creatures hopped and shambled and loped up the beach, their misshapen feet slapping obscenely on the sand; heading straight for Marika.
They swarmed to surround her, and stood looking down on her for a few moments. Then two of them bent to grab her and haul her to her feet. Renee cried out, suddenly heedless of her own survival, but she was drowned out by the screams of Marika herself, who was suddenly wide-awake and struggling. The towels fell, revealing her nakedness, and the creatures bayed and hooted with what might have been appreciation, or lust.
Another two took hold of Marika’s legs, and they lifted her off her feet. She bucked and writhed against their grip. Several more shuffled forward to take hold of her at various points along her limbs. Renee imagined their putrid, clammy touch, and retched anew. Now Marika was virtually immobilised and held aloft, facing the moon like an offering. They carried her in this fashion into the sea until they stood waist deep in the water, with a whimpering Marika floating on her back in their midst. Two of the monsters at the head of the procession took deep, chest-inflating breaths. One of them bent to press a lipless mouth to Marika’s. She fought it, but it wrapped a hank of her hair in one webbed claw to hold her in place.
When Renee realised what they intended, it broke the spell on her fear-frozen limbs; she sprinted from her hiding place towards the sea; too late. They dived with eerie synchronicity, taking Marika under with them. When Renee reached the water’s edge, not even bubbles remained to mark their passing.
She was lucky not to break a limb in her frantic, stumbling passage through the bush and back to the car, and lucky not to completely lose her mind as she scrabbled through the bundle of belongings she’d swept up from the beach in the search for the keys. After far too long, her fingers closed on cool metal. She set the car on the straightest line for Aroha’s house on the hill, heedless of dips or bumps or gorse, the wild ride jolting her dangerously in her seat until she connected with a rudimentary driveway that provided a smoother path.
She was still pounding on Aroha’s front door when it opened. Aroha appeared annoyed at t
he disturbance at first, but at the sight of Renee, her eyes widened and she took a step back.
“What the—?”
Renee looked down at herself and realised the cause of her shock; in her rush, she’d paused only to put on underpants, and blood streaked her bare legs from several scratches and scrapes she’d sustained running through the bush. She shook her head.
“It’s Marika. They took Marika! We have to go get her back.”
“Just, just slow down, calm down. Who took Marika?”
“I don’t know, the…the frog fish men things. The Ponaturi!”
Aroha stared at Renee in silence.
“I’m not crazy!” Renee blurted. “I know what I saw!”
More silence. Then, quietly, sadly, as she began to turn away—“I can’t help you.”
“Wait!” Renee grabbed Aroha’s arm and played her trump card. “You love her, don’t you?”
A range of emotions played over Aroha’s face. After a lengthy pause, she sighed.
“Alright. Come in. But you have to understand—it’ll be dangerous, and a long shot. No guarantees we’ll be able to save her, and we’ll have to wait until tomorrow night. They only come to shore after dark, so that’s when we’re most likely to find her unguarded.”
“Okay, okay, whatever you say,” Renee said, nodding furiously. She started to follow Aroha inside, then stopped. “But how do you even know where to start looking? They took her into the ocean, for fuck’s sake! She could be fucking anywhere!” Her plan to charge after Marika and her captors, all guns blazing into the sea to mount a rescue was looking more and more nebulous by the minute.
Cthulhu Land of the Long White Cloud AU Page 14