The Origin (The Sighting #2)

by Christopher Coleman

Nootau and Samuel shot to their feet in unison, as if they’d been pulled by a chain that had been attached to the tops of their heads. It was a counterintuitive move, since they were now exposed, outside the cover of the sea grass. Nootau took a step forward toward the ocean; Samuel took one back, lowering himself down to the height of the reeds.

  “What was that?” Samuel asked.

  Nootau continued walking toward the water, his head on a swivel, oblivious of Samuel or the potential danger.

  “Nootau, stop,” Samuel said, his voice lacking the fear and distress that was bubbling inside.

  Nootau took three or four more paces and then did stop. He stood motionless for a beat and then slowly craned his neck forward as he pointed out to the water.

  Samuel stood tall again and followed with his eyes the direction of Nootau’s point, at first seeing only the shadowy surface of the breakers.

  “Do you see it, Samuel?” Nootau called back, tilting his head in Samuel’s direction without averting his eyes from the water. His voice was a loud whisper, as if his full speaking voice would have made a difference.

  “I don’t...” Samuel took a half-step on the sand, barely edging outside of the false safety of the sea grass. He squinted but still couldn’t see anything unusual.

  “Come closer, Samuel! It is...rising.” Samuel’s voice was loud and deep now, a true summons, and he walked boldly to the very edge of the water, hypnotically drawn to whatever thing he was seeing. “There!”

  Had it been anyone other than Nootau, Samuel may have begun to doubt his sanity. But Nootau was grounded, measured, not prone to exaggeration or dramatics as many of Samuel’s own people were.

  And he wasn’t being dramatic.

  As thoughts of Nootau’s earnestness swirled in Samuel’s mind, a black dome took shape atop the water, appearing amongst the waves as if placed there magically before Samuel’s eyes. It was a featureless figure, smooth and glistening, like a large lump of opal floating on the water’s surface.

  “You see it, yes, Samuel?”

  Samuel nodded. “I do.”

  “Then come.”

  “I thought we were going to hide, Nootau. Why are we out here in the open?”

  Nootau was still entranced by the shape, unable to answer, and Samuel had little choice but to allow the moment to play out. After all, he still didn’t know exactly what they were expecting to see here. Nootau’s third-person account of some sea creature may have, in fact, been the mysterious black saucer bobbing currently atop the surface, perhaps released from some loose bed somewhere beneath the ocean. If this was all it was, what danger was there really?

  But Samuel’s instincts told him differently. Nootau was not bragging when he said his people didn’t lie. Living the reality of the world was as natural to the Algonquin as fishing the waters or the planting of crops. This black dome was just the start; there was more to come.

  Samuel closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them wide before summoning the courage to dash up to the water’s edge where his friend stood in rapture. “Nootau,” Samuel pleaded, gently stretching his arm across the boy’s shoulders, attempting to steer him back to the dunes.

  Nootau shrugged Samuel’s hand away and took a half step to the side, but Samuel persisted, and kept close to his native comrade, grabbing Nootau’s right arm with both hands, gripping tightly while dragging him back toward the dunes.

  Nootau again tried to pull away, but Samuel held tightly, locking eyes with Nootau, softening his stare in a look that pled for the boy to listen and follow.

  And then Nootau’s look changed, as if he suddenly found the truth somewhere in Samuel’s face. That his friend was right. That they were in mortal danger.

  Nootau allowed himself to be pulled away now, all the while keeping his head turned toward the ocean as he jogged with Samuel back to the dunes. They stopped in their hiding place, and the two boys positioned themselves in a stoop behind the clump of seagrass.

  Nootau immediately made a wide part in the middle of the clump, opening up the grass so he could have a clear view of the beach. Samuel edged his face in beside Nootau’s to get a look as well.

  And it was only a matter of moments before he saw it.

  The myth of Nootau’s people, the thing that Samuel had quietly dismissed only minutes ago was now his absolute truth for as long as he would live.

  The large floating rock that had skidded the water suddenly breached the dull brownness of the ocean surface, surging up toward the sky like a sunken ship that had been resurrected by Poseidon. It moved forward toward the beach as it rose, angling up the slope of the land until its face was fully above the surface. In the dull light of the gloam and from the considerable distance at which they watched—there were perhaps seventy-five paces separating the boys and the creature—Samuel couldn’t see the details of the beast’s face. But he could sense its stare. Feel its craving.

  “I told you, Samuel,” Nootau said, his face awash in disbelief, fantasy. It wasn’t a statement of victory, it was as if he were speaking to himself.

  Samuel could only move his head back and forth, unclear that what was happening was indeed real. Was he truly witnessing the arrival of this thing on the shores of his adoptive home? He’d always feared the invaders of this land would come in the form of Spanish ships and thundering cannons, but it was instead this dark creature before him—surely an animal, Samuel presumed—flesh and blood, a being known only to him and Nootau and perhaps a few other natives. Kitchi for sure. But who else?

  The dark monster’s torso was now in the open air, and as dusk began to envelop the beach, the features of the figure became less distinct, a silhouette, an outline of this manlike entity that had arrived on the shores of this New World for a purpose that was yet unknown to Samuel.

  The creature stepped effortlessly from the waves that broke at its feet until it had cleared the water and was positioned on the wet sand of the beach, perhaps only ten paces down from where Samuel and Nootau had been standing only moments ago.

  Samuel couldn’t breathe, but his eyes stayed fixed on the creature, and his mind raced for an explanation to what he was witnessing. It was religion, he thought, just as Nootau had explained moments ago, but this god was unlike anything found in his own theological studies. This god was incarnate, alive in this moment, its body standing so close to Samuel that he could have struck him with a stone.

  “What is it doing?” Nootau whispered, and the quiver in his voice surprised Samuel. The brave warrior from moments ago seemed to be shrinking at the sight of the creature in its full form.

  Samuel took the temperature of his own emotions and realized he didn’t feel any fear in the moment, only awe and curiosity. “I don’t know,” he answered. And then, “Look!”

  The black monster from the sea lifted its chin, turning its face toward the sky, as if looking there for some signal, some beacon being sent from off in the distance.

  But Samuel knew what it was doing: it was smelling.

  The creature lowered its chin back to its original position, and then it pivoted its head slowly from one side to the other, finally settling its direction on the clump of grass where Samuel and Nootau were hiding.

  Nootau opened his mouth to speak, but Samuel put a finger to his own lips, silencing the boy before he could utter a sound. Samuel was in control now, and he pointed gently toward the creature, encouraging Nootau to watch and wait.

  But the fear was growing in Nootau, and within moments it had enveloped him fully. The panic on his face was demonstrated by a paleness beneath his brown skin, and he suddenly began crawling away from the clump of grass, edging himself back toward the dunes that buttressed the sound.

  “Nootau, wait,” Samuel whispered, but it was too late. The Algonquin boy had risen to his feet and was now in a full sprint back toward the dunes and the awaiting canoe. Samuel kept his eyes on him for as long as he stayed in view, and then the darkness took over and the boy disappeared into the night.

&
nbsp; Samuel took in a breath and then exhaled fully. And then a thought entered his mind: He had no fear of the creature. None at all. He could have spent all night staring at the beast, watching its movements, studying it until it too disappeared into the blackness of the evening.

  Samuel’s lack of fear buoyed him now. He had never felt brave in his life. Not once. He’d been as afraid of speaking with the girls in his class as he was of the natives in the village and the Spanish that were rumored to be arriving any day.

  But not now, not when he should have been, and this courage sent a surge of strength through the entirety of his body. It was as if he had been injected with the antidote to all the shortcomings he had been cursed with since birth. Nootau, however, Samuel’s Algonquin counterpart who had been better than Samuel at everything they had ever done together, and in whom Samuel had never noticed a trace of fear, was suddenly rendered petrified by the sight of this magical being of the sea. But Samuel was thriving on the vision, watching the emergence of this new miracle not with anxiety or terror but with reverence, idolatry.

  But Samuel also recognized there was only one way for him to get back to the colony, and that was in the canoe. And if Nootau was completely consumed with fear—as he appeared to be—he may just leave Samuel behind. Samuel wanted to continue examining the creature, but he also knew the barrier island was not a place to spend the night. Not under any circumstances, and certainly not those he currently faced.

  Samuel stood and began to follow Nootau’s tracks to the dunes, turning once more toward the ocean to catch a final glimpse of the creature.

  It was gone.

  Samuel stopped and squinted, taking one step toward the ocean, moving out of the thicket of grass and stepping back onto the sand, trying to bring it back into his vision. He stared out to the water now, considering it had, perhaps, returned to the sea. But there was only the darkness of the disinterested waves.

  Samuel was torn now; he wanted to investigate further where the beast had gone, but his sense of preservation finally won over, and he raced back to the sound, arriving at the place where he and Nootau had docked the canoe. Nootau was there, standing on the bank, crying.

  The canoe was gone.

  “What..? What happened?” Samuel asked. “Where is the boat?”

  Nootau said nothing.

  “Nootau, where is the boat?”

  Nootau turned to Samuel now, the pleading, desperate look in his eyes as painful a thing as Samuel had ever seen. “It must have...” Nootau only shook his head, disbelieving their fate.

  “It’s okay, Nootau, we’ll...”

  “What?”

  But Samuel didn’t know exactly what they would do. “We may have to stay here for the night, I suppose. But in the morning, when we haven’t returned, they’ll come for us. Someone will see that the boat is missing and they’ll figure out that we’ve come to the ocean.”

  Nootau scoffed, and Samuel noted it was the first time he’d ever heard his friend make that particular sound. “I can’t stay here, Samuel. Not with that...I can’t stay here. I can’t be here.”

  Samuel gave a bemused smile. “But this is what you wanted to see. You were the one who insisted we come. You knew of it, right. From Kitchi? Why are you so frightened by it now that you’ve seen it?”

  Nootau looked at Samuel, a quizzical look on his face. “Why are you not frightened, Samuel?”

  Samuel looked away, giving the question its due consideration. He frowned and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  Nootau turned his head up to the sky as if measuring the time, or perhaps forecasting the weather, and then he looked across the sound and inhaled deeply. “I’m going to swim it, Samuel. You can stay here. When I get back—”

  “Swim it?”

  “I’ve done it before. My people are good swimmers, Samuel; you know that. It won’t be easy at this hour and with the little food that is in my stomach, but I have to try.”

  “No, you don’t. We can build a lean-to shelter for the night and—”

  “I’m going, Samuel!”

  Samuel had also never heard Nootau raise his voice in anger before, and he allowed the words to ring in the air. “Okay, Nootau.

  Samuel turned and walked back to the dunes, half-expecting Nootau, if not to follow him, at least to request a moment to give his apology. But Nootau said nothing.

  Samuel listened as the boy slipped into the calm waters of the sound and began his smooth swimming stroke back to the colony. Samuel was alone now, left to his own survival for the night. Nootau would bring help as promised—Samuel had no doubt about that—but in the meantime, Samuel needed to find shelter.

  Bwoosh!

  Samuel screamed aloud at the sound, which hadn’t come from the ocean this time, but from the sound, where Nootau had just begun his long, aquatic journey.

  “Oh my god,” Samuel whispered, and then sprinted back to the shores of the sound.

  Samuel stopped frozen at the shoreline. It was as if he’d run straight into a tree, and he nearly tumbled forward into the water.

  The first vision of the creature had changed Samuel’s outlook on life forever, knowing now that there were beasts and monsters that were beyond his own nightmares. But now, as he witnessed the creature devouring his friend, writhing its head and arms in a fury of destruction and power, Samuel became a devoted follower.

  Samuel stood silently as he watched the beast rip Nootau’s limbs from his torso, and then sink its teeth into the top of the boy’s head. Samuel could see only the whites of the Algonquin boy’s eyes in the darkness as they filled the entirety of his sockets.

  There were few screams before his life was taken completely, and as the creature dipped beneath the surface of the sound, his victim in tow, Samuel smiled.

  Chapter 4

  It was Thursday.

  That meant Shane had seen the black and purple man—Danny’s Ocean God of two years ago—only five days earlier. Danny assumed it was on the very beach where he now stood, but he couldn’t be a hundred percent sure on that count. But the boy had looked out to the water when he spoke, as if considering that it might appear any moment, so Danny decided his assumption was probably a good one.

  Still, there were other details that would have been useful. The time of day. How far it had come out of the water, if at all. And if anyone else had seen it. As to this last question, Danny had to assume a no; otherwise, he figured, Shane would have mentioned it, as children are usually quick to offer corroborating evidence.

  Danny gathered up his light equipment and jogged back to the rental house, immediately rushing to the locked storage closet beneath the house. He fished the key from atop the jamb and opened the door, and then began to bring out the amplifiers and the rest of his sound equipment that he would be using that night. He paused a moment and looked to the ground, thinking about what had just happened. There had been a first-account sighting of the creature—albeit from a nine-year old—but it was news that was nothing short of stunning.

  It also meant the morning experiments at the beach using only his iPhone were no longer sufficient. It was time to bring out the big guns.

  He closed and locked the storage door, and then brought two of the four amplifiers up the steps and into the kitchen, and as he turned back for the other two, a voice from behind him asked, “Are you ready?”

  Danny shrieked and spun around, knocking over one of the amps, nearly stumbling over it as he backed away.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sam chuckled, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

  Danny took two deep breaths and then gathered himself, trying to look relaxed, acting as if it he hadn’t forgotten the woman was still in his house. “Kidding about what?”

  “You forgot. You forgot about me and breakfast.”

  Danny made a face that said he was incredibly offended by the accusation. “What? That’s not true. I never forget about breakfast.”

  “Not funny.”

  “I’m ki
dding. I haven’t forgotten. I just need to get some things ready for work tonight. And I’ll admit it, I was lost in thought, but I did not forget.”

  Sam frowned and raised her eyebrows in a look of Yeah, sure, and then asked, “And what kind of work do you do, Dan?”

  “I’m a...songwriter. Didn’t we talk about this already? Last night, maybe.”

  Sam shook her head. “So you got some kind of gig tonight?”

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  “Really? Maybe I’ll come by and see you. You playing over at Fat Boy Sam’s? Or The Dunk Tank?”

  “No, neither, it’s not exactly that kind of thing.” Danny had no intention of letting the conversation get much further along, since that would require getting into the details. He changed the subject. “You ready for breakfast?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Danny quietly brought the rest of the equipment inside and then he and Sam drove to a diner that overlooked the ocean in the only bustling part of Wickard Beach. After a short wait, they got a perfect corner table next to the window.

  Once they were seated and had finished complimenting the beautiful view, an awkward silence befell the table, and for several minutes, each took sips of water, alternating murmurings of ‘just lovely,’ or ‘nice day,’ or some such banality. Danny was praying for the waitress to come and hurry the date along; his mind was elsewhere obviously, and he and Sam were beginning to feel the embarrassment of last night more heavily. For a moment, Danny considered pretending to get a phone call—an emergency, of course—thus forcing them to have to leave immediately. He would obviously drop Sam off on the way, but things happen. Sorry.

  “Why are you here, Danny?” Sam asked bluntly.

  “At breakfast? I’m hungry.”

  But Sam didn’t give even a courtesy smile at the joke. She just stared at Danny, her eyes cold and locked in. “That’s not what I mean. Why did you come to Wickard Beach? You aren’t from here, that’s obvious, and you’re not here on vacation either. You’re clearly here to stay though. At least for a while. So why?”