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It’s one day before John’s flight home when Puffer approaches him.
“Yo John,” he says. “Wanna go to a shitty Texas beach?”
With a pitch like that, how can he possibly refuse?
The shitty beach in question is in Galveston, a four hour drive away. It’s not long until everyone is packed and ready to go, and just like that they’re off. Droid volunteers to drive, while Grizzy claims the front seat. The rest of them cram into the back, with Pezzy being the poor bastard to get stuck in the middle seat. Despite this, he somehow manages to conk out within the first ten minutes. Once they get out onto the country roads, Puffer introduces John to some sort of cow-counting game. With nothing to see but miles of farmland, it’s a good way to pass the time.
“Church,” Puffer says. “My cows are married.”
John curses as he watches the building in question pass by Puffer’s window.
“What‘s the score?” he asks.
“Puffer’s up from 11 to 22,” Grizzy replies. “And you’re at 5.”
John curses again. “This guy’s gotta be cheating. He’s got, like, special fish eyes or something.”
Puffer laughs. “Fish eyes are not an advantage, dude.”
“Prove it.”
With an amused expression, Puffer hands over his glasses, which John tries on.
“Good fucking Lord. You’re blind as shit, dude.”
“Lemme see those,” Grizzy says. John passes them over, jostling Pezzy a bit as he leans forward. The only reaction that he gets is a light snore. Grizzy swaps his own glasses for Puffers and whistles. “Damn!”
“Alright, give me my shit back.” Puffer snatches the glasses and makes a big show of cleaning the lenses on his shirt. “Fish eyes don’t work that well above water. Real shocker, I know.”
A distant herd of black spots catches John’s eye.
“Cows,” he calls. Puffer scowls and replaces his glasses on his nose.
“Those could be horses,” he argues, squinting.
“Says the blind guy. Droid, speed up. Prove me right.”
“Do NOT say that, he’s already 20 over the limit!” Grizzy protests.
“What are you, a cop?” Droid says. “Mind your business.”
The herd gradually grows closer and sure enough, they’re cows.
“That’s one more for John. 6-22,” Grizzy announces.
“Motherfucker,” Puffer gripes. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“Since when, bitch?”
John glances out the window and grins.
“Graveyard,” he says, interrupting their arguing. “Your cows are dead.”
“FUCK.” Puffer shouts loud enough to hear from outside. Pezzy’s head jolts up from the headrest.
“Whuh? Fuck’s goin’ on?”
“I’m winning,” John says.
“Puffer’s cows died,” Grizzy adds. Judging by Pezzy’s expression, it clarifies nothing.
“You have cows?”
Droid bursts out laughing. The car jerks.
“Watch the fucking road, Droid!” Grizzy shrieks.
Several generations of cows later, they've made it out of the country roads and into Galveston. This also marks the end of the game, John winning by a single cow much to Puffer’s chagrin. The ocean is in sight now, waves glittering distantly in the late afternoon sun.
There’s just one glaring detail that sticks out.
“Guys,” John says, “I hate to break it to you, but the water’s kinda… brown.”
“Welcome to Texas,” Puffer replies. “You want blue beaches, go to California.”
Looks like ‘shitty Texas beach’ was an apt descriptor after all. Maybe John should’ve expected this.
“So are we swimming in the gross brown water, or…”
“It’s just sand,” Grizzy says. “Besides, we’ll be drunk. We won’t care.”
Fair enough, John thinks, and lets it go. He turns his attention to the other window, looking out across the city. And as if the brown water wasn’t enough, there’s another three surprises on the skyline, glass walls flashing like giant mirrors.
“Are those pyramids?”
Droid barks out a laugh. “I forgot about those. Yeah that’s Moody Gardens, it’s a tourist thing. One of ‘em’s an aquarium, I always forget the rest.”
“And they’re shaped like that because…”
“Fuck knows.”
Yeah, John’s not sure what he was expecting. “They any good?”
“They’re alright,” Puffer says.
“He’s lying,” Grizzy interrupts. “He’s never been. We don’t take him to aquariums.”
“...Right. Do I want to know why?”
“No,” Puffer says, just as Droid says “He gets hungry.” Puffer sends a smoldering glare at the back of his head. Droid, keenly aware of the fact that Puffer is sitting directly behind him in prime strangling position, leans a little closer to the steering wheel.
“When we get to this beach,” Puffer says, “You better watch your back.”
“This dude’s gonna drown me,” Droid bemoans.
“You don’t need to breathe, you’ll be fine.” Grizzy says.
“Yeah, but I like to!”
“Isn’t airflow kinda important for storms?” John adds. Droid nods furiously.
“See, this guy gets it! So you’re gonna protect me, right?” The last part is directed at Grizzy.
“No bitch, protect yourself.”
“What the FUCK?”
Pezzy wakes up with a jolt once again. “Ngh. Loud. Why.”
“Puffer’s gonna kill me.”
Pezzy yawns. “Do you deserve it?”
Droid’s jaw drops.
“Can you believe this shit, John? It’s just you and me out here.”
“Tragic,” John agrees, taking great pains to keep a straight face.
Pezzy rolls his eyes and glances out the window.
“Oh cool, Moody.”
“Have you ever been there?” John asks.
“Yeah, it’s pretty neat. They’ve got a touch pool with moon jellies in the aquarium.”
“Definitely don’t let Puffer in there,” Droid jokes. Puffer’s head snaps back towards him, and he cringes against the steering wheel again.
“Hey Droid?” Puffer says.
“...yeah?”
“Start writing your will.”
Luckily for Droid, they arrive at the rental house before Puffer’s murderous urges get too strong. While he and Grizzy head down to the nearest liquor store, the rest of them unload the car. Of course, that takes a whopping five minutes, so they’re left with some time to kill.
John takes the opportunity to explore the house a bit. It’s a quaint little thing, a single story with a few bedrooms and some… interesting wallpaper choices. A weird amount of embroidered towels, too. John supposes that’s just how rental owners are. But the view of the coast is nice, once he steps out into the little backyard. It’s more sand than yard if he’s honest, the plant life limited to a few potted flowers and two squat little palms. Further out towards the beach is a rocky cliff dotted with coastal plants, right next to the water’s edge. The wind flows in from the sea, bringing the scent of salt with it. Weak waves lap at the shore as sand pipers patter about in the surf, poking their beaks into the sand. John can hear seagulls calling from somewhere above.
Not too bad, for a shitty Texas beach.
If he recalls correctly, there should be an inlet nearby that falls on the rental property. John would bet money that it’s behind that little cliff. It’ll be a bit more secluded, with calmer waters, but more importantly, no other people. The guys should be free to get as weird as they want.
To be completely honest, John is a little worried about that. He has no clue what the guys have planned for tonight, and even less of a clue how much freaky shit he can actually handle. Especially since the only thing he’s really seen in regards to their… weirdness is that snake with the fuckass eyes, and he doesn’t want a repeat of that incident.
But John’s not about to ask them to tone it down or anything. Clearly, it’s not something they get to do very often, and John isn’t going to stand in the way if they want to let loose a little bit outside of the comfort of their home. Besides, he’s far too curious to pass up such a good opportunity.
Still, it’s probably a good idea to cover his bases. So, dragging his eyes away from the waves, John heads back inside.
He finds Pezzy and Droid in the living room, flipping aimlessly through channels on the TV. They glance up at the sound of the back door shutting behind him.
“Yo,” John says. “Got a question.”
“Shoot,” Droid replies. John takes a moment to organize his thoughts, leaning up against the back of the couch.
“Is there anything I should know about before tonight? ‘Cause if you guys are gonna do some body horror shit, I’d rather know in advance.”
Pezzy and Droid glance at each other, then back to John.
“I mean,” Pezzy starts, “It kinda depends on your definition.”
“Terrible answer. Zero out of ten.”
Pezzy puts his hands up.
“Alright, damn. You want specifics?" At John’s nod, he continues. “A few of us will probably have some extra body parts, but it shouldn’t be anything too gross.”
“Puffer’s shifts are pretty gnarly,” Droid adds, “But he’s not gonna let you watch. Might hear it, though.”
John pulls a face. “Lovely. You gonna have any more weird snakes today?” He gestures to Pezzy.
“Only in his pants,” Droid says. Pezzy kicks him.
“Gross. Shut up.” To John: “Not today, no. I’ll stick to the more normal stuff. Not trying to throw you in the deep end or anything.”
“Thanks. Anything else?”
“Nah, that should cover it. Grizzy’s not gonna do anything weirder than that, and Droid’s gonna be normal.”
“Not possible. Have you met the guy?”
“Damn, you’re right. I forgot,” Pezzy agrees, ignoring the betrayed look Droid is giving him.
“Bro, the fuck did I do? Why am I catching strays here?”
“Cause you make it too easy,” John replies.
The buzzing of their phones interrupt whatever retort Droid is about to come back with. John fishes his phone out of his pocket. It’s a text from Puffer in their groupchat. Anyone want this? it says, followed by a picture of a wine bottle with Snoop Dogg on the label. John snorts.
Sure, he texts. A moment later, Pezzy’s message loads in: get soju.
Way ahead of you, comes Puffer’s response. Boutta check out, meet yall at the beach.
John glances up at the others.
“Guess we should go find our spot, huh?”
The inlet is easy to find. Just as John suspected, it’s hidden behind the little cliff he’d seen from the backyard. The coast is rocky here, with an entrance marked by two weathered boulders that break up the harsh waves while letting the calmer water flow through. The pool that’s formed within the inlet is surprisingly deep, and nearly twenty feet across. Surrounding the pool are a number of large, worn down rocks.
Droid whistles. “Now I get why this place cost so much.”
John is inclined to agree. It’s a nice spot, private, and with a good view of the sea if you climb up the rocks. But more importantly, he’s about to sweat his balls off, so he doesn’t think twice before hucking his shirt off and tossing himself into the water. He hears Pezzy squawk as the splash hits him. The cold water is a shock at first, but it quickly shifts to relief. John dunks his head underwater, letting the chill soak into his hair, then resurfaces and flips his bangs out of his eyes.
“Fuck yeah, dude,” he says. Pezzy lets out a short chuckle.
“Not waiting for the others?”
John shrugs.
“Shoulda been faster. I’m not built for this weather, man. I don't know how you all do it.”
“We just don’t go outside,” Droid says, setting out their towels.
“Fair enough. I wouldn’t either if I lived here.”
John’s eyes drift over the horizon. He can see the distant rise and fall of the waves, the sky taking on a pinkish tint as the sun begins to set. They won’t be able to watch it set over the ocean– this is the east coast, after all– but if they climb the little cliff they should still be able to get a good view.
White flashes of seagull’s wings wheel about over the surf. If there were people here earlier, they’re all gone now. All John can hear are the waves and the birds.
The sound of shifting gravel hits his ears, and John turns back towards the others. Droid’s sitting on a rock with his legs dangling into the water. Pezzy has scaled the side of the cliff, sending little stones skittering down the side. He seems to be waving their other friends over.
Puffer is the first to arrive, Grizzy trailing a little farther behind.
“Oh fuck yeah,” he says the moment he spots the pool. He barely takes half a second to drop his bags before he sheds everything but his trunks and launches himself into the water. He swims to the mouth of the inlet and peeks out, presumably checking for people. Seeing none, he ducks back under the water and lets iridescent blue-green scales bloom over his skin. Rows of fins sprout from his limbs and back. John watches as he does a lap around the edge of the pool, fast enough to make little waves slap at John’s legs as he passes. Finally, he surfaces and pushes wet hair out of his face.
“Hell fuckin’ yeah, dude.”
“Don’t take your pants off yet,” Pezzy says. “We’re gonna climb the cliff for the sunset.”
“He’s gonna take his pants off?” John asks.
“Why, you excited?” Puffer says.
“Bitch, I might be.”
“Wait until the rest of us get drunk before you get freaky, please,” Grizzy interjects. He accentuates the statement by cracking open a bottle of soju. The rest of them follow suit; John claims his wine, and Puffer reluctantly leaves the water for a Modelo.
With some less-than-subtle nudging from Pezzy, they make their way up onto the cliff and settle down on the rocks, watching the sun dip closer and closer to the skyline. Belatedly, John realizes he forgot a cup– actually, he’s not sure if they brought any to begin with. He looks at the bottle in his hand for a moment, considering, then decides ‘fuck it’ and drinks directly from it. It’s pretty good, a little sweet for John’s taste, but he’s not complaining.
The others are talking, trading jabs and bad jokes, but John’s not really listening. He’s surprisingly content to just sit there quietly, watching the reds and oranges streak across the sky, clouds tinted purple. He can’t remember the last time he watched a sunset, but it’s nice. Really nice. He should do it more often.
“You guys do this a lot?” he asks. “Beach trips, I mean.”
“Every now and then,” Grizzy replies. “It can be hard to find a private spot. Creeks are better for that.”
“Ocean’s got more room to swim,” Puffer counters, taking a swig of his beer.
“Familiar territory?” John asks. Puffer shakes his head.
“Nah. I came from a river.”
John hums in acknowledgement.
“Can you even breathe in saltwater, then?”
Puffer grimaces.
“Would you want saltwater in your lungs?”
“I mean, I wouldn't want water of any kind in my lungs, but point taken.”
The faint shine of Puffer’s scars glint orange in the setting sun. John makes a point of looking away. Puffer drains the last of his beer and stands up.
“I’m getting back in the water,” he says. “Give it a minute before you follow or you’re gonna see some dick.”
“Promise?” John asks. Puffer laughs.
“No peeking. You’ll see a lot worse than that if you do.”
And with that lovely warning, he’s gone. John casts a quizzical look at the others.
“That’s, like, kind of ominous, right? It’s not just me?”
“Like I said, his shifts are pretty gnarly,” Droid says, eyes still on the sunset as he takes a sip from his bottle. “Trust him on this one, you don’t wanna see it.”
“Oh. Okay. Cool.” John turns back to the sunset as well. A moment of silence passes, then: “So how do we know when he’s done?”
“You’ll hear it in a sec,” Grizzy replies.
And hear it he does. A series of wet crunching sounds ring out from behind them, sending shivers up John’s spine. It sounds like bones breaking, the rip and tear of flesh and cartilage coming apart and rearranging itself. John almost turns to look, some morbid sense of curiosity coming over him, but he manages to stop himself in time. Staring blankly over the city, he takes a massive swig from his bottle.
“You all are on some horror movie shit,” he says.
“Preaching to the choir, brother,” Droid replies.
Thankfully, the sounds are short-lived. Soon the only sound behind them is splashing water as Puffer resettles himself. The four of them stay on the cliff for a little longer, until the sun has vanished behind the buildings and the sky has started to darken to a twilight blue. By that point, Puffer has gotten impatient and is throwing pebbles at the back of their heads. After a few too many hit their marks, the others decide to indulge him and head back down.
As implied by the whole ‘taking his pants off’ bit, Puffer’s legs have been replaced by a long, scaly tail, ridged with spiny fins. It’s a dark teal-blue, scales glittering like aquamarine crystals under the water. His upper body has its fair share of fins too, especially on his arms and back, and at this point he’s more scales than skin.
The fins behind Puffer’s ears twitch as he watches John take everything in.
“Like what you see?” he asks, leaning on one elbow and grinning. John huffs out a laugh.
“Something like that,” he says, a bit flirtily. Puffer’s grin widens.
“You come here often or what?” His tail swishes slowly from side to side.
The arrival of Droid from behind John seems to distract him, however. Puffer grabs a Modelo– one of two balanced on the rock next to him– and holds it out.
“Yo, Droid,” he says, and waves the bottle. Droid practically lights up and hops into the water, wading over to him. Just before he reaches the beer, Puffer’s tail sweeps out and knocks his legs out from under him. Droid goes down with a splash, Puffer shoving him the rest of the way under.
“Dude,” Grizzy says. “Don’t actually kill him.”
“He’s fine,” Puffer replies, keeping the beer safely raised with one arm as he holds down a flailing Droid with the other. He keeps him there for a few more seconds, then finally releases him. Droid shoots up and sends water everywhere, gasping dramatically.
“Motherfucker!” he shouts. Puffer just shrugs, and gracefully does not retaliate when Droid splashes him in the face.
“I told you to watch your back.” He holds out the beer again.
“Man, fuck you,” Droid gripes, but accepts the peace offering.
The rest of the group soon joins them in the water, drinks in hand. The sky gradually grows darker, the last rays of sunlight fading away, and despite everything he's already seen, John’s still caught off guard when Puffer starts glowing. Long stripes and kidney-shaped spots run down his sides and the length of his tail, lighting up in a phosphorescent blue.
“Nice lightshow,” John says. “Trying to impress me?”
“I might be,” Puffer replies with a wink. Grizzy rolls his eyes.
“Are you two going to flirt this entire time?”
“If we work hard enough, we can make Grizzy the fifth wheel,” Droid interjects.
John glances over to Puffer. “How committed are you to the bit?”
“I’m down if you are.”
“Please don’t,” Grizzy sighs, and takes a big swig of his soju.
“Leave him alone already. Look, you’re driving him to alcoholism,” Pezzy teases. He too has begun to glow, dustings of pink and purple swirling over his skin like galaxies. Grizzy joins in, golden-orange spots trailing up his arms and over his chest.
“Don’t you have to, like copy something to do that?” John asks. “I thought something had to be right in front of you for you to mimic it.”
“The first time, yeah,” Grizzy says, “But I can do it again later. It’s kinda like muscle memory. I mimicked fireflies a while back, and I’ve still got the blueprints for ‘em. I just tweaked it a little bit.”
“Huh. Cool.” John turns to Pezzy. “So do a lot of your critters glow?”
“Not as many as you’d think. I’ve got a couple hanging around, but I don't think I've used this one since… I dunno, the thirties?”
“So you were out there glowing in the middle of the Great Depression? Wow, way to show off.”
Pezzy rolls his eyes. “Sure man, whatever.”
“This motherfucker could’ve been lighting up people’s houses,” Puffer butts in. “You should’ve been selling your services.”
“Yeah man, totally. I would’ve made, like, five whole dollars. Shut up.” Pezzy scoops up a handful of sand and pitches it in Puffer’s direction. He ducks under the water before it hits, snickering.
“What was it like, though?” John asks. “Living through that, I mean.”
“Boy, let me fuckin’ tell you,” Pezzy begins, and takes a deep breath.
Oh, this oughta be good.
It’s about an hour later when Puffer abruptly drains his beer, then ditches the bottle and pushes off from the rock he’d been leaning on.
“I’m going out to swim,” he announces. “John, you’re my lookout. C’mon.”
“O-okay?” Puffer barely waits for his response, already headed for the two boulders at the entrance of the inlet. For a moment, John worries that he’ll get caught in the narrow gap, but he slips through like it’s nothing. “See you guys in a bit, I guess.”
With that John follows Puffer’s lead, though he takes the land route over the rocks. It’s dark out now, not pitch black yet but Puffer stopped glowing about half an hour ago, so it doesn't take much for him to practically vanish into the sea. He seems to realize this and takes mercy on John, flashing his glowing patterns briefly. John wades out into the surf to meet him. The water is calm, waist-height, bobbing slightly with weak swells.
“So what am I supposed to do?” John asks to Puffer’s head poking out of the water. The rest of him lies nearly invisible under the water, just a faint shadow of fins and tail.
“Just keep an eye out,” Puffer says “If anyone shows up on the beach, start slapping the water or something. I’ll hear it.”
John reaches out just before he takes off.
“Can you put the light show back on? Just so I can see where you are.”
Puffer heaves a dramatic sigh.
“Fine. You better be a good lookout.”
He ducks under the surface, the great shadow of his tail whipping by, and just like that he’s gone. For a brief moment John loses track of him entirely, but soon enough the dull blue glow returns as promised. Puffer’s gone straight for the depths, far enough that John would have to tread water if he followed. He’s at least considerate enough to stay within John’s line of sight, and that calms the nervous flutter in his stomach. He’s not quite sure where the fear comes from– maybe, standing waist deep in the dark water, it’s just too easy to imagine some great creature rising from the depths and swallowing that little blue light whole.
John shakes himself, flinging those thoughts away like water droplets from his hair. Nothing’s going to happen. The worst that could be out there is a shark, and he doubts even a hungry one would want to be on the receiving end of Puffer’s spines.
John glances behind him, scouring the beach for any flashlights or silhouettes of people. Seeing none, he turns his attention back to Puffer.
He moves a bit like a shark, John realizes. The slow side-to-side sweep of his tail, fins cutting through the surface of the water like knives. He watches as Puffer slows to a stop, then turns on a dime and darts forward as quick as a snake. He’s still for a moment after that; John wonders if he’s just caught something. But it’s not long until he’s on the move again, swimming in smooth arcs, occasionally popping up to the surface for air. The glowing markings on his sides fade from bright to dull and back again.
It’s plain to see how at home he feels in the water. It’s nothing like the times John had seen him swim in human form, before he knew. He seemed comfortable in the water, sure, but John and everyone else had just attributed that to him being a good swimmer. Here, he swims like he was born for it, like he’s one with the waves. If he were closer, John would probably see a stupid grin on his face.
In all his years of knowing him, John doesn’t think he’s ever seen Puffer this happy.
Abruptly, Puffer turns and starts heading back towards John. He frowns; did something go wrong? He checks the beach again just in case, but no one’s there. By the time he turns back, Puffer is right there. John jolts.
“Jesus,” he says. Puffer laughs. John flicks a bit of seafoam in his face.
“Check this out,” Puffer says, and brings his tail a bit closer to the surface. The glowing marks brighten, and John sees dozens of little inch-long fish hovering close to them. The light changes again, now rippling slowly down Puffer’s sides in waves of brightness. The fish trail after the glow like moths to a flame.
“Huh,” John says.
“Neat, right?”
John hums. The two of them watch the fish for a little longer, then Puffer’s spots return to their normal glow. The fish mill about aimlessly, occasionally pecking at the light.
“The minnows back home used to do this too,” Puffer says, a small smile on his face.
“Do they just like the light?”
“That’s part of it, I think. But sometimes the little guys’ll hang by the big fish ‘cause it keeps the medium ones from eating them. Used to happen with me all the time.”
“Bet you were the big dog in that river, huh?”
He puffs out his chest. “Hell yeah I was.”
They go quiet, watching the fish swirl around Puffer’s tail and weave around John’s legs.
“I didn’t think there’d be so many out here at night,” John comments.
“Yeah, me neither. I think there’s something bigger out in the depths that’s scaring ‘em over here. Maybe a shark.”
“Should we be worried about that?”
“Nah.” Puffer lets his spines pop out. “I can take it.”
John’s eyes flick down to where Puffer’s hips would normally be.
“You can take it, huh?” he says. Puffer flips his tail out of the water and dumps cold water down John’s back. John squawks.
“In a fight, you goddamn freak,” he says. John laughs.
“Whatever you say.”
Puffer rolls his eyes.
“I’m heading back out. Keep watching the beach, will you?”
“You got it.”
Puffer ducks back under the surface. John swears he feels a chill trailing after him; he hadn't even noticed it until the warmer water took its place. Just another point to add to the Freaky Shit list.
It’s not until almost ten minutes later that he finally sees it.
The thing follows Puffer like it’s his own shadow, and at first John thinks it is. But something about it just feels… wrong, a chill spreading over him the longer he looks. It crawls in through his eyes, icy crystals spreading down his spine. John watches, frowning, as the shadow sweeps side to side, mirroring the movements of Puffer’s tail. The creeping feeling of dread only grows stronger.
Finally, it hits him.
It’s too dark.
Not just the shadow, but everything. The sun has long since set, leaving the water black as night. Puffer’s dull glowing spots are the only light– John shouldn’t be able to see any shadows, Puffer’s or otherwise.
And yet, there it is. Clear as day. Darker than dark. Like a hole cut into the fabric of the world.
Every hair on John’s body stands on end. His eyes feel as if they’ve been frozen solid, the cold burning into his sockets. Something within him, some tiny part buried deep, stirs. It knows this thing, recognizes it, even as John himself can't even take in the shape of it. One neuron among billions, screaming like a fire alarm. Somehow, some way, he knows that this thing in the water is only a small part of a much, much bigger whole. A creature so large it spills over the edges of the world. And here it is, following Puffer like a dog.
Or a wolf.
Is it getting closer?
A block of ice drops right into John’s core. He slaps the water frantically, making as much noise as possible. Instantly, Puffer’s glowing spots vanish. That great shadow turns, fast as a snake, towards John– then just as quickly, it’s gone. A shiver rattles down his spine.
He doesn’t allow himself to breathe again until Puffer pops out of the water by his side.
“What, what happened?” he hisses in a half-whisper, eyeing the beach warily.
“The water– there’s something in the water. Something big.”
Puffer frowns. “You mean the shark?”
John shakes his head hurriedly. “No, not the shark– it was bigger, way bigger. It was following you. Didn’t you see it?”
Somehow, Puffer frowns harder.
“There wasn’t anything else out there, dude. The only big guys were me and the shark, and I kept an eye on him.”
“But–” John breaks off, glancing back towards the depths. “I saw it,” he insists. “I thought it was coming after you.” Seeing the skeptical look on Puffer’s face, he adds, “I’m serious. I’m not making shit up.”
“I know,” Puffer says, hands raised. “I’m not callin’ you a liar or anything. But it’s dark out, man. The shark probably looked bigger from over here.”
John almost argues, insists that he knows what he saw and it sure as hell wasn’t a shark, but even in his mind it sounds feeble. The thing is gone now, vanished into the depths without a hint left behind of its existence. Maybe… maybe Puffer’s right.
But John still hasn’t stopped shivering.
“You’re sure you didn’t see anything?” he asks.
“Positive.”
John casts one last, long look over the sea, then tears his gaze away.
“...Okay,” he says, rubbing his eyes with one hand. “Okay, fine. Let’s just… let’s go back.”
Puffer nods. “Probably a good idea. Grizzy’ll think we died if we stay out any longer.”
“Better not tell him about the shark, then.”
“I won’t if you won’t.”
When they make it back to the inlet, John is surprised to be greeted by light. A few electric lanterns have been switched on and placed on the rocks around the pool. The others are still talking in the water. Puffer joins them, slipping between the boulders again as John opts to climb over the rocks.
“Yo,” Grizzy greets them. “Good swim?”
“Yeah,” Puffer says.
“Saw some fish,” John adds. He doesn’t mention what kind. Or the chill that’s only now starting to leave his bones. “What’ve you guys been up to?”
“Just chilling, mostly. Grizzy and I might go for a flight,” Pezzy says.
“Wow, leaving as soon as we get back? I see how it is.” Puffer crosses his arms.
“Cry about it.” Pezzy splashes him. To Grizzy: “You thinking full bird or partial?”
“Full. I don’t wanna do the weight distribution math right now. Think I’ve got an albatross in the archive somewhere. You?”
“I’ve got a few birds that’ve been waiting their turns.”
Two pairs of wings emerge from Pezzy’s back as he speaks. One pair is broad and dark-feathered like a vulture, the other brightly colored and pointed at the ends like a giant parakeet.
“Showoff,” Grizzy scoffs. “One pair would’ve been plenty.”
“You wouldn’t know “showing off” if it smacked you in the face.” A pair of bat wings pop out beneath the parakeet ones, just above Pezzy’s waistline. “Every time you complain I’ll add another one.”
“You fuckin’ drama queen,” Grizzy shoots back. Like clockwork, a set of metallic dragonfly wings appear and overlap the others. Grizzy throws his hands up. “Alright, I get it! Gimme a fuckin’ second.”
Getting out of the water, he ducks behind a large rock. John hears– or rather feels– something, a sensation he can only describe as shifting glass. When it ends, a massive white albatross emerges from behind the rock with Grizzy’s swim trunks in its beak. The bird– Grizzy– stashes them on one of the cleaner rocks nearby. Then, with a sort of clicking-whistling sound in Pezzy’s direction, those long wings open wide and he launches himself into the sky. Pezzy grins and spreads his own wings.
“Later, losers,” he calls, and takes off.
The losers in question don’t do a whole lot once they're gone. Puffer settles himself almost completely underwater, propping his head up just enough to breathe. His fins open and close slowly, scales fading to a duller color that almost blends in with the dark water. Droid leaves to grab another beer. He sits down on a rock once he returns, legs dangling into the water.
John has some more wine. More than he should, probably, but the warm haze settling over him chases off the last of the chills. He figures that benefit is worth risking a hangover for.
He’s getting tired now, and he suspects the others are too, quiet as they are right now. As if on cue, Droid gives a jaw-cracking yawn. If John looks closely, he can see that Puffer’s eyes have closed.
“Wanna head back to the rental once they’re done?” John asks.
“Probably, yeah,” Droid replies. “Think it’s about that time.” Puffer makes a sort of grunt in response.
John tilts his head back, watching the two figures wheeling about above them. Grizzy is easy to spot, white feathers catching the moonlight. He seems to be mostly gliding, making wide arcs and figure-eights in the midnight sky. Pezzy, on the other hand, flies like an acrobat– all sharp turns and swooping dives, twirling like a dolphin. It might be experience, or the multiple wings giving him an advantage, but regardless he flies circles around Grizzy, as easy as breathing. His infinite energy seems to infect Grizzy, who goes for a few dives and spins himself.
Later, after John has had some more wine and is starting to lose track of his eyelids, the two of them return to the ground. Pezzy comes in hot and skids to a stop, heels digging into the sand, still grinning. Grizzy swoops in at a calmer pace, landing on the rock with his trunks and snagging them in his beak before hopping behind it to change. That shifting-mirror feeling washes over John again, and moments later Grizzy steps out, back in human form.
“Y’all look dead as hell,” he comments. He’s not wrong; Puffer hasn’t moved since he laid down in the water, and John is leaning so far back on his elbows that he’s nearly underwater as well. Droid’s legs still dangle off the rock, but he’s lying flat on his back now.
“Yeah,” John says, and doesn’t elaborate. Pezzy laughs, then frowns as he looks at the water.
“Dude, who’s leaving their trash in the water? Get that out of there.”
“Hm?” Droid glances up, confused, then suddenly jerks his legs out of the pool, wide awake. “Oh, shit– John get out of the water, that’s a jellyfish–”
If asked later, John would vehemently deny that he leapt out of the pool like a spooked housecat, flinging saltwater everywhere as the blob-like creature bobs on the surface. On the other side of the pool, Puffer opens one eye as the rest of them burst into a cacophony of panicked words.
“Is it a bad one? Like a man o’ war or something?”
“How the fuck should I know?”
“I think it is, those are the blue and purple ones, right?”
“Should we, like, get a stick or something?”
“The fuck you mean, get a stick? How about we just don’t fucking touch it?”
In the midst of all the chaos, none of them are prepared for Puffer to lunge forward and snatch the poor creature in one clawed hand, then unhinge his jaw and swallow it whole.
The four of them stare in dumbfounded silence as the last tentacle slides into Puffer’s mouth and his jaw pops back into its proper position. He yawns, licks his chops, then sends a shrewd look in their direction.
“The fuck’re you looking at?”
“Dude,” Droid says. “What the fuck.”
“What? It’s free protein.”
“Is… is it good?” Grizzy asks, sounding almost afraid to hear the answer.
Puffer lets out a burp.
“No,” he says.
Another stunned silence follows. John goes to take a swig from his wine bottle and is disappointed to find it empty.
“Y’know,” he says, “I think I’m done with the beach for tonight.”
