out over the side of the boat, lowering the fist-sized hook at the end of the gaff into the water, as Megan strained against the line, lifting the tip and grunting.
The glowing lure drew closer. John grasped the chrome boat rail in his left hand and dipped the gaff as deep into the water as he could. The lure moved a few feet closer. Something was squirming around it. The writhing thing in the water was not a tuna.
“What the hell . . . ?” John flinched away from the water, yanking his arm back toward the boat. In the faint glow near the jig, something twisted and turned itself around the line. Something soft. Pulpy.
“What is it, Uncle John?” Megan was breathing hard.
“I don’t know. Let me pull it closer.”
John grasped a fistful of the line with his free hand and pulled the jig toward the boat. He didn’t want to gaff this thing and bring it on board until he knew what it was. As the creature reached the surface, several snakelike arms broke through the waves around the lure. Above the arms appeared a large, black eye, staring up at them. As John looked into the eye, a powerful jet of cold water struck him full in the face, entering his eyes and open mouth. He jerked his head away and closed his eyes.
“Fuck!” John spat out the seawater, which had a funny taste. He kept his eyes shut—he didn’t want his contact lenses to pop out. As he wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, they started to burn.
“It’s pulling me!” Megan yelled. “I can’t hold on!”
“Just drop the pole, honey!”
John rubbed his eyes, trying to clear the burning water out of them.
“Uncle John! Dad, help!” Megan shrieked. “My sleeve is caught!”
John managed to open his burning eyes a slit. Megan was leaning far over the side of the boat, bent double toward the water. He could see that her Windbreaker was stuck to the pole or line somehow. As he lunged toward her, her left arm was wrenched downward. Her feet lifted off the wet surface of the boat and she went over the side and into the water with a loud splash.
“Megan!” Her father looked over his shoulder, still struggling with his line. “John, get her back in the boat!”
“I’m trying, goddammit!” John fell forward in the boat, still wiping at his eyes with his sleeve as he searched for the life preserver. He managed to get his eyes open and saw that his arm was covered in a black, inky liquid. He grabbed the life ring from its hook and stepped toward the stern. The black fluid was all over the bottom of the boat. Smeared footprints still showed where Megan had stood.
John looked over the side of the boat. He saw only dark waves rolling into the side of the boat. It was nearly night, and the light was very dim, but the waves were small. Why couldn’t he see her? He felt a surge of panic.
“Megan! Megan!”
Daryl shouted, “John, where the hell is Megan?” He stopped reeling and looked anxiously at John.
“Jesus Christ! She was somehow caught in her line. . . .” John was rooted in place, unable to move as he realized his niece was right then being dragged under by the thing at the end of her line. He couldn’t think. In the water under the boat, out of nowhere appeared a brief glow, then another momentary flash of light. Then he heard a splash.
“Megan!” Daryl had dropped his rod into the water. He crashed against John, shoving his brother to the side. For a second, maybe two, he looked down into the water for his daughter. He yelled her name again, then took a quick step up onto the gunwale and dove into the dark water.
From above them, the large females in the shoal felt the vibration pass through their soft bodies as a substantial object hit the surface of the water.
After starting to feed on her living sister, the dominant one-eyed female had become hooked to the glowing green prey in her sister’s arms and had released her meal before her brethren could overtake her in a similar fashion. She struggled to free herself from
The glowing lure drew closer. John grasped the chrome boat rail in his left hand and dipped the gaff as deep into the water as he could. The lure moved a few feet closer. Something was squirming around it. The writhing thing in the water was not a tuna.
“What the hell . . . ?” John flinched away from the water, yanking his arm back toward the boat. In the faint glow near the jig, something twisted and turned itself around the line. Something soft. Pulpy.
“What is it, Uncle John?” Megan was breathing hard.
“I don’t know. Let me pull it closer.”
John grasped a fistful of the line with his free hand and pulled the jig toward the boat. He didn’t want to gaff this thing and bring it on board until he knew what it was. As the creature reached the surface, several snakelike arms broke through the waves around the lure. Above the arms appeared a large, black eye, staring up at them. As John looked into the eye, a powerful jet of cold water struck him full in the face, entering his eyes and open mouth. He jerked his head away and closed his eyes.
“Fuck!” John spat out the seawater, which had a funny taste. He kept his eyes shut—he didn’t want his contact lenses to pop out. As he wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, they started to burn.
“It’s pulling me!” Megan yelled. “I can’t hold on!”
“Just drop the pole, honey!”
John rubbed his eyes, trying to clear the burning water out of them.
“Uncle John! Dad, help!” Megan shrieked. “My sleeve is caught!”
John managed to open his burning eyes a slit. Megan was leaning far over the side of the boat, bent double toward the water. He could see that her Windbreaker was stuck to the pole or line somehow. As he lunged toward her, her left arm was wrenched downward. Her feet lifted off the wet surface of the boat and she went over the side and into the water with a loud splash.
“Megan!” Her father looked over his shoulder, still struggling with his line. “John, get her back in the boat!”
“I’m trying, goddammit!” John fell forward in the boat, still wiping at his eyes with his sleeve as he searched for the life preserver. He managed to get his eyes open and saw that his arm was covered in a black, inky liquid. He grabbed the life ring from its hook and stepped toward the stern. The black fluid was all over the bottom of the boat. Smeared footprints still showed where Megan had stood.
John looked over the side of the boat. He saw only dark waves rolling into the side of the boat. It was nearly night, and the light was very dim, but the waves were small. Why couldn’t he see her? He felt a surge of panic.
“Megan! Megan!”
Daryl shouted, “John, where the hell is Megan?” He stopped reeling and looked anxiously at John.
“Jesus Christ! She was somehow caught in her line. . . .” John was rooted in place, unable to move as he realized his niece was right then being dragged under by the thing at the end of her line. He couldn’t think. In the water under the boat, out of nowhere appeared a brief glow, then another momentary flash of light. Then he heard a splash.
“Megan!” Daryl had dropped his rod into the water. He crashed against John, shoving his brother to the side. For a second, maybe two, he looked down into the water for his daughter. He yelled her name again, then took a quick step up onto the gunwale and dove into the dark water.
From above them, the large females in the shoal felt the vibration pass through their soft bodies as a substantial object hit the surface of the water.
After starting to feed on her living sister, the dominant one-eyed female had become hooked to the glowing green prey in her sister’s arms and had released her meal before her brethren could overtake her in a similar fashion. She struggled to free herself from
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