Read Online Octopocalypse by Joseph J. Bailey - Free Book Online

What the Hell?
     
    “Watch this, Hank!”
    “Watch what?”
    “Just watch!”
    “I’m watchin’!”
    The boat rocked gently back and
forth, rolling with the low waves, as he angled the signal light down to point
into the black waters. The beam hummed to life with a decisive click as he
powered the beam on and watched it disappear into the depths.
    “Here we go!”
    “We’re not goin’ anywhere, Ray.
The engine’s off!”
    “Just shut up and drink your beer,
Hank. I’m workin’ on it!”
    Moving the spotlight steadily back
and forth beside the boat, he waited for any sign of movement.
    “Can we get back to fishin’, Ray?
I don’t really care about shinin’ lights into the water… reminds me how deep it
is. It’s not like I get to come out often. I haven’t been out on the ocean in
years.”
    He ignored Hank’s blabbering. Try
to show a friend a good time and all he gets in return is a bunch of whining…
Next time he wouldn’t bother.
    “Ray, you see somethin’ down
there?”
    He smiled.
    Now for the fun!
    Almost invisible in the wavering
deep, faint red and white oscillating pinpricks of illuminescence appeared to
be darting around the searchlight’s glow far below.
    “I think I see somethin’. Shine
that light over here!”
    He angled the light toward where
Hank leaned over the boat’s prow.
    “Lookit, Ray! There’re red lights
everywhere! They’re comin’ closer!”
    His grin nearly spread ear to ear.
    Hank looked at him briefly, his
look of astonishment clouding. “What’re you smirkin’ about?”
    “Those’re Humboldt squid, Hank.
They flash red and white when they’re huntin’. That’s why some fishermen call ’em diablo rojo .”
    “Red devils? What’re they
huntin’?”
    “Right now the light’s foolin’ ’em.
They probably think it’s a school of fish.”
    “They’re comin’ up!”
    Hank was right. The lights were
coming toward the surface quickly. This was quite a large shoal.
    Hank’s tone was grim. “Let’s get
out of here, Ray! I don’t like this.”
    “There’s nothin’ to be afraid of,
Hank. They’re just squid.”
    “I don’t care. Let’s go.”
    “All right. Give me a minute to
start the engine.”
    Turning off the signal light, he
walked up to the steering wheel to turn the ignition, grumbling. It was just
like Hank to be a spoilsport. He’d been complaining since high school.
    Some things never change.
    Next time he would go fishing
alone.
    Weaving between the bowrider’s two
seats, where Hank stood looking out to port, he placed his left hand on the
steering wheel and turned the key with his right.
    He heard a splash just as the
engines revved to life.
    Glancing left, he asked, “You okay,
Hank?”
    “Yeah!” Hank’s response came
clearly over the sound of the engines’ roar. “What the hell was that? Are there
flyin’ fish out here, Ray?”
    “None that I’ve heard of. Why?”
    “Thought I saw somethin’ fly out
of the water.”
    Easing back on the throttle as the
boat started moving forward, he called out, “Must be some fish the Humboldts
scared up.”
    Turning the steering wheel to
angle toward shore, he ducked reflexively as a blur flashed across his vision.
Before he could follow the motion or its accompanying sound as it cut through
the air, he heard a wet smack, and Hank screamed and fell overboard.
    He let go of the throttle and reached
out in a futile effort to catch his friend, then jumped up toward where Hank
fell in.
    The water churned and frothed as
red and white luminescence swarmed about his friend, moving farther and farther
below the surface.
    With a half-choked scream, he
jumped back into the pilot’s seat and sped to shore.

Jet Squid
     
    “Ray, have you been drinking?”
    Sherriff Willard Hayes’s deep voice
briefly roused him from his stupor.
    “Yes, Sheriff.”
    “Not now, you idiot! While you
were on the boat.”
    Sherriff Hayes was a big man.
    When he spoke, you listened.
    They had played football