Read Online The Night Marchers and Other Strange Tales by Daniel Braum - Free Book Online
Authors: Daniel Braum
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rigging.
“What the hell does he know?” she whispered angrily.
I felt that things were about to get out of control like so many times before. New Years nineteen eighty popped to mind. Morty had scored us front row seats to the Zen Squires show at the Fillmore, and Kendra had insisted they were better than my back stage access. She danced away, her usual wild self, much to the delight of a rowdy bunch of bikers who wouldn’t leave her alone.
“Got a boyfriend,” Kendra said.
“So why ain’t he dancing with you?”
“Fuck off! He’s Casey James.”
The current had taken me and I was up in that biker’s whiskey-stinking, bearded face. The rest was pure chaos. We came out of it bruised and battered, but okay. I felt that same nervous electricity now, except the lionfish hovering over me made me think things weren’t going to end so well this time.
Before I could say anything, Kendra was at the edge of the boat unpeeling her wrap, revealing a bright orange bikini. She rolled off the side with a sploosh.
“It’s so warm,” she said. “Come on.”
I grabbed our masks and snorkels and followed her in.
The coral teemed with fish. Kendra was right, again. This spot was just like my dream.
“Hold your breath and dive with me,” she said.
Pressure built in my ears as we descended the fifteen feet to the coral head. I could faintly make out our fish among their flesh-and-blood counterparts.
After a few seconds we went to the surface for air then dove again.
The butterfly, the clown, and the little green one were picking at the coral when we returned. I could barely see them. They were fading away and I had to go up for air.
We surfaced farther from the boat. The current had either taken us, or the boat.
“Come back,” the driver called but Kendra didn’t listen. Her feet disappeared beneath the waves. I held my breath and followed.
Looking down I could see I was already being pulled away from the coral head. I spun and saw Kendra kicking—struggling for the bottom. The water darkened, as if the sun were blocked out. I kicked harder, hoping to catch up, but I lost sight of her in the increasingly turbulent water.
In the sandy murk the specter of the little green fish appeared at my mask for an instant, then was gone. Out of breath, I broke for the surface. Clouds had moved in obscuring the sun. The tropical rain I’d heard so much about poured down. I bobbed at the surface. It would have been almost pleasant if I didn’t feel myself being pulled farther out into the ocean.
I looked around and saw the catamaran a hundred yards away. The driver was fishing Kendra out of the water. Good, I thought. She was safe. I waved and yelled, then remembered the catamaran had no engine and would have to tack out to reach me.
I put the snorkel in my mouth and tread water. I could keep it up for a while. I stuck my face in the water. The lionfish was right there. I felt a strange kinship to it. Its simple life had been interrupted, all control and certainty taken away.
The current pulled me faster. The catamaran grew smaller by the second. The waves, the rain, the racing of my heart all beat their chaotic rhythms. There was nothing to latch onto. My leg exploded into a burst of pain and I jarred to a halt. I had been snagged on a wall of coral. The current dragged me along it and that same burning spread to my back. I scrambled for a hold hoping the coral wouldn’t snap. The ocean wanted to take me, but I held tight. Someone from the hotel would come. I searched the rain for a steady beat, kept my head above water and waited. Floating in the water I saw the patterns of my life—the currents that moved me. A cycle of bliss and chaos. It had always been this way with Kendra and it always would.
****
Later that night, after the hotel had fished me out, Kendra and I sat in our big tub full of warm, foamy water and soothing aromatic oils. The flicker from dozens
“What the hell does he know?” she whispered angrily.
I felt that things were about to get out of control like so many times before. New Years nineteen eighty popped to mind. Morty had scored us front row seats to the Zen Squires show at the Fillmore, and Kendra had insisted they were better than my back stage access. She danced away, her usual wild self, much to the delight of a rowdy bunch of bikers who wouldn’t leave her alone.
“Got a boyfriend,” Kendra said.
“So why ain’t he dancing with you?”
“Fuck off! He’s Casey James.”
The current had taken me and I was up in that biker’s whiskey-stinking, bearded face. The rest was pure chaos. We came out of it bruised and battered, but okay. I felt that same nervous electricity now, except the lionfish hovering over me made me think things weren’t going to end so well this time.
Before I could say anything, Kendra was at the edge of the boat unpeeling her wrap, revealing a bright orange bikini. She rolled off the side with a sploosh.
“It’s so warm,” she said. “Come on.”
I grabbed our masks and snorkels and followed her in.
The coral teemed with fish. Kendra was right, again. This spot was just like my dream.
“Hold your breath and dive with me,” she said.
Pressure built in my ears as we descended the fifteen feet to the coral head. I could faintly make out our fish among their flesh-and-blood counterparts.
After a few seconds we went to the surface for air then dove again.
The butterfly, the clown, and the little green one were picking at the coral when we returned. I could barely see them. They were fading away and I had to go up for air.
We surfaced farther from the boat. The current had either taken us, or the boat.
“Come back,” the driver called but Kendra didn’t listen. Her feet disappeared beneath the waves. I held my breath and followed.
Looking down I could see I was already being pulled away from the coral head. I spun and saw Kendra kicking—struggling for the bottom. The water darkened, as if the sun were blocked out. I kicked harder, hoping to catch up, but I lost sight of her in the increasingly turbulent water.
In the sandy murk the specter of the little green fish appeared at my mask for an instant, then was gone. Out of breath, I broke for the surface. Clouds had moved in obscuring the sun. The tropical rain I’d heard so much about poured down. I bobbed at the surface. It would have been almost pleasant if I didn’t feel myself being pulled farther out into the ocean.
I looked around and saw the catamaran a hundred yards away. The driver was fishing Kendra out of the water. Good, I thought. She was safe. I waved and yelled, then remembered the catamaran had no engine and would have to tack out to reach me.
I put the snorkel in my mouth and tread water. I could keep it up for a while. I stuck my face in the water. The lionfish was right there. I felt a strange kinship to it. Its simple life had been interrupted, all control and certainty taken away.
The current pulled me faster. The catamaran grew smaller by the second. The waves, the rain, the racing of my heart all beat their chaotic rhythms. There was nothing to latch onto. My leg exploded into a burst of pain and I jarred to a halt. I had been snagged on a wall of coral. The current dragged me along it and that same burning spread to my back. I scrambled for a hold hoping the coral wouldn’t snap. The ocean wanted to take me, but I held tight. Someone from the hotel would come. I searched the rain for a steady beat, kept my head above water and waited. Floating in the water I saw the patterns of my life—the currents that moved me. A cycle of bliss and chaos. It had always been this way with Kendra and it always would.
****
Later that night, after the hotel had fished me out, Kendra and I sat in our big tub full of warm, foamy water and soothing aromatic oils. The flicker from dozens
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