Page 3 of Little Saint Nautilus

In our nautilus forms, males had four tentacles that could join together to pump seed for reproduction. It was a function of life, one driven by instinct, not enjoyment.It might as well have been a handshake or a pat on the arm, a transaction. Not that I had done it, I wasn’t interested in fertilization for the sake of it. I wanted a mate, a partner, someone whose touch would light me from within.

Beyond pleasure, though, the earth was dangerous. It was loud, busy, and scary. Perhaps the stories I’d been told when I was younger about our kind being hunted for our shells had played a part, but I’d also seen the dangers for myself. The boats in the ocean that leaked poison. The sea turtles whose shells would never grow properly after being entangled in plastic or netting. If it was this bad in the ocean where people were few, how much worse would it be in populated areas where people were many?

Still, I was drawn to the shore, to the same beach, following that pull within. I migrated throughout the year, seeking cooler waters, always returning to the coast of California during their winter, when the temperatures dipped low enough for me to be comfortable. It was the most dangerous part of the journey I took. Every year I questioned myself, even as I trusted my internal system to guide me.

For over twenty years, I’d traveled and returned to this area at the southern end of California. I glided past a large island about thirty miles off the coast, and something within me started to buzz with anticipation as I drew nearer to the beach. I began climbing out of the depths that my mind relaxed into when I was in my full nautilus form. The human side of me was awakening with a need and longingthat I couldn’t quite understand, except for the one image that pierced through every layer of my being.

The human, the man, who, in a panic, I once revealed myself to in my half-shifted form. His fear and awe had vibrated out of him and imprinted itself on me. It had been brief, but something had passed between us then, or at least I thought it had. He had been the first human I’d encountered who, as far as I knew, didn’t know about my kind. It was dangerous and foolish, so much could have gone wrong. But I’d felt this pulse through the water, an anguished, muffled cry, and I reacted without thought, bursting free from my shell and releasing my half-human, half-nautilus form, where I grew bigger and had appendages…arms…that were solid enough to hold the injured man, lifting him to the surface.

I’d propped him against a rock and hid behind another, staying long enough and watching with my human vision to ensure he was safe. Soon, he was surrounded by people frantically treating him, and I could breathe a sigh of relief at last. I thought I saw him look past the group that was strapping his leg to a board and land on me. Afraid he’d seen me, I ducked under the water, swam down to my shell where it rested on the seafloor, and shifted to hide safely within.

As much as I tried to stay away from humans, I also hoped to get to see him again. But the likelihood of finding one particular human when I didn’t leave the water, waslike finding a single krill in all the ocean. Still, I usually stayed in the area for a lunar cycle before continuing my migration. Most of the time I would remain in deeper waters in my shell during the busier hours of the day and then would rise to the surface at night and pop my human head out of the water to look around. Sometimes, I would push out of my shell, swimming along the shore with my cirri—my tentacles—pushing my human top half through the water as I explored the coves and rocks.

Something thrummed within me at being here again. It was more than the air that now filled my human lungs after being in my shelled form and breathing through the water. As scary as it was to be near such a busy part of the world, something felt strangely right about it, too.

Two days before the Christmas Open Surfing Competition, I was restless and eager. If I placed well at the Open, I would move on to Worlds. With that came the big money from sponsors, and a chance to really make a name for myself. It was everything I wanted, everything I’d been working for since I first popped up on a board. I wanted it so badly, I could taste it.

I’d always found that the best place to work out my nerves was on the water. I checked the surf report, grabbed my board and wetsuit, and headed to ‘The Wedge.’ The Wedge was a small section of beach known for huge, shore-breaking waves. It was dangerous, a true test for skilled surfers, and known for wipeouts. I’d attempted it before when the waves were hitting the teens, but today there were supposed to be twenty-footers, and I was itching to conquer it.

By the time I stood in front of the water, the swells had risen to over twenty feet. It was daunting to look at, but hella exciting. I could do this. If I could conquer The Wedge at its worst, then the competition would be a piece of cake. Bolstering myself, I held my board and ran into the water. The waves broke right along the shore, pounding me and tossing me around before I was fully in the water.

Past the breaks, I duck-dived; dipping under the water with my board through an oncoming wave, and began paddling as soon as I broke through the surface on the other side. The water fought me every step of the way, a clue I should have listened to. I was breathing hard, and the muscles in my arms were angry by the time I made it to the back—the area of calm past the waves where I would be sitting in the lineup of surfers waiting for our turns at the competition. But today, it was just me.

Catching my breath, I began having some reservations as I watched the swells before me build and grow. They werebig. Bigger than I’d ever attempted before, but I’d gotten myself out here and the only way back was through. I sat on my board, legs floating in the water, and shook my hands, trying to rid myself of the nerves that crept in.

I could do this. I could do this. I could fucking do this! Hyping myself up, I saw my opportunity; the swell was gathering power, and I began paddling to catch the crest. I caught the wave, and popped up. For a brief moment, I was higher than I’d ever been. It felt like flying, riding so far abovethe land that it looked miniscule from up here, and then it all went to shit.

Before I knew it, I was thrown from my board and driven into the water, the power of the wave, pushing me deep beneath despite being tethered to my board. And thenCRACK! My knee slammed into a rock, making me scream underwater, and my vision whited out in pain, all while being ragdolled, tossed around without any control. My scream meant I’d expelled any oxygen I had in my lungs, which now burned with the need for air.

Red floated around me; blood leaking from my shattered knee. When I saw movement in the water, I panicked, thinking it might be a shark. Instead, a face appeared before me. An angel. I could almost be certain there was a fin or something behind him, but all I could concentrate on was his face. How he stared at me with curiosity and uncertainty. Before I knew it, I was being brought up to the surface, where I spluttered and coughed, but was able to breathe again. The pain broke through once more, consuming my every thought until it was too much to bear, and I lost consciousness.

I woke up with a shout, sitting straight up, clutching my knee, the phantom pain from the past so vivid and clear. Beads of sweat trickled down my forehead as I huffed in shallow breaths, trying to recall where I was. Seeing my room, and that I was no longer caught underwater, I forced myself to relax. Purposefully inhaling deeply and releasing it slowly.I was okay.The dream was from thepast. It was over. My teeth ached from clenching my jaw, and a pang shot down my leg at the jerky movements from waking up.

It had been a while since I’d had the full dream, replaying every second of it. More often than not, it came in flashes or inserted itself into other dreams. Sometimes my injury was portrayed in different ways. I’d been shot, bitten, fell while walking, in a car accident—all kinds of fun scenarios my brain conjured up during sleep to explain the event.

“Fuck!” I mumbled, and climbed out of bed, wobbling when I first stood and put weight on my bad leg. After reliving the worst moment of my life, I knew it would be impossible to settle back down. I limped over to the bathroom, forcing my steps to normalize by the time I got there. After taking a piss and washing my hands, I splashed water on my face and scrubbed my hands over the scruff.

When I came back out, I looked at my phone to see the time. It was almost four in the morning, which meant my alarm would be going off soon, anyway. I might as well get an early start… and alargecoffee. The ocean might be naturally invigorating, but it might need a little assistance today. It was going to be one of those days where I wished I could set up an IV and get a direct line of caffeine into my system. Before I could leave, though, I had one more thing I had to do and pulled out my phone.

Me: Good morning, Gramps. I’m heading to the beach.

I almost felt bad for messaging my grandfather so early, but he made me promise to let him know, no matter the time of day. That was one of the many mistakes I’d made on that fateful day eight years ago. I hadn’t let anyone know where I was going to be or when. I was fortunate that someone had been on the beach that day, who’d called for a rescue when they didn’t see me come back up. It was still muddled in my mind when I thought back to it. Of course, I’d blacked out, but I was told they’d found me propped up on a rock. There was no way the tide would have carried me to it, and I was in too much pain—and unconscious—to get myself there. It was counted as a miracle, one I was beyond thankful for. Of course, I also thought of the face underwater.

He had to have been an angel because I had gotten so turned around, I wouldn’t have been able to fight my way to the surface, and I had been out of breath when we broke through.

Gramps: A little early, isn’t it?

Me: Yeah. Can’t sleep. Gotta hit the water, my usual spot, between lifeguard towers five and six, straight out from the shop.

Gramps: Okay. Be safe and check in.

Me: Will do. Talk to you soon.

At that, I was on my way and parked before five. Despite the bite in the air and the deep black of the sky before the sun broke through, there were a few other cars in the lot.There was the unmanned security car that worked as well as a sticker on a house, and two other cars that belonged to scuba instructors who were drinking coffee between their cars, likely preparing themselves for the class that would be coming soon. We waved at each other when I got out of my truck.

The cold hit me as I unhooked my kayak. I had my wetsuit on already, but I wore a jacket over it, and I zipped it up, pulling the collar up to keep my neck warm. Any sane person would wait until the sun was up and the beach was a bit warmer, and yeah… I probably should do that. But whenever I had the dream about my accident, it left me feeling restless.

It wasn't just the reminder of the accident, but of everything that came after it. The months of rehab and physical therapy, the loss of my dream, the feeling of helplessness. It all buzzed beneath my skin, urging me to take action, todosomething simply to remind myself that I could.

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