Page 14 of Oceansong
“Storm surge, came…nowhere…controlled for now.”
A chill snaked down Angie’s spine.
“Tails…water…what the fuck?”
Static.
“...rfolk!”
“Boat rocking…can’t hold–”
A broken scream followed. “Fuck! They’re dead, they’re all d—”
Deafening silence.
With cold hands, Angie gathered her hair into a bunch and then let it back down while staring at the radios, now eerily silent.
Bàba put his phone away, his voice monotone. “Six of them. Gone.”
The operators were as pale as freshly bleached sheets. Nick looked as if he were restraining an outburst, lips clenched and cheeks puffed, eyebrows drawn together. Angie’s heartbeat slammed in her ears.
Bàba crossed his arms over his chest, speaking through gritted teeth. “If those creatures are going to hoard our food supply, have everybody starve,” he took in a sharp inhale, “and kill our people, then we will hunt them down. This is war.”
Six
This is war.
She couldn’t stop thinking of what Bàba said.
As Angie left work the next day, a loud splash from behind jolted her, as though a wave had slammed headfirst into a bed of rocks. Her grip tightened around her backpack straps. It sounded like somebody had cannonballed in. Or a boulder had fallen and broken the water’s surface.
Her body was turned toward the dock entrance, but one leg stayed planted, as if she were being pulled in two different directions.
Must be hearing things. She should just go home.
On the other hand, someone could be behind her. Or fell into the water.
The shrubbery behind her crackled and fluttered.
Someone was definitely here, and better she get the jump on them or help them if they were hurt.
Hackles raised, she checked the time on her phone. Twenty minutes until the next ferry came, but if she caught the following ferry, she could still make dinner on time.
Might be a few minutes late, but she’d take her chances.
So much for her plans to go for a quick round of shooting.
Angie reached into her bag, fingers sliding around the roughshod grip on her Glock. She crept toward the source of the sound, sliding the gun out.
She followed a winding pebbled path to where land joined the ocean. Another loud splash, this time directly in front of her.
Angie held her breath and peeked out from behind a white spruce tree, hands shaking.
A man rested face down ahead of her on shore, the lower half of his body in the water. His head was turned away, covered with thick hair reminiscent of ravens’ feathers, and his torso was exposed, sunbeams reflectingoff smooth, light olive skin. Angie furrowed her brow.
Who was this man? And why was he topless in forty-five-degree weather?
Must have been drunk and passed out, the only sensible explanation. Angie took one step forward on the graveled ground so she could lean in closer without losing her balance.
