Page 4 of Sink or Swim

Tears roll down their cheeks, mixing with the lagoon water clinging to their skin. I roll my eyes as I pat them on the head. The fur on the top of their head is soaked, of course, but I’ve had fuzzy pets before, and they always enjoyed a good stroke.

Too bad none of them ever lasted long thanks to all the predators skulking around. Rest in peace, Mister Bean. You were a good rat for all of … a day. Better not to get attached to anything out here.

“There, there. It’s okay. You’re not dead yet, so rejoice,” I say.

But they’re not rejoicing. In fact, the little human is doing just the opposite. They toss their last meal up in spurts. Right onto my feet with a splatter.

A cold shiver runs across my spine as the bitter scent assaults my nostrils and makes me gag. Humans are so disgusting. I’ve always known this to be true, yet I’m taking care of one anyway, even though I should have just ignored them the second they hit the water.

Crouching down to their level, I rake my claws across their back in what I hope they understand is a soothing gesture. They finish puking their guts up and look at me, their face screwed up in both fear and revulsion. Yeah. I know. I get that a lot from their kind. The feeling is mutual, though. With their clammy, scale-less skin and their beady eyes, I don’t see how they even find each other attractive long enough to mate.

“Come on. Let’s get you back to the nearest human settlement,” I hiss. They’re trembling as they stand upright. Even at their full height, they only come up to my torso. Are they a child, or…?

I blink, and they blink back. No. No, I believe this may be a full-grown adult. Possibly female. I scratch my head and sigh. Can never tell just from looking at them. Maybe their females are on the smaller side? He can’t be a male. The women of their species would sit on his pelvis, crack it, and then he’d die. Or maybe that’s the point, like with certain spiders and preying mantises? Nature is truly astounding in her grand designs.

The human continues to shake like a snake’s rattle, and when I take a step closer, their throat bobs up and down. Then I notice the fur on their face. There’s not much there, but I see it. Stubbly and dark along their throat and chin.

Yeah, no. Still can’t tell. Mammals are impossible.

I reach forward and say, “I’m not going to?—”

The human screams something in their language at me, then takes off at a sprint down the beach. I’m not quick enough to snatch their hand, so they get away easily, and within seconds, they disappear into the thicket of trees.

Oh, fuck. They are definitely going to die unless I go after them.

At this rate, this is going down as the worst week ever.

NICK

Seconds from drowning, and somehow that feels like it would have been the better choice, rather than having my organs picked apart by some … some sort of hideous monster.

My lungs are on fire, and running right after expelling that much water from them feels like hell, but I can’t stop. Not when there’s something that looks like that creature out there. It may have saved me, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stick around and become its dinner. With my luck, it was probably sizing me up to see how much of a challenge I’d be.

Which, let’s be real, I’m not much of one. Not without my shotgun, which Luther made sure he took before dumping me.

I’m so lost in my panic that I don’t notice the tree roots sticking up out of the ground, not until the dirt rises to meet me. My jaw slams into the cold, hard earth, and all the air evacuates my lungs. Again.

Where am I? I know they brought me out to the lagoon to get rid of me, that much is obvious. But I have no idea whereabouts in Lagoon L’Amour I am. Thanks to super strict environmental laws protecting the area, no one is allowed to camp, hike, or fish anywhere near here. Not like the law ever stopped any of us from breaking it, of course. But I’ve never been here, and I don’t expect to find any other people out here, either.

Does anyone know there are literal bipedal lagoon monsters just strutting around out here? Maybe. That might be why the Mackenzie Brothers toss all their cast-offs into the lagoon, because they know there won’t be a body to wash up in Sugardove Harbor later.

I roll onto my back and stare up at the canopy of trees, which are so clustered together I can’t make out a single crack of sunlight. I’m about to sit up when I hear something rattle, and my heart leaps into my throat as I bolt upright. The biggest snake I’ve ever seen in my life is only a foot away from me, and its tail is shuddering in warning as it curls back, poising to strike.

There’s a very real possibility I may have escaped the lagoon creature only to run straight into another death.

I lick my lip as I push myself back in the dirt. Just as the snake snaps forward to bite me, something flings it into the air, sending it hurtling into the bushes in the distance. I blink, unsure what just happened, then let out a pathetic little whimper.

It’s them. The green bog creature is back, and this time they’ve brought a stick with them. Only it’s not a stick—it’s a spear, and they plant it into the ground at their side.

The creature is massive, at least eight feet tall or more, and covered almost entirely in dark green scales. With the fins on the side of their head in lieu of ears and the gills on their neck, I’m guessing they breathe water like a fish, yet I see a human-like nose in the middle of their face, along with a pair of beautiful glimmering yellow eyes. A thick curtain of dark lashes rim their eyes and flutter as they blink. Their damp hair is long, wavy, and chocolate brown, clinging their face and body. Kind of beautiful, except for the webbed hands, feet, and alligator-like tail that’s swishing behind them.

Most surprising of all is the set of small breasts covered in glittering, dark green scales. Okay, definitely wasn’t expecting that.

A female? But this is a fish-lizard person, right? Why would they have—my brain can’t handle any of this shit right now, so I focus on maintaining eye contact instead. Or am I not supposed to look it in the eyes? What’s the correct protocol, here?

She blinks slowly at me, like she’s waiting for me to say something.

“Um … thanks?” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. I carefully peel myself up off the ground and dust myself off. My white oxford shirt, now ruined, hangs limp and unbuttoned. My jacket, along with my tie, are gone. Lost to the lagoon. And my pants are so waterlogged I feel like I weigh an extra twenty pounds.

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