PATCH OF DARK WATER

© Wayne Summers

dark water noun (U) an area of sea darker than the water surrounding it which

appears suddenly, for varying lengths of time and where mythical creatures are

said to dwell.

Sean Williams reversed his jeep over the sand until the trailer carrying the dinghy hit the salt water. His best mate, Mark, and his fourteen year-old son, Scout, waited by the water's edge.

“Great day for fishing,” said Mark as he released the aluminium dinghy and guided it into the water.

Scout didn't answer. Instead he kicked at the water and pretended he'd seen something interesting in the water.

Ten minutes later the three of them were heading out to sea, the small vessel loaded up with rods, line, bait, an esky of beer and soft drink, and a smaller esky of snacks. A small radio provided them with crackling, tinny music and the white zinc cream smeared liberally across the bridge of their noses kept the sun's deadly rays at bay.

“Ahhh this is the life,” beamed Mark, ripping the tab off his first beer of the day.

“Sure is worth the three-hour drive,” agreed Sean. “Supposed to be good fishing around here.”

He looked at Scout, who was staring blankly into the distance. Guilt throbbed, burning, in his cheeks and in his heart. He knew that fourteen years of being an absent father wasn't going to be wiped away in a day. But he had to start somewhere.

“You right for a drink, Scout?”

Scout ignored him.

“Hey! Scout!”

“What?!”

The sting in his son's voice was hard to miss. He felt as though he'd been slapped, but he bore it without retaliation.

“I asked you if you were right for a drink.”

“I'm fine, Sean. And if I want a drink I can get it myself.”

Sean nodded slowly and swallowed hard. He glanced at Mark and saw the frown etched on his face. He knew what he was thinking, ‘That kid needs a good whack!' and Sean agreed, but he didn't feel he had the right to discipline his son when there had been so many other, more important, things he should have done for his son yet hadn't.

Half an hour soon passed and neither of the men had had a nibble. Both were on their third beer which had lubricated a conversation that was getting bawdier by the minute. Scout sat by himself at the bow, facing away from his father and caught up in the dark world of Marilyn Manson via his iPod.

“I reckon it's time we dropped anchor somewhere else,” Mark suggested.

“Just thinking that myself,” Sean agreed.

Mark pulled the anchor up and Sean got the outboard motor purring. Scout's heart quickened. ‘Finally,' he thought. He pulled the earplugs out of his ears and turned around.

“We going home?” he asked hopefully.

“No matey. The fish aren't biting here so we're going a bit further out.”

Scout glared at him.

“Listen Scout, we're here now so you might as well enjoy yourself. I thought it would be a good opportunity for us to hang out together. Have a bit of fun.”

“It's a bit late for that, Sean. ” He refused to let the word ‘Dad' pass his lips. “And fishing is your thing, not mine! I never asked to come. I'd much rather have stayed behind, doing my own thing like I've been doing for the last 14 years.”

Sean felt the burning sensation in his cheeks return.

“Listen Scout,” Mark began, “I think you should show your…”

Sean shook his head, his eyes warning Mark to stop.

“Leave it, mate.”

Scout turned around so that his back was towards the men and silence fell like a shroud upon the boat. Then Mark spotted a patch of dark blue water.

“Hey, Sean. Over there! Looks like a good place,” said Mark, pointing; glad of the opportunity to change the subject.

Sean adjusted the rudder slightly and as they neared the patch of dark water he shivered. Mark lowered the anchor and both men rebaited their hooks.

“Must be deep,” Sean commented.

“Yeah and have you noticed how much cooler it is here? It's almost as if the sun has lost its strength all of a sudden. Weird,” said Mark.

The two men cast their lines though Scout remained seated at the bow, his iPod cranked up and his mood, dark. There was a small ball of rage burning in his gut and it set him to grinding his teeth. Tears filled his eyes but he sniffed them back. He was glad he was facing away from his father. He wouldn't want Sean to think he cared about the fact his father had always put work before family; that his father had always been in more of a hurry to get to the pub after work than he was to get home to his family; that his father made a habit of upsetting his mother. And now, for some reason his father had decided that the time was right for forging a relationship. Too late! He had his own life now and the only reason he'd come on this ridiculous fishing trip was to keep his mother happy.

“You have to go. He's making an effort and I think you should too,” she'd said.

He'd rolled his eyes and swallowed down his protests.

It was as he was remembering this conversation that he saw something silvery slip through the water in front of the boat. He sat up on his seat and leaned forward.

“What is it, Scout?” his father asked. But Scout didn't hear.

Then something bumped the boat.

“Shit, whatever it is, it's big,” said Mark.

Then Scout took the earplugs out and turned around. Immediately Sean could tell that something was wrong.

“What is it, mate?” he asked.

“I just saw a, a … mermaid,” Scout replied.

Sean looked at Mark and then at Scout again.

“Yes, a mermaid!” Scout said again. “Look for yourself.”

And so the two men did. It was only a moment before she swam out from under the boat, her beautiful blonde tresses swirling around her like seaweed in a current. Her breasts were full and bare.

“Well I'll be…” Mark gasped. “It's a bloody mermaid. A real bloody mermaid!”

The boat lurched to one side as all three leaned further over the edge of the dinghy to get a better look.

“There's another one!” Scout said pointing as the second mermaid swam up from below the first one.

Both mermaids swam slowly around each other in a seductive underwater dance. Their tails slid gracefully over each other; their hair billowing like smoke around their faces and chests. One positioned herself so that her face was just below the surface of the water. She smiled and stared up at Mark.

“Come here, darling,” he said, beaming back. “Come to Daddy.”

He elbowed Sean playfully in the ribs. He felt himself getting hard and in his mind he was picturing himself with the mermaid. Then without any warning the mermaid leapt out of the water. As she broke the surface it became clear that she wasn't as alluring as she'd first appeared. Her face was a mass of pink scar tissue, pocked and grotesque. Behind her pale grey lips her purple gums were lined with rows of jagged, triangular teeth. Barnacles dotted her neck and jaw, and her eyes blazed red.

Mark gasped but before he had a chance to sit back in the boat the mermaid had him; her long talons securely anchored in his neck.

Scout shrieked and fell back against the bow as Mark's eyes rolled back into his head and his tongue fell out through his open mouth. Small spots of war blood sprayed Scout as the dying man was dragged, gurgling through the blood, into the water.

Shaking and concerned for the safety of Scout, Sean scrambled across the eskies to where his son was cowering. Scout was too shocked to push his father away and as strange as it seemed to him, it actually felt good to have his father next to him, comforting him.

Looking over his shoulder, Sean watched as the two creatures savagely tore chunks of flesh from Mark's body and devoured them, turning the dark water a dirty crimson.

“We have to get out of here, Dad,” said Scout.

Sean smiled as Scout turned his attention to the commotion in the water beside the boat. He turned and scrambled back to the motor.

“Dad! We've got to get out of here,” Scout shouted again. “We've really got to get out of here!”

“Yes Scout. I heard you the first time, mate” he said, though as he looked back at his son he saw the reason for Scout's urgency. Cutting its way through the water at a terrifying speed was a huge dorsal fin. To the side of the boat there was a splash and Sean watched as the mermaids sped off into deeper waters. He felt the blood drain from his face.

Sean pulled the anchor up, cutting himself on one of the metal hooks as he yanked it into the boat. He sucked the blood from his hand and fumbled with the cord on the outboard motor, jerking it rather than pulling it, and getting nowhere.

“Hurry Dad, it's almost…”

Then the boat began rocking violently as the giant shark swam beneath it.

Scout grabbed both sides of the dinghy and started screaming. “We're going to die. Dad, it's going to get us!”

“No it's not, matey. Just let me get the motor started.”

Sean took a deep breath. He concentrated on steadying his trembling hand. He pulled the cord again and the motor roared into action. He sighed but allowed himself only a moment's satisfaction. He turned the throttle and manoeuvred the rudder so that the boat spun around, almost capsizing it.

“Go Dad, go!” Scout shouted.

“Yeah matey, I'm going as fast as I can.”

The small boat raced across the waves towards the distant shore.

“Come on Dad. You're doing it,” said Scout, watching the water churning as the giant shark finished off Mark's body. “Fuck you!”

he screamed the distance between them and the giant fish grew.

Sean frowned then smiled. Scout was fourteen after all.

“Yeah, FUCK YOU!” he yelled.

Scout turned around and they both laughed.

It was almost as if the beast had heard them for when Scout turned back around he saw the fin coming straight at them. The sight of it wiped the smile off both their faces. It came at them at an unbelievable speed, catching them up effortlessly. As the sandy beach, and safety, came into clear view the shark swam beneath them and with a flick of its mighty tail it sent the boat flying. Both Scout and his father gasped as they hit the freezing dark water.

Scout, wasting no time, swam madly towards the dinghy and hauled himself in. He assumed his father was right behind him though when he looked back he saw that his father had actually landed further away in the water.

The shark turned in the water a short distance from where the boat was; the water swirling and looking as soft as silk.

“Dad you gotta swim! It's coming back!”

Scout's heart raced as his father swam for the boat. His eyes shot between the monster rapidly approaching and his father.

“Come on Dad. You're nearly there,” shouted Scout.

Sean swam like he'd never swum before. He could see the dorsal fin approaching. Luckily he was closer to the boat, though it was going to be close. The shark was a much more powerful swimmer.

Finally he reached the boat. He threw his arms up and felt Scout's hands grip his arms.

“That's it mate. Pull me in. Get your old Dad….”

The shark hit the boat. Scout fell backwards and Sean fell back into the water. Scout screamed. “Dad!'

He saw his father's hands appear once again over the side of the dinghy and then his head. He gripped his father's arms and looked his face, a mask of desperation.

“That's right, son. Pull hard.”

Then Sean's eyes widened. Blood spilled out of his mouth and Scout felt his father's body become suddenly heavier.

“What's wrong, Dad? You gotta help me. I can't do it on my own.”

Sean stared into his son's eyes. “Matey, you know I've always loved you.”

Scout's eyes filled with tears. His father's body then become lighter. Much lighter. With one last burst of energy he pulled his father up out of the water, only there was much less of him. His father's legs and lower abdomen were missing. What remained was a frayed and bloody mess.

Scout screamed, recoiling. The acrid trace of vomit burnt the back of his throat as he watched the top half of his father slip back into the water.

“Daaaaad!!!!” he called, daring himself to lean forward.

He was just in time to watch the shark swim by and swallow the rest of his father and turn, regarding Scout with a cold eye before disappearing into the dark water. Scout's heart was racing. His breathing had become so rapid he couldn't get enough oxygen into his lungs. He sat down and half-sobbed, half-gasped. All that could have been but would never be flashed before his mind's eye. And how was he going to tell his mother? Then the noise in his head died away as the cold realisation that he was not yet out of trouble dawned on him.

He dared himself to look over the side of the boat. He couldn't see any sign of the shark, but when he looked over the other side of the boat he noticed hundreds of tiny bubbles breaking on the surface. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

“This can't be good,” he told himself, the sound of his own voice strangely comforting. He looked across the vast expanse of water to the shore and wondered whether he could swim that far, and then he wondered if he should risk it. As the volume of bubbles increased his mind searched frantically for an answer.

From the corner of his eye he noticed something sliding over the side of the dinghy and into it. He turned and saw that it was some kind of tentacle, not very big, but when he looked once more into the water he saw that it was just the very tip of something much larger. Then another one appeared, curling up over the side of the dinghy and worming its way slowly to the other side.

Scout stood up as the boat heaved to one side. He stumbled but did not fall. Another tentacle appeared and with a heart that was racing and a body flooded with adrenalin, Scout took off his jumper and jeans, and dived into the water. He knew it was highly possible, in fact likely, that he would die on the long swim to shore, but he was going to die anyway if he stayed on the boat.

As the Kraken wrapped it tentacles around the boat and pulled it beneath the surface of the water, Scout swam like a torpedo. “Faster! Faster!” he told himself. Mouthfuls of sea water spilled into his mouth and it was making him feel nauseous, but he couldn't let that slow him. Closer and closer to the shore he swam, ignoring all thoughts of death. If it came, it would be swift and he wouldn't know anything about it.

The golden sand of the beach and the grassy dunes were now in clear view, although still some distance away. In the water, near the beach he could see the heads and shoulders of two people. This gave him hope and he forced himself to go even faster. He had no idea if he was being followed or not. He wanted to look behind him and check, but he knew this would slow him down and so he chose not to.

When he was close enough, Scout began shouting for help. He knew he was almost safe and he wasn't sure what he expected anyone to do for him, but he continued to shout. Survival instinct or temporary insanity, he didn't know.

“Help! Help me!” he called, taking in great gulps of sea water. “Help me.”

His arms were growing tired and he was almost out of breath but he pushed himself further and faster. He would not allow his aching muscles to slow him down.

“Help me!” he called.

Finally the two figures turned around.

Scout continued swimming. He could see that they were now facing him, that they had heard him. He smiled and allowed himself to slow down just enough to catch a glimpse of their grotesque faces. He gasped and spluttered, stopping dead in the water.

The mermaids smiled; their rows of teeth a band of white from where Scout trod water. Puffing and panting, he searched his mind for options. He whimpered but wouldn't let weakness take what he had already accomplished away. It was not over until it was over.

The mermaids disappeared below the surface of the water. Scout started swimming for his life. The shore wasn't that far away. He powered through the water, not letting any thought of failure enter his mind. He was going to make it. He could handle two mermaids. If they tried to stop him, he was going to go right through them. If they got in his way, he would…