Dead Bait 4

by Weston Ochse

  “I’m sorry,” I said, trying to dismantle an argument before it started. “I was worried.”

  She gave me a half smile. “It’s okay.” She popped the pills into her mouth and dry swallowed them. “I think I’m going to lie down for a few minutes.” She rubbed her lower belly.

  She always had cramps the first day of her cycle. I knew she wouldn’t want to do anything until the aspirin did its job. I nodded and agreed to join her. She dried her hair with a towel, removed her swimsuit, and pulled on a pair of underwear before slipping into bed. I removed my suit and lay naked beside her. Sunlight shone on us from a skylight above the bed. I snuggled up to her. The rocking boat made it difficult for me to sleep but I eventually nodded off.

  I woke an hour later to the sounds of cooking. I slipped out of bed. Teresa, wearing a T-shirt and shorts, was preparing hamburgers on a single electric burner.

  She said, “Food’s almost done.”

  “What time is it?” I dug through my bag and pulled some clothes on.

  “Eight o’clock.” She flipped the burgers.

  I retrieved condiments from the mini fridge and sat at the table. Two paper plates sat on the counter. Each plate held a bun. Only one bun had a slice of tomato and lettuce on it. Teresa scooped up the burgers and sat them on the buns. She brought both plates to the table and sat the one with tomato and lettuce in front of me.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Teresa put the top bun on her burger, lifted it, and took a bite. I added ketchup and mustard to mine.

  I said, “You don’t want anything on yours?”

  She spoke around a full mouth. “No.”

  I took a bite and realized mine was rare. I wasn’t a fan of rare burgers. I preferred medium-well. Teresa swallowed and took another bite. A mixture of blood and grease splattered on her plate. I’d never known Teresa to eat a burger any other way than well-done. She’d previously given me a hard time, saying medium-well was barbaric.

  I said, “You’re eating a rare burger?”

  She shrugged and continued chewing. Her demeanor was guarded and something felt wrong. I wrote it off to her starting her period even though she wasn’t one to suffer irritability or mood swings during her cycle. I knew I would be agitated if I’d planned a getaway for the two of us and my period decided to come early and became an obstacle for intimacy. We finished our dinner in silence.

  After dinner we sat on the deck and watched the sunset. Teresa was distant and avoidant of conversation. She stared at the water and I took the opportunity to read while there was still daylight. A few boats passed in the distance, exiting and entering the bay. When the sun slipped over the horizon the lights on the shore became more prominent. Teresa illuminated the outside of the boat so other boats were aware of our presence. The boat’s lights were blue and cast eerie shadows. We drank a few more beers and I watched the other boats maneuver in the night to take my mind off the pitch-black and endless appearance of the sea. Eventually we retired for the night. I hoped a good night’s sleep would improve Teresa’s mood.

  ***

  Teresa woke me from a dreamless sleep. The blue lights barely filtered through the skylight. It took me a few sleepy and alcohol-fueled seconds to realize where I was and what was happening.

  Teresa was spooning me. We’d gone to bed in our underwear and the skin of her bare breasts was cool against my back. Her chilly hand wandered into my underwear. She began to work her finger in and out of my vagina.

  “Teresa?” I said.

  “Hmm.”

  She removed her finger from inside me and began to rub my clit. The heat of my arousal cleared the sleep and lingering alcohol from my mind. She kissed the back of my neck and licked my shoulder. Her tongue was as cool as her touch. Goosebumps rose on my skin.

  I whispered, “Your period . . .”

  An orgasm began to build within me. I arched my back and pressed my buttocks into her crotch. She ground her pubis into me. My breathing became loud and the heat of my growing orgasm caused me to break out in a thin layer of sweat.

  Teresa whispered, “It was a false alarm.” Her words were hoarse and slurred.

  The term ‘false alarm’ meant she had spotted but didn’t actually start her period. I thought there was a lot of blood for it to be a false alarm but put it out of my mind.

  I gave myself over to the orgasm and bucked with each wave of pleasure as Teresa continued to coax my clit. She made an agreeable sound and delivered more kisses to my neck and shoulder. Once my orgasm had subsided I rolled over to face her.

  The faint blue light cast dark shadows and made everything barely visible. Teresa’s lips appeared dark. I tried to deliver a kiss but she placed her hands on my shoulders and applied a gentle downward pressure, letting me know what she wanted. I kissed her collarbone and trailed my lips to one of her taut nipples. Her skin was clammy and I wondered if she was running a fever or if it was the effect of the night ocean air. I sucked and licked her nipple while gently pinching the other. Her skin tasted salty. She cooed and tried to grind her pubis into me before grabbing my hair and guiding me farther down her body. I removed her panties and she spread her legs to reveal her shaved but stubbly pussy. She smelled like the ocean. I slipped my hands under her thighs, grabbed her hips, and began to lick her clit. She moaned and held the back of my head while I worked. I slipped two fingers inside of her wet vagina and began to coax her G-spot while I licked her clit. She removed her hand from the back of my head and I looked up at her to see her pinching her own nipples and staring at me with an angry expression. Her look gave me pause. My fingers hit an obstruction inside of her, followed by a sharp prick to the fingertips.

  I yelped, withdrew my hand from inside her, and shot up to a kneeling position. I examined my fingers in the scant light. They glistened with Teresa’s juices. A darker liquid ran down my hand from the tips of my two wounded fingers.

  Teresa sat up without a word. I slipped out of bed and checked my hip on the corner of the kitchen table before fumbling with the light switch by the kitchenette. I squinted against the sudden brightness. I examined my fingers over the sink. Two crescent shaped slits marked either side of each finger. It appeared they’d been pinched by something with enough force to make a clean cut in the skin.

  Teresa had slipped out of bed and now stood with her feet planted far from each other at the foot of the bed, fifteen feet from me.

  “Something cut me,” I said.

  I turned my attention to Teresa. In my confused state, it took a few seconds to register her condition. Her skin was a sickly shade of gray and her eyes had become milky. Her lips were crimson and blood dripped down her chin. A black protuberance as long as her torso extended from her vagina. Blood ran down her thighs and a serpent-like thing swayed listlessly back and forth from her vagina. The thing stopped moving and fixed its white eyes on me.

  “Teresa?” I whimpered. I gripped the counter and began to shake.

  She took a clumsy step. Her voice was thick and didn’t belong to her. More blood leaked from her mouth when she spoke. “It’s okay.” Her tongue was black and pointed and covered in blood. “It doesn’t hurt.” The creature protruding from her vagina inclined its head toward me and I knew the tip of its tail was acting as her tongue. She took another step toward me.

  I fumbled on the counter for something to protect myself with and found nothing. Teresa took another slow step toward me and I wrenched open a kitchen drawer. The drawer came free from the cabinet, sending cooking utensils clattering onto the floor. I spotted a butcher knife and crouched to snatch it up. I stayed on my haunches and pointed the knife at Teresa who’d crossed half the distance between us. She stopped. The creature regarded me with curiosity.

  My voice quivered and broke. “Stay away from me!” Tears threatened to spill from my eyes.

  I stood and began to reach for the radio mounted on the wall beside the sink. I didn’t know how to use it but I had to try. Even a squawk of help would draw attent
ion.

  The serpent slid from within Teresa’s lifeless body and she crumbled to the floor before I could manage to call for help. A sob of grief escaped me but there was no time. The serpent quickly crossed the distance between us and encircled my leg. I caught it behind its head with my free hand and stopped it six inches from my crotch. I was thankful I had on underwear but knew the material wouldn’t stop it if it got loose. Teresa’s swimsuit hadn’t stopped it. The thing flailed its head back and forth, snapping its jaws and trying to bite me. It was cold and slimy with Teresa’s blood. Up close I could see its gills.

  I struggled to keep a hold on the creature and cut it with the butcher knife. It kept squirming and repositioning itself around my leg. I sliced wildly, missed it, and cut my thigh. I screamed in frustration and my grip slipped an inch. The end of the creature was coiled around my ankle and the tip of its tail lay on the ground between my feet. Its underbelly was exposed toward the tip of its tail and I could see a slit in its skin. I assumed it was either its anus or sex. The creature slipped more, gaining ground. Another inch and the thing would be able to twist and bite my wrist. In a last desperate attempt I lifted my free leg and brought my heel down as hard as I could on the spot I thought might be vulnerable.

  Pain shot up my calf from the impact. The creature screeched, backed out of my hold effortlessly, and let go of my leg. It flopped around wildly on the floor. I didn’t wait for it to regain itself.

  I ran up the steps for the door, almost fell when I pulled it inward, and slammed it behind me. I peered through the window on the top half of the door and didn’t see the creature. My hand lay on the horizontal lever handle and I felt it move. I gripped the handle and pulled the door while trying to see what was happening on the other side. The creature had coiled itself around the handle and was trying to use its weight to open the door.

  I held the door handle and began to search the immediate area for a solution. The lighting was terrible. I spotted a dark coil a few feet away, shrieked, and started kicking in its direction, thinking it was another one of the snake-things and it had slithered out of the sea. It took a few seconds for me to realize the motionless coil was a rope.

  At a loss, I checked back through the window to find the creature staring at me through the glass. I knew I had to either kill it or get off the boat. For the moment, I had it trapped. If I could keep it contained long enough maybe I could figure out how to steer the boat back to the shore.

  I held the doorknob and extended my leg toward the rope. Using my foot I managed to get hold of the rope, pull it toward me, and find the end. I tied the rope around the door handle, held it taut, and started to back away.

  The creature reared back and slammed its head into the window. With enough force, the glass would break. I knew my time was limited.

  I kept the rope taut and ran toward the side railing. The boat swayed with the ocean. I slipped, my momentum almost launching me over the side. There were smears of something dark on the deck and I knew the self-inflicted knife wound needed staunching soon.

  I secured the rope to the rail. The creature banged rhythmically against the glass as I worked. When I was done with the rope I stumbled over to the wheel.

  Panic had taken hold of me and my hands shook uncontrollably. I tried to calm myself and think. I knew I had to lift the anchor first. I ran toward the front of the boat and tried to remember what Teresa had done. She had tied a length of rope around the chain to the anchor and attached it to the boat. I struggled with the knots and heard a familiar sound in the distance.

  A set of lights bounced rhythmically along the water in the direction of the bay. By the sound of its engine I could tell it was a speed boat. I immediately stopped what I was doing and turned to run toward the wheel. I slipped from the blood on my foot, fell, and hit my chin on the deck. My teeth slammed against each other and sparks of pain illuminated my vision. I forced myself to get up. I couldn’t stop because if I did I would end up dead like Teresa. My heart ached, knowing she was gone.

  I held the railing and rushed back to the wheel. It dawned on me that the sound of the creature banging its head on the window had ceased. There were smears of blood on the intact window. The thing had probably knocked itself unconscious.

  I threw open the bench seat near the wheel and retrieved the orange flare gun box. I tried to remember how Teresa said it worked. The contents of the box spilled onto the deck when I opened it up upside down.

  The other boat was picking up speed and would pass in less than a minute. I grabbed the comically fat gun and one of the shells rolled around on the deck. I tried to force the gun open. While fumbling with it I pulled the hammer. The gun opened.

  A loud clack drew my attention to the cabin door. The thing had reappeared and was now hammering the window with a butter knife it held in its mouth.

  I said, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

  Clack! The tip of the knife put a crack in the window.

  Time was up. I had to get off the boat.

  I rammed the flare in the gun and snapped it shut. I lifted the gun into the air and pulled the trigger. The flare shot into the night sky, sputtering and flashing. Something deep inside me screamed triumphantly but a rational part said it didn’t matter. The boat wouldn’t make it. I was going to die. Maybe that was better. I would be with Teresa. I only wished the death wouldn’t hurt.

  Clack!

  The sound of the boat’s motor dropped an octave as it slowed and changed course. The vehicle made a beeline toward me. I watched the other boat as the smack of metal on glass continued behind me. The boat was fast but oddly felt as if it were moving in slow motion.

  There was nothing I could do but wait to see who made it first. Through the panic of impending death some of my senses came back. I was still holding the flare gun. I flipped the hammer, dumped the spent shell, and dropped to the deck in search of another. I found one rolling back and forth by the wheel and reloaded.

  The engine from the approaching boat stopped and it continued to drift toward me.

  Another clack produced the sound of breaking glass. The creature had chipped a small hole in the glass at the bottom of the window frame but it wasn’t big enough for it to pass through.

  “Ahoy!” someone shouted in the distance. “Is everything okay?”

  The other boat drifted fifty feet away and was only half the size of Teresa’s. The lighting on their craft was yellow and bright. A portly man gripped the railing. A short chubby woman stood beside him. They were both clad in matching windbreakers. I reflexively covered my naked breasts with one arm.

  The creature hit the glass again.

  I shouted, “I’m being attacked by an animal!” I sobbed. “It killed my girlfriend! Please get me off this boat!”

  The man leapt toward the wheel of his boat.

  The woman shouted, “Are you a good swimmer?”

  Tears sprang from my eyes as the fear of the ocean came crashing back. “I don’t want to get in the water! That’s where it came from!”

  The other boat’s engine roared to life and the craft began to close the distance. Another piece of glass fell and shattered. I turned to spot the creature dropping the knife. It cautiously started through the hole it had created. I screamed, pointed the flare gun at the creature, and pulled the trigger. The flare embedded into the door a foot below the window. The creature recoiled from the flare and screeched.

  The boat lurched beneath my feet, followed by a crunching noise. I grabbed the railing to keep from falling.

  “Bill!” the woman shouted. “You’ll sink us both!”

  Our boats were touching.

  The creature was making its way out and around the flare. I threw the gun at the creature and scrambled over and onto the other boat. The woman had made her way to me. She helped me down onto the deck.

  “Go! Go! Go!” I shouted. “Before it gets on your boat!”

  “Bill!” the woman shouted.

  The boat roared and shot
forward. The woman and I fell to the deck. The sound of the two boats scraping against each other briefly filled the night and I thought we might sink.

  The sound stopped and we were speeding away.

  I sat up and leaned against a bench. The woman beside me did the same, pulling off her windbreaker and wrapping it around me. I began to sob uncontrollably. The boat’s speed stabilized enough for us to stand.

  The woman said, “We’ll get you back to land.”

  I nodded at her. I searched for the sailboat in the distance and spotted the ghostly blue light. But there was something else about the boat. A large shadow, barely perceptible against the night sky, hung over the boat. The woman followed my gaze. I blinked and tried to decipher what I was seeing. A large serpentine entity protruded from the ocean. Its head hovered a hundred feet above the boat.

  “What is that?” the woman said. She yelled at the man, “Look at that!” She pointed at the boat. “What is it?”

  The man pulled a lever by the wheel and his boat slowed. He squinted into the night at the other craft. The shadow suddenly darted downward and crashed across the middle of Teresa’s boat. The craft buckled and split. The man killed the engine of his boat and the three of us watched as Teresa, the boat that was her second love, and whatever had taken her life, bobbed and twisted and slowly sank into the sea.

  Room of Water

  Kathryn E. McGee

  Brooke stroked the creatures embedded in the iron frame of the bathroom mirror. They had large eyes and wide-open mouths. Their bodies were amorphous, punctuated by fins and gills. She rubbed her hand over the creatures, around the frame a few times.

  Feeling a sting, she pulled away from the mirror. Blood pooled at the tip of her pinky finger. She’d been bitten. That was the first thing she thought—bitten. But that couldn’t be right. She must have caught her skin on a sharp piece of metal. She put her wound to her mouth and sucked.

  The sting persisted.