by Ron Vitale
My fist connected with Ishmael’s jaw, and he moved backward, avoiding most of the force behind my blow. When I pulled back my arm, he grabbed my hand to hold me still.
He didn’t punch me but kept me from hitting him again and said, “I’ve been where you are, and I understand, but I am not your enemy. I’m trying to resist him but I—”
Nathan came barreling over us, full force, knocking us both to the ground. He fought like a wild animal, punching at Ishmael’s face. Extricating myself from Ishmael’s grasp, I punched him hard in the throat and worked my way down to wrap my body around his leg. Nathan had put him in a grappling hold, and the two of us appeared to be attached to his body like leeches. No matter how hard he fought, we bent our bodies and would not let go.
The ground shook and our father called out to us, “Please, stop. It’s hurting me. I cannot breathe.”
Zeke had run over to Josep and started pulling at tentacles, ripping them away with his bare hands, trying to free him. At his touch, Josep went rigid in pain and started screaming. Beside him, Clarence’s muffled scream of agony could be heard as he continued to try to escape.
Still I did not let go of Ishmael. Nathan locked Ishmael’s head tighter in a choke hold, hoping to knock him unconscious. Gasping for breath, he hissed out between his teeth, and as he spoke spittle flew out his mouth. “Stop! Kanaloa will kill them.” Ishmael’s face turned red, and beads of sweat formed on his forehead. “Please, I want to help—”
Nathan grunted with the effort and pulled harder, forcing all the air from Ishmael’s lungs. Soon he would fall unconscious, and then we could turn our attention to freeing my father.
The ground shook a second time, much more forcefully, and a crack appeared in the center of the room. A groan like the earth itself moaned in protest at being forced to part by a strong hand rendering the two sections echoed around us. A hiss of steam shot out from the huge crack, and then water surged up from the depths below.
Zeke got caught in the first bits of steam that shot toward him, and he cried out in pain, moving away. I glanced over at Josep, and a heavy disappointment hit me. Hundreds of thinner tentacles shot out of the ceiling and squirmed themselves protectively around him.
“Go, leave us here.” My father could barely be heard above the ground shaking.
Ishmael surged in strength and slipped out from Nathan’s grasp. With two quick punches, he knocked Nathan away and then pried open my hands and escaped from my hold. Rolling over, he jumped to his feet, and with his face still red from exertion and loss of breath, he bent low and gasped. Each breath he took made him stronger and more able to fight us. I expected him to rush us, but he ran over to aid Zeke, helping to clear away the tentacles from Josep.
Zeke accepted his help without question. “I can’t get a good enough of a grip on him to pull him out. I need help.”
Ishmael thrust his arms through the mass of tentacles and pulled back in a few seconds. Red sucker circles marked his arms, but even more telling, his hand and forearm were covered in a slippery clear mucus. “I can’t pull him out. He’s gone under. Look.”
Both Josep and Clarence could no longer be seen in their stalagmites. They were gone. The ground shook again, and a torrential flood of cold seawater surged at us. With the first touch of cold, Nathan stirred, and the water washed the blood from his broken nose, swollen and turned unnaturally to the side. He gingerly touched his nose and winced.
“Let’s see if we can help.” I ran over to our father, but it was already too late.
His body had sunk down into the depths below, and only his head remained above water. “Morgan, do not think about me. Never tell your mother that you’ve found me here. I’m already dead to her, and that’s difficult enough. Forget me, remember me as the captain who fought against the white whale and lost. Dragged into the sea, lost among the rest of my crew. I am gone, a shade of who I once was, but I forever remain your father.” A tentacle wrapped itself around his neck. His skin pale and unnaturally white, he struggled to speak and said, “I love you.”
The tentacle covered his face, and a sucker secured itself over his mouth.
I cried but pulled away at the tentacle, trying to rip it from my father, but it was like trying to pry a metal bar from a prison cell. I could not even move it slightly.
Nathan came next to me and helped. For a moment, the tentacle pulled back, and Ahab met my eyes. “There are always two. One that stays and one that lives in guilt.” He glanced over to Ishmael. “Trust him, he will get you out.”
The tentacles pulled my father from our grasp, and his eyes rolled back up into his head and he convulsed, fighting the creature that pulled him down a natural silo into the depths of the ocean. I lost my grip on him as did Nathan, and our father vanished from sight.
Someone grabbed me from behind, and I turned away to face Ishmael. He did not speak at first, glancing down at my father’s prison. “I’m sorry.”
The ground dropped down, and the earth quaked harder and with more violence. Water had risen to my shins, and I glanced around, trying to find a way out. The passage we had come in from had been blocked off by falling rocks.
Zeke came to interrupt us and gathered the four of us together. Nathan stood by my side, silent but ready to help. “How did you get out of here last time?”
Ishmael pointed to the far side of the cavern. “If we break through that wall, we’ll all be free. I’m holding Kanaloa off, but we have to hurry. I can’t resist him much longer!”
As if the mention of his name had woken him, the ground stirred again.
Nathan leaned in and said, “Let’s go try to open the doorway. There must be a way out. Come on.”
He walked through the now waist-deep water and pounded his fists on the door.
Zeke stayed still and faced Ishmael and asked, “What sacrifice needs to be made?”
I went to question Zeke, but Ishmael said, “Kanaloa won’t let all of us go free. We’re going to have to fight to get to the surface.”
“We’re all getting out of here.” Nathan leaned all his weight against the door and grunted with the effort. “If you all help me, we can get out. Come on, I need help!”
The ground shook again, and water continued to surge up from the large chasm in the ground. I had had enough indecision. I waded over to Nathan, put my shoulder against the stone, and pushed against it with all my weight. I focused my strength and thought of my mother waiting for me at home, wondering what had happened to me. If I died here, she would never know where I had gone, what I had done, and my foolishness rose up within me. I channeled that hurt and pushed harder against the wall.
Moments later Ishmael joined us, and he ran into the wall with all his might. The collision had to have hurt him, but he kept pushing. The combined strength of the three of us did not move the boulder an inch. Exhausted, we fell back, but Zeke glanced around the room.
“Stand back.” He waved us away from the doorway and pointed behind him. “Stay clear. I’ll get us out.”
Ishmael, Nathan, and I paddled over to the far side of the huge cavern with the ocean water now up to our chests.
“What is he going to do?” I asked tired and out of breath.
Nathan folded his arms across his chest and replied, “I think I know.”
Zeke’s transformation happened faster than I could take in. He bent over and then stretched his arms out, reaching outward. At first nothing happened, and his skin changed into a white pasty color and stretched out, filling out quickly until he changed into half whale, half man. I watched in awe and had to take a few steps back in fear.
He let out a loud garbled cry and then bent down and rushed the stone boulder head on. With ease, the stone blocking the door cracked into pieces. Once Zeke cleared the stone from the opening, the sea rushed into the cavern at an alarming rate.
The ground rumbled again as if in anger at our breaking out, and I stumbled forward, but Nathan caught me. I turned to him and yelled above the din, �
��We will have to swim for it.”
Ishmael glanced up and raised his arm. Four tentacles came thrashing down, but he fought them off, holding them at bay between his physical strength and willpower.
“Come on, grab hold.” Nathan swam forward and grabbed a part of Zeke’s whale’s fluke.
Ishmael watched me go and then grunted in trying to will the tentacles to stay back. They surged forward and wrapped around his chest, and he screamed in agony. The suckers pulled at his tattoos, and the ink came alive, rippling under his skin, pulling at his tendons and muscles, forcing him to surrender to the will of the dark god.
But still he ripped at the tentacles with his bare hands and pulled them off him, raging at them with a guttural, animal roar. The tentacles fell away as did pieces of his tattoo, dripping off him like blood. He turned to me then and said, “Go, I will stay back and hold them off for as long as I can. When you get to the surface, swim as far as you can from the island.”
I turned back and asked, “Don’t sacrifice yourself in vain. If you want to really be free of Kanaloa, then come with us. Come on!”
He hesitated a moment and then ripped at his chest and pulled out globs of ink from his tattoos, throwing the living substance off his body and at the tentacles. He cried out in pain and then cast off his doubt and grabbed a portion of Zeke’s tail behind him. The tentacles in the ceiling fell back, diminished, and disappeared back into their crevices seemingly defeated. Zeke, in full werewhale form, thrust down his great fluke, and we went forward into the great flood of water. I took a deep breath of air and held it in my lungs, and we surged forward out into the deep sea.
Zeke swam hard, and I hung onto his whale body with a death grip, knowing that if I fell back the current would suck me back into the cavern and I would die. The darkness of the sea surrounded me, and I did feel some seaweed brush against my feet, but I kept my eyes closed tight, listening to my heart beat. I took a quick peek, and Ishmael and Nathan rose to the surface with me. All of us kicked and swam as fast as we could before we could no longer hold our breath.
My chest hurt, and I willed myself to stay calm, for to take a breath would bring in only saltwater and my death. I cast myself up toward the surface and willed to see the sun. When the pain became too great, I fought harder and gave not into despair. I believed that I would live—and I did.
I broke through the water like a shot out of a cannon and let go of Zeke. I turned over and floated on my back in the sea. I gasped, taking in air, fast and strong, and opened my eyes to see a brilliant blue sky. Next to me, I heard another great splash, and Nathan hit the water. He spluttered and coughed into his hand, but otherwise he lived. And last, but still very much alive, Ishmael broke slowly through the surface and eyed us both with a smile on his face.
With great exuberance, I splashed the surrounding water with my hands and said, “We made it!”
Nathan swam over to me, gave me a hug, and then let go and swam a bit away from me, allowing Ishmael to come in to hug me. He spat water from his mouth and said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you involved in all this. That’s why I wanted you to stay home.”
I had not fully forgiven him, but I nodded, and he let go of me and then treaded water, scanning the surrounding area.
Nathan pointed back the way we had come and said, “Look, the island’s nearly gone.”
We had traveled far out from the land mass, and only the hill still remained above water. I could see no sign of life there, but then again, we were too far out.
“Is there anything to grab onto?” Nathan swam around in a circle and looked for some piece of debris that we could use as a float.
“I saw something off to the west.” Zeke surprised me by being back in his human form so quickly. Gone were his whale-like features, and outside of being naked, there was no mark from his transformation. He pointed past us, and I saw an object floating on the surface of the sea.
Ishmael swam first over to the object, and once he secured himself to it, he waved back to us. “It’s solid. Come on over.”
We waded over to him and what appeared to be the remains of a hut. From the shape, the wood and vines looked to be a wall of the shelter. Each of us grabbed a corner and floated on it for a few moments to catch our breath.
“Morgan, try to see if you can get on top.” I did not argue with Nathan but pulled myself up and, like a wet seal, flopped tired and sleek with water onto the makeshift raft.
Behind us, steam shot out from the ocean, and the island continued to sink into the sea. All animal life would die, drowned in the ocean or lost, like us, on the unforgiving ocean. Boars, snakes, monkeys—all the island’s animals would now have to fight to survive, but I had no idea where the closest island would be, and finding a ship to rescue us seemed next to impossible.
Ishmael pulled himself up onto our raft, and it wobbled a bit but held both our weight. His chest was a raw scar of blood and dripping ink. I gave him space and sat up, crossing my legs, and then leaned down to pull Nathan up. I offered him my hand, and I heard the ground moan a mournful dirge created by two huge land masses sliding past each other. The island sunk deeper into the sea, and too close for my taste, a spray of hot steam shot up out of the water, high into the sky.
Nathan took my hand and went to pull himself up, but he changed his mind and said, “I’ll kick us away from it.” He started to kick his feet in the water, and we moved slowly forward. “I’ll get us as far away as I—”
And then a look of surprise broke out on his face.
I pulled harder to lift him into the boat, but he did not budge. Cemented in the water, he glanced down, and then we both saw it.
The white whale rose up out of the depths and shot out of its skin a web of red tendrils that rose up out of the water, like the sinew of an animal, resplendent and dreadful at the same time. The living tendrils shot high up into the sky and then splashed back down, wrapping themselves around Nathan’s arms.
He struggled and thrashed in the water, kicking and fighting, but my grip on him slipped, as though butter coated my hands, and I fell back.
Individuals tendrils surrounded the boat but only touched Nathan. Ishmael pulled me away from whatever they were and held me back. Zeke reached a hand out toward Nathan but could not reach him.
“Nathan, hold on!” I screamed out at him. Already he had been pulled too far from our makeshift raft, and I would have to swim out to rescue him.
I broke free from Ishmael’s grasp and went to dive into the sea, but the raft shook, and more tendrils than I could dare count burst forth from the ocean, resembling an explosive pulse of blood that dripped from an open gash. I lost my footing and fell back on my rump and steadied myself on the rocking raft.
The new tendrils, a darker shade of red, had objects attached to their ends. Resembling stretched-out sinew or yarn, the tendrils ended with a tooth, an eyeball, finger, or tongue. Hundreds of living pieces from more victims than I dared count formed the loose body. Beneath the waves, the white whale circled us, and the unholy birth of tendrils streamed out from the beast. Its true form was nightmarish to behold.
With each second that I wasted, the red tendrils spread around Nathan. As he pulled himself out from one embrace, another slew of tendrils would rise up and entrap him yet again.
“I can’t break free.” A panic broke out in Nathan’s actions as he fought for his life.
Ishmael pushed me back and dived into the heart of the tendrils, but they parted for him, sentient, seemingly aware of his intention. He hit the ocean hard and sunk to the bottom, but the tendrils cleared out of his path, and the white whale easily avoided him.
“I’m coming for you. Hold on!” I cried out to Nathan, but my heart sank. He had been pulled farther from me than I dared to admit.
Zeke leaned forward and transformed into a werewhale again in the blink of an eye. He disappeared beneath the waves, and I caught a glimpse of him headed toward Nathan.
For a few seconds, I allowed my fear of
the wild sea of red to hold me back, and I closed my eyes. I had to try. Casting off my fear, I dived into the ocean. Like Ishmael, the tendrils would not touch me. They separated and withdrew when I came near. Breaking the surface, I swam hard toward Nathan and glimpsed Ishmael doing the same.
“I can’t breathe.” Nathan fought to keep his head above water, and he spit out a mouthful of seawater.
The tendrils with fingers on the ends of them castigated us, shaking a warning at Nathan, and the tongues on the tips of other tendrils exuded eerie clucking sounds. Moby Dick swam below us, and the tendrils formed together, the pieces of flesh strung haphazardly together into a makeshift face. “He will be mine.”
The god-like voice boomed out of the air around us, and the words pummeled me in my chest.
Ishmael, nearly at Nathan, reached a long arm out to rip away the tendrils, but a tentacle shot out of the sea, wrapped itself around Ishmael, and then knocked him away.
To my right, Zeke, in whale form, head-butted the tendrils, but they let him pass through them and then rushed back to trap him. Hundreds of additional red tendrils shot up out of the white whale and tangled up Zeke. I tried to reach for him, but he shook his head and with his human arm pointed at my brother. The tendrils held him still. He fought them for a few more seconds and then was pulled down into the waiting mouth of the enormous whale. Bubbles floated up from the darkness, but in another heartbeat, he was gone.
Taking Zeke’s sacrifice to distract the tendrils, I pushed forward the last few feet, put my head down, and then grabbed one of my brother’s hands under the water. “Got you!”
He stretched his arm out to reach mine, but the tendrils held him still. Locked in place, mere inches from under the surface, the waves would wash up against his face, and he’d close his mouth to keep the water out.
“I’m so sorry.” His words poured out like a confession from a man on his deathbed.
“I’ll get you out of here. Don’t talk like that.” I tried to pull away at the tendrils, but when I finally did touch them, they resembled iron bars.
