Part 5: Moon Island Fishing Club

      And grew quickly; its soft body pushing into John, Henry, and Linda, who lay prone next to it. A strong odor saturated the air as the sound of crunching sand grew louder, drowning out the heavy, unconscious breathing of the three.

      Henry’s eyes snapped fully open, and as he looked down at the fish lying dead and limp on his right arm, he felt the ball’s mental attacks pounding at his temples in a rhythmic thrum. He knew it would be strong enough to break in soon, even with the Redmouth venom still inside him. He sat up.

      Earl and Leo were at the water’s edge guarding the drinking tentacle from the Redmouths gathered in the shallows. They swam in circles, their spiny dorsal fins cutting the water while they watched the hole with fierce, focused eyes. The thing, aware of their presence, glowed happily from its safe position. Henry saw Earl and Leo meant for the thing to drink and grow without interruption.

      As he stood up, Henry felt dizzy, stumbling slightly before catching himself. He watched his blood trickle out of the fish’s missing gill plate, run towards its tail, and fall into the sand.

      He crawled out of the hole and down to the water.

      The ball began strobing intensely, but Earl and Leo didn’t notice as Henry slipped in to his waist.

      Henry pried at the fish’s lips with his free hand, but the lake water did little to loosen the connection between Henry and his Redmouth. As he crouched in the water, the ball continued to expand like bread dough rising out of the sand and now strobed an ominous red. Leo and Earl looked toward the ball and then slowly back at him. Their eyes were now red. They ran towards Henry as he turned and swam deeper to get away.

      With only one useful arm, they caught Henry quickly and began to drag him back to shore.

      A Redmouth grabbed Leo’s arm and pulled him away from Henry, out into deep water. Kicking and screaming, he fought as the fish dragged him away. Earl let go of Henry, intent on racing to shore, but got hammered by another Redmouth before he could get shallow enough to be safe.

      For a second, Henry lay face down and didn’t move. In the dark water, something circled. Bigger than the others that had taken Leo and Earl. Nearly half the size of Henry himself. Slowly it worked its way up to the unconscious man and began to eat its brother, careful to get its lips over the flesh on Henry’s forearm. Then it bit down, drawing more precious blood, and Henry’s head jolted out of the water.

      Henry walked towards the shore with the much larger fish on his arm, tail dragging the sand. The tips of its spines glistened, and the ball started to strobe desperately at his approach. He stumbled up the beach, dizzily making his way forward.

      Something at the base of the ball moved.

      Henry stopped and watched cautiously. Linda squirmed out from underneath the ball’s gelatinous body, her hair a mess, clothes covered in slime. A smile spread across her face as she picked up a shovel and charged. Henry held the fish-arm up to block the blow of the shovel, and the handle broke over the fish’s ridged back. Before she could do any more, Henry kicked her in the stomach, and she fell away as the ball exploded with color; vivid, unreal colors at a pace so fast Henry felt disoriented. He heard his father behind him yelling horrible obscenities, cursing him for his useless life. Henry strode forward, the fish rigid as steel on his arm. He saw unknown and uncountable bodies lying on the beach all around him and felt guilty for their deaths. He shook this away and raised his arm. Then it spoke to him:

      “Henry. This is a mistake. I am here to help you.”

      The words seemed to echo in Henry’s mind.

      “No,” he said, dragging himself closer. “I know what you are.”

      “No, Henry. You know what those diseases showed you. Did they tell you they’re a parasite? That they stowed away on my ship? They aren’t what you think, Henry. They’re dangerous parasites.”

      Henry looked down at the fish attached to his arm. Rigid. Ready. Waiting.

      “I don’t blame you, Henry,” the ball spoke into his mind. “It’s not your fault.”

      Henry’s knees buckled, and he fell to the sand in front of the egg. Maybe he’d lost his mind, he thought. Listening to a fish…

      The ball stopped strobing and turned a darker color. In the moonlight, he saw his reflection in the dark mass.

      It’d feel so good to sleep.

      “Lie down, Henry,” the thing purred to him.

      He started to close his eyes when he saw Leo lunge at him in the reflection. He let himself fall completely to the ground, and Leo dove headfirst into the thing, rupturing it. Pus-like fluid hemorrhaged from the place he’d struck, and the voice in Henry’s head subsided.

      The thing turned a violent shade of red, and Henry watched Leo stand up, looking lost.

      “Henry! My God—what happened to you?” Leo said.

      The Redmouth at the end of Henry’s arm began squirming, and Henry stood up, lifted the fish above his head, and tomahawk’d its spines into the giant wounded ball. The ball swelled instantly, lumps forming all over its surface. Henry fell onto his back; a tentacle grabbed his leg and pulled him into the ball as it turned a sickly yellow and dragged itself to the water. It began oozing more fluid.

      Linda stood up, her eyes clear now, and began looking around.

      “Henry!” She yelled. “Henry!”

      Covered in slime, John stood up in the hole, watching the ball as it floated on the lake, its many tentacles sucking water in an attempt to purge itself. Before their eyes, the wounds healed, and they all felt it growing stronger again. And even larger than it was before. Then they felt it fill with fear.

      Large dorsal fins surfaced between the ball and shore, blocking its way to land. The ball swung its tentacles wildly in all directions, splashing water and casting a sickly yellow light over the beach. It captured one of the Redmouth’s by the tail and used it as a club, smashing several before one got close and drove its spines into the thing. The bright colors weakened as its fluids began leaking out again, floating on the surface like an oil slick. Its tentacles went limp, and fish after fish ran its spines into the belly of what remained of the ball. The four watched it grow smaller, shriveling down until there was nothing left but a cloud on the water.

      As Linda and Leo stood at the water’s edge, one fish surfaced to look at them. It stared emotionlessly, eyes nearly out of the water. Then it turned back and swam into the unseeable depths as Linda began to cry.

      They never found Henry’s body. There was debate for years about what happened that night—whether Henry was a hero or villain; nobody could decide. There are drunken stories told by night fishermen about a man seen walking the beaches of the island on moonlit nights. They say the bay has an unusual reflection in the moonlight, and everyone sees something different in its iridescent waters. None of the members believe the stories are true, but all of them refuse to go back to Moon Island to find out for themselves.