What Lurks Beneath

On the shallow bottom, she ceased moving, tasting the water in the lagoon. Tonight, there was nothing.

On another recent night, near here, she had found the dead whale. And the other, living prey on which she had also fed. The unusual prey that had now become a regular part of her diet.

She could not stray far from her den. Not now. But she could not suppress the nagging urge.

She moved along the familiar sandy bottom, again pressing herself low beneath the gentle waves, and maneuvered her great body toward the beach, over coral heads and sea grass beds until the waves started to break over her leading arms. There, she stopped. Felt. Tasted.

She slid back into the deeper water of the dark lagoon and moved down the beach, remaining in the shallows. This place was not safe, not comfortable. But perhaps it would again yield sustenance.

She felt the first vibrations.

Click. Click-click.

She stopped moving. She turned back toward shore. The clicks rose in intensity as she neared, arousing her, but again she was confronted by the impassable shallows.

Click-click. Click-click-click-click.

This was food. And it was very close.

She moved quickly toward the source of the vibrations, compressed between the waves and the jagged coral bottom, now past the sandy beach. As she slid into a rough channel of deeper water toward the sounds, her writhing arms slid fluidly around most of the obstructions, but in her haste she broke off many fragile coral fans and pillars, scattering the terrified sea life.

Mild waves now crested over the small island of her protruding flesh. She paused in the shallows at the very edge of the ocean, at the very edge of her own world, and extended the first of her arms.

Immediately, the long, exploring appendages crossed the surf line. They felt impossibly heavy as they left the water and entered the space above it, and then met with the firm shore. The friction between her own flesh and the rigid surface of the land was incredible, but the arms found it even harder to raise themselves into the thin, unsupportive air above.

Testing the unfamiliar world, moving in various ways, some of her arms soon began to move most effectively in hydrostatic fashion, by inching themselves along the hard ground in short, regular sequences. Extensions, followed by contractions. This collective information was shared, passed through her brain and to each of the other limbs.

Still, no food was encountered. And the clicking sounds were gone. From where had they come?

The arms explored, on land and in the sea. One of the arms still submerged beside her found a break in the land; a narrow hole, where the seawater extended farther into the hard, unyielding landscape.

The single pulse of sound reverberated from within the narrow hole and again passed into her soft body. Whatever was emitting the clicks was close. Very close. Somewhere within the hole, or just past it. But even the tip of her tentacle could not pass into the tiny opening.

There was food here. She was certain. But she could not reach it. She expelled an enormous measure of spent seawater, clouding the darkness around her with sand.

Ingesting more water, she calmed. More patiently now, she carefully felt at the opening. Water flowed slowly past the exploring arm, steadily, into the hole. There had to be water beyond.

She remained in the surf line for some time, testing the shore for a route. But there was no deep water. No submerged tunnel besides the tiny hole. No passage. Her hunger nagged at her, a wrenching thing inside her. Commanding her to action.

She focused on the four arms still extended out of the water, and pulled her huge body several more inches from the water.

In coordination, the arms heaved her forward, this time assisted by the push of the arms gathered behind her. The oppressive weight of the outer world increased, and for the first time she found it difficult to take seawater in to oxygenate her gills.

She contracted her arms again.

Dragging her immense, saclike body out of the water and onto the dark rocks, she felt impossibly heavy. The rough edges cut into her skin as she crept forward, as tons of flesh pressed down on itself, unable to rise off the surface without the necessary hydrostatic support of water. But the jagged surface was narrow, quickly replaced by an equally hard, but mercifully flat, surface. As she moved farther from the water, the weight of her boneless body crushed down on itself, flattening painfully, the oxygen in her blood quickly dwindling as she found herself unable to breathe. Seawater drained from within her cavity in sheets.

Still she pressed forward.

Splayed on the dark concrete, her lead arms groped desperately ahead of her. There had to be water somewhere ahead. Her trailing arms were now leaving the ocean behind her. She felt the first impulse to stop. To turn back. A faintness began to overcome her. Her arms extended again. With immense effort, she lurched forward. Extended an arm as far as its length would reach.

She dragged her bulk toward it, along the hard ground, feeling many small tears erupting in her flesh. But now her arms were entering another pool of water. Immediately, their chemical receptors tasted the prey. The clicking sounds had come from here. But thoughts of feeding had left her mind. She felt herself losing consciousness, and desperately pulled her bulk toward the water. Toward safety.

She reached the edge. The pool of water dropped off steeply, providing a solid anchor from which to pull with her lead arms. She pulled again, and her flattened, wet body overhung the lip of concrete. A final lurch, and then she was rolling forward.

She sank heavily into the pool, sending a large wave across its surface.