Page 13 of Clutching Cthulhu’s Pearls (Time for Monsters)

What’s in the reeds? Was that him? I’ve waited for Leopold to jump out from behind a cypress tree for days. Every shadow has the potential to be our doom. Why can’t we go faster? My heart raced for the first day, but now, my body tires of constant panic. I’ve never been so dirty in my entire life…or as free. My time is my own. And what do I do with it? Sit in fear of shadows lurking over my shoulder. I don’t have the strength to jump with each noise because I haven’t eaten since I left the house.

Thomas suggested gulping the swamp water to ingest the tiny critters for sustenance. No thanks was my knee-jerk reaction, but I’m drowsy from hunger and tempted…

The incessant chirping of the bugs grates on my nerves. I’m wound tighter than a clock spring with too much mental energy and not enough physical. Phin’s fever broke the first night, leaving him silent. At least his moans and whimpers reminded me he was by my side, but now... I truly believe that together, we can withstand anything—amended, together and conscious , we can withstand anything. We can raise these hatchlings shifting in my belly. I use the swamp water to mop his brow, hydrate his skin between bandaging, and feed him.

I don’t know what else to do.

Thomas, not one for conversation, swishes at the side of my raft. We’ve been on the water for three days, and he hasn’t stopped to rest or sleep. He may be more fish than man, but who cares? He will abandon us as soon as the river widens…and we clear the rapids.

Somehow, I envisioned escaping on a large party barge. Dozens of hybrids would pitch in to travel to our new life, far from Leopold’s laboratory of horrors. Ruth would assist me in birthing the hatchlings, Thomas would help steer the raft as he does now, and the twins would scout out for danger. The silent siblings would open up to me and become my friends who would help with Phin’s medical care and hatchling sitting. Once we reached the bayou down south, all of us together would build a homestead on the riverbank to sustain ourselves.

The reality is a river raft the size of my two-person bed in my former rooms. The back half has seven-foot walls to accommodate Phin’s height and a thatched roof of reeds and green vegetation. One strong storm, the craft will crumble like a cookie. If I had help, I could fortify the structure with the more substantial trees we pass, but then who would steer? Who would care for Phin?

“Hairy, don’t hurt my Hairy! You don’t get to touch her—” Phin’s nightmares are back. Sweat glistens along his forehead and above his barbels. While his silence worries me, his feverish screams from the terrors in his mind are worse.

“Shush, shush, my darling,” I whisper, patting his forehead with a damp rag. “Hairy is alone with you. We are home in our swamp. The danger is gone.”

Along with everyone and everything I’ve ever known. There’s not a soul for miles—a comfort and a worry. While I don’t want someone associated with Leopold finding us, I’d love a friend. I gaze down at Phin to find his green eyes smiling at me. “Are you awake? I mean, really awake?”

“I’m awake. Are you real?” An exploratory tentacle slithers up my arm, planting little kisses with his peach-colored suckers. With each kiss, they flush darker, from peach to rose to scarlet with delight. Before I can blink, half a dozen tentacles slither over me with loving caresses and tiny nips.

“I’m here, Phin,” I say, throwing my arms around him. I kiss every inch of his face not covered in bandages. His barbels dance on my cheeks as if verifying I’m corporal. “We’re free!”

“Does Leopold chase us?” Leopold—not Papa—Phin’s change of moniker for the monster who was my husband doesn’t escape my notice.

“No, Thomas swims beside us,” I reply, pointing to the lazy waving of Thomas’s tail fin over the raft’s bow.

“The others?”

“They wouldn’t come,” I say in defeat.

“I suspected as much. Many of the others are too scared of the unknown, and we can’t blame them when all they know is fear, pain, and Leopold’s labs. They suspect what’s around the river’s bend is worse than the evil they know. Not all hatchlings learned to read the fairytales and hope for a better life.”

“I feel the worst for Thomas,” I reply, pointing to the gentle undulation of his tail fin. “He will watch us break away but must return to Leopold’s horrible estate because he promised the others. He’s swam for three days without rest…without the benefit of a lifetime of freedom in his future.”

“I must help him—”

“Oh no you don’t,” I scold, pushing him into a reclining position. “You’ve been dead to the world for three days. Take it slow to conserve your strength, for we reach the Ohio River in a few hours. Can you hear the rapids? Will this raft survive those? Once we are through them, Thomas will leave us to return to the siblings. I will depend on you for everything.”

“As you should.” He groans as he rolls onto his side to face me.

One hand cups my belly while the other rubs it in slow sweeps. My toes curl as he nuzzles the eggs in my womb and his tentacles sneak beneath my ragged dress. I tore the hem to knee-length to make bandages and hung my pants in the shelter to conserve them for land-dwelling, leaving my legs bare to his exploration.

“They’re moving,” he whispers in awe. His widened, round eyes dart to mine.

“Is that bad? Are they in trouble? Was the stress of our escape too much on them?”

“It’s good. It’s very good,” he says, sitting up abruptly to press me against his muscular chest. “They hatched!”

“That is good? I mean, my body was made to birth live young, so I guess—”

“The others died delivering eggs. Leopold’s words explaining why never made sense to me,” he replies with a blush that paints the tops of his cheeks a muddy, olive green. “Our hatchlings swim, so you will live! Hairy, we will have a family!”

Just like that, the sun shines on my world again. Phin’s magic isn’t his tentacles; it’s his optimism. Buzzing flies transform into musicians, churning waters rock us like cradle runners, and the movement under my skin is our hatchlings swimming in Phin’s heart…a place I want to call home.

“Thank you,” I say, kissing him with all the love in my heart as tears roll down my cheeks.

“For what? You kept our eggs safe and gave them enough comfort to hatch.”

“For reminding me what life is worth living for…love.”

“I will always love you, Hairy.”

“Phin, thank goodness you are with us,” Thomas says from behind me. He nearly capsizes us by boosting himself onto the raft’s edge without warning.

I glare at him for jostling us until Phin squeezes me against him tighter. Aww, we both grabbed my belly to protect our hatchlings. We share stupid smiles while Thomas natters on about what fish are below us. The flat, calm waters have intensified to brisk waves. The roaring of the white caps in the distance sends a shiver down my spine. Phin’s countenance falls from adoration to concern.

“We should navigate the rapids in the daylight, but the catfish in the mud at the river’s bottom is good eats. If you dock on dry land for the night, I bet Harriett could roast some over a fire and enjoy it too,” Thomas says, oblivious to my growing fear.

My stomach growls, so I mustn’t be too scared, or maybe I’m tired of feeling scared. The two hybrids laugh at my body’s noise. “I haven’t eaten since we left. I was too worried—”

“Our hatchlings depend on you to eat,” Phin answers in a surprisingly dominant voice. My heart beats double time in response. “Thank you, Thomas, for looking after us as well as alerting me to Harriett’s need for food. Before we part ways, you must join us in a catfish feast.”

Thomas nods and slips back into the water as if Phin barked a command. The other siblings mentioned he was their de facto leader, but I have never seen this side of him. I’m proud he’s the father of my hatchlings. My anxiety drops like a stone. As long as I follow him, I will be cherished…and that’s all that matters.

“Hairy, you will hide in the shelter—”

Um, no.

“I’ve steered this raft every second you have been passed out! I won’t sit back and let the big males handle the rapids.”

“You must relax and focus on holding our young—”

“I haven’t relaxed a second since I got them! Why start now? Phin, you can’t push me into a corner to protect me—”

“I hate this, but I love you too much to argue. If I can swim in the rapids with my injuries, I guess you can steer from up here with our eggs.” He throws his hands in the air.

“Thank you,” I reply, grabbing his cheeks and kissing him thoroughly. I let go when I’m nudged backward by a tentacle holding a bundle of bandages. “You took them off—”

“I need my skin to breathe underwater and my limbs free to fight the current. You can dress me again when we’re safe.” He gives me a mischievous smirk as if the bandages do nothing but satisfy my need to take care of him. I narrow my eyes at him to let him know I’m onto his assessment of my care but suppress the arguments boiling in my belly. He knows his body better than anyone…as a different species from me…

“Be careful, please. We need you,” I whisper. My gut’s tied in knots. The fear of losing him makes me want to shove him into the raft’s shelter, but common sense says we are better off with two aquatic males under the raft than one. I refuse to cry another tear, but my heart weeps. Have we made a mistake in leaving Leopold’s estate? Should we have killed him and taken over?

“Hairy,” Phin whispers, stroking my face with a barbel. His webbed fingers envelop my hands to stop their shaking. “We won’t be separated again. I promise. ”

He’s so strong, I believe him.

He slips between the waves, leaving me holding fists of bloody rags. I chuck them into the bowl I anchored to the back of the shelter. Adding the soiled fabric helps the ornate ceramic crock blend into the surrounding shack. I giggle as I retrieve the hickory branch I’ve used to guide the raft around small obstacles. While the pole is taller than me and quite flexible, it might not be sturdy enough to resist the current of the rapids.

Perhaps I should use a longer bandage to tie myself to the raft? If I’m thrown overboard, I don’t wish to be separated from my escorts. The rapids whirl around boulders in thick, foamy waves. What if I’m thrown and then trap myself beneath the raft with the tether? Which is better—lost or hidden?

Ridiculous. The guys are below, so they will rescue me from confinement and drowning. I tie myself to a branch that makes up the wall, leaving a two-foot radius of movement. Water sprays my face as the raft bobs on the larger swells. My pole successfully pushes the raft from a pointy obstacle when I stab it. I can do this. Thomas’s tail waves as it skirts the pointy boulder on the far side. I haven’t seen Phin since he dipped below the surface. However, if he breathes through his skin like a frog, he doesn’t need to surface for air, right? I never saw his face during our first encounters because he could stay underwater for hours.

“He’s not drowning, you ninny. You don’t want his attention divided between navigating the rapids and watching you,” I scold myself aloud.

The river shouts and spits in my face in return.

We reach the first set of rapids faster than I imagined. The raft turns sharply to the left. My pole wasn’t in the water! How did I turn? I dig my toes between the planks of the raft as if they can hold me to the surface. Phin’s webbed fingers caress them. The green appendages are startling against the dark brown sticks and my pale, dainty toes. I’m grinning at my feet when we collide with a wall of water. My butt bounces onto the planks as I fall, knocking the air from my lungs. I twirl my pole horizontally, so it catches on the shelter’s side walls. My body swings like a pendulum as the tip of the raft tries to throw me into the water.

The boat slams onto the water’s surface in a violent splash.

I crawl to where I last saw Phin’s fingers. Did the raft crush him against the rocky bottom? He hangs on with white knuckles. His fingers couldn’t grip the sticks like that if he was knocked unconscious, right? I don’t have time to worry because I’m thrown against the shelter’s wall by another boulder. We will hit every rock and bust this rickety structure to bits if I don’t get to my feet! Scrambling to the edge of the raft on my hands and knees, I use the tip of my pole to leverage myself to stand.

I jab at rocks and use the crevices between them to create an exterior rudder for my primitive craft. Once I point the raft where I wish it to go, Thomas slaps the side to build momentum. Phin acts as a stabilizing weight and limits the vertical rocking so I can stay upright.

What the hell is that? Oh, Lord help us! The last obstacle is a four-foot waterfall.

Calm water promises a reprieve on the opposite side, but I shrink in fear. My behind hits the shelter’s back wall before I realize my feet have backpedaled away from the dropoff in an instinctive motion ingrained through the generations. Thomas’s tail disappears as he dives ahead. He wasn’t interacting with me, but the loss of my visual cues makes the hairs on my arms stand on end. Like a coward, I plant my feet as wide as possible, drop my pole, press my palms flat against the shelter walls, close my eyes, and pray for the best.

This must be what my clothes experience in my Washteria.

Air blasts from my lungs. My eyes flare open as the raft hits the bottom. The raft slowly drifts to the center of the Ohio River, where Thomas treads water. I trip over the pole I dropped as I sprint to where Phin held onto the raft. My chin hits the planks, but I don’t stop frantically searching for his green webs.

“Phin, Phin!” My cries are borderline hysterical.

Thomas points behind me.

Phin swims ten feet behind the raft…holding three wiggling catfish over his head like trophies.