4. Nick

Seconds from drowning, and somehow that feels like it would have been the better choice, rather than having my organs picked apart by some … some sort of hideous monster.

My lungs are on fire, and running right after expelling that much water from them feels like hell, but I can’t stop. Not when there’s something that looks like that creature out there. It may have saved me, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stick around and become its dinner. With my luck, it was probably sizing me up to see how much of a challenge I’d be.

Which, let’s be real, I’m not much of one. Not without my shotgun, which Luther made sure he took before dumping me.

I’m so lost in my panic that I don’t notice the tree roots sticking up out of the ground, not until the dirt rises to meet me. My jaw slams into the cold, hard earth, and all the air evacuates my lungs. Again.

Where am I? I know they brought me out to the lagoon to get rid of me, that much is obvious. But I have no idea whereabouts in Lagoon L’Amour I am. Thanks to super strict environmental laws protecting the area, no one is allowed to camp, hike, or fish anywhere near here. Not like the law ever stopped any of us from breaking it, of course. But I’ve never been here, and I don’t expect to find any other people out here, either.

Does anyone know there are literal bipedal lagoon monsters just strutting around out here? Maybe. That might be why the Mackenzie Brothers toss all their cast-offs into the lagoon, because they know there won’t be a body to wash up in Sugardove Harbor later.

I roll onto my back and stare up at the canopy of trees, which are so clustered together I can’t make out a single crack of sunlight. I’m about to sit up when I hear something rattle, and my heart leaps into my throat as I bolt upright. The biggest snake I’ve ever seen in my life is only a foot away from me, and its tail is shuddering in warning as it curls back, poising to strike.

There’s a very real possibility I may have escaped the lagoon creature only to run straight into another death.

I lick my lip as I push myself back in the dirt. Just as the snake snaps forward to bite me, something flings it into the air, sending it hurtling into the bushes in the distance. I blink, unsure what just happened, then let out a pathetic little whimper.

It’s them. The green bog creature is back, and this time they’ve brought a stick with them. Only it’s not a stick—it’s a spear, and they plant it into the ground at their side.

The creature is massive, at least eight feet tall or more, and covered almost entirely in dark green scales. With the fins on the side of their head in lieu of ears and the gills on their neck, I’m guessing they breathe water like a fish, yet I see a human-like nose in the middle of their face, along with a pair of beautiful glimmering yellow eyes. A thick curtain of dark lashes rim their eyes and flutter as they blink. Their damp hair is long, wavy, and chocolate brown, clinging their face and body. Kind of beautiful, except for the webbed hands, feet, and alligator-like tail that’s swishing behind them.

Most surprising of all is the set of small breasts covered in glittering, dark green scales. Okay, definitely wasn’t expecting that.

A female? But this is a fish-lizard person, right? Why would they have—my brain can’t handle any of this shit right now, so I focus on maintaining eye contact instead. Or am I not supposed to look it in the eyes? What’s the correct protocol, here?

She blinks slowly at me, like she’s waiting for me to say something.

“Um … thanks?” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. I carefully peel myself up off the ground and dust myself off. My white oxford shirt, now ruined, hangs limp and unbuttoned. My jacket, along with my tie, are gone. Lost to the lagoon. And my pants are so waterlogged I feel like I weigh an extra twenty pounds.

Her nose scrunches up with what looks like disgust as she starts to scold me.

I grew up poor. My dad died when I was three, and my mom worked three jobs just to make ends meet. I barely ever saw her. Once I turned fifteen and could start applying for jobs, I grabbed one at the local Radio Shack and worked my ass off between school and sports. All so I could save up enough money to have what other kids in my class were just given by their parents: a laptop that could run games. First game I grabbed wasn’t a shooter, but a little life simulator called The Sims.

And in The Sims, they spoke a language called Simlish. Which doesn’t sound all that different from English, really, but it is. And that’s what this monster woman sounds like right now. She sounds like she’s speaking Simlish. The sounds are similar, but I have no idea what she’s saying.

She flails her arms around, and I get the general idea that she’s pissed off that I ran from her. After enduring thirty seconds of her verbal beat down, I lift my hands in surrender and smile softly. I should probably try appealing to her better nature, if she has one. I still can’t look her in the eye, but at least my knees aren’t giving out yet.

“Okay, okay, I got it. Sorry. Yes. Running away into the forest was a stupid idea. Thank you for dealing with the snake,” I say.

She tilts her head at me and scoffs. This woman-creature just scoffed at me. Why do I find that so endearing?

“What’s your name?” I ask. She continues to stare at me with a vacant look. So, I pat myself and say, “Nick. I’m Nick Chastain. Niiiiiiiiick.”

She rolls her eyes, then places a hand on her chest and mutters something under her breath.

Blinking, I say, “I’m sorry. I can’t … I can’t hear you. What did you say?”

The creature shakes her head and rumbles a low growl in warning, then takes a few steps toward me. I back away instinctively. She takes another step toward me, and I back away again. Then she sighs, stamps her foot, and points to her side.

I’ve owned dogs before. And in this situation, I’m the dog, and she’s telling me to heel. I move to her side, not wanting her to have to chase me through the woods again, and gulp. I’m so fucked, aren’t I?

“Nick,” she murmurs. “Oona,” she says, patting her chest.

“O-oon—” I start, but her accent was so thick, I’m not really sure how to pronounce it. I clamp my mouth shut, not wanting to offend her by getting it wrong.

She lets out a soft snarl as she shakes her head.

Heat ignites my cheeks and neck as shame overwhelms me. First try, and she managed to pronounce my name correctly. And … I didn’t even really try to pronounce hers. Okay, I’d be annoyed with me, too.

So, I lick my bottom lip and say, very slowly, “Oon—” I pause, sigh, and shake my head. She grabs my cheeks in her palms and forces me to look into her eyes, which have suddenly changed from inky black to bright purple. It’s alarming, but beautiful. “—Na?”

She nods along, encouraging me. My heart thumps in my chest as joy lights up within her eyes. “Oona? Your name is Oona?”

Oona claps her webbed hands together in applause, like I’m a pet who just learned how to sit on command for the very first time. Hooray for me. And hooray I’m not dead yet, I guess?

Oona pats me on the top of my head and clicks her tongue, then taps her side as she starts to head deeper into the woods. I follow along, doing my best to keep up with her wide gait. Why do I get the feeling I just became someone’s pet?