Siren's Call

Chapter 3

I wake up on the beach, shivering and soaking wet. The first thing I notice, before I even open my eyes, is a sharp pain in my right arm. My spear-gun arm. The second thing I notice is that the storm still hasn't let up. It's still absolutely bucketing down rain, and every few seconds I hear sharp cracks of thunder that manage to catch me off guard every time.

Sitting up and opening my eyes, I scope out the landscape, well, waterscape, in front of me. As I suspected, it's still raining cats and dogs out here, and the lightning is even more aggressive than it was when I shot at that shark.

Wait a minute. Now I understand why my arm is so sore. The damn shark took a bloody bite out of me! I hope the little devil got what it deserved - a projectile to the face! But in all serious, I should probably get this stupid injury checked out. Just after I find Ben. The poor soul's undoubtedly worried sick for me, especially after I blacked out...

How did I even get here?

I rack my brain for possible answers, but I can't figure anything out. All I remember is that shark, then I took aim at it, then I shot at it, then... nothing. My mind goes completely blank from that moment on. Surely, the dingus shark didn't just take a bite of me, not like the taste, then leave? Sharks don't do that. I know, as I've taken out my fair few of fish-killers. So how did I end up here? Was I rescued? If so, why the hell did my rescuer leave me here to bleed out?

Sighing deeply, I rake a hand through my hair and scour the rocks in search of Ben. Did he help me? No, he couldn't have - the idiot can't swim. This makes no sense!

Screw this, let's just get Ben and go home.

I stand up and begin to make my way across the sand toward the rock pools, blood collecting on my arm and dripping off my fingers. How long was I lying there before I woke up? Well, judging by how light-headed I feel, as well as the blood that is soaking my wetsuit, I'd say too long. Far too long. At least a solid half-hour. Maybe even longer.

As soon as I make it to the rocks, I spot him. Despite the rain hindering my sight, I can recognise that black hair anywhere. My own hair would be the same colour, but I like bleaching and hair dye, so it's a big no-go on the matching hair colours. After a few seconds, Ben spots me, tensing up. He looks frightened, terrified even, as if he'd seen something that had shaken him to the core. Confused, I close the distance between us and look down at him.

Water drips down his face, his chest, his back. For some reason, his shirt is missing, and his hair is askew, as if he'd been panicking and tugging at it in frustration. He looks at me with wide, red eyes. His features and body language tells me that something has utterly terrified him. As I wonder what, I let my eyes soften, a hand coming to rest on his shoulder in comfort. Was he that worried about me?

"Ben, are you OK?" I ask, not even daring to make some silly joke or pun. My brother looks to be made of glass, so fragile, as if one push from me would send him shattering to pieces. He closes his eyes and shakes his head vigorously, as if the mere prospect of speaking would harm him. I pull him in for a hug. He doesn't pull away, which calms me down a little bit. What did he see that shunned him into this unusual silence? Normally by this point, he'd have gotten into some form of argument with me, or made a statement about how much he detested my 'stupid puns', or given me a totally random fact that I would never find a use for in my entire life.

Instead he just stands in my embrace, his shoulders shaking slightly as he lets out whatever was bottled up inside him through tears. I narrow my eyes. Whatever the hell has scared him, I'm going to freaking end them. Unless it was me, of course. I'm not particularly fond of the prospect of death.

I glance around him, looking for the fishing gear. There's nothing there. Did it get washed into the ocean by those damn waves? Seriously? That's more than $300 worth of fishing gear! How does it just disappear!