Strong Like the Sea, стр. 33
His eyebrow lifts as he studies me. “I already got it. Weren’t you paying attention?”
“I know, but I thought I could do it again—kinda like practice so I can make sure to do it right.”
He purses his lips and then hands the half-empty vial to me. “Well, I suppose that’d be alright. But don’t open it until you’ve already got it under the water. No contaminating the sample.”
“Okay.” Tiny silver fish dart away as I wade to the center of the wash and thrust the bottle as deep as I can before pulling the stopper. Air bubbles tickle my chin, and a wave drenches the side of my face, but I press the stopper in to close it tight. The vial is clear and full when I wade out and pass it back to Uncle.
He grunts in approval. “Good.”
We go from place to place across the bay, sometimes by the shore, sometimes out on the water. Each time we stop for a sample, I try to ignore the dark reef and deep water below and focus on the task. Dunk, fill, stopper the vial, and hand it to Uncle. Move to a new spot and do it again. We get the job done, but it’s mostly in silence.
In Mom’s stories, she and Uncle talked about loads of stuff like the scientific method, facts, and ocean creatures all the time. But this Uncle seems determined to say as few words as humanly possible. Maybe he just likes the sound of the waves . . . or maybe he just really doesn’t like me. Probably he wishes Mom was here instead of me.
I understand, because I wish that too.
After an hour, the wind and waves calm to almost nothing, and I ask a question just to break the silence. “So, how many more samples do we need?”
“Almost done. One more from the eel hole should do it.”
My hands freeze halfway to the water. Did he say eel?
Now it’s my hands that shake.
I know he means the wide circle of clear sand surrounded by reef. That “eel hole” doesn’t actually have eels in it—at least no more than the normal ocean. My brain clicks through the logic. But I still imagine a Godzilla-sized eel snaking up from a hidden tunnel wide enough to swallow a house. There’s no eel that big. Even the viper moray eel that haunts my dreams could never be that big. The hole is just a natural formation around a bunch of sand. Sand in the middle of reef. Nothing scary. It’s illogical to be afraid, and I know it.
But there’s nothing logical about my fear.
When my grip on the sides of the kayak doesn’t stop the tremors, I tuck my hands under my armpits, tight against my sides.
We slice through the water, more glass than waves, a hidden world slipping by below us. Shadows of fish streak across the browns of the reef as we fly over the submerged landscape. Dips and hollows, coral and seaweed. And all at once, the reef disappears.
“Reach as far down as you can for this one, hah?” Uncle turns us to face the ocean and we stop in the center, surrounded by a ring of coral.
Without moving my head, I peer down into the clear water. Be logical. It’s sand. Just sand. Eel hole is a local name for the place, nothing more.
Except, why would there be coral everywhere but here? What kind of eel or creature could keep this open? How huge would it have to be to carve it all out?
“Alex?” The kayak shifts as Uncle Tanaka leans close and taps my shoulder. “Hey, if you’re tired, we can head in right after this. One more, okay?”
One more, and I can go back to land. I close my eyes and take a big breath. “Okay. One more.” I pull one of the last vials out of the case and lean to the side, but I can’t make my hands go that last inch into the water. We float on gentle waves over the maw of the eel hole with me hovering at the water’s edge. That last inch, as impossible to cross as a force field.
Come on. Just do it. Do it!
The trembling moves up my arms and races down my body until my knees bounce and my teeth chatter. If I give up, I’ll never find the answers to Mom’s clues. I have to do this. I will do this. Just put the bottle in the water and close it up.
One, two, three!
“Alex, what’s wrong?” Is that irritation in Uncle’s voice, or worry?
“I got this!” Teeth gritted, I lunge for the side, pushing the bottle down into the depths. It’s the bravest thing I’ve ever done—or maybe the stupidest.
The kayak tilts with me. Too far. And my hands are way too far down to grab hold of anything.
My scream is cut short as water fills my mouth, and I’m swallowed into the depths of the eel hole.
Sounds stop.
Light shifts.
Bubbles slip from my lips as I tumble upside down, hair tangling my fingers and face like fishing lines.
Somewhere above, a muffled voice calls my name. “Alexis! Swim!”
A current rushes across my skin, pulling me away from shore. Saltwater blurs and stings, and the shadow of the reef looms close as something dark moves in the water. Something alive.
“Alex!”
A creature of the deep, coming for me.
Not again!
I spin away from the creature and kick for land. With powerful strokes, I scoop water behind faster and faster. My head breaks the surface and I gasp, the shadows behind growing ever bigger inside my head. Throat burning, I push hard for shore.
“Alex, wait!”
Memories of another time, another place, fill my head with dread. Alone and swept out to sea, crying for help that could not come. I’m helpless. Lost, a plaything to a monster.
No! Not again—never again. I can’t stop, can’t let