Razor-sharp teeth ripped into the left stabilizer of the sea skipper. Keith struggled to balance on the narrow seat as the water bike buckled from the impact. The sea rippled around him as the Alba Eel encircled its prey. Now stained a dark blue with the serpent’s blood the once clear water had become the predator’s new hunting ground. Its meal shook nervously on the sinking sanctuary which slowly began slipping beneath the surface of the ocean.

            Keith’s mind raced. Switching violently between fear and the determination to live, it was impossible to focus. His knees gave out from beneath him as he dropped to the deck. Something to his left caught his eye. Tied to the saddlebag of the sea skipper, a wooden gun receiver grew into two long metal rods. Fastened to the end of each rod, elastic bands stretched back just above the handle. Untying the gun from the saddlebag, Keith forced his mind to focus on the task before him.

            I’m going to live, Keith unbuckled the bag, retrieving seven narrow iron pikes.  The rod clicked into place on the ridge of the speargun. Aiming it towards the water, Keith’s eyes scoured the abyss for the lurking monster. Ripples surfaced sporadically around the island as if trying to fake out the prey. The scavenger’s eyes ripped from left to right after every disturbance in the water, waiting for the eel to strike. With only seven shots he needed to make them count. From the stories he heard, many Alba Eels had endured full volleys of field cannons before going down. What was a spear gun going to do? This wasn’t the time to give up. He’d gotten this far, he found the beef ravi-

            SHIT! Keith remembered leaving the treasure at the bottom of the stairs back in the plane. Wavering his focus for just a second, the eel struck. A plume of water erupted from behind him. A silhouette eclipsed the sun, casting Keith into a realm of darkness. Pivoting on his waist, he turned to face his attacker. Blood screamed from all over the eel. The nightmare hurled its entire weight at its target, fully intent on crushing it with its immense body. Without the proper time to aim, Keith pulled the trigger. The rifle’s tension released, sending the spear rocketing through the air. Immediately, the shooter dove to the left to dodge the eel just inches away.

Smacking face-first into the water, Keith’s body buckled before sinking below the surface. Behind him, the eel screeched as the spear pierced its flesh. Hooks extended as the rod emerged from the other side of the fish. The slackline snapped taught as the eel’s weight ripped it below the water. On the opposite side, attached to the speargun, the line pulled its user beneath the water. Now trailing the predator, Keith was pulled deeper and deeper, his wrist tied to the rifle. The water pressure slammed into his head as he descended further. From his left hand, Keith loaded another rod. Firing it, it pierced the eel’s body again, but the animal kept pulling the two deeper into the darkness. The pressure continued to build as Keith began to lose consciousness. His vision began to darken as his eyes bulged from their sockets. This shot had to be the one. Struggling to raise his arm, he loaded another spear. He took aim. Before him, the eel’s head whipped back and forth. Without the ability to get a clear shot, it would all have to rely on luck.

Relief was felt for the first time since he boarded the plane. The wrist wrap on the speargun loosed to reveal Keith’s skin rubbed raw from being dragged meters below the sea. Unable to cut the line loose, he ditched the spear gun as it slowly descended along with the once terrorizing predator. His chest caved as his lungs began screaming for air. As quickly as he could, Keith kicked his legs from beneath him. His quadriceps burned from the exercise, slowly pushing his body towards the surface. The light became visible again from the surface, giving Keith the extra push to keep swimming. Now pulling and kicking with all his might, he swam desperately as his lungs expended the remainder of their reserves fueling their host’s efforts.

Air filled the vacuum once again, spilling life throughout the body. Water splashed around him, as he gasped for air. Able to float now, Keith laid his head back in the water. The clouds drifted peacefully in the sky as an amber hue washed away the day.

Why do they get it so easy? Keith wondered, envious of the vapor titans. Staring them down, he imagined himself floating gently in the sky, roaming freely, escaping this hell. His daydream was cut short by the roaring of engines. Now treading water, he turned to face the source of the sound. From behind him, a jet-black sea skipper roared towards him. Geysers of water arced in its wake as its powerful engines ripped the water to shreds.

It’s Eugene. Keith could recognize that ride from anywhere. The water hog, whipped to a stop before him, splashing its wake in his face. Keith’s eyes burned from the saltwater. Unimpressed, he wiped his face, looking up to his boss. On the chestnut leather seat, a purple alien sat, looking intently at the stranded human. His head stretched sideways like a football, and a set of fins extended from each side. Between their cartridge structures, translucent webbing stretched paper-thin. He only stood about three feet tall, but he dwarfed Keith who still sat in the water.

“I was wondering when you’d get back, but I got tired of waiting,” the alien’s voice caught the back of his throat like he smoked a pack a day. “And look at where you are, dilly-dallying trying to catch fish? And you even lost the speargun? Ha! I knew I was right to come get you.”

“Why are you here Eugene?” Keith looked dreadfully at his employer.

“I got an urgent mission for you. They’ve finally found one. If you can pull this off, I’ll cut your debt in half!”

“What is it?”

Eugene’s eyes widened with greed, his dark lips creased into a sickly smile, “A McDonald’s ten-piece chicken nugget meal has fallen into the Triangle.”