What followed, Tabitha would replay in her mind for days to come. She pulled the trigger: missed – she knew it instantly. Simultaneously, Chela collided with the beast as water smashed into the dock’s edge, spraying the scene and shrouding Tabitha’s vision. She prepared for a second shot, but released her trigger as the wall of water descended. With it, so did the man’s body, crumpling over Alfred and Chela.
The waves became violent with blood. Though it was clear a storm was crossing the horizon, the flurry of water surrounding the dock seemed somehow more alive, lapping at the gore pouring over its edges, rabid for more. Through Tabitha’s scope, she could see Chela sitting up and kicking at the man’s lifeless body to get him off herself and Alfred. She was covered in blood. The dock was drenched in a mix of violence and sea water, spreading the mess farther than it may have otherwise appeared. Chela had her hands planted behind her on the dock as leverage to give the oversized man one final shove. Her hands gave a little in the slick dock, sending crimson ripples out and over the edge, tantalizing the water before the feast.
The man finally rolled over into the water, and for a moment the world went calm – there was no brewing storm, no dock, no beast, no asylum of corpses, not a splash. The water seemed to form around him in acceptance – it was in no way disturbed. Tabitha looked out into a calm expanse of water and wondered how far she’d gone from home, how much farther she’d need to go to get back there. She saw the reflection first. She wasn’t sure if it had always been there or if it had only now presented itself – the moon, darker, deeper than she’d seen it before, perhaps larger too.