Chasing Cthulhu (Urf Oomons #2)

There is a giant, unknown sea-creature hiding right under my kayak. At first, I thought it was a giant Pacific octopus. That would have been incredible because I’m observing it in a cove in the Florida Keys. This is obviously Atlantic waters and there shouldn’t be a giant Pacific octopus here. It blends in very well with its surroundings. But I get the feeling like I’m being watched. You know, that prickly, goosebumps feeling?

Looking over the side of my kayak, I see it. My dog, Princess Peach, sees it too, and starts yapping her little furry head off. It has long tentacles like an octopus, but it’s kind of burrowed and balled up. I’ve passed over it a few times since first seeing it and can’t quite envision what its whole body looks like. But it has claws, and those claws are on the end of fingers, I swear to God! And once I saw a mouth full of teeth. I probably don’t have to tell you that’s weird for an octopus.

This time, I’ve strapped a waterproof camera to the underside of my kayak. Now I’m taking a video of this octopus-creature-animal. As unlikely as it seems, I believe I’ve discovered a new species. I need to Google how to go about this. I think I get to name it if I discover it, right?

My first instinct is to name it something funny, but when I think about it, I’m not actually any good at coming up with funny names. And I haven’t really gotten a good look at it. It’s so well camouflaged that I only ever see one part or another and not the thing as a whole. Maybe after I look at this video, I’ll be able to come up with a good name for this newly discovered species.

I’m startled out of my thoughts when Peach starts barking again. But this time she’s barking toward the house and not the tentacled creature on the seafloor. There’s a truck pulling down the long driveway of my very private vacation rental.

I’m instantly terrified, but I give myself a pep-talk. I’m sure it’s not what I think it is. Not everybody is out to get me. They’re probably lost.

I consider just paddling away. If I turn left out of this cove, I can paddle right over to the nearby restaurant and get out at their dock.

And then what?

I don’t even have my phone with me. I left it inside like a dumb ass because I didn’t want to be interrupted by notifications. Social media has become a danger to me in real life. It’s better to stay away from it as much as possible right now. I could paddle over to the restaurant and ask to use their phone, maybe? And then call the police or something? I stop considering this ridiculous scenario. The cops would laugh at me. It’s just a truck in the driveway. They aren’t breaking any laws. Plus, the restaurant hostess wouldn’t let me past the door with my dog in tow.

So that settles it. I can’t paddle away from this truck. I can wait it out though. Just stay out here on the water until they leave.

They shut off the ignition and step down out of the truck. There are two guys in jeans, T-shirts, and neck-gators. You know the kind of mask that is a piece of fabric that goes around your whole neck? That’s not too weird with the pandemic and everything, but it feels creepy.

They knock on the door. When no one answers, they hang around, leaning against the truck. One turns his head to look out at the cove, then sees me. He elbows his friend and they both walk over to the dock.

I don’t know what to do.

I’ve had a lot of bad experiences lately with strange men. I know I shouldn’t let it cloud my judgement and turn me into one of those women who hate all men. But I’m getting such a bad vibe.

The whole point of this trip is to relax, away from people. Avoid attention, stay off social media, just let it all go and completely unwind.

I’ve splurged on this vacation. I’ve spent so much that I hadn’t planned to. Not just on the rental, but also new swimwear, a kayak, a GoPro, life vests for me and my dog, and on and on.

I have been able to relax for once.

But here are these guys, coming up the driveway, waving and yelling at me.

“Hey, you!”

I paddle a little closer so I can hear them. “Can I help you?”

“This your car?”

I just look at them for a second, confused. What do they care about my rental car?

“Yeah, it’s mine.”

He looks angry about my answer. “Well, you need to get it out of here. We rented this place for the weekend and there’s not supposed to be anyone here.”

“No way,” I argue. “I’m paid up here for a month. You need to check the address again because you got the wrong place.”

“We don’t have the wrong place, you’ve probably overstayed—”

Then I can’t hear anything else he says because Peach starts yapping her furry ass off. Ugh, this is so annoying. I better not have to leave. I was just getting into the groove here. And what about the octopus-animal I’ve discovered? I’m going to be pissed if the owner has double booked and messed me up.

Paddling over to the dock, I haul myself out of the kayak, scoop up my pup, and walk toward the cottage. “I’ll just give the owner a call and see what’s up.”

And that’s when they grab me.