Free Octopocalypse by Joseph J. Bailey Page B

More
so than he probably knew.
    “All right. Here goes.” Mike wound
up and let go a beautiful cast, his line arcing long and far, just like the
balls he liked to throw on the field.
    “Beaut, loser. Are you aiming for
the shore or just trying to catch a swimmer?”
    Chris was on a roll today. Mike was
going to have to step his game up or else his friend’s head might swell two
sizes larger than it already was.
    “I see you’ve caught your first
shoe,” Mike said. Chris’s line bent noticeably. “If you hadn’t been so busy
trying to cool off by letting out hot air you might have noticed. At least
you’ll be halfway to replacing those sad sandals you wear to protect your
bunions.”
    Chris’s sandals were in
pretty bad shape. Worse than most. But everyone wore grungy stuff anyway.
    What else would you wear to the
beach?
    “Your shoes have so many holes
that I have to wear cologne just to mask the smell.”
    I snorted. “And I put on my dad’s
prescription sunglasses just so I can’t see your crab claws.”
    “Weak one, Mike.”
    “Just shut up and reel in your
tire. Maybe you’ll get a new one for your bike. You need it.”
    “I’m trying, idiot. If you’d actually
been paying attention, you’d see I’m struggling here. It’s only my superhuman
strength that masks my efforts.”
    His rod was bent pretty far
down.
    “Doesn’t look like you’re making
any headway.”
    “Doesn’t feel like it either.
Whatever this is, it’s not getting tired. It’s almost like it hasn’t even
noticed I have it hooked.”
    Now that was a scary
thought.
    “Wanna cut your line and start
over?”
    “And miss out finding out what
this is? Maybe it’s a chest of pirate’s booty!”
    “There isn’t pirate’s booty on the
West Coast, you idjit! At least not any for you!”
    Chris was starting to sweat.
    His rod wasn’t faring much better.
Much more effort and his line would snap. He and Mike hadn’t brought the
serious pound test.
    “Want me to spell you?”
    “And let you share in the glory?
No way!”
    That’s when he noticed a shadow in
the water.
    A big shadow.
    “Uh, Chris.” Chris obviously
hadn’t noticed. “I don’t think you’re bringing that up.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Look down, man.”
    The shadow was getting bigger.
    So were Chris’s eyes.
    “Maybe you should cut the line,
man. You’re not reeling that in.”
    “And miss seeing what it is? No
way!”
    I already had an idea of what it
was.
    An octopus.
    And a darn big one.
    A giant Pacific octopus could
weigh as much as a grown man. And this one looked like a contender.
    “It’s an octopus, dude. There’s no
way you’re getting that thing up. Just let it go.”
    Chris exhaled with a sigh, letting
his arms relax. “You’re probably right.”
    “If we were by the water and had a
net handy, I’d say go for it. But thirty feet is an awful long way to haul up a
ceph that size on your sad little line.”
    Chris smiled, setting his rod in
one of the pier’s rod holders. “Let me get my knife.”
    “I’ve got it.” I reached into my
pocket and brought out my grandfather’s old deer antler handled pocketknife. I
carried it with me whether I had pockets or not.
    I had a lot of fond memories of
Paps. Him showing me how to use this knife was one.
    I cut Chris’s line easily. I made
sure to keep my knife sharp and ready just like Pap said it should always be.
    Chris sulked. “You’re right, you
know. I never catch anything. I thought today was my day.”
    I didn’t say anything. Mostly
because he was right. I could have put him down then. The moment was perfect,
but I didn’t have the heart. After all, friends are really there to lift each
other up as much as we enjoy putting each other down.
    So I tried.
    “Day’s not over yet.”
    He looked at me with a wicked
grin. Plenty of fight left in him.
    “Besides, you’re with me . I
always take care of you.”
    He snorted derisively.
    “We’ll be eating mackerel or bass