Unknown Waters

Col wrapped his fingers around the ratchet tightly, forearm muscles clenching, and pulled as hard as he could to loosen the bolt. When it gave way he let out a grunt of approval. His body swayed from the sudden change in momentum and he steadied himself.

Sweat dripped from his hair into his eyes. With the back of his hand he quickly swiped it away and rubbed the dampness onto his dirty jeans. He could hear talking from inside the office that was about ten feet away and wondered what his boss had gotten them into. The boat was a massive unit, a 50 foot fishing boat that took up nearly the entire shop, and the engine was destroyed. The owner had brought it in nearly four days ago complaining how a mysterious fog had blinded him while he was out fishing and his engine just stopped turning.

During the past four days Col had been ripping this thing to pieces to figure out what possibly made the $70,000 engine magically quit. So far he had found absolutely nothing. Not a spark plug out of place, wire snapped, nothing.

“Col!” The boys head snapped in the direction of the voice. His uncle, also the owner of the Pierce Boat Repair Shop, strolled out of the office with a greasy hand running through his hair. “Please tell me you found something we can ultimately say was bad and replace. This guy will not get off my back.”

“This engine is in pristine shape Uncle Bert. I just finished opening up the rest of the manifold, hopefully something will be in it.”

“I pray there’s something in it. I don’t care if it’s a damn crab.” Col chuckled under his breath as he lifted the piece of metal with his fingers. Pulling down the hanging light he used that stretched on a cord he narrowed his eyes to look at the inside.

“What the hell?” Slowly he lowered his free hand into the manifold, the small area entirely black save for the light above his head. His brown eyes caught sight of something slimy and instinct told him to grab it. Feeling it on his fingers he fought the urge to vomit, the texture giving him goose bumps as he lifted the substance into the light.

“Seaweed?” Uncle Bert leaned forward. “You’re telling me there was seaweed in the manifold?”

“That’s impossible. This thing was sealed shut,” Col muttered. His fingers rubbed the plant slowly while his mind tried to wrap around the situation. “There’s no way this got in there.”

“Ok, ok,” Uncle Bert scratched the scruff running along his chin. “This is what we’re going to do. Replace a spark plug and spray down that manifold until it’s clean. I’m going to tell the guy there was corrosion and a shaky plug.”

“Which is only worth about half of what I put into taking this shit apart,” Col pointed out.

“I’ll throw in extra labor hours.” Bert slapped his nephew on the shoulder and turned on his heel.

“Of course you will.” Col tossed the seaweed onto the concrete floor angrily.

An hour later Col had replaced the spark plug and had just finished spraying out the manifold when Bert called for lunch. Not even bothering to switch off the light the young man took off down the pier.

Moe’s Shack was the busiest restaurant on the water front. It may have had something to do with it being one of the few restaurants in their small town, but Col believed it was the food. Anything that was ordered off their menu came out steaming, fresh, and delicious. Ilsa, Florida was an unknown treasure chest town on the southern tip. With the population of just under 700, not many people traveled around their part of the state.

Col enjoyed the size of their town because it was peaceful. No tourists, no idiot boaters, just people who knew what they were doing. Every now and then they would get an outsider who would come into town with their big expensive boat, for example the moron who had his boat in the shop now, and try to fish in areas that were off limits. They were rebels, uncaving to law, and usually ended up with a dent or broken engine that he and Uncle Bert would fix for them.

Moe stood behind the counter of his shack with a chef’s hat tipping on the top of his head. A single black mustache ran along his upper lip, the color matching the black tufts of hair visible under the hat, and his skin was darker than the wood he was standing on.

“Col Pierce!” His voice carried through the lobby. “Here for the usual I presume?”

“Lunch time,” Col tapped the invisible watch on his wrist, “you know how I like it.”

“Coming right up my boy.” Moe slapped the counter and spun on his feet to head back to the kitchen.

Leaning against the outer railing of the restaurant Col took in the many people spread out at the tables. Behind them sat the rolling waves of the ocean that invited everyone to them when it was too hot to do anything else.

“Excuse me.” Col was pulled from his thoughts by a feminine voice. “You wouldn’t happen to work for the boat shop, would you?”

“As a matter of fa-“ Col stopped mid-sentence when his eyes landed on the girl speaking. She was only about an inch shorter than him with dirty blonde hair that fell to her waist in loose curls. A simple tank-top covered her torso and her jean shorts were cut off mid-thigh. Her shimmering grin eyes gazed at him with a coy smile on her thin lips. Just from one look at her, he could see that she was athletic, possibly a surfer or swimmer.

“You were saying?” She gestured with her hand to continue and he noted the beaded bracelet on her wrist.

“Sorry. Yes, I do work there.” Col gathered himself mentally and crossed his arms.

“My dad’s friend took his boat in there the other day and we were coming down with him to get it. I was just wondering if you found out what was wrong with it.” Col was so entranced by her voice that he almost missed her entire statement.

“Oh, well, we found a shaky plug and some minor corrosion in the manifold. Should be put back together by tomorrow and ready to go.” It was then that he noticed all the grease that covered his shirt and jeans, his arms dusted with black specks and a couple gashes from the day before.

“That’s good.” The girl almost sounded disappointed, dropping her eyes down to the ground as she rocked on her heels. “Nothing else then?” The way she looked at him through her lashes and bit her bottom lip had Col switching his leg position to hide the twitch starting in his crotch.

“I-uh-I found some seaweed tucked away in the manifold.” Immediately Col’s face turned to confusion. “I’m not entirely sure why I just told you that.”

“Seaweed?” Lifting her head the girl stared at him thoughtfully. “How strange.”

“Strange indeed. But it’s been cleaned so like I said, by tomorrow it should be up and running.” Col dropped his arms to his sides.

“Thank you Col,” the girl said while reaching forward to touch his arm. He looked down at her thin fingers before glancing to her eyes. “Now forget about our conversation. Eat lunch and return to work. You never saw me.”

“Col!” The boy looked to the chef who had yelled for him. “Your meal is ready my boy!” Col pushed himself off the railing blinking a few times. Taking another quick glance around the restaurant he shrugged, grabbed the Styrofoam box that was offered to him, and headed back toward the shop.


Amelia stood in the wet sand quietly. The breeze was just enough to cool her skin from the blaring sun above and the water lapping over her feet calmed her nerves. The beach was vacant that afternoon, something she was thankful for, while her mind clouded with images of her dreams.

She was always drowning, flailing about in the water, until a shadowy figure wraps their arms around her. She would wake up drenched in sweat with her fingers digging into the sheets. Col told her that the dreams would pass and brushed it off as no big deal. But after four straight days of terror, Amelia decided it was time to face the monster haunting her.

Her body was covered by a dark blue t-shirt and a pair of board shorts. Earlier that morning she had decided to attempt to braid her hair and after ten minutes of being outside, realized that the wind would have its way regardless of what she did. Now the loose pieces flapped against her face in protest. Taking a deep breath through her nose she lifted her foot, fists knotted at her sides, and surged forward until the water was up to her thighs. The current was already pushing against her, testing her, and she willed the negative thoughts away.

“Facing your fear alone?” A squeak escaped her as she jumped, her hand flying to her chest in surprise, and found the mystery guy from the party standing behind her. His skin seemed to sparkle in the sun, white tank clearly revealing the muscled abdomen hidden by fabric, with a pair of black shorts hugging his hips.

“You scared the shit out of me.” Amelia dropped her hand with a laugh. “It’s not nice to sneak up on people.”

“I would’ve called your name,” he began walking toward her, “but I don’t think you ever gave it to me.” From this close she could see the green swirling in his eyes and was again struck with his beauty.

“Yes, well, a girl can’t give her name to every pretty boy she meets.” She felt a blush rise on her neck when he smiled, exposing a perfectly straight set of teeth.

“I’m Wes.”

“Short for Wesley or?” She trailed off and saw him shake his head.

“Just Wes.” Nodding she turned back toward the waves. It wasn’t until he was finally standing next to her that she spoke.

“Amelia.” In her peripheral view she watched him grin. “Ames for short.”

“I like Amelia.” The way her name rolled off his lips gave her the shivers. “It’s classic.”

“Thank you.” Lifting a hand to push some hair out of her face she sighed. “Now what do you suggest is the best way to tackle my fear of swimming?”

“Well first off, I don’t think you should try to do it alone. Especially in the ocean. The tide can easily sweep you out too far.” Crossing his arms he faced her. “Lucky for you, you’re not alone anymore.”

“I can’t just march in there,” Amelia scoffed.

“You are correct.” He extended his hand to her carefully. “Baby steps first. I can already see the tension in your shoulders and we’re not even waist deep.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “I promise I won’t let you drown.”

“How can I trust you? I barely know you!” She threw her arms up in the air for emphasis.

“And yet you told me what your biggest fear is. That should count for something.” Considering his words she huffed. He watched her struggle with the decision before her hand shakily met his. “Now just walk with me. That’s all we are going to do is walk.”

Her entire body was on fire. He kept a tight hold on her hand while his other arm slid around behind her back. “Just tell me when you want to stop.” Her free hand reached to grab his now wet tank for reassurance.

The water rose steadily the farther out they moved. She found herself nearly latching onto Wes by the time the water was just under her breasts. Fear started crawling into her mind the moment she felt as if the ocean was going to swallow her whole.

“Stop. Please!” Amelia went rigid as a wave splashed up onto her chin. Wes pulled her into his chest where she easily buried her face, his arms providing the blanket of safety she needed. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

“Amelia it’s alright.” He ran his hand along her back. “You are doing great.” Her hands fisted his shirt. She could taste the salt in her mouth and wished she was back on the beach.

“I want to go back.” Wes nodded, guiding her back toward the dry sand she desperately needed to be on. Once she could lift her leg fully out of the water she ran, the hot ground welcoming her, and the air came more freely to her lungs. Collapsing onto all fours she squeezed her eyes shut to wield the tears. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I can’t.” She didn’t hear a response, just the whistling of the wind against the tall grass a few feet away. Turning over she opened her mouth to continue but stopped short.

There was no one there to hear her.

Wes was gone.