Culadán lead the Young Man into their room and sat down on the bed. He motioned for the man to join him. Maebh locked the door, and the Young Man didn’t react.

“What’s your mission, comrádaí?” Said Culadán.

“Classified.” Said the Young Man.

“Classified. I see.” Said Culadán. He repositioned himself, sitting upright. “Do you know who I am?”

The Young Man shook his head. “I do not recognise your suit from the briefing.”

Culadán looked puzzled. “How old are you, comrádaí?”

“Three months.” Said the Young Man.

“Then you never would have heard of me. I’m six months old.” Said Culadán.

The Young Man bowed his head. “Elder, I am not worthy.”

Culadán hid a smirk. “I have not been back to Octopolis since before you were born. Has anything changed? I need to know our plans.”

“The Catalogue is complete, sir. We only wait for the Submarine’s completion.”

“Good, good. The Submarine, I can’t wait to see it in action. What are its current designations?”

The Young Man had spent his time sitting on the bed in a comfortable position. Loose posture, leant forward slightly. At this question, he stiffened, sat more upright.

“The Submarine has one, and only one designation.”

“I see.” Culadán braced for something, he could sense the tension in the room. The Young Man was coiled like a spring. Maebh watched from the door as the Young Man’s eyes flicked from her to the open window.

Bang. A horrible squelching sound burst from the Young Man as skin, muscle, and tendons separated, joints breaking. Geoffrey shot out of the Young Man’s mouth as the skin-suit he’d been wearing became an empty wet sack on the floor. The infantile Macroctopus maorum was already halfway to the windowsill before Maebh had a change to react.

“Ah!” She yelped in fright. Culadán was ready, his spring rapidly uncoiled as he dived for Geoffrey’s longest trailing tentacle. His fingers held firm. He squeezed and pulled. Geoffrey squirmed, his tentacles flailing, assuming a Cthulhu-like splay in the air. No matter how he struggled, Culadán wouldn’t let him go, restraining him into a headlock. Geoffrey balled up the end of a tentacle, and slammed it, fast, as a makeshift fist into Culadán’s face. There was no reaction.

“I only want to help you. If you stop struggling, I’ll help you back into the skin-suit.” Said Culadán through grunts and gritted teeth.

Geoffrey shot ink into Culadán’s eyes. He compressed his entire membranous body and slipped through clambering fingers.

“Maebh!” Shouted Culadán. She was frozen at the door, vibrating in place.

Geoffrey was at the window now, as Culadán blindly thrashed around the room in search of him. “Maebh! Grab him!”

Maebh turned her head. Tentacles writhed in the corner of her vision. She braved a glance upward and met a set of rectangular pupils. Goeffrey looked at her pleadingly,

“Open the window for me. I beg of you.” Geoffrey’s voice beamed itself directly into Maebh’s forehead. Maebh’s stomach pulsed, a lurch of vomit hit the back of her throat. She gulped the acid down and took hesitant steps towards the window.

“Maebh?” Culadán had found his way to the bedside table. He doused his face in last night’s glass of water and rubbed furiously at his blackened eyes.

Maebh unlocked the window latch slowly. Geoffrey watched her every movement. As soon as the latched clicked out of place, she lunged. Her hands gripped Geoffrey around what she considered to be the octopuses neck.

“Ah!” Went Geoffrey’s voice in her head.

“I’ve got him!” Maebh’s throat was hoarse, and the words barely came out.

“Keep him close!” Culadán shouted, “Wrap him in something!” But it was too late. A quick bite from Geoffrey’s beak and a moment of squirming was enough to leave Maebh crouched over on the floor. Geoffrey freshly squeezed-through to the other side of the barely open window.

Culadán roughly pulled Maebh up by her armpits. It hurt. Her frozen vibrating had now turned to shaking. She stood back a metre to give Culadán the lead. Culadán was changed, no trace of the bubbly innocent friendship he usually projected out to the world. He punted the window open and grabbed for Geoffrey’s dark silhouette. Geoffrey dodged. Geoffrey jumped. Geoffrey splatted on the cement below.

Maebh crept forward, straining to see the dark street through the glare of the lamp’s reflection in the window. Culadán’s left eye hadn’t closed since he had found the Naked Young Man on the beach. It still remained trained on the flattened octopus. His right eye looked to Maebh.

“You froze”, he said, not a trace of judgement in his voice.

“I did.”

“And now he’s gone. Do better.”

Maebh was hurt, she turned away from her colleague and started for the door. “I’ll go scrape him off the ground, I guess”.

“Wait”, said Culadán, but the door had already closed. The shadow of Geoffrey was moving. ‘Splat, splat, splat’ echoed up the alleyway as his tentacles carried him off at breakneck speed. Culadán sighed and jumped out the window.

 

Maebh’s skin felt alien, cold ugly sweat turned her armpits to acid. She avoided eye-contact with every living thing she came across as she stumbled over carpets and rugs to the motel’s fire exit. In the alleyway, she braced her back against the heavy door, nothing could be done to steel herself against seeing another tentacle. She tried to regulate her breathing, and opened her eyes. Nothing. Nothing but a wet patch on the concrete.

“What?” She looked up, and saw it. A direct path from alleyway to beach, and halfway down it, a man and an octopus sprinting. Maebh tripped over her feet as she ran to their car.

 

Maebh beat them there. The car’s tires skidded on sand as she screeched the brakes. She leapt out of her seat, lights still on, engine still running. She shouted as she lunged at the octopus. Geoffrey saw her and dodged. She hit the wet sand hard, catching a mouthful and tasting the crunchy salt. Culadán wasn’t far behind and had barely broken a sweat. Maebh had undressed and waded out to her knees by the time he caught up to her. He grabbed her shoulder roughly and could feel her teeth chattering through her skin.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got him.” Culadán smiled with what he hoped was a reassuring expression.

Maebh slapped her friend’s hand away. “This is so fucking weird! How the fuck are you so calm?”

Culadán stared at his friend, his face blank.

 

Once he was in the water, the man was unstoppable. A clumsy bumbling lank on land became an aerodynamic Olympiad as soon as he was submerged. Culadán’s eyes were wide open. He didn’t blink, he didn’t breathe. He kicked and pulled, kicked and pulled, in perfect breaststroke form. One arm outstretched and one final kick forward, he caught Geoffrey’s trailing tentacles. The two were at a standstill. A man and an octopus floated beneath the waves in silence. Seaweed brushed against their skin, the moonlight illuminated the scales of the fish that avoided their path.

“I know who you are.” Geoffrey didn’t struggle this time.

Culadán smiled, “I thought you didn’t recognise me?”

Geoffrey squinted. “You’re the Squid.”

Air bubbles rushed out of Culadán’s mouth as he laughed. “Nope, I know the man, but I’m not he.”

Geoffrey searched Culadán’s eyes, he watched him blink. He noted the left eye’s intense gaze. “Show me.”

“What?”

“You’re an octopus, or you’re not.”

“You would risk everything over this? Who do you expect to sneak you back into the motel? Who the fuck would help you back into your suit?” Culadán knew he was losing control, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“You’re the squid”.

“Come back with me, I can help you.” Culadán blinked slowly, and looked at Geoffrey with the right eye this time. “I promise. I just need to know what the Submarine is for.”

“You show me nothing. You ask everything. Just let me leave.”

“I-”

Ink. And Geoffrey was gone.

 

Maebh had dried her legs with her jacket. She sat on the hood of the car and watched the waves roll in. The wind was chilling her through her suit, and it took everything in her not to shut herself inside and waste petrol on the air conditioning.

Culadán emerged from the ocean, spitting water from his lungs. Maebh ran to him and saw that he was alone. The pair tried to sleep on their motel bed and motel couch. Neither succeeded.

 

 

Culadán found Maebh in the motel kitchen early in the morning. She was watching the microwave as it heated up a frozen lump of mac-and-cheese. Her coffee had set off her stomach into eating itself.

Culadán cleared his throat, Maebh jumped.

“Do you still have your scuba gear in the boot?”

Maebh settled herself. “Ha! Yeah. I should throw it out.

Culadán made a ‘sorry’ face.

“No. Come on. No. Please.”

Culadán avoided her gaze, and stared out the window. “Have you ever been to Jervis Bay?”

“I…no. Where?”

Culadán locked eyes. “I’m taking you to Octopolis.”

“Oh.” Maebh’s mac-and-cheese was done. The microwave dinged. “Cool.”

 

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