The first time she saw him, the tide was pulling back, revealing a labyrinth of slick gray rocks glistening under the sun. Mara knelt at the edge of the water, her fingers tracing the ridges of a barnacle-encrusted stone, when the sound of boots crunching on gravel made her freeze. She didn’t need to look up to know it was him—Jace, the new guy from the city, always arriving in that same black truck with the dented bumper. He stood a few feet away, his shadow stretching across the sand like a question mark.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” he said, his voice low, almost apologetic. He tilted his head toward the sign behind her: PRIVATE PROPERTY. NO TRESPASSING.
Mara didn’t move. The salt air tasted metallic on her tongue, like the sea was bleeding into the wind. “I’m not trespassing,” she replied. “I’m collecting samples.”
“Samples of what?”
“The rocks. The tide pools. Everything.” She finally looked up, meeting his gaze—dark eyes, too sharp for someone who’d just driven in from the highway. He wore a faded bandana around his neck, the same one she’d seen on the cover of a music magazine she’d stolen from her brother’s room. “This place is dying,” she added. “I’m trying to prove it.”
Jace crouched beside her, his jeans brushing the sand. He picked up a small shell, turning it over in his palm. “It’s not just the rocks, is it?” His voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. “The fish are gone. The birds too. Even the crabs.”
She didn’t answer. The silence between them stretched thin, filled with the distant cry of gulls and the slap of waves against the shore. Mara could smell him then—cigarette smoke and something earthier, like rain on dirt. It was the same scent she’d caught in the wind when her father’s boat had last left the dock.
“Why’d you come here?” she asked suddenly.
Jace exhaled, setting the shell down. “I needed a break. From everything.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You’re not wrong. I’m here because my mom’s dying. And I couldn’t stand the hospital anymore. So I drove until the road ended.”
Mara’s breath caught. She hadn’t expected that. The way he said it—like it was a confession, not a statement. She studied him, the way his fingers curled around the edge of his bandana, the tension in his jaw. “I’m sorry,” she said, though it felt inadequate.
Jace shrugged. “It’s not your fault.”
They sat there for a while, the only sounds the creak of gulls and the whisper of water retreating from the shore. Then Mara stood, brushing sand from her jeans. “If you’re staying, you’ll need a place to sleep. My aunt’s got a cabin on the edge of town.”
He looked at her, surprised. “You’d let me?”
“Only if you promise not to touch anything in the kitchen. My aunt’s got a thing about her collection of vintage teapots.”
Jace grinned, and for the first time, Mara saw something in his eyes that wasn’t just exhaustion. It was curiosity, maybe even hope. “Deal.”
—
The cabin smelled like cedar and old books. Jace dropped his duffel bag by the door and wandered into the living room, where a stack of yellowed newspapers lay on the coffee table. He picked one up, squinting at the date. 1998. A headline caught his eye: LOCAL FISHERMEN REPORT UNUSUAL TIDE PATTERN. Beneath it, a photo of men in raincoats standing beside a row of empty nets.
“You’re really into this, aren’t you?” Mara’s voice startled him. She stood in the doorway, her arms crossed, watching him with a mix of amusement and something else—wary, maybe. Or tired.
“I’m trying to figure out what’s happening,” he said, setting the paper down. “The fish, the crabs, the birds. It’s like something’s poisoning the whole place.”
“You think it’s the plant?” she asked, stepping closer. Her scent was stronger here—salt and something floral, like jasmine. He wondered if it was her soap or just her.
“I don’t know. But the town’s been quiet for months. No one talks about it. Not really.”
Mara sat on the edge of the couch, her knees drawn to her chest. “They don’t talk about anything. Not since my dad disappeared.”
Jace hesitated. He’d heard the story—how the local fisherman had vanished during a storm, his boat found weeks later, empty and drifting. The police called it an accident. The town called it a warning.
“You think it’s connected?” he asked.
She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small vial filled with murky green liquid. “This is what I found in the tide pools last week. It’s not natural.”
Jace took the vial from her, holding it up to the light. The liquid moved strangely, like it was alive. “Where did you get this?”
“Down by the rocks. Near where the fish used to gather.”
He frowned. “You should’ve called someone.”
“Who? The town council? They’re too busy pretending everything’s fine.”
Jace studied her, really looked at her for the first time. The way her fingers trembled slightly as she held the vial, the dark circles under her eyes. “You’re not just trying to prove something, are you?” he asked. “You’re trying to find him.”
Mara’s breath hitched. She looked away, staring at the wall where a faded photograph hung—her father, smiling beside a boat, his hands calloused from years of work. “I don’t know what I’m trying to find,” she admitted. “But I can’t stop looking.”
—
They spent the next week searching. Jace helped her collect samples, his hands steady as he poured the green liquid into test tubes. They combed the shore, dragging nets through the water, but found nothing but empty shells and the occasional dead fish. The town watched them from a distance, their faces unreadable.
One evening, they sat on the dock, legs dangling over the edge as the sun dipped below the horizon. The sky turned orange, and the air smelled of brine and diesel. Jace broke the silence first.
“What if it’s not pollution?” he asked. “What if something else is going on?”
Mara didn’t look at him. “You mean like a curse?”
“I mean like something we don’t understand.”
She laughed, but it was bitter. “You think I haven’t considered that? My dad’s boat was found in the same spot where the fish vanished. The town thinks he’s dead. I think he’s somewhere out there, waiting for someone to find him.”
Jace reached over, brushing his fingers against hers. The touch was light, almost accidental, but it sent a jolt through her. “What if we find him?” he asked.
Mara turned to face him, her eyes searching his. “What if we don’t? What if we just end up like him?”
He didn’t have an answer. So he leaned in, and for a moment, the world narrowed to the taste of salt on her lips and the sound of waves crashing against the dock. When they pulled apart, Mara’s hand was still in his, their fingers entwined.
“I don’t want to lose you,” she whispered.
“You won’t,” he said. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”
—
The storm came without warning. One moment, the sky was clear, and the next, it was churning with dark clouds. Jace and Mara stood on the beach, watching as the waves grew higher, crashing against the shore with a fury that felt almost deliberate. The wind howled through the trees, and the air smelled of rain and something else—something metallic, like blood.
“We should go,” Mara said, her voice barely audible over the wind.
“Not yet,” Jace replied. He was staring at the horizon, where the water seemed to be moving on its own, twisting in strange patterns. “Something’s coming.”
A flash of lightning illuminated the sea, and for a brief moment, Mara saw it—a shape beneath the surface, massive and shifting. She gasped, stumbling back. “What is that?”
Jace didn’t answer. He was already running, pulling her with him as the storm surged forward. The wind tore at their clothes, and the rain came down in sheets. They reached the cabin just as the first wave hit, crashing against the door with a force that rattled the windows.
Inside, they crouched by the window, watching as the sea swallowed the shore. The water was darker now, almost black, and the shape beneath it was growing clearer. It wasn’t a creature. It was a structure—something vast and unnatural, rising from the depths like a forgotten monument.
“What is it?” Mara asked, her voice trembling.
Jace didn’t know. But he did know one thing: they couldn’t stay here. “We need to get out,” he said, grabbing her hand. “Now.”
They ran through the storm, the wind biting at their skin as they reached the truck. Jace yanked open the door, shoving Mara inside before climbing in himself. The engine roared to life, and they sped down the narrow road, the cabin shrinking in the rearview mirror.
As they drove, Mara clutched the vial of green liquid to her chest, her mind racing. The storm, the shape in the water, the silence of the town—it all connected. And she wasn’t sure if they were running from something or toward it.
—
They didn’t speak for hours. The road was empty, the sky still bruised with clouds. Mara sat in the passenger seat, staring at the vial in her hands, while Jace drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on her knee. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable—it was heavy, like the weight of everything they’d seen.
Finally, Mara broke it. “What if we’re not safe anywhere?”
Jace glanced at her, his eyes tired but steady. “Then we find a place that is.”
She didn’t know if he believed it, but she did. For the first time in a long time, she felt something other than fear. It was fragile, like a shell half-buried in the sand, but it was there.
As they drove into the unknown, the storm behind them, Mara leaned her head against his shoulder. And for once, she didn’t think about what they were running from. She thought about what they might find ahead.
