Fear
You mind your gramps this weekend, hear me?
Eat all your vegetables,
And don't cause trouble.
If you really need me, you have the phone.
I may not always have reception on the boat,
But I'll always have time for you.
Marie bites back a snort of laughter. "And then I suppose you took that brand-new roller Sheldon's been trying to perfect for months and outpainted everyone who'd tested it before you?"
Callie shakes her head. "No, then I tried to do that cool new flick move he's developing, lifted it over my head, overbalanced, and fell backwards."
Marie starts to giggle, one hand lifting to cover her mouth even with the mask.
Callie lowers her shades to peer at Marie, her eyes dancing. "Knocked a hole in the wall of the testing room, too."
Marie laughs outright now, and Callie joins her. The two start walking again, side by side, towards the drain. Marie checks her phone; she hasn't heard from Gramps all afternoon, which is a little unusual. He was planning to introduce them to Agent Three later, and Marie was going to ask Three if they were a boy or a girl, since Gramps seemed confused about it. No returning zapfish tonight, and a good night's sleep for the first time in a while.
No one pays them any attention as they walk towards the drain, though Marie checks anyway. The closest squids are dancing in sync, a happy jelly trying to follow along. Other than them and a lone inkling hurrying out of Ammo Knights, the square's deserted. The sun's setting and it's late enough that most people of all species were home.
...And while she looked around, Callie'd already gone down the drain. Someday, Cal'll learn patience, but right now Marie just shakes her head and follows her cousin.
When she emerges, she almost crashes into Callie. She opens her mouth to say something and forgets all about it, because Cuttlefish Cabin is a mess.
Everything is torn down. The bulletin board in front of the main wall was tipped over, and it looks like someone, or several someones, stepped on it, dragging their tentacles. The monitor, normally on top of the cabin, lies broken on the ground to their left; the antique stoplights from the human world have been wrapped around the tree.
Marie runs forward, ignoring everything else, and ducks inside. Books and papers everywhere, torn. The fiery mark of a blaster shot at short range is clear on the untreated wood in several spots. And the tanks—
The zapfish tanks. Two are shattered, and instead of being on a shelf, seven of them are on the floor. One has tape over its side, not quite covering the spiderweb of cracks, and another's lid is dented, but they've been stacked neatly to one side. On the only stable shelf stands the last tank. It's occupied.
They'd taken all the zapfish back yesterday.
Agent Three must have retrieved this one. Cleaned up after—after...
Marie turns around again. Callie is behind her, tears streaming down her face. She turns Gramp's favorite chair upright and fumbles through the wreckage, searching, searching.
Marie leaves her to the cabin and moves outside. The couch is in pieces. There should be a radio—what they use to communicate with agents in the field. It would have recorded what happened.
Gramps isn't dead, he can't be dead.
The radio is on the ground behind the kettle, near the couch she and Callie use to look at the stars (tipped over, but it's all right.) The batteries are somewhere on the ground, and she can only find one.
Footsteps behind her. Marie turns, to see Callie holding out the other battery. She's still crying, and her hand shakes.
Marie's hands are shaking, too, but she gets the batteries in and rewinds it. Presses play. The sun sets as they listen.
Three was fighting an Octoweapon. Gramps isn't dead. Three vowed to find him. Gramps was squidnapped.
Marie turns to Callie and hugs her. Callie hugs back. And the two of them stay there, crying, as the stars come out.
Author's Notes:
Thank you.