In the mountains, after seeing you off
At sunset I chose the brushwood gate.
The spring grasses will be green again next year,
Will you, my prince, return or not?
- Wang Wei, "Seeing Off a Friend"/The Flowering Plum and the Palace Lady, trans. Hans Frankel
-.-.-
Dreams came uneasily to Chase. To him, they were fickle things. Obscene static, of which no sense was to be made. Long after the vacation plans were all agreed upon and the pups had gone to bed, the Shepherd found himself pathless. A singular light among immeasurable halls of darkness unaccounted for. The absence of color had no formlessness. They were as tentacles, groping about mindlessly. Seeking to plant their tendrils about him and make him a part of its endless brood.
Chase grumbled and moaned in his sleep, but this did not mean he slept heavily; this was akin to how he spent his first few nights at the Lookout. A mess. Never were his dreams a fantastical world of imagination. They were too complex for him to decipher. Puzzles for which there were no answers.
He was never fond of sleep, as you may guess, for the fear that life was a dream; that he'd awaken only to find himself back in that godforsaken Adventure City, starving and alone.
That is why he felt grateful for Marshall to shake his dreams away early the next morning.
"Come on! Get up, get up!" Marshall exclaimed, bounding into the Shepherd's kennel. Taking his forepaws and shaking his friend's shoulders, the Dalmatian easily tore Chase from his slumber.
"What time is it?" Chase croaked, stretching as he let out a yawn.
"6 AM, sharp!"
Chase's amber pupils emerged from their lids, widening in surprise.
"6? Pah! God, Marshall, not even I am used to getting up that early."
"Well, chop chop, buddy. Even Rocky's up. He's never up for anything anymore. Everyone is excited for this, so you should be too! Come on!"
"Yeah, yeah," Chase mumbled, shrugging his off his best friend's words. "Head back to the Lookout. I'll see ya in a minute."
"All right. Slowpoke!" Marshall fled from Chase's pup house, wagging his tail at a frantic rate while bumping into Rubble and Zuma.
Chase got down from his bed, stretching once more. The intense sensation of dread and unease evaporated as he looked at himself in his mirror. He was no longer that mewling little rat the City had made him out to be. "Let's get nuts," the Shepherd sighed, leaving his pup house behind. Already, Chase was prepared to take the day head-on. He had to be.
-.-.-
Cap'n Turbot sat up early that morning on his boat, fishing in the bay. This was an ordinary day for him; nothing in the water's depths seemed interested in his bait, and he was yet to find himself in a typically unusual situation. The air was thick with the smell of saltwater and the shrill cry of seagulls overhead. Adjusting his glasses, Turbot reeled in his line, setting it aside for now.
"Wally! Here, boy!" Turbot called, whistling and imitating a Walrus bark. There came no response from the tusked mammal. The waves crashed slowly about his boat, but they were never large. It was as if all creatures beneath the waves had overslept, unconcerned with the matters above. "Strange." His mood very slowly enlightened alongside his face as he thought of something. "Well, let's try and wake that blubbery behemoth."
Turbot went into his main cabin, returning soon with a small box in his hands. Forcing a spoon into the tightly packed lid, he pried the canister open. A foul stench emerged, one which Turbot found nostalgic comfort in.
The captain's hands shook eagerly as he pulled the squid jerky from the container. He gave it a deep sniff, sighing in satisfaction before chucking the cephalopod chunks into the water below. They floated there pointlessly, alone and apparently unwanted by the lonely sea.
Turbot sighed. "I wonder where Wally's wandering."
"Arf! Arf!"
The sharp barks pierced the air, causing the captain to jump in surprise. "Wally!" he exclaimed, running to the other side of the boat. Indeed, the Walrus was dancing atop the waves, darting to and fro as fast as possible. "Arf! Arf arf!"
"Hey, what's got you galloping gallons of grandeur?"
"Arf! Arf!" Wally barked urgently, head shaking in the desperation of getting the captain's attention.
"Arf! Arf arf! Arf!"
"Wally? What's wrong? What is it, buddy?"
The Walrus darted into the waves. His direction immediately became clear to Turbot.
"Is something wrong at the lighthouse?" Turbot asked, but to no response. Adjusting his glasses, Turbot ran to the wheel and undid the anchor. He quickly turned the ship about, the squid jerky remaining behind, all but forgotten.
The wheel turned with urgency, and the boat followed Wally's direction. Turbot was too occupied with the wheel to see the lighthouse lamp flickering every few seconds. Turbot was unfortunately ignorant of what Wally was trying to warn him of, and of the malice that awaited him within.
-.-.-
"What about Chase?" Zuma asked.
"Oh, pride. No question about it," Rubble nodded. They stood together near the pup treat dispenser on the Sea Patroller, chatting idly.
"Okay, that leaves gluttony to you."
"Wha-" Rubble prepared to shout in protest but instead held his tongue, nodding slowly. "Fine, fine, I'll give you that."
Zuma cackled in victory, much to Rubble's annoyance. His irritating laughter died down, a prompt question following. "But then, who's sloth?"
"Oh, that's obviously you, Zums."
"What?!"
"Yup."
"Dude, I'm not lazy! You've seen my rescues. They're beyond exhausting."
"One, you never get called on anymore, might as well hang up the buoy and start collecting your pension."
"Get bent," Zuma rasped.
"And second, your pick-up lines are more painful than listening to Chase get called on for every frickin' mission."
"Oh, is that right?" Zuma asked, his eyes shooting a harmful glare. "I dare you to call up Everest this very second. See if you fare better! Lemme clue you in, bud. You won't!"
"Hey, what's the beef?" Marshall asked, walking over.
"We're trying to decide who in the Patrol best represents the seven deadly sins," Zuma explained, "and the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Pup here claims I'm sloth."
"What? Nah, nah, no, no, no. Rubble, you're definitely sloth."
"You're taking his side?"
"Well, come on," Marshall shrugged. "You're the youngest, so by default you're gonna have less work to do."
"Ha!" Zuma smirked, "thanks, Marsh."
"But I'm the construction pup! I literally do a lot of lifting."
"You operate a rig," argued Zuma. "If anything, we should start awarding it instead of you."
"You guys suck," Rubble whined.
"Wait, wait... who do you guys think I represent?"
"Uhhh..."
"Well..."
"Uhhhh..."
"Yeah..."
"Well, come on! I can take it! What am I?"
"Well, greed is all we got left, so...?" Rubble trailed off.
"Greed? Since when?"
"Well, the only thing you take a lot of is attention," Zuma noted. "And you get a lot more attention than even Chase sometimes."
"Oh, what? This is a spite thing now?"
"Bingo."
"Fine, I take it back. You're sloth."
"What?" Zuma asked, suddenly realizing the mistake in his words. "You prick!"
"Hey!" Ryder exclaimed, walking by with a small tablet. "Didn't I just get onto you guys about the name calling?"
Zuma stiffened. "Well... y-yeah..."
Sighing, Ryder shook his head. "Just forget it. We're trying to have a good day here, so if I have to scold anyone here we're going right back home."
The pups gathered to see what Ryder was doing. He crouched low over the Sea Patroller's edge, holding the tablet against the ship's side. The screen faced downward, and whenever it would beep he turned it over, nodding softly at the screen.
"Watcha got there?" Rubble inquired, his expression twisting in curiosity.
"Little something Rocky and I have been working on. It's an Aqua-Map Transmission Amplifier. AMTA for short. It's passed most of the major tests, but basically it's supposed to scan the deep levels of the sea and bring back pictures. It doesn't go down farther than humans have explored, you understand.
"But I believe this is the device that could take a large step in humanity's exploration of the deep. Not only can we get a better glimpse at what's going on down there, but it'd be really nice to go snorkeling and not have any sharks around."
The pups eagerly listened to their leader, pondering the vast potential this device posed.
"Hey, hold on," Ryder said, his voice lacing with concern. It seems the device had caught a glimpse of something he was unfamiliar with.
"Hey, Zuma? You went through some marine biology courses before I recruited you, right?"
"Just the basics, but yeah. What's up?"
"Can you tell me what this is?"
Ryder lowered the screen to the water pup's field of vision. He and the others glanced closely. Zuma quickly turned his head, trying to dig up any information Professor Mangle had given him about things like this before sending him to make his way in the world.
The picture in question showed a black mass, in a sack form. There were thorn-like structures poking from the sides, almost like antennae. Two round, bulbous structures seemed to be on the mass, perhaps containing something. It had a light green hue about it, with small streaks of blue, almost like veins. They tilted and spread, almost like lightning among a night sky.
"I'm no professional, Ryder. But that really looks like... I dunno, maybe a shark egg?"
"A shark egg?" Skye asked. "I thought they were native to freshwater..." the Cockapoo trailed off, thinking to anything she may have heard about sharks.
"No, they're native to salt..." Zuma's voice suddenly stopped short as a realization hit him. The group wasn't consulting Ryder about this, or even Mr. scene-stealing Chase. It took him everything he had not to smirk, tease someone about this, or even rub it in their faces. They were relying on him for once, his knowledge of the sea becoming very useful all of a sudden.
"There hasn't been any sharks sightings here since '53," Ryder said. "That's... strange. We're far from any main oceans, mind you."
"Well, I doubt it'll do us any good to screw with it," Rocky commented. "Far as I know, there's only one embryo in an egg, so we shouldn't be bothered unless the parents are still around."
Ryder nodded. "In any case, I'm going to find a new place for us to snorkel. Get comfy," Ryder sighed, heading back to the ship's control center.
The pups all went back to their business, playing or otherwise. Chase, however, found himself standing there. He'd seen the picture and, in a way, felt it'd seen him too. An eerie shudder sprang throughout the Shepherd.
Suddenly, last night's dream shot through his mind like a bullet; the endless dark. The night sky. Tentacles, fading from shadow to reality. Formless shadows in the night, echoing tunnels, a cacophony of millions scattering among one another.
But at the center of it all lay his friends; they all fell randomly, twitching and screaming in pain. Their faces would turn and twist, gaping holes appearing in their tormented form. Blood seeping from the holes, ugly crunching from within.
"Christ," Chase mumbled to himself, shaking the dream away. "I need a therapist."
-.-.-
"Hullo in there!" Turbot boomed, opening the door to the lighthouse.
"Arf arf! Arf arf!" Wally barked urgently, hoisting himself onto the land.
"Easy, Wally. What's gotten into ya?"
The Walrus struggled towards his bipedal friend, his barks intensifying. He flailed his fins about, like he usually did when he had something important to say. Turbot entered the lighthouse, shutting the door behind him. Wally's barks died off, becoming no more than whispers among the wind.
"Hello?" Turbot raised his voice, flicking the light switch.
Click. Click.
The light didn't come on, nor did the mood change in the lighting at all.
"Must've blown the bulb," Turbot figured, looking closely through the dark shadows that encompassed him.
The lighthouse often served as a shed for boating equipment, scuba gear, and harpoons alike. It was hard to figure out, even for a sea captain as Turbot, what all was near him.
Click-clack-clack!
Turbot jumped in surprise. It was as if someone in high heels was running upstairs, manning a ship that lacked a captain.
"Who's there?" Turbot asked, grabbing at a nearby shelf. His hand groped about blindly before he felt the cold, circular metal.
"Bingo." He grabbed the flashlight, clicking it on to locate the stairs.
There was suddenly a massive bang at the door. "Ah!" Turbot shouted in surprise, jumping as he turned to the door.
"Arf, arf!" Wally's muffled barks came.
"Wally, I'll be right back out, I gotta check the breaker."
Wally heeded his words not. Rather than backing down, the Walrus slammed his flippers and tusks at the door, wanting desperately to communicate properly to his human pal. Damn the ability some creatures had to speak differently than others.
Turbot slowly began to climb the stairs, his boots rarely making a squeak as they went higher. The air felt chilly. It was as if all the world outside went on living, but in here, there was nothing. Darkness, aside from the flashlight. The tension in the air could be hacked through with a knife. If only Turbot had such a tool on him now.
Clump
Turbot's boot came down into a squishy substance, the captain's flashlight lowering. In the light, the captain could see the putrid fluid. How it smelled now, clinging onto his boot. It was a large, icky clump of black and green. It sat alone on the stairs, seemingly awaiting to be stepped on.
"What is...?"
Turbot lifted his leg, but only an inch. The sticky gunk nearly pulled his boot from his foot. "Ungh," he grunted, gripping the side with a free hand.
RAAAAAAAAAA!
Turbot covered his ears, screaming as the loud scrape echoed throughout the lighthouse. Its source was unknown, but Turbot found himself quickly growing a headache.
RAAAAAAAANNGGGGGHH!
"Ah!" Turbot shouted, covering his ears as they were continually abused by the noise. Turbot leaned back to run out, seemingly forgetful of his situation.
The captain fell back, his foot slipping from his boot. Repeated thuds were made audible as he tumbled down the stairs, hitting every step. He dropped his flashlight sometime in the fall, rolling down to the floor uselessly.
"Agh!" Turbot shrieked, falling onto his back. The tumble from the stairs left a sting everywhere the steps struck him. He lay on the cold stone floor, darkness enveloping him once more.
Click-clack-click-clack
The noise came once again, only something was coming down to him. Turbot could no longer register Wally's barking cries from outside. He rubbed his head. It ached from the constant stream of metal striking him as he fell. The blood was gaping out, covering his hands and staining his beanie.
He looked up helplessly, the large mass standing before him. Turbot could not see the figure clearly in this lighting, but the fear overwhelmed him.
Turbot quickly grabbed his phone from his pocket, opening up the call feature.
Whoosh!
A shrill hiss came as an appendage swung, knocking the device from Turbot's hand. He groaned in pain and surprise, left utterly to the mercy of the dark figure.
"Please... help me. I-I won't tell anyone, I..."
Shink!
Turbot could remember no more than the shadow shooting forth and impaling his chest, the blood quickly dripping from it as the blow entered him.
Screaming, Turbot felt nothing more than confusion and distress. The blood gushed fiercely from him, the gore becoming his only companion as his plea for mercy was denied.
With his last breath, the sea captain looked up, searching for any eyes. Signs that his attacker had made a mistake.
But there was nothing. The eyes looked back, and there was no emotion. No understanding or regret. Only darkness that consumed him, the light fading from his eyes.
There was nothing.
Nothing.
(Edited due to grammatical errors. Don't forget to review, and see ya next chapter).