Up From The Deep by Vaughn Jackson (highly recommended books txt) 📕

A small one. It had attacked her too. These were bigger. Full grown. They hurt her.

She dodges the next attack. Rage. Energy courses through her body. It sparks through the cracks in her skin. Pain. Her mouth opens, her jaw unhinging at the bottom. She raises ravaged wings in a show of intimidation before letting loose a stream of crackling electricity towards the closest grey creature. The sparking stream engulfs the creature. It shudders and groans before bursting in a brilliant display of fire and smoke. Inkanyamba waits for the rest to retreat in the face of her superiority. Still they linger. A confused warble bubbles from her throat. Rage. Fear. Flee. The attack has drained her. She roars again but the sound breaks in the air, falling to the ground, flat and empty. The smell of salt and brine calls to her. It isn’t far now. Safe.

The next impact strikes closer to her heart. She reels from the deep pain that blossoms in her chest. Run. She takes a single, staggering step towards the sea. Fear. Tired. Weak.

The grey creatures don’t stop. Impact after impact burst against her weakening body. Pain. Pain. Pain. She screams. The ocean is there. Water. Safe. It’s so close. She rears back to dive in when a new pain blossoms in her chest. Every muscle in her body seizes. Cold. Blood pours from her body, warm against her cooling skin. Her heart is silent. She can’t feel it. Gone. She twitches. Her skin no longer burns. Her head drifts in the direction of the other creature. It stares at her with cold black eyes still smoking from the attack that Inkanyamba knew had killed her.

She doesn’t understand.

Her mouth opens and closes. The ground trembles with her phlegmy grumble. Numbness sets in. She looks down at the sea. Home...Safe...

So close.

Too far.

It rises to greet her as she falls. It beckons still but stays cruelly out of reach as her head slams into the hard, cracked ground. She tries to pull herself to the water, but her limbs won’t move. Tired. A weak warble breaks from her throat. The sea blurs out of focus. Her vision darkens. The numbness grows. Tired. She takes a shuddering breath in; wet and ragged. She exhales one last time and sinks down into the cold, murky darkness. ...Scared...

Chapter 21

The Velocity had sunk beneath the waves. Bunk and a full crew of sailors dragged down to the depths. But at that cost, Inkanyamba was dead. As the boat gained distance from the harbor, Greenwood did the only thing she could think to do for all of the fallen. She stood at attention and gave a full salute. Even to you, Inkanyamba.

No words of her own seemed appropriate, so she tried to think of what Raymond would say. After a moment of silence, she said, “To a war well fought, and to an enemy worthy of respect.” Greenwood wasn’t sure how much she meant what she said, but it sounded right. She turned away from the steaming corpse of the fallen creature just as they reached the Winguard. Any second she expected to hear Inkanyamba’s distinct roar, a final declaration that the battle was not over and never would be, but the sound never came. Not when they boarded the ship, not as they sailed to the base, and not as they disembarked to head in for their debriefing. Inkanyamba was dead, and though they had won, Greenwood could pull no joy from the victory.

Chapter 22

A black cloud of mourning hung heavy over the entire naval base. Devonte sat beside Greenwood on a bench in the hallway. Soldiers filed past, preparing for the massive funerary ceremony in two days’ time.

“He’s really gone,” Devonte said, breaking the silence that had hung over them for the past hour. “Just like that.”

“That’s how it always is,” Greenwood said. Her voice faltered halfway through the sentence. “Here, and then gone. Just like that.”

“I’m so—”

“It’s not fair,” Greenwood snapped. “Five years,” she said. “Five years I pined away after him and then I finally got him. We finally had each other. And now…” she trailed off. “Now I’ve got jack shit but a broken heart.” She looked down at the list of people killed in action and read the names aloud.  “Captain Raymond Dehane. Private First-Class Spencer Chaplin. Timothy “Tungsten” Todd. Gordon “Bunk” Banks.”

She kept reading, there were many names, but no more that Devonte recognized. Finally she stopped, and the silence returned like a wall between them.

“I can’t stand this silence,” she said. “Say something. Anything.”

“Did you know he had a sister?” Devonte asked.

“No. He didn’t talk much about his personal life.”

“She was killed during a drug deal gone wrong. Guy didn’t like her price, decided he was just going to take it. She was eighteen.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I was looking to see if he had any next of kin. But there’s nobody still alive.”

“New subject.”

Skylar approached them. “Skids is leaving,” she said. “Did you guys want to come see him off?”

Devonte cast a concerned glance at Greenwood. “I—”

“Go,” she said, “You’re terrible at comforting people anyway.”

“I’m sorry,” Devonte said.

“So am I,” she said.

Devonte walked alongside Skylar in silence until they were out of earshot of the lieutenant.

“Is she okay?” Skylar asked.

“Would you be?” Devonte replied.

“No.” She stopped him by stepping in front of him and putting a hand on his chest. “Are you okay?”

“To be honest,” he said, “I don’t know. I only knew him for a few months, and he was basically a stranger. But…”

“But you’re sad.”

“Very.” Devonte had never been one to shy away from shedding tears. He’d held it together for Greenwood but now they came out in full force. His eyes stung as he spoke. “He didn’t have to go out of his way for me, but he did.”

He didn’t resist as Skylar pulled him into a hug. She squeezed him tight, and he squeezed her back, and for a minute the pain felt a