Deep Ocean Six by Nancy Osa

Author:Nancy Osa
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sky Pony Press
Published: 2015-11-25T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

THE HORSES SNORTED AND BACKED AWAY FROM shore, their riders gripping the reins for dear life. Ocelot managed to snatch at the bit and break away, carrying Frida, the least experienced rider, up into the mushroom grove.

“Uuuuhh . . . oohh . . .” the murky-looking creature moaned.

Black zombie? In broad daylight? Jools steadied Beckett while his mind charged ahead. Mob, as yet unclassified . . . Possibly dangerous . . . definitely hostile. Some sort of mod?

Stormie fitted an arrow to her bow and drew back the string, locking in her aim.

“Don’t shoot!” yelled Frida, recognizing the invader even as Ocelot whirled around the fungus patch up the hill. The novice horsewoman gave up, vaulted from her upset mount, and ran for the beach. “It’s Meat!”

Now Turner’s features came together in Jools’s head: buzz-cut hair, barely past skull length; bulky torso, encircled by blackened mushroom doughnut; antagonistic expression, peeking out from whatever dark goo covered his face. It was definitely him. ­“Sergeant! You’re back!” Jools said with delight, before he could stop himself.

Turner’s clothing and visible body parts had also been washed with the inky stain, rendering even his tattoos invisible.

Stormie trembled as she put her weapon away. “I nearly gave you some unwanted body piercings,” she said to him.

“What the heck happened to you?” Rob demanded. “And what’s that dang rocket boat doing out there?”

Jools saw the whites of Turner’s eyes flash as the sergeant blinked into the sun. “Can’t a guy take a breath around here?” the dripping, panting sergeant complained.

As always, Kim put the needs of the afflicted man before her own curiosity. The horse master slid down from Nightwind and fetched a bucket of water and a length of wool. She ran to Turner and offered him a soaked rag. “Moist towelette?”

Having caught the familiar scent of the man, the horses had gotten over their fright. So had the troopers. Everyone converged on Turner, and the drill was forgotten as they escorted him to the shelter to change.

“Ran into a shoal o’ squid out there,” Turner explained, wiping the sludge from around his eyes. “Seemed like they all squirted me at once.”

“And the diamond?”

“The griefer had it on him, all right.”

Turner carried on answering the troopers’ questions, but Jools tuned out their talk. Shoal of squid . . . shoal of fish . . . What else? Shoal, shallow. To shoal something would be . . . to make something shallow . . . “That’s it!”

He came back to the present. His cavalry mates sat at the table. Every pair of eyes rested on Jools, waiting for enlightenment—except for Turner’s, which flashed in annoyance since the group’s attention had shifted from him to the lieutenant.

“The Mystery of the Materializing Sand Blocks . . .” Jools murmured.

“You’ve solved it?” Kim prompted.

He grinned. “I’ve an idea how they got there, at least.” He paused. “Someone, or some thing, is soaking up the ocean brine . . . with sponges!”

Rob pursed his lips. “Come on, Jools. Do

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