The Flesh Cartel #6: Brotherhood

been stung by hundreds of tiny jellyfish.
“Are you sure you don’t want a drink?” his mother asked. “You look a little pale.”
He shook his head, and then, because he was so impossibly happy to see her again and didn’t want to waste it, not for a second, said, “Maybe a hug?”
She smiled brightly and put her novel aside and opened her arms. Dougie climbed into them and basked there, like she was the sun. He was too big for this now, but she didn’t seem to notice. She petted his hair and kissed the top of his head just like she always had. “Why don’t you go exploring? I’ll be right here.”
He didn’t want to leave her. But then, Dad was in the water, and he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten here or why he seemed so out of place, but it all seemed so fragile somehow, like maybe the clouds were going to come and cover the sun any moment. Like it all might wash out with the tide, and he had to see Dad before that happened.
Walking was a little strange—a little stiff, a little sore. He must’ve run harder this morning than he’d realized; his legs were still so short and he wasn’t as strong as Mat and he couldn’t always keep up no matter how hard he tried, even though he was pretty sure Mat would slow down just for him if he asked. He sort of duck-walked into the water, feeling schools of fish darting around his calves, exploring him, touching his skin, and he couldn’t kick them away, knew he’d be punished terribly if he did. And the water was . . . it was cold. Ice cold, and dark black, not blue like it was supposed to be. And when he looked out toward the horizon, Mat was gone, but his father was still there, just further out, silhouetted by a steel gray sky.
“Dad?” he called, suddenly afraid but he didn’t know why. This was Hawaii. They were on vacation. Nothing bad happened on vacation. “Dad?”
His father pushed his goggles up his head, rucking his dark hair. He grinned and waved. Between the mask and the silly smile and the stupid five-for-ten-dollars puca shell necklace he wore, he looked pretty goofy. Handsome and strong, like Mat, but goofy. Dougie forgot to be afraid. He waded out until the water reached his chest and waved back.
His dad swam up to meet him, and Dougie threw his arms around his waist, pressed his cheek to his dad’s broad chest. “Where’s Mat?” he asked.
His dad hugged him back, picked him up easily and dangled him over his head. “Who’s Mat?” he asked, then gave Dougie a hard heave and sent him flying.
Dougie should’ve laughed—he loved when his dad tossed him around in the water like this—but he landed hard, the icy water knocking the breath out of his lungs. The salt water stung his eyes, ran down his cheeks and into his mouth. Something small and squirmy swam up one leg of his swim trunks and bit him square on the ass. He screamed. Lurched. Planted his feet in the sand and stumbled back until he was in the shallows. His father followed, looking concerned, but Dougie ignored him—he was mad at him, he’d lost Mat— and headed straight for Mom instead.
“Mom. Mom!” he cried, racing up the beach and throwing himself, dripping wet, into her arms. He could feel her book wedged between them in her lap, poking uncomfortably at his crotch. “Mom, where’s Mat? He was in the water and now he’s gone and I don’t—”
“Mat?” She took him by the shoulders, pushed him back so she could meet his eyes, and smiled tentatively. “Who’s Mat? Did you make a friend, honey? Does he need help?” She looked over his shoulder, to his dad. “Craig? Did you see a boy in the water? Should I get a lifeguard?”
His father just shook his head and shrugged, and Dougie wanted to shake them both, scream and rage and make them stop. “Cut it out!” he shouted. “It’s not funny anymore! You’re scaring me!”
He shoved away. Mom tried to hold him, but Mat had taught him ten different ways at least to shake out of someone’s grasp and he wormed right out from under her, ran back toward the water, shouting Mat’s name.
Nobody answered. Nobody was there. The beach was empty. So was the ocean. When had that happened? Where was everyone? When had it gotten so cold out? He had to go to the bathroom. Badly, in fact. Felt so much pressure, suddenly, and then his gut cramped, and he hurt, and he backed away from the water before he could fall in and drown.
He swung around, searching out his parents, because even if they were playing cruel