The squid dived then rose again, slow and majestic, from the secret blackness on the ocean floor. David had time to see every tiny detail. And, oh, God, the smell that bubbled up into the air! Every dead thing that had ever sunk to the sea bed, the oldest cemetery in the world.

But this was alive. Barnacled and bleeding, the monster finally faced David, shedding water in sheets like grave linen. Its tentacles jerked and writhed but its eye bored into him, wise and sad.

The creature slithered a tentacle fatly over the side of the boat. My ankle, thought David. It’s going for my ankle!

He tried to scramble backwards but there was no more wood behind him. He felt the muscle slap onto his leg, tightening and burning where it touched his flesh. It was changing colour as it gripped.

This is really it, David thought. This time I’m going to die.

He waited for the monster to drag him into the water. He wouldn’t struggle. They said drowning was the sweetest death, like sleep. He closed his eyes as the wind rose, a thin whistling that sang in his head.

But the end-time tug didn’t come.

He looked down.

The squid wasn’t trying to pull him overboard.

It was trying to reach the plastic-wrapped package.

And as it gripped and then lifted the horrible parcel overboard, the monster was making that terrible whistling sound, like a punctured lung, full of grief and heartache.

Faintly he heard the men on the beach, roaring like a crowd at a concert. The lighthouse beam showed the tiny figures frozen, clapping each other on the back.

The chilly wind picked up. The boat was being pushed along! It gathered speed, the white wake foaming behind them. David held tight.

The squid was sending him back to shore!

The men’s shouts were rising like angry music. They saw the shining path of the moon on the water joining David with the squid, and they knew the monster was coming for them.

They scattered, some running for the bakkie, others heading for the lighthouse. David’s stepfather just stood, clutching his chest. He was out of shape, too flabby to run.

When the squid came from the sea its tentacles flailed and reached for the man, its eye pressing against him, seeing into his soul. One rubbery tentacle hugged his waist and squeezed. David’s stepfather shrieked, and his bloodshot eyes rolled up in his face. He fell to his knees on the sand.

The squid relaxed its hold. It paused as if it was thinking. David knew the creature wouldn’t hurt him. It was punishing the men who had killed one of its own.

The squid slammed one giant limb down on Oom Jazz’s bakkie, smashing the windscreen, and then saw that its work was done. It began dragging its body back to the water’s edge, its tentacles whirling and rolling like a tank. David knew it would sink gently beneath the waves with the remains of the sacrificed squid.

He stumbled from the boat, his weak legs slumping him next to his dying stepfather. The man gasped and held up his cellphone. He could barely speak. His heart had seized. His eyes bulged, red with blood.

“…ambulance…”

David grabbed the phone. If he didn’t do anything his stepfather would die. He looked at the screen: the battery was low. He could only make one call.

The man jerked his head to the side and retched on the sand, spattering blood that looked black in the moonlight. His stepfather was turning purple, choking on his own sin.

David dialled his home number.

“Dawie, it’s the middle of the night! Where are you?” His mother’s voice was high and thin with worry.

“I’ve got a question for you,” he said. “It’s important.”

“OK.” He heard the click of her bedside lamp, and imagined the warm yellow room, the plastic curlers in her hair, the empty place in the bed beside her.

“How did oupa, you know, die?”

“What? Why are you asking this now? You mos know how he died.”

“I know you said a fishing accident, but I want the details.”

“What’s this about?”

“Mommy, just tell me. Please.”

“You saw him in the bed. He was very old, Dawie, and very sick – TB, but no-one said – and then one day he said he had to go out in his boat. I tried to stop him but he rowed out alone.” David heard the old grief in her voice. “The next day they found the boat, but he was gone.”

The phone beeped and cut out. ‘BATTERY’ flashed at him on the screen.

David exhaled and fell back on the beach. His oupa had sacrificed himself so that David would be safe. The squid had remembered, and honoured the agreement. It had spared David’s life.

Is that it? thought David. Am I free? His stepfather was dead. His mother would have the insurance money, her reward for years of hurt. Without the man’s bullying, Kendell might stand a chance at being a nice guy. David wasn’t going to stick around long enough to find out. After he rewrote his matric in February, he was out of here.

David yanked up his shirt with the last of his strength. The lightning stroke of the lighthouse beam showed his goose-pimpled skin, and the row of tentacle marks which would scar him for life.

This was his oupa’s inheritance. He would never, ever forget.

***

Tell us: Did you like the ending? What should David do now?